Change of heart or tactic?

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Okay, secretive, creepy, chicken hearted bully, what are you up to now?

For six years you’ve done everything you could to make life miserable. And I’ll admit it, your campaign has been very successful. I’ve felt uncomfortable in my own yard, unable to escape the invisible ray that radiates a miasma of hate from your house.

Then yesterday you cut back the bushes that had turned the shared driveway into a shared walkway.

What!

After five years of letting them, and an interesting variety of weeds, grow wild, you cut them? Unbelievable! The driveway actually looks like a driveway now!

But I’m confused. You do realize that cutting the bushes is a nice thing to do, don’t you? That it actually makes things more pleasant instead of less?

I’m just mentioning it because, well, it does go against the normal policy of your campaign.

So what happened?
Have you have had a change of heart?
Are you turning away from a life of bullying toward a life of good will?
Have you decided that life is too short to waste in the dark dungeon of bullydom?

Or, gulp, is this a ploy to put me off my guard so that wham, some new dastardly deed you’ve concocted will be that much more of a surprise, and therefore give an even more satisfying jolt.

Darn it! Even when you do something nice it puts me on edge.

You sir, are an evil genius.

Differing views

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Once upon a time, in a far away land called Redmond, I was a school librarian.

As a school librarian I would often write reviews about the books that I acquired for the library and post them on the Web. I did my best to give my honest opinion, always from the prospective of a librarian in charge choosing appropriate books for the students of the school.

The filter for purchasing books used in schools is quite different than that used in public libraries. School librarians are more focused on the particular needs of the school population, and thought has to be given to what is needed to support the curriculum. Public librarians must purchase for a much broader audience.

So I happily wrote my reviews, always stating that I was a librarian in a K-12 christian school.

When I left the school I gave up the account I was using to post the reviews. But I did set it up so that I’d be notified if anyone left a comment on one of my reviews. Out of curiosity.

I just received a comment on a review I wrote in 2008 about The Loud Silence of Francine Green by Karen Cushman.

Nothing like posting a comment on something written five years ago!

The comment is a perfect example of the problem many people have when they post things on the web.  The distance created by the digital world often loosens tongues in a way that is beneficial to no one.

Chances are that if I met the woman (it’s a woman’s name, although that means nothing) face-to-face she probably would not be quite so bitter that I wrote a good review about a book that she obviously dislikes.

I’m also pretty sure she wouldn’t accuse me of brainwashing children to hate God by promoting the book.

Me, all my librarian buddies, and most schools, by the way. We are all alike, according to her. Bent on destroying the world, one child at a time.

As I said, I gave up the account so I can’t respond back. I don’t really know if I would anyway. What would be the point.

It’s obvious that she is of the mindset that a book about a subject must be promoting it.

I guess she thinks we all live in a vacuum and none of us have ever been motivated to talk about something we’ve seen, or heard, or read about.

Oh, well. I can only hope that one day she reads something that inspires her to think a little harder about a subject she had formerly taken for granted.

Then she’ll get it.

Maybe.

Cyberbully-in-the-making

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An odd thing happened this weekend.

I was very happy to receive another donation to the Indiegogo campaign for Gray Zone, so I made the following post to my author Facebook page (the public one):

“Yipee! Another good person has contributed to the Indiegogo campaign. Happy, happy!”

Seems harmless enough, right?

Someone thought not.

He sent me a private message saying that he didn’t like the post and that I had to delete it. To make sure I got the message, he sent it three times.

Translated to physical world terms it equates to a stranger walking up to me and saying he doesn’t like what I’m saying so I should just shut up.

Now, just to be clear, know that I have no clue who this person is. He’s a total stranger, and as far as I can remember he hasn’t even commented on my Facebook page before.

He could be a normal person who is confused about Web etiquette, or he could be a cyberbully-in-the-making who’s dipping his toes in to see how it feels.

Personally, I believe it’s the latter. Here’s a person who certainly appears to be emboldened by the anonymity of the Internet. Someone who seems to enjoy bossing around whoever he wants, saying whatever he feels, and throwing his weight around–all because he’s hidden behind a screen name.

