Tag Archive | books

Writing a Book is Hard

I wrote this thing, this book-type thing. It’s a memoir of my years in retail management, and I’ve been working on it for over five years now. Today, I finished it. I’ve done all I can do by myself. I’ve written, re-written, re-organized, cut and pasted and added and deleted. I’ve read it and re-read it, had a few people read early versions that bear little resemblance to the manuscript now sitting beside me. And I think it’s done. I mean, of course, it’s not DONE done. I’m sure there will be more edits in the future. But I feel good about it (as good as one can feel about their own writing). It FEELS done. I think the major revisions are done, and now it’ll be tweaking to take out boring sections, flesh out good sections, building up the themes. For that, I need people.

My husband will be first, and I know he will be supportive and encouraging, and gentle in his suggestions. I’ve got a former co-worker in mind too, to make sure I wasn’t unfairly harsh or critical of our team. She’s a smart, well-read woman whom I trust to be honest but kind. And then I need someone who’s not related to me and who wasn’t part of that retail world, and I’m still pondering that. How do you find a good beta reader?

Then, I have to figure out what steps to take next. It would seem that memoirs are hard to sell, based on what I’ve read from agents. They need to be exceptional, and I’m not convinced I am, or that my story is. I’m a good writer, but does this story stand out? Why would a reader pick my book? What would they get from it? Is my story different enough from so many others? Would an agent even consider me without a strong platform? What the heck IS a platform anyway?

I’m still trying to find answers to those. And I’m pondering self-publishing too. It would be quicker, and I know that most of my former co-workers would love to read it. But I can’t help it: there’s a part of me that wants the validation of traditional publication. It would mean that someone out there valued my writing, thought it was worthy of sharing with the world. But why does that matter to me? Why can’t my own opinion be enough? Because I’ve seen too many self-published books that should never have been published, and I don’t want people to put me in that category.

So I’m going to find the list of memoir-friendly agents that I made, and I’m going to start researching. What do I lose by trying? (I mean besides my self-esteem and confidence.) Maybe I’ll get rejected 100 times, and then I’ll reconsider self-publishing. Or maybe, just maybe, I’ll find that one agent who thinks it’s worthy. Wouldn’t that be something?

Grief Takes Away So Much

Aug30

This morning, as I lazed on the couch with my cup of tea, I was idly scrolling through Twitter when a tweet caught my eye. “It didn’t surprise me, when my parents were dying, that I couldn’t write. But it shocked me…that I couldn’t read.” It was a teaser with a link to a NY times column, and it was so unexpected, and so close to home.

Four years ago, I was working full-time as a retail manager, but I was also a bookaholic. I read as much as I could. I’d grown up with books, worked in my mother’s used-book store for years, even went to a seminar for antiquarian book dealers. And even though I was no longer in the business, I still loved books. All kinds of books. My parents and I shared a lot of authors, too, mostly mysteries/thrillers. We shared Ridley Pearson, Carol O’Connell, Philip Margolin, Michael Connelly, Dennis Lehane, Kathy Reichs, Linda Fairstein, and so many more. I shared a lot of fiction with my mom: Maeve Binchy, Nancy Thayer, Elin Hilderbrand, Kristin Hannah.

Then, as many of you know, my father was diagnosed with lung cancer. I still worked, but managed to get out to Arizona for a few visits. I remember one trip, on the way there, I read my first Lee Child book. Lee Child was my dad’s absolute favorite author, and he’d said this book was the best. I read it, and it was thrilling and gripping and tense, and I had a grand time talking to my dad about it when I got there.

My dad died in spring of 2012, and I stopped reading. For a very long time, I didn’t really read anything. I watched a lot of TV, I played stupid games on my phone. I learned to crochet a few months after my dad died, and that was my outlet. Then knitting. It was creative and soothing, and didn’t remind me of him at all.

Over time, I started picking up books again. My mom and I still share a fondness for fiction, and we swapped what we called “light, frothy books”. They were fun, didn’t require much thought, didn’t challenge me or push any of those grief buttons. I’m so glad I had you, Jane Green and Emily Giffin, Sophie Kinsella and Susan Wiggs, Debbie Macomber. I still love you, still read you all religiously.

I shared some YA books with my daughter. I’ve always loved YA books, and even though these were often darker subject matter, it was okay because it was different. Thank you, Sarah Dessen, Rainbow Rowell, Laurie Halse Anderson, Veronica Roth, Suzanne Collins.

