Question & Answer

So, I like the idea of having an interactive blog. I started this (much longer ago than it seems, in fact) in an effort to develop my casual, chatty, nonfiction voice. And heck, I'm not sure how much it's really developed, but I've had a blast meeting new folks on here and, although my updates have been more sparse as of late, rest assured that I'm not going anywhere. I'm just going a little slower.

Just a few excellent example questions.

Reading comments is always super fun, and I try to respond to everyone, but if you guys are like me, I don't always notice when someone replies to my comment.

That got me thinking, what if I throw this out there? Ask me something—anything. A serious question, a funny question, a random question, off-the-wall, it's all fair game.

I think this could be fun, and I'd like for you guys to have the chance to get to know who I am better. Especially since you've been good enough to follow, read, comment, or any of the aforementioned.

I've never tried this before, so it could be a little sloppy, but here's what I'm thinking. I'll give you guys a couple of weeks to get your questions in. You can post them as comments, or ask me via Twitter (@Pencil_to_Paper).

So, ask away, and ask before August 10th, and let's see what we come up with?

What do you say?

Up for a little Q & A?

Those Across the River

There's this thing that happens to me sometimes, when I'm reading. I get really into the story. This other world. And if I'm really entranced, somewhere toward the middle my pace picks up and I fly through the pages and I actually literally cannot stop reading until the climax and the resolution and the bittersweet end. And there's something so final and poignant about reading the last page down to the last word down to the very last punctuation, and then the back cover pulls in and (if this has happened to you, then you know the exact soft, yielding sound that follows), it's done. And there's this strange feeling of accomplishment, because you reached the end. And a sense of loss because it's over. And sometimes, as is the case with the book I just finished reading, there's confusion. I'm conflicted.

The book, if you're curious, is Those Across The River, by Christopher Buehlman, and I very much liked it. The prose, I think, is quite beautiful. Old fashioned, but I think that's really what worked for me. It's poetic, in many ways, written as a period piece, set in the 1930s—think Southern Gothic Horror—so it just feels unlike a lot of the current fiction I read. 

And here I am, finished with this very engaging story with such a strong protagonist, with such an interesting voice as a first-person narrative, and I liked the story, but I'm not sure I enjoyed it. No, that's not quite right. I'm not sure it was fun. But I couldn't stop reading it, and I think that I did enjoy it, but I'm not sure that I'm satisfied. And I'm also not sure that 'satisfied' is exactly what I mean, either. Because I didn't feel dissatisfied with the outcome, but I was not happy at the end.

I was about two thirds finished when I picked it up last night, and I intended on reading a few chapters before bed. As it turned out, I kept turning pages, totally engulfed as things for the protagonist, my guide through this story, kept spiraling, and before I knew it, it was just after one in the morning and it was over.

I'm not sure I realized how invested I was in all these charming-in-their-own-way people residing in this small southern town until I had to say goodbye. Sure, I can always open it up and read it again, but there's something magical about the first read-through. Everything is new, you don't know what's coming next, and you can't wait to find out. A second read can be just as telling, but in different ways, but there's nothing quite like reading a good book for the first time. And this one has stuck with me, I don't think I've actually put it out of my mind since I finished it.

I don't know how that sits as a book review, but I will say this—if you like horror at all, and imagery, and secrets, and things that go bump in the night, and shadows that lurk deep in the woods, read this book.

That is all.

The Great Game-Change

When I was a kid, I used to think adults who said they still didn't know what they wanted to be when they grew up were liars. Or at least just kidding. I mean, come on—Adults are Grown-Ups. Synonymous. Grown-Ups, thought my childhood self, are finished. They have real life jobs that they picked out special when they went to real life school, and now they work and that's it. And they do what they want. Game over.

Granted, my childhood self saw this somehow as both less of a downer than it seems (Game over? How...depressing) and also fantastic—a life goal. To pick a Job (capitol J!) and ta-da!, the rest of your life basically unfurls before you, ripe for the living.

Then, the strangest thing happened.

I grew up.

And the game changed. Suddenly my "Adults have it all figured" strategy wasn't working anymore because my adult self began regurgitating those funny things Grown Ups used to say: I still don't know what I want to be when I grow up.

And I discovered there's a lot more to that than just an oxymoron. There's fear, kind of. Or maybe that's just me. But a fear like, what if I never figure it out? What if I spend the rest of my life perplexing children by being this bonafide adult who hasn't picked out an adult life yet? Anxiety. What if pick the wrong career? What if I end up back in a lecture hall, drooling mindlessly over lecture notes praying that my purpose in life will suddenly flash before my eyes during another text-laden PowerPoint.

I never wanted that for myself. When I was younger, teachers, people like that, would ask me what I wanted to be when I grew up, and it was okay that I didn't know then—I was six, or ten, or twelve, or whatever. But now I find myself having those conversations again, in a way, and I'm often at a loss. I'll meet someone new, commence small talk. And, of course, school comes up.
And this is how it goes:

"Oh, you went to A&M?"

"Sure did."

"What's your degree?"

"English."

"Oh, cool, so you want to teach?"

"Really not."

Ok, so that's an awkward way to wrap up that exchange, I know. But it's true. Yes, I have an English degree. No, I don't particularly want to teach. But that's always the conclusion people reach, and then I start questioning things. Should I want to teach? If not, should I have majored in something else? But there wasn't really anything else I wanted to major in. So what am I doing? What will I be doing?

And the stress returns.

But folks, here's what I'm learning the older I get, and maybe 26 isn't old, but it's older than I was when I first started college, and a lot has changed.

I think it's okay to not know. I think it's fabulous if you do, and I know people who were blessed with a gift and the passion to go for it and the incredible luck to know exactly what they want to do now that they're "grown up". But for all of those people, I know just as many that are still searching, seeking, learning. Trying to find where they fit, taking stock of their skills and natural gifts and looking into the marketplace of jobs to see where their niche is.

And that's okay.

I used to think once you picked, that was it. You take a job, and by golly you'd better love the crap out of it because that's The One. The Job. The end-all/be-all mystical career you will climb ladders in for the rest of your life.

I don't think that anymore.

Sure, it's ideal. And if you've got it, congratulations! That's brilliant.

If you don't, don't panic! Don't shy away from things you're unsure of because What If. Because the thing is, it's a job. If you hate it, you don't have to stagnate in misery. You can bow out, pop another bit of experience on your résumé, and try again.

Because I do believe that eventually you'll find it. And you'll transcend your childhood "I dunno" and find your adult "I do know" and you'll be satisfied.

And if you aren't, you can continue to baffle people by telling them you still don't know what you want to be when you grow up, exactly like I've been doing.

And you can keep looking.

Chins up, friends. Your place in the world is out there. If you've found it, you know what I'm talking about. If you haven't, you will.

Until then, embrace the journey, accept the challenge, and don't stress yourself stupid trying to measure up to any other Grown Up out there.