The Month In Writing: My Favorite Things and Tips

Writing is hard work, which is why I'm always on the hunt to improve my craft and dream up new story ideas.

Take a look at what I've been reading this month and a few other things that inspired me.

Articles:

How to Become a Happy & Productive Writer

This is such a beneficial article!

Cool Books:
The Little Book of Hygge: The Danish Way to Live Well

I'm obsessed with all things Hygge right now, and after you read this book, you will be too.
 

Books for Writers:

The Bestseller Code

My good friend gave me this book and had it autographed for me. It's definitely worth a read.

Quotes for Writers:
I Write To Give Myself Strength

Inspo anyone?

Cool Stuff for Writers:
Octopus Typewriter

Although it's not functional, you still might be able to channel Lovecraft. That's reason enough for me.

Present Tense Mug
He he :)

Infographics:
190 Ways to Say "Said"

I love these helpful worksheets. They work wonders.

Writing Fuel:
Matcha Cookies

Yum!!!

 

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Have you checked out my other posts on writing? You might enjoy these, too:

• How to Write A Novel, Part 1: Let The Journey Begin 
• How to Write a Novel, Part 2: Brainstorming, Drafting, and Getting Organized 
• How to Write A Novel, Part 3: Editing Like A Pro  
• How to Be a More Productive Writer 
• The Importance of Rewriting 

Writing, Tomatoes, and How I Trained My Puppy to be a Therapy Dog

This summer has flown by, but it's not to say that it hasn't been productive. Here are some highlights from my summer:

Loki Is Officially A Therapy Dog! Before I even adopted my pug, Loki, I knew that I wanted him to be a therapy dog. I got the idea from visiting my grandparents in their assisted living facility. They had a resident parrot in the lobby that everyone went crazy over, and when my mom would bring her little black pug named Bosco, the response was even more overwhelming. Whenever we would visit my grandparents, the residents would inquire about Bosco, and it was evident that he was the highlight of their week. It makes sense. Whenever I see an animal it instantly brightens my day. Seriously, if I'm writing at my desk and look out the window and see a chipmunk hopping through the grass I can't help but smile. On particularly crappy days, I'll look at cute animal videos or pics on YouTube or Pinterest and all of my worries seem to instantly vanish. Anyway, I started hearing about "therapy dogs" on the news that were visiting people in need, especially after a major disaster or incident like Sandy Hook. These therapy dogs give so much to so many in times of need and I knew that this was something I wanted to be a part of. If you're interested in learning more, or getting your dog certified, here's how I did it:

-   Therapy dogs have to be one-year-old to take the official test and I adopted Loki when he was 9 weeks old. It was highly recommended that Loki participate in puppy training prior so that he could get used to other dogs, people, and scenarios, so I enrolled him in puppy school when he was 3 months old at my local pet supply store.

Say cheese! You graduated from kindergarten.

 -   After he completed six weeks of puppy school, which taught him the basics like how to sit, stay, and walk properly on a leash, I enrolled him in six weeks of puppy kindergarten. These scenarios were a little more advanced like coming when called, venturing through tunnels, etc.

-   Next was the Canine Good Citizen class for another six weeks. A lot of the scenarios in class were similar and/or actual components found on the Therapy Dog International (T.D.I) test like leaving your dog with someone else for a full minute without them freaking out or being aggressive, coming when called on a twenty-foot leash, etc. When Loki passed, I sent in his paperwork and he got a certificate and ribbon. You can learn more about the purpose and qualifications for the Canine Good Citizen here.

Here we are doing a test simulation.

-   I enrolled Loki in a T.D.I. class to train on specific things that he would be tested on. The class was six weeks long. I trained with Loki every day at home, and as he mastered more scenarios, I would continue to do the same training in different locations like in the backyard, upstairs, in the park, etc. Sometimes the teacher allowed us to do simulations outside as well (as pictured above). His biggest problem areas were pulling on his leash and jumping on people. During one of the test simulations in class, Loki also tried to pee on an orange cone and I quickly found out that peeing on anything during the test is an automatic fail. Yikes!

-   It was time to take the test! About 12 dogs showed up, comprised of people from the training class, as well as any community members who wanted to test their dog. The process was a little overwhelming I have to admit. There was one evaluator who had brought several volunteers and she decided to hold the test outdoors. Good thing I practiced outside! Test scenarios ranged from having to walk your dog around a wheelchair, a flashing light, a kid playing with a streamer, and someone on crutches without the dog freaking out, being aggressive, or pulling, to someone in a wheelchair offering your dog food and he has to 'leave it' at your command. The thing I was worried about most was Loki jumping up on people since he's so small and gets very excited around new people. During the test he did jump a little bit, but I was able to call him down so that the volunteers could pet him as he sat. I was also worried about him peeing on a cone again, so I probably took him for 3-4 potty breaks during the test. The whole testing process took about 2 hours. It was a huge relief when he passed! You can view all of the testing requirements here.

Isn't this the cutest patch ever?