After a couple of years, I started reading heavier books again, ones that made me think and cry and feel extreme emotions, and it was good. And just the other day, the boy and I went to the library, and I came home with six books, and I plowed through five of them within a week. It felt marvelous to fall into books like that again, to get that feeling of utter escape, that feeling where you close the book and you’re still thinking about the characters hours later.

For so long, I wrapped myself in the soft cushion of yarn crafts, and it saved me. I still love it, still knit more than I read, probably. But I think I’m at a point where there’s more of a balance. I can be a knitter AND a reader. A yarnaholic AND a bookaholic.

But I still can’t read mysteries. Well, no. I take that back; I’ve read a few. Harlan Coben is still a favorite. But they’re few and far between. I’ve never read another Lee Child book. I have an O’Connell and two Fairsteins in my To-Be-Read stash, and I pick them up periodically, read the description, and put them back. They’re too dark. There’s too much pain and anger and ugliness in those worlds. And of course, they still remind me of my dad. I think I’ll get back to them, someday. Until then, there’s still a whole wide world of books to explore, and I’m so relieved that I could find my way back to it.

I am not just a Knitter

Apr7

Again, another day with zero knitting. But it was okay, because I spent it doing the other thing I love: reading. I do a bit of freelance proofreading, and I’ve got one prolific author who seems to like what I do: this is the third book she’s had me proofread for her. Her name is Antoinette J. Houston, and she’s got two paranormal novels on Amazon right now. This third one is science fiction, which is not a genre I typically read. But I enjoyed this one, even if I was focusing mostly on grammar and punctuation and stuff like that. It took me all day to do my first read-through but I got it done!

Today I’m taking a wee break from the proofreading and spending time with my yarn (at least until I force myself to run my errands). I’ve got some Cascade Cloud on my needles, and wow, it’s nice stuff. Feels so good in my hands, dense but springy and soft. I’m making an All-Day Beret with it and enjoying every stitch.Of course I still have to fulfill my role as chauffeur. The girl has play rehearsal all week after school (almost Tech Week!) plus two nights of band rehearsal and one band concert. I have no idea how we’re going to fit in choir next year, but it’s a good problem to have.

Mostly, though, the puppies and I have been enjoying our downtime after nine days of spring break. Until next time, happy reading/writing/knitting/crocheting/puppy loving!

Spring Break in Photos

Apr3

Spring Break is almost over. It has been very quiet and casual, for the most part. Lots of sleeping in, hanging out in PJs and binge-watching Arrow and Sherlock, and quite a bit of knitting. Here are the highlights:

Lilac market bag in cotton/linen

My new fabric remnants for purse linings

Impromptu lunch at Steak ‘n’ Shake

Puppies got bored

I hate to end on a bad note, but that’s life sometimes, right? Two books escaped with just a few small gouges, one lost the dust jacket but is still a good reading copy, one is readable if I don’t mind a big missing corner, and two were destroyed completely. Sigh. At least they ignored the first edition of Cold Mountain. I’m trying to remind myself that we’ve gotten really lucky. Since we got the second dog, Grace, six weeks ago, we’ve left the two pups out in the house while we’re gone and for the most part they’ve been really good. I have no idea what brought on this little chew-fest, but it’s enough to make me decide they can stay in the kitchen while we’re gone!

Finished Object Friday (times TWO!)

Feb20

Hey hey hey! I have two things to show off today! I was sitting there in the cold yesterday morning, all bundled up in my blanket with my tea, and I realized I needed to make myself a new, warmer hat. The ones I’d made myself didn’t cover my ears, and that’s necessary right now. I’d been borrowing my husband’s hat, but it’s just plain gray ribbing. Boring! Poking through my Ravelry library, I re-discovered the Vermonter hat and knew it was just the thing. Even better, one of the suggested yarns was Berroco Brio, and I just *happened* to have a beautiful single skein just sitting in my stash waiting to be used.

