Jenna Glatzer, Ghostwriter

Don't think I've ever told the whole real story of how I came to be a writer. I'll start today. This could take a while. I entered Furman University in