 -   After Loki passed his test, I had to work through a big stack of paperwork. First, I had to have his vet sign it saying that he was up-to-date on all of his vaccines and submit proof, then I had to fill out general info about the Loki. I mailed in the paperwork with the fee, as well as a picture of Loki. He'll be receiving a special bandana with a T.D.I patch, and I'll soon be getting my special laminated badge that I'll be required to wear on visits as well. Once we receive our identification, we'll be visiting low-income assisted living facilities as well as children's hospitals in the area. I'm really looking forward to it!

Everything I did took a year to complete, but Loki is an unusual scenario. Some of the dogs in our T.D.I class were older and had regularly been exposed to kids and hospital scenarios since their owners worked there, so not all had gone through the recommended training. Some of these dogs tested well, but some didn't. This was primarily with dogs that had been adopted later in life so it was difficult to break them of bad habits. I really think that all of the training that Loki had from an early age helped the process, which is one of the reasons I decided to adopt a puppy in the first place.

This WAS NOT an easy process. It's up to the owner to pass just as much as it is the dog since the dog is obeying your commands and following your lead. It was extremely difficult to train a puppy and some days were very discouraging. I was very nervous on the day of the T.D.I test and worried that he wouldn't pass after all of the hard work and time I had put in to get him certified. No matter how hard you train, there's always the 'what if' factor since dogs can be unpredictable.

Hello, friend! I'm here to cheer you up. :D

I'm truly honored to be a member of T.D.I. I've learned a great deal during this process, especially all of the different ways that therapy dogs can help others. For example, I just learned about a new program where therapy dogs are used to calm down children in a courtroom if they need to testify. There are funeral home/bereavement dogs. There are even therapy dogs brought to colleges during the week of finals. Wherever Loki goes I'm confident that this little face will bring cheer to people who need it most.

In other news...

I Started My First Real Garden: I'm talking a real bonafide garden in the ground and everything! I've always had potted plants indoors, and maybe a few here and there outside, but nothing actually in the ground, so this is a big deal for me. I planted onions, four different kinds of tomatoes, cilantro, jalapenos, anaheim peppers, basil, and bell peppers. So far, I've harvested tons of cherry tomatoes, cilantro, and basil, and the others are still coming in.

There's something so incredibly rewarding about eating food you've grown! My hope is that I'll be able to can jars of pesto and salsa before the winter. Yum!

Aren't they purty?

In Writing News: Yesterday I got two awesome reviews of The Nightmare Birds. They seriously made my day! :D

Here's a snip-bit of what the talented author J.D. Estrada had to say:

"Dark, mysterious, ethereal...A worthy follow-up if there was one, it raises countless questions... but one floats above the rest.... when will we see more?" You can read his full review here.

Book blogger Linz the Bookworm had this to say: 

"The most important thing I can stress about Nightmare Birds is how incredibly creative it is." You can read her full review here.

In other writing news, I'm taking a much-needed break until the end of the month. Then, I'll start working on Book III in the Strange Luck Series. Whoohoo!!! :)

That's it for now...

TBT Writer - The Story Graveyard

Yippee! It's Throwback Thursday (TBTWriter)! Time to share something I wrote back in the day, accompanied by some fun pics. 

All of my posts so far have centered around something I wrote in elementary school, so I thought I'd change it up a bit by posting something I wrote a little more recently...like 10 years ago. Something from my "story graveyard." What's a story graveyard you ask? It starts with a story I began to write and then for some strange reason I abandon it, then completely forget about it. Months or years later, I'll rediscover the abandoned story and curse myself for casting it aside (this is actually how Strange Luck came to be written by the way). The stories that don't get an ending are banished to my story graveyard (*sniff), aka a big folder on my computer.

The events of this particular graveyard story are actually all true.

I really did get made fun of for being too pale by a bunch of old toothless French women.

I really did visit this little quirky little town in France.

And, I really did see a woman who looked just like my grandma who had died several years earlier.  Her appearance and mannerisms were identical to my grandma's and I kept staring at her, thinking at some point that she would turn towards me and say, "Hello, Amie. Where have you been?"

I titled the story The Wax Paper Baker because whenever I baked anything with my grandma, she always mixed the ingredients on wax paper with a spoon. I always thought that was kinda neat...and weird. My original thought process when writing this story was something about how no one ever really died, like my grandma. I don't really know where I was going with it. Anyway, here's the first and only chapter of the story. I hope you enjoy it :)

Cimiez, France

The Wax Paper Baker 

It looked as though I had bathed in silver glitter, but my skin sparkled for another reason. The salt from swimming in the French Rivera was clinging to me, only flaking off when I scratched it. Steam rose off the tiny streets in the hot sun as cars zoomed along the windy turn. From where I sat, I could see the aquamarine ocean peppered with swimmers, rafts, and tiny boats trolling through the calm waters.

            I had taken two crowded metros and a bus to the top of the hill, but I still had a long way to go.

            I sat alone on the park bench waiting for the next bus to arrive in twenty minutes. There wasn’t a tree, scrap of shade, or gust of wind, and I felt my shoulders roasting like pink game hens under the sun. It was the first time I had sat all day and my tired feet ached.