Two hours later, I had a new hat. Seriously. I was catching up on The Mindy Project, and before the fifth episode was over, I was done. That is a fast hat, folks. And as soon as that episode was over, I pulled it on and went out to walk the dog.Now, I modified it just a bit. I used size 13 needles and added an extra repeat of the pattern, so it came out just a tiny bit long, but I don’t care. I even had more than enough yarn leftover for a big pompom. I LOVE it. (I just sang that bit, could you tell?) The *only* thing I would say is that it has stretched a little, so if you make it, use the smaller needles for the brim, ok?Okay, next. Actually this should have come first, because I finished it on Wednesday. It’s my Swirling Spider Cowl and I’m quite delighted with it as well. Plus there’s enough yarn left over to make a cute little matching beanie!Back to yesterday. After I finished my new hat, I decided it was time to cast on for something new. I’ve been in a casting-on fury this week: I’ve started another Honey Cowl and a Rikke hat, but this is something special for me. I got a kit of Knit Picks Palette for Christmas, and I wasn’t sure what I was going to do with it, since it’s fingering weight and we all know how I feel about that. They’re all shades of purple so my knitting SIL suggested a gradient cowl. BRILLIANT. It just so happened I’d come across Purl Bee’s seed stitch gradient cowl recently. I could hold two strands together and use seed stitch to make a cowl with several shades of purple!!! Knitting doesn’t get much better than that for me.To get the right yardage, I’m using eight colors instead of five, which also meant adjusting the length of each stripe etc. After consulting with my fashion expert (aka 14yo daughter) I decided to do 3 1/4″ of each stripe, and only do one repeat instead of two. I think it will be marvelous. I’m already on the second stripe and it’s so fun. I want to knit on it all day. But I can’t because today is doctor appointment day so I’ll be taking the Rikke hat with me instead. And that’s okay too.

Still no puppy news. This volunteer-run shelter hasn’t contacted me yet and I’m trying really hard to be understanding and patient but it’s hard. This is my dog, I know it. One thing I’ve realized is that if I can hold out for a couple of days, my need for immediate gratification fades. I no longer simply NEED A NEW DOG. I want the right dog, and I’m looking at other shelters and all the other pretty dogs and my heart says, Yes, but wait for that dog. See if he can be yours. So okay. I’ll wait.

And one more thing and then I’ll be done nattering at you. You need to read The Nightingale by Kristin Hannah. It’s beautiful and terrible and wonderful and heartbreaking. I’ve read a lot about WWII, both fiction and non-fiction, and this book made it real in a way I haven’t experienced before. I confess, I’m an easy crier, and I get very emotionally invested in my books, so maybe that’s part of it, but still, this is a fantastic book. It’s easily her most ambitious, serious, dramatic, engrossing book. Try it. You won’t be disappointed.

Books & Cowls

Jan13

Apparently I was feeling adventurous yesterday. I started out the morning by learning a new bind off (Jeny’s Surprisingly Stretchy). Then I decided to try something else new, so I downloaded an audiobook from the library to listen to while I knitted. I used to be an avid reader. It wasn’t unusual for me to have two books going at the same time, and I’d go through several books a month. Then I learned to crochet and knit. First I couldn’t even fathom trying to focus on what my fingers were doing as well as words in a book. Then, even when I could, I couldn’t figure out the logistics. After all, my hands were busy. How could I hold a book? I did manage to read an e-book once while I was knitting a super-simple Gap-tastic cowl that was just seed stitch all the way through. But it was awkward to pause and “turn” the page; it disrupted my rhythm.

So I kind of gave up books. I know, it’s sad, right? I’m sad to type it and even sadder to admit it. Now, don’t freak out, I didn’t give them up completely. I still read at times, but a lot of it was knitting-related. I don’t sit and read in the evenings like I used to. I don’t devour books while devouring lunch; instead I browse patterns on Ravelry. But I miss books. I miss being a reader. But I don’t want to give up knitting.

Ergo, audiobooks. I found a book I hadn’t read before and off I went. It was strange at first, but easier then I expected. I’ve tried audiobooks before and didn’t care for them; I process things better by reading them than hearing them. But this wasn’t any heavy reading, just light fiction, and it was fine. It’s definitely not the same as the heft of an actual book in my hands, feeling the scratch of the paper and getting a whiff of used-book mustiness. The biggest problem was that I can’t skim. I realized that I must skim over a lot of description in books to get to the action, because there were several times I found myself thinking, “Oh, get on with it already. I know how you feel, so what are you going to DO?” But it’s fine. It’s better than no book at all. And I’m actually kind of excited. I don’t have to choose between books and yarn now. I can browse the library and get all kinds of books on my Overdrive app!