Fortunately for me, I don’t make a very good bullying victim. I’m not easily intimidated and I understand the cyberbully mentality.

Which is that it’s easy to be mean when no one can see your face.

From 0 to 1

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We all have our ups and downs. Just recently I’ve been a bit more on the down side.

Putting up that Indiegogo campaign certainly did a lot to bring me down. I created the video, wrote the blurb, launched the campaign, and posted to Facebook and Twitter. Every day I excitedly checked to see how much money had been raised, anxious to reach the 100% mark as soon as possible.

Only then could I breathe a sigh of relief. Only then would I have the funds necessary to make Gray Zone visible and noticed. Only then would Gray Zone have a chance among the multitude of newly published books.

One week went by. Two weeks went by. Still it was stuck at 0%.
Really?
0%?

The logical part of me knew I should not to care so much. People are busy living their own lives. They may not have noticed the campaign, or taken the time to find out what the book is really about.

But the emotional part of me cried out “Gray Zone is special! It has a purpose!”

You see, I wrote Gray Zone to educate as it entertains. To make the reader think, really think, about the different aspects of bullying and what it does to our society.

I wrote it to open eyes and loosen tongues.

Now don’t get me wrong. I’m not naive enough to think that one little book will stop cyberbullying by itself.

It’s the dialog that Gray Zone will inspire that will make the difference. It’s all about the conversations that will happen after the book is read.

So I was very down as the marker remained stuck at 0%. I couldn’t understand, just couldn’t understand, why others didn’t care about the bully/cyberbully problem as much as I do.

But then a miracle happened in the form of contributions. Joy filled my heart as the marker moved away from that horrible 0% and skyrocketed all the way up to 1%.

That may sound like I’m being sarcastic, but I’m not. I truly felt elated. The generosity of the contributors restored my faith in humanity.

The world is once again a good place.

 

Gray Zone (coming soon)

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Here’s the preliminary cover design for Gray Zone. There will probably be a few changes.

I’ll also share the official publisher’s text. I haven’t had it very long, so I’m still absorbing it. It’s always a little odd the first time I see my work through someone else’s eyes.

I’ll add it to the site somewhere, but in the meantime I thought I’d post it here:

 

 
The victim of a
cyber-prank gone viral, Autumn was forced to transfer schools—not exactly what
she wanted to do as a sophomore. But what choice did she have when all her
personal information was posted all over the web for anyone to see? When
threatening comments started to trickle in, the police said her only chance to
avoid stalkers was to move schools and start over.
Determined to make
the best of her situation, Autumn realized that she had been given an
opportunity to reinvent herself; to become the outgoing, popular,
not-at-all-shy girl she’d always wanted to be. Something that was impossible
while surrounded by lifelong friends who thought they knew her better than she
knew herself.
But even the best
plans go awry. As soon as Autumn arrives at her new school, she meets Maurice—a
bully of monumental proportions who steps on toes, beats up kids, and generally
makes life miserable for everyone. Things seem to be looking up when Autumn
learns that her best friend Sophie Rose is transferring to her new school,
too—but then Sophie starts keeping her distance from Autumn. Soon, Autumn feels
those old, familiar feelings of sadness and inadequacy returning, as she
wonders if Sophie Rose felt Autumn was no longer good enough to be her friend.
Bullied at school
and online, adrift without the support of her best friend in the murky waters
of high school, where one wrong move can earn an unflattering nickname that
will stick until graduation, Autumn believes she failed miserably at changing
the old habits that had given her that shy girl reputation in the first place.
Not only could she not move from reserved to rambunctious, she couldn’t even
get to normal.
But when a tragedy
shakes Autumn’s world, she stops feeling sad about what happened to her. Now
she’s angry—and she’s determined to put a stop to this cyber-torture and
bullying of herself and the people she loves in this powerful and poignant
novel.
Veronica Tabares had many opportunities
to witness the effects of bullying while working as head librarian at a private
school. When she realized that modern technology had enhanced the bully’s
ability to cause pain—with students seemingly unaware of the true danger of the
electronic toys that ruled their days—she designed an anti-bullying curriculum
to incorporate into her lessons.  As a
librarian, Veronica is aware that young people need a user-friendly way to
understand the problem. They need to easily grasp both how a bully works and
how to recognize the signs that someone is a bullying victim. Gray Zone was written to give them that
knowledge and to open a much-needed dialog. Veronica has a master of library
and information science and a bachelor of arts in anthropology, both from the
University of Washington. She also has a master of fine arts in creative writing
from Full Sail University.