            I had never been to Cimiez before. Many people had told me what a charming city is was and that I would meet the man of my dreams there. My friend Julie accompanied me, but, the sun had zapped her strength too, so she decided to nap at the hotel for the afternoon. The only thing I had wanted to see in this town was Henri Matisse’s grave. I had already been to Emile Durkheim’s, Simone de Beauvoir's, Jean-Paul Sartre’s, and Oscar Wilde’s tombs.

            I looked at my wrist watch. Thirteen more minutes left sitting in the inferno for the bus to arrive. Tempted to just give up and go back to the hotel, I stood up to look down the skinny road, hoping to see the bus. Just as I did so, two old women wearing matching white dresses made their way down the road.

            I grew nervous. I barely spoke any French, and I was in a place where only the locals lived. I politely smiled and lowered my head, hoping they wouldn’t say anything to me. I listened to them speaking to each other in French, clucking like hens. They were both at my side now, grinning with toothless smiles. One of the women suddenly grabbed hold of my arm, which startled me, and she began hysterically laughing.

            She said something rapidly and pointed to me. She continued smiling and laughing, her belly rolls jiggling like a jello mold.

            My smiled widened. What was this old loon doing?  Of course I had no idea what she said to me, but I assumed she was complimenting me on my dress.

            “Excuse me, I don’t understand,” I said in a friendly tone. “I don’t speak French.”

            I looked at them and started to chuckle, realizing at once how awkward the situation was. The old woman was laughing so hard she released my arm and was bending over now.

            Her friend joined her in laughing.

            “What is it?” 

            “She says you are too pale…ha ha ha…You need more sun!”

            I shook my head. Two old French women were making fun of me and there wasn’t anything I could do about it. There weren’t any other people around for miles and I was stuck waiting for the bus with them. They continued laughing, and I took a few steps away from the bench and peered down the road again, cursing under my breath. I crossed my arms, and examined my skin secretly from behind my sunglasses. Sure, I was pale, but not that pale. What do you expect when you’re from Washington?

            Finally, their obnoxious laughing subsided and the bus arrived. I sat near the front, and away from them. It took several minutes to get to the top, passing a cathedral, ruins, and busy villagers. I arrived in front of the Matisse museum and immediately sought refuge under a knotty tree while I got my bearings. An old sock rested at the trunk. I could see how the town of Cimiez was beautiful in its own way, but with all of the heat and frustration, I vowed I would never return.

            My map was ripped in the middle, covered in coffee, and had been folded and unfolded so many times that it barely held together as I examined it. I needed to get to the Musee Franciscain-Eglise et Monastere de Cimiez, which was a short walk down the road. I checked my bag for water, and quickly noticed that I barely had any left. I decided not to drink it quite yet, for I still had a long commute back to the hotel in Nice.

            I walked down the sweltering path, careful to walk on any scrap of shade possible and found myself in a park, where I collapsed on a bench. I needed to regain my energy if I was to make it the rest of the way. Children on skateboards glided past me with curious smiles, whispering to each other in French. I had a perfect view of some archaeological ruins in front of me. I peered through the iron-gate, imagining the culture that had once flourished there.

            Some type of insect loudly buzzed above me. I went to look for it, but only found yellowing leaves. The sound made me want to go insane—sharp, loud, quick, and furious. No one else seemed bothered by the noise, and for a moment I wondered if it was a sprinkler nearby that was making the noise and not an insect. Several people came and went from the park bench a few feet away from mine—a couple, a young thin woman, a few children, another couple. My attention turned to the children skateboarding in front of me, staring at me as if they knew I was not French.

            Then, I saw her out of the corner of my eye—a woman with short black curly hair and glasses. She was reading something, mimicking the words with her mouth. Her jaw was slightly droopy, and her eyes were bright and full of life. She reminded me of my grandmother who had passed away two years ago. I smiled thinking about her and how funny it was that this woman sitting next to me exhibited nearly the exact same characteristics my grandmother once did.

            The buzzing lowered a notch. I stretched my feet, preparing them for the walk ahead of me. I turned again to look at the woman, and she turned to look at me and smiled. Full, slightly yellow teeth, and kind.

            I would have recognized her smile anywhere. There was no doubt in my mind that the strange woman in front of me was my grandmother.     

        

Re-reading this story again made it very clear to me that I was still trying to find my voice, and genre, which is why I think I ultimately abandoned it. Nevertheless, it was a neat experience visiting Cimiez and seeing my grandma again in some weird twist of fate.

Here's me overlooking the French Rivera on my way to Cimiez.

One of my favorite artists.

Here's me with my grandma, grandpa, and brother.
 

 

If you're a writer, I invite you to share something you wrote way back when and/or a pic of yourself. Bad stories happen, like the one above. It's all part of the journey of becoming a better writer. Whether you wrote a bad story when you were eight or forty eight, embrace it. Don't forget to use #tbtwriter when you post so we can all enjoy your story. If you're a reader, I hope you enjoyed another TBTWriter post. If you haven't checked out my others, you'll love these:

• Confessions of a Sugarholic  
• Good Ideas, Sometimes! 
• A Nine-Year-Old's First Horror Story