Author: Allie P.

A letter from Her Royal Highness

by Allie P., posted in Life as I know it

Her royal highness

It has come to Our attention that one of Our staff released a statement to the public regarding the early days of Our initial residence. While We believe this should have remained a private matter, We can no longer ignore the continued calls for additional clarity regarding this ongoing transition and have decided to release this first State of the Realm.

First, while We would enjoy more pillows, and certainly disapprove of this breach in protocol, We harbour no ill will toward the original letter’s author. In fact, We have adopted several programmes specifically designed to increase the health, security, and happiness for her as well as all resident staff. For example, We have instigated not one, but a minimum of two mandatory walks around the grounds and extended estate daily. This exercise regime has not only increased the sense of community but is on track to decrease their bottom line as well. Similar programmes have also been devised for the younger staff within Our estate and we have no reason to believe that their results will be any different as their responsibility grows.

We have increased security throughout the premises. Just this morning, Our finely tuned alert system sent a potential intruder, cleverly disguised as a delivery man, on his way with minimal confrontation. We can speculate all too clearly what foul deed this person might have performed were it not for Our high standards and Our rigorous process of background checks. Additionally, a scourge of local ruffians, commonly known as the gang of squirrels, have since been placed on the highest watch lists. Though it has been less than ninety days since We took Our residence, We are pleased to say that their villainy is on the decline as reported by all measures of nearby squirrel based activity.

We have also commissioned several renovations throughout the estate. While some of these changes may appear drastic to the untrained eye, they were all designed with the greatest consideration to the needs of Our staff. These changes primarily involved increasing the quantity of natural light as well as open air flow within the palace, both of which have been proven to have a positive impact on the human brain in its attentiveness as well as its ability to ward off disease. These changes also created the added benefit of promoting continued adult education and development of useful trade skills such as carpentry.

Renovations

Then there is the matter of happiness. Before We took residence, small bits known as LEGOS littered the ground well beyond the boundaries of acceptable use. We were told these bits regularly caused issues such as foot pain, quarrels among the ranks, and lack of sleep for elder staff at the end of a work day. This was not only a long standing problem, it was a problem the staff believed to be insurmountable as well. We sank our teeth into this problem immediately. It only took two instances of rendering these nuisances into unrecognizable lumps of plastic to convince the younger staff to improve their standards of cleanliness, and as it is said, cleanliness is next to godliness, or at least linked to a greater probability of happiness.

Lastly, as all great leaders know, it is not enough to put a matter in writing. Leaders should and must lead by example. We are quite content. We trust that all who appreciate and emulate Our regal bearing will be soon follow suit and are now looking most forward to a long and prosperous age.

We wish each of you continued similar success.

Sincerely,

HRH The Princess Royal V.C. Potts, the first of her name.

 

 

 

In the wilds, or the zoo, one should never settle

by Allie P., posted in Life as I know it

“Children are smarter than any of us. Know how I know that? I don’t know one child with a full-time job and children.” – Bill Hicks

Kiddo was on spring break and was spending the working hours with my mom. “I was thinking about taking the boys to the zoo. LT too,” my mom offered. “You are welcome to join us.” Kiddo has been to the zoo before, but LT hadn’t, and considering his 4-year-old/life-long obsession with monkeys (really, any simian), I couldn’t help but imagine the expression on his face when he saw the living creatures. I knew I had to come along.

That morning, there was a slight chill in the air, but the skies were clear and blue. Well, at least mostly blue. Occasionally clouds of yellow-green-death dust could be seen billowing down from the trees (we really have six seasons: Summer, Fall, Summer’s Revenge, Winter, Spring, and Pollen), but otherwise it was a good day to be outside.

“Are we going to see monkeys, mommy?” LT asked just before I loaded my offspring into the car.

“I am pretty sure we will.” Two hours later we only had ten miles left to go when traffic came to a stop. I am not quite sure what happened as the roads were clear, perhaps the pollen had taken another victim, in any event, a car had taken a detour into a ditch. We stopped and started and stopped again. The meeting with monkeys would have to wait.

Somehow we made it to the final turn lane before the zoo’s entrance, but we weren’t alone. Apparently, we weren’t the only one to decide that a day trip was in order. Cars filled the parking lot and a line of other families crammed together on a narrow bridge way that fed into the ticketing lanes. I plopped LT into a stroller and did my best to navigate through the masses. It was slow going. It’s going to be worth it though, I thought to myself.