So what did I do while I was “reading”? I finally finished that Malabrigo cowl! I’m in between projects and wanted to finish something fun. I love love love this yarn, and I think this pattern is a great way to show it off.The color isn’t perfect in these shots, despite my best efforts. It’s got a tiny bit more purple than the first picture indicates. This second shot is probably the closest to the true color.It might be just wee bit tall, but hey, the better to burrow your chin into, right? And I kind of like the look of it folded over a bit.For those who care: this is the Clairiere Cowl and Malabrigo Worsted yarn. This yarn is amazing. Obviously the colors are fantastic but the yarn itself is soft yet sturdy, no splitting. It’s one of my new favorites.

Today I’m going to tackle fingering-weight lace again, so send me some good vibes!

Retail Memories: A manuscript snippet

Jul24

This is scary. But I’m going to do it anyway. *deep breath* I spent several years working retail, and my company is closing soon. I’ve been working on a memoir about my retail escapades, and today I thought for Throwback Thursday I would share a little snippet. You meet a lot of customers over seven years and many of them were good. And many were…not. *Please note, names have been changed!*

***

I hate to say it, but when it came to outright rudeness, some of our older customers took the prize. I don’t know if it was the mindset of “I’ve lived this long so I can say what I want”, or if we truly just lose our filter as we age, but there were a lot of insensitive women out there. Sometimes it was a minor snub: ignoring us when we talked to them, using a cold voice to tell us, “No. I don’t need your help.” Sometimes they were flat-out mean, like Martha and Hazel.

These two women (I don’t want to use the word “ladies”) were the bitchiest couple of women I ever had to help. They were friends, probably in their late 70s, and they typically shopped together. Martha had short brown curly hair and a permanent scowl on her face. Hazel was beautiful: gorgeous thick platinum hair, porcelain skin, big eyes, wide smile. She had to have been a knockout when she was young. Hazel was in better health so she drove them to the store. When they were there, they demanded the full attention of at least one associate for their entire visit. Being older, often it was easier for them to call us than come in. If we were really lucky, they would use three-way calling to call us together.

“This is Bonny, how can I help you?”

“Yeah, I need another pair of those pants.”

Of course I knew who it was. We had caller ID on our phone. But the idea that she expected me to know her instantly, and know what pants she was talking about, irked me.

“I’m sorry, who is this?”

“It’s Martha!” she snapped. “Hazel needs another pair of those jeans she bought!”

At that point, I would hold back my sigh and start looking her up in the computer to try to figure out which pants she was talking about.

“Can you tell me which jeans they were, Martha?”

“The black ones! Hold on, let me get Hazel on the phone.”

By the time Hazel joined us, I was looking through her profile. “Okay, Hazel, you need another pair of the classic waist straight leg in size 16?”

“No no no, I need the petite 16.”

“We don’t have that in the store. You bought the 16. You would have to order the petite and have it sent to you.”

“I don’t think that’s right. I’m sure I bought a petite.”

Martha couldn’t hold it in. “Well, we bought it there the other day!” No you didn’t. “Maybe whoever helped us that day knew how to find things.” Said with contempt and derision. Yep, that was me. “But if you can’t manage to find it, then fine. Order it and send it to her.”

“I can’t do that, Martha. You’ll have to call customer service.”

“Oh no! I’m not doing that! They’ll charge me shipping and there’s no way in hell I’m paying shipping just because you can’t find the right pants!”

Logic and reason were useless. If I tried to tell them that we weren’t allowed to place orders over the phone (which was true and I did try to explain sometimes), one of them (usually Martha) carped that we did it before and they couldn’t always get in the store and they were our best customers.

Resistance was futile. It made it difficult when they called asking for things we didn’t have, items they’d seen in some other store’s ad and were convinced were ours. At least once, Martha insisted that we carried other brand names so of course we would have these pants she’d seen at Macy’s. While we realized part of the problem was honest confusion borne of age and mental decline, their attitudes and the way they spoke to us made it very difficult to be sympathetic.

For a long time, I thought Martha was the ringleader in their antics, since she took charge when they came in. Then one day I helped Hazel when she came in without Martha and realized they just had different styles of bitchiness. Martha was overt, always looking for a fight. Hazel was a queen who expected to be catered to, and would speak with a cutting forcefulness if we didn’t comply with her requests. More often than not, it wasn’t worth the effort to argue with them. We tried our best to anticipate and meet their needs in hopes that they would go peacefully, because in the long run, we knew we would end up doing whatever they wanted.

***

So there you have it. Just one encounter of many. I’d love feedback if you have it. Just be constructive and not cruel, if you don’t mind!