Memorial Day 2013

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Today is Memorial Day.

May all of you have relaxing and fun celebrations with your family and friends.

That’s my plan for the day. But as I celebrate I also plan to take many random moments to reflect on the sacrifices that were made that make these celebrations possible.

I will thank those who have given their lives for our country.
I will show my respect for their memory.
I will appreciate the many advantages their sacrifices have given me and my family.
I will make sure that those who gave their lives are not forgotten.

My husband and I watched a PBS show about WWII last night. It taught me a lot I hadn’t known about the war. It made me think.

Thinking is good.

As is remembering.

Happy Memorial Day.

On edge

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I’m rather on edge at the moment.

I launched an Indiegogo campaign to raise funds for Gray Zone, so I can promote it after it’s published. It hasn’t been easy for me to do since I absolutely hate asking for money.

The problem is that my publisher has a very small budget for marketing and if I want the book to be successful it’s up to me to push it into the public eye. I’ve tried to promote my books in the past, but frankly I’m not very good at it. I need professional help, and that requires money.

Maybe the discomfort I feel asking for money shows through. I’ve only had one person donate, my wonderful, supportive sister. She jumped in to donate pretty much as soon as I posted the link to the campaign.

If I don’t raise the funds I guess I’ll have to hobble along doing things my in my own inept way.
Only, isn’t that the definition of crazy? Doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results?

I began this by stating that I’m on edge. You might ask “Why?”

Well, you see, when I put myself out there to ask for help with the Indiegogo campaign it’s like I’m walking into a room full of friends, family, and strangers. The reaction I receive will go a long way toward letting me know how people feel about me and my work.

My husband says I shouldn’t take it personally if no one contributes. But how can I not?

A donation will let me know that someone has confidence in my ability to tell a story.
A tweet will tell me that someone believes I can write a compelling tale that can really make a difference.
A mention on social media will inform me that someone believes in me and my writing.

So here I am, walking into that room. I’ll have to wait to see if anyone, other than my sister, will turn to me and say “Hello, we’re glad you’re here!”

Or if they will just turn their backs and walk away.

It’s the thought of rejection that is unnerving.

Wouldn’t you be on edge?

 

I sit down to write

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Writing is an interesting occupation. It requires a level of concentration that isn’t always easy to reach.

I sit down to write but realize my coffee cup is empty. Off I go to my espresso machine.
I sit down to write and the phone rings. I jump up to answer, but it’s someone trying to sell me a duct cleaning service–we don’t have ducts.
I sit down to write and the dog barks. I jump up to calm her. I don’t want her to bother the neighbors.
I sit down to write but a dirty sock catches my eye. I put aside my computer, dig through the hamper, and throw a load of clothes into the washing machine.
I sit down to write and my stomach growls. I go to grab a bite to eat and realize I’m out of groceries. I grab the car keys and head out the door. Writing will have to wait. I have things I need to do.

Then magic happens.
I sit down to write and as I type the story grabs me, shakes me around, and tosses me in the air. My surroundings fade away. I am no longer in my makeshift office in a dark corner of my bedroom, but in a world where anything can happen. A world of my creation.
The phone rings, but I don’t hear.
The dog barks, but she is just a far off note from another time and place.
My coffee grows cold, my stomach growls, and chores remain undone.

None of that matters.
I’m meeting new people.
Traveling in a distant world.
Imagining a different time and place.
Unraveling the mysteries of science and invention.
Building a universe unlike any other, one where I make the rules and control fate.