Eventually, we made it through the crowd and into the park. And then there were animals. Graceful giraffes grazed as zebras sunned themselves on a hillside next to a small water feature. They weren’t monkeys, but I thought they’d do. My youngest would be impressed all the same. Here it is, the big moment. It’s going to be worth it. I escorted LT up as close to the creatures as possible. He stood, pulling himself up on the wall as high as his arms would allow.

“What do you think?”

“I see . . . I see . . . I see A WATERFALL!” He pointed. Sure enough, a trickle of water poured down the hill into the water feature, but it wasn’t exactly Niagara falls.

“Yes, honey, I see a waterfall too, but what do you think of the animals?”

“WATERFALL!” (Have I mentioned he is also obsessed with waterfalls?)

My mom, overhearing this last remark, joked that perhaps instead of the zoo we should have planned a trip to Iceland instead.

dang.

“The children of the revolution are always ungrateful, and the revolution must be grateful that it is so.” – Ursula K. Le Guin

I loaded LT back into the stroller and made our way to the next exhibit – again, not monkeys. I leaned down and once again asked, “what do you think?”

“Where is the waterfall?”

Sigh…

Finally after walking what felt like miles, we found ourselves on the last stretch of path to the chimpanzee enclosure. Crowds of people surrounded us. I ditched the stroller and carried LT the rest of the way. The glass was blocked by children and parents alike. Then one family looked back and pulled their children to the side so that LT could squeeze in between them. There walked not one, but several chimpanzees.

One of the younger chimps, ignoring the crowd, decided to roll down the hill on its side. LT wasn’t the only child in the crowd to squeal with delight. Another chimp climbed into a hammock.

“Mommy . . . Mommy . . .” LT shook in excitement as he tried force the words through an ear to ear grin. “MONKEYS!”

One day, I’ll explain the difference between a monkey and a chimpanzee, but I decided to save that argument for another day. It was finally here. It was the big moment and it was even better than I imagined. To think I’d been prepared to accept something less just because it was easier.

“Let us not be content to wait and see what will happen, but give us the determination to make the right things happen.” – Horace Mann

LT hadn’t settled, nor had he let me, and as a result, we both achieved our goal for the day.

May tomorrow be just as successful.

quotes courtesy of http://www.brainyquote.com

Lou lou skip to my Loo

by Allie P., posted in Life as I know it

There are some people who collect shot glasses wherever they travel and some people who collect souvenirs such as spoons, or postcards, or magnets. I am no different from any of those people, only instead of bringing back your standard knick knack, I collect toilets. Or more specifically, I make sure to take a photograph of a toilet whenever I travel to someplace new.

It started out as a joke. Not to age myself too much, but I didn’t always have a digital camera (I certainly didn’t always have one embedded in my phone). Back in those dark ages, you had to take film to a drug store or photo shop and pay for it to be developed only to find out you had wasted at least three shots. So when we purchased our first digital camera it was as if we were suddenly able to print our own money (something I strongly recommend you not do). The luxury of such wastefulness went to our heads.

Lamont would jump out at random passerbys and shout, “you’re a star!” as he took five to ten rapid fire shots like some sort of inexperienced paparazzi with really, really bad intel (not everyone was quite as amused as we were.) Our hotel rooms were another victim. Each was treated like a potential cover story for Better Homes and Gardens or a featured episode of Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous (or Cribs for the younger crowd), except we were budget travels back then (and now) and quickly would run out of square footage to photograph. The toilet shot gradually transitioned from a series regular to a starring character.

North American Toilets
Mexico and Canada
Asian Toilet
Hong Kong and China
European Isles Toilets
United Kingdom and Northern Ireland
European Continental Toilets
Croatia and Italy
Australia

As we started collecting the shots, we noticed that each had its own subtle difference. The water spiraled down the drain in the opposite direction than I was used to in Australia. It was also the first toilet I had ever seen with a separate #1 and #2 flush button for water conservation. The porcelain hole in the ground stopped me in my tracks in China. Some were oval, others square and the operating mechanism differed in dozens of ways as well (I may have accidentally set off an alarm in Ireland thinking the cord hanging beside the tank meant that it was a pull to flush when in reality it was for a handicap assist – whoopsy!). The sheer amount of variation in the sanitation world is rather amazing when you actually start to pay attention to it.

At yet, no matter where we go or what shape or form the toilet takes, it usually still works just about the same (excepting of course the times we have stayed in a truly ‘budget’ location).