When I grow up, I want to be…

Jul5

I’m so jealous of my husband. Alex actually knows what he wants to be when he grows up. He’s worked for a local software company for over 15 years, but in his heart, he wants to focus on his woodworking and build custom furniture. He’s thinking ahead, trying to plan it out so that it will actually be feasible in the future. But me? It depends on the day, and to be honest, I don’t know what my future will hold, or even what I want it to hold.

I quit my full-time job about two years ago to be a stay-at-home mom. I’d been in retail management for six years and I was beyond burnt out. Add in some family crises, and the job became even less important. We revised our budget, cut back a lot of expenses, and let loose of a lot of stress. It was wonderful–it’s been wonderful–in so many ways. I am beyond grateful that my husband has been willing to let me take this time to focus on family. I’m grateful that my kids have accepted the sacrifices I ask them to make so we can live within our means.

For the first few months, I worked on a book. I’d started a memoir about my retail adventures while I was still working, and I was inspired to finish it while the memories were still fresh. Once (I thought) it was done, my time opened up in front of me. Most people would see it as a huge blessing, and part of me did. But part of me saw it as huge pressure too. Alex and I had talked about my writing, and how this was the best opportunity for me to focus on it. And it was. It is. So why didn’t I revise my book, edit and polish it, and start querying agents?

Fear. Plain and simple.

Rejection is part of writing, every writer knows that. I try to brace myself for it, but it always knocks me down a little. And at that time, I think I knew I wasn’t emotionally strong enough to push through that process.

Now it’s two years later, and I’ve worked on the book a lot more. I’m venturing into the world of writers and agents in social media, and maybe it’s time to take that leap. I could finish this book, maybe find an agent and get it published, or self-publish. I’ve been writing for years, so maybe I could pull out the two completed manuscripts I’ve got in my closet and see if they’re worth revising. I could be a writer when I grow up.

But. Wait. In those two years, I’ve also started doing some freelance proofreading, and I love it. I was a copy editor in both high school and college, and English has always been my strong suit. I read widely and voraciously, and correcting spelling, grammar and punctuation is second nature to me. I love taking another writer’s work and polishing it so it shines. I’ve worked on four books so far and would love to do more. There are a lot of freelance websites out there, and if I put forth the effort to bid on jobs, I could probably make a bit of money from it. And when the kids are a bit older and I don’t need to be home so much, I could find a permanent proofreading position.

Hold on, though. I have a passion for yarn, for crochet and knitting. I have visions of a sunny, friendly yarn store where I could spend my days helping people with their own crafting. Alex and I have talked about a joint venture, a storefront where we have both yarn and furniture displayed for sale. We even have a potential name and we’ve scouted out buildings that would work well.

Picture an end table with a lacy runner decorating it, or a coffee table holding bowls of yarn and vases of handmade wood knitting needles. Picture a mannequin wearing a scarf decorated with a wood scarf pin. It’s a relaxing vision, a happy vision. It would allow Alex and I to spend time together, sharing our love for making beautiful pieces. It would keep me from having to answer to a boss, like I would with a “real” job. The kids could work there too, after school and summers. Maybe the dog would be mellow enough to come to work with me sometimes.

I think of doing this and smile. It would be a hard choice, though, with unreliable income, less time off, not much freedom to be spontaneous. I’d have to learn how to run a business, which isn’t why I would do it. I’d do it to be with yarn and other yarn-lovers, to create a space that’s lacking in my neighborhood.

So what do I do? How do I decide what to focus on? I know I can have all these things in my life to some extent, but I feel like I’m supposed to have a goal. What should I be working toward? How do I figure out which one is my true passion?

Today’s Library Books

Apr9

I love trips to the library. As I kid I’d walk there and come home with armloads of books that would keep me quiet for hours. It’s not always the same now, though it still happens from time to time. Today, I just went to pick up one book I had on hold: Eleanor & Park by Rainbow Rowell. I’ve been hearing about her and this book for ages, and I’ve been on the waiting list for ages. Can’t wait to start reading it finally!

But then I browsed through the new non-fiction section, and there’s just SO MUCH interesting stuff! This is what I came home with:

Puppy Bible: because I have a new dog and I figured it’d be smart to see what’s coming next.

My Dog is Driving Me Crazy: see above. Plus I won’t always think his quirks are charming, so I might want to help improve his behavior.