I’m in the zone and all is right in the world.
All because I sit down to write.

Secretive, creepy, chicken hearted bully

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Ever since I was a child I’ve been a champion for the weak. My sense of empathy seems to be a bit overdeveloped. Seeing any creature in pain tears me apart.

I know I’m a strong person, so I’ve never thought of myself as a victim.

Even now, when I live near a secretive, creepy, chicken hearted bully.

Yep. This man has gotten it into his twisted little brain that I’m a ready target for his bullying. He thinks I’m the victim type.

Well that certainly shows a lack of intelligence on his part!

For more than six years every wave, every smile, every offer of friendship I’ve sent his way has been rebuffed. Usually with a sneer.

He makes friends with the other neighbors, waves merrily and says a chatty ‘hello’.

But me, I get a sneer.

Secretive! No one else in the neighborhood even suspects his true nature.

Maybe he doesn’t like blondes. We are rather scary, after all.

He’s demonstrated his bully tendencies on multiple occasions, when he’s ambushed me in the driveway to yell about imagined grievances. I’ve noticed that he choses his time wisely. He never attacks when my husband is at home.

As a matter of fact, he’s never said a single word to my husband, or subjected him to a sneer.

The chicken hearted bully!

For the past six years he’s run an “irritation campaign” against my family. He has a whole series of inconsiderate things he does on a regular basis, all while we’re not looking.

Most–like letting his dog “go” in our yard, parking one foot too far so there is no place for us to park, and letting his bushes grow over so that our shared driveway becomes unuseable–could be mistaken for accidents.

But I know these things aren’t accidents because during one of his rants he told me that he did them intentionally. He actually bragged about it, with a smirk.

Creepy!

Frankly, I wish this bully would drop the secretive, creepy part and just stick to the yelling. I could handle out-and-out confrontation much better, since the ammunition he tries to use against me is as fragile and insubstantial as those cheap bubbles they sell at the dollar store.

Pop. Pop. Pop. He’s yet to get the upper hand in any of our direct confrontations.

His problem is that he doesn’t think things through. Anger bubbles up from a volcano hidden in his spleen and bipasses his brain completely.

So pop, pop, pop and all his ammo is gone.

I’ll admit that having a bully so close makes my life more stressful. Home should be a peaceful place, a sanctuary where joys are embraced and trouble forgotten.

But it is what it is. I’ll do my best to ignore the miasma of poison he sends my way and enjoy the home my husband and I have worked so hard to create.

And if he ambushes me again, I’m ready. I’m always ready. I’m not a victim, I am a fighter. Usually I fight for the underdog, but hey, I’m sure I’ve got a little scrappiness left over to fight for myself.

Because if the last six years are any indication he’ll throw his abuse my way again.

It’s what all secretive, creepy, chicken hearted bullies do.

 

A daughter’s words

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Motherhood told through a daughter’s words.

Ma ma. Mamamamamamamamamamamama. Ma ma ma.

No! Just mommy!
Mommy, I’m scared. Can I sleep with you?
Mommy, you don’t need to hold my hand. I’m a big girl.
Mama, will you help me with my homework?
Mama, will you fix my hair?
Mama, will you help me with my project?
Mama, will you take me shopping?
Mama, will you drive me to my friend’s house?
Please don’t talk to my friend’s parents! I’ll be so embarrassed.
Mom, can I borrow some of your clothes? I have a project at school and I need to look old.
I need to borrow the car. I’m going to a friend’s house. See you later, Mom.
Mother, I need a dressy jacket. Oh, is this all you’ve got? I could never wear any of these, they’re so out of style.
Mother, are you really going to wear that? Out of the house?
Sorry I can’t come to dinner, Mom. I’ve got plans.
Wait, Mom! You’re holding the baby wrong.
Mom, can you watch the kids? You’d never believe how much work it is to raise children! Oh no, Mom, the books say that is the wrong way to raise kids!
Oh, Mom! How did you ever put up with us when we were teenagers?
Mom, I love you!