There are a number of places I still need to visit before I deem my collection complete. For example, visiting Africa and South America remain on my bucket list. I’d like to visit Antarctica too, although I suspect I will have to settle for a photograph of a cruise ship toilet as we pass through those icy waters. When I do, I will photoshop the name of the place onto the photo somewhere, then frame the image, and hang it among my favorites on my bathroom wall.

While it may not be the most polite conversation, the wall is definitely a conversation starter and one that I am glad to have whenever a new guest comes over. After all, the frames on the wall are a constant reminder that no matter how much we might differ, there is always at least one thing we all have in common.

Onward and upward – fun with mind manipulation

by Allie P., posted in General Tips and Tricks

Writing a novel is like running a marathon. You train and train, conditioning your body through smaller “fun” runs as you gradually build up some confidence and stamina. Then it is the day of the event, the thing you have been training toward for the last several weeks if not months. A crowd surrounds you. Their excitement is contagious. “See you on the other side!” and “Let’s do this!” You are anxious, but anything is possible. You take off.

Then, six miles later or so, you see that the course contains a hill (not to mention another ~twenty miles) and you start questioning why in the world you ever thought this was a novel idea (pun intended). You start contemplating veering off with the half marathoners, but that still means you have to somehow find it in you to run another ~seven miles. Ugh.

At this point, you realize you are thoroughly outta luck, so you might as well keep putting one foot in front of the other.

Image courtesy of Imgur
Image courtesy of Imgur

You adjust your pace and trick your mind into ignoring things like mile markers while instead focusing on smaller, more achievable goals. I just have to make it to that street sign or the next water station without walking. You look around and see spectator signs like “If this were easy, it would be called your mom,” or “remember you paid for this.” You’d laugh if it didn’t make you wheeze (or puke), but it is exactly the reminder you needed.

You may not get a spot on the podium, but you know that as long as you finish, even if you wind up crawling across the line, you are still getting a medal for your effort. It hurts to go forward, but you also know it just might kill you at this point to go back empty-handed.

I am at the base of that hill with my current work in process. Day job, illness, and life in general, knocked me off schedule. Even worse, as much as I want to push my characters forward, they seem equally determined to catch their breath. I am tempted to write in some zombies or talking animals from another dimension just to mix it up, except I’m pretty sure I would ultimately have to cut the scene out. I can feel my will to continue begin to be tested (oh, why didn’t I set out to write a short story, or at most, a novella?) But as starting another project (with zombies… no…, dragon zombies… from space!) or taking an indefinite hiatus (don’t even think it) are equally unacceptable options, I’ve come to the realization that it is time to start utilizing the tricks that kept me motivated two times before. It is time to pull out the signs.

In my case, that usually means mocking up a cover or two as I have an easier time visualizing my goal if I have an idea of what it might look like when I cross the finish line. Which brings me to cover design.

I am always on the lookout for ways to improve any aspect of my authorprenuerism and recently watched a special on the topic of something called the golden ratio, 1.618, or phi. Supposedly this near mystic ratio can be found among plants and shells almost as if the natural world was actually planned by mathematics. It is repeated in architecture such as the Parthenon and its proportions found in art like the Mona Lisa.

To create it, you draw a rectangle (one size is 1x, the other side is 0.618x). Then while keeping the rectangle’s proportions the same, rotate and resize the rectangle so that its longest side now fits within its shortest side (or… you can simply find a ready-made golden ratio template on the internet).

Golden Ratio
Golden Ratio (image courtesy of Wikimedia Commons)

Its use is also suggested to be a form of mind manipulation. There are those in the marketing world who believe that design based on this ratio is also more appealing to consumers that designs that do not. Intrigued, I decided to first test out how well my existing covers conformed to this ratio.

Golden-ratio-UFGolden-ratio-FFAccording to the theory, a consumer’s eyes are expected to naturally follow a line of curvature within the golden rectangle. The rectangles should then act as a guide for the placement of design elements.

I was somewhat shocked but overall pleased to see that both of my covers roughly fit within the design rules I hadn’t previously known existed. For example, if the theory is true, a would-be reader’s eye is drawn to the chasm beneath the woman in An Uncertain Faith suggesting my main character’s trying situation while on The Fair & Foul, a reader’s eyes are drawn to my name which will help achieve brand recognition.

Of course there are others who believe that the golden ratio is purely a myth or that there are other more appealing rectangle sizes, but considering how important cover design can be to the success of a book, it is definitely something I will be keeping in mind moving forward.

And move forward I will.

One flu over the cuckoo’s nest

by Allie P., posted in Life as I know it

What I originally thought was just a minor sniffle turned out to be a case of the full-blown flu.

Mess up the hair more, swap out the stylish clothes, add more blankets and used tissues and this is so me when I am sick image courtesy of Unsplash)
Mess up the hair so that it looks like an animal’s nest and make it brown, replace the stylish clothes with mismatched sweats, add more blankets and used tissues scattered among kid toys and do away with this whole suffering in silence thing she has going on and this image really captures how I look when I am sick. (Image courtesy of Unsplash)

I do not handle being sick well. While I am mostly better now, I’d spent the last few days either in bed or under a blanket on the couch. The effort of getting marginally presentable each day was exhausting. I wanted my mommy to magically appear and make it all better, but my mommy is busy taking care of her mommy right now. I coughed, and sneezed, and resigned myself to be miserable.

One of those days, as I lay there envying the liveliness of extras on the Walking Dead, my door opened and in walked my eldest son. In his hand was a yellow flower, the first of our daffodils of the season. “Here mom, this is to make you feel better.” It was lovely, except my sinuses, thoroughly blocked, would not allow me to breathe in its scent, and its bright color caused my eyes to water.

“Do you like it?”

“I love it, baby.” Although it probably sounded more like I wuv get, baby. Achoo! Snort. Snort. Ack! I hate being sick!

“Dad asked me to help him more in the garage, but I’ll be back to check on you.”

“Dad did?” Bless him. “Okay honey, have fun.” I pulled the blanket back over my shoulders as Kiddo returned to play in a great outside world I couldn’t currently enjoy, thankful that my hubby was on point. I assumed LT was out there somewhere too, but I couldn’t dreg up the energy to be sure.

It could be worse. I could still be traveling for work or I could be doing this all alone.

A few days earlier, I had been trapped on a plane, forced to make small talk for hours when it should have been a mere forty minute flight. One the poor unfortunate souls stuck in that tin can with me had asked innocently enough, “so who’s watching your kids while you are gone?”

“Their dad.”

“Oh,” the older man responded as his face became the picture of sympathy, “and are you okay with that?”

“Of course.” Um….Why shouldn’t I be?

The comment still bothered me, days later buried under blankets on the couch, even though I could barely remember what it was like to breathe.

Tuesday was International Women’s Day and the internet was full of images and writings of strong woman. It was a day to celebrate how very far we’ve come in terms of empowerment, but I believe there are still a few gaps in the modern-day feminist narrative, keeping true gender equality just out of reach. One is our perception of what makes a good father.

What does fatherhood have to do with feminism? I am able to pursue my dreams, my own sense of self, and be all I can be because I know someone else has my back at home.

When I travel as part of my day job, I don’t typically worry that I’ll return to find my backyard now serves as an arena for an underground cock-fighting ring, or that I’ll trip over a stack of random Polaroids detailing a night that will never be remembered or evidence of a hundred other bad decisions. Nor do I worry that homework will be excused, bedtimes avoided, or that ice cream and candy will be served exclusively for breakfast. I don’t worry because my other half is a parent and not a babysitter.

And yet, this simple fact may read like praise, as if my husband keeping the household from descending into chaos while I am otherwise indisposed is somehow above and beyond what all fathers and husbands should do for their families. I understand that not every father is as engaged with their children or as willing to pick up mom’s slack (especially after several days of solo-parenting before mom started to complain about feeling like death warmed over), but I’d like to think that the default assumption about the role should be slightly higher than the slacker / man-boy / comic-relief dad so favored on sitcoms.

When someone tells me my husband is a good father, I want them to say that because they saw the half-dozen kids use him like a swing-set during a school field trip, or because they overheard one of the hundreds of super-secret one-on-one talks he and one of the boys share about an individual child’s worries. I want them to say it because he is a great father and not because he simply shows up when there isn’t any other option.

Continuing to accept that men are somehow less capable of caring for a family is much the same as continuing to accept that women are any less capable of running a business or more and can be just as damaging to the next generation.

And so, during this Women’s History Month, I will rejoice in the accomplishments of brave women who fought for my right to vote, celebrate those who broke through the glass ceiling, invented Kevlar, fire escapes, and computer compilers. I will drink to those ancient women who created beer and to those more modern women who redefined math and physics.

But at the same time, while I am proud to be a STEM woman by day and a writer mom by night, I am so very grateful to be partnered with a man who isn’t afraid to make breakfast, who isn’t too manly to fold laundry, and whose very machoness isn’t threatened by agreeing to play with colored blocks. I may hold his parenting skills to a higher standard than the sitcoms, but then again, I don’t find the alternative very funny.