The Art of Cartooning & Illustration: my 10yo son loves drawing and thinks he wants to be a cartoonist when he grows up.

Fine Woodworking Turning Techniques & Projects: my husband is an avid and talented woodworker and one of the things he wants to learn is turning. (And I want him to learn so he’ll make me yarn bowls and knitting needles)

Building Classic Arts & Crafts Furniture: kind of for the husband. We own a house that’s almost 100 years old, and we both like the Arts & Crafts look. I like to dream of the furniture he could make for us.

Home Workshop Storage: Storage is an issue for most artists regardless of the medium, I would think. And with two kids and limited workshop space, I thought Alex might find a helpful idea or two.

And now I get to sit in the sun and read!

Those are just “girl” books, he says

Mar27

A few days ago I was at Barnes & Noble with my teenage daughter and one of her friends. They had just come from seeing “Divergent” and we met up with the other girl’s parents at the bookstore. We’re all readers, so the conversation veered from the Divergent series to other books. The friend (we’ll call her Tris for this story) brought up a book she wanted to read, the second in a series. Her mom said, “Oh yeah, I remember you telling me about that book.” Her dad glanced at the jacket art featuring stylized colorful swirls and sneered…and Tris put the book back.

The conversation moved to the Hunger Games series, which most of us had read and loved. Tris’s dad then said, with disdain in his voice, “Those books were girl books. They were too much about relationships. The parts about politics were interesting, but there wasn’t enough of that.”

Wow. Now, to be fair, I don’t remember whether he said he read the whole series or just the first one. (Though also to be fair, I’m not sure if that matters. How can you judge what you have not read?) I do remember there being quite a bit about the political issues in the series as a whole. I also remember the love relationship angle being only one small part of a much larger story. But despite the fact that he is overlooking so much meaning in the series, there is more at play that is disturbing to me.

Girls aren’t allowed to be interested in politics? Or is it that he thinks girls aren’t smart enough to understand politics? Tell that to Hillary Rodham Clinton, or Angela Merkel or Condoleeza Rice or Margaret Thatcher or…the list is too long. Does he realize that with his attitude, and his comments, he runs the risk of limiting his daughter? She’s smart, inquisitive, clever, funny–she can probably succeed in any field…unless she starts to believe that only certain things are acceptable for girls.

For that matter, boys have to be interested in politics? They’re not allowed to explore relationships in their reading? Huh. From what I remember of teenage (and young adult, and some adult) boys, their thoughts are consumed much more by relationships than politics. Being a teenager is a hard thing to go through, and I believe that reading about similar people and experiences can truly help a person cope with their struggles. What’s the good in removing that tool from an entire gender?

This wasn’t my first uncomfortable run-in with this guy. A few months ago, I was picking my daughter up from Tris’s house. My daughter and I both crochet and knit, and we were talking about teaching Tris how to do it. The dad scoffed at us, prompting Tris to point out that he used to crochet. “Yeah, I learned how once but then I figured out that it was stupid. Boys don’t crochet.” My 10-year-old son was with me, a boy who was actually learning to crochet. I spoke up and said that actually, they do, that one in particular is quite well-known (Hello there Crochet Dude Drew Emborsky) and he interrupted, “Oh, yeah, okay, one guy, sure.”

It’s truly infuriating. Thankfully, both my kids are enlightened enough that they realize the ludicrousness of what this guy says. I talked to my son about boys crocheting afterward, that actually a lot of guys do crochet and knit, and he casually said, “Oh yeah, I know.” Likewise, I talked to my daughter after the book incident. I asked her if she likes Tris’s dad, and she said, “Yeah, he’s really nice!” I murmured noncommittally and said I thought what he was saying about “girl books” was actually really sexist. She replied, “Well, yeah,” as if I was telling her something completely obvious…which I was, and I was glad that she recognized that.

I know there’s little I can do to combat attitudes like his. I wish I was better in the moment, to challenge him when he spouts idiocies like those, though it would probably do no good seeing as how I’m “just a girl”. So I’m doing what I can by teaching my kids to embrace what they love, regardless of stereotypes. Don’t close yourself off from creating wondrous things because one person says you can’t. I’m teaching them to respect others in the same way. Be open to what they’re doing, because you might learn something fantastic from them. Even though it’s true that we’re boys and girls, we’re all people. We all have thoughts and emotions and feelings and interests and passions. Life is so much more joyous when you have the freedom to embrace those things that make you who you are, as well as those things that connect you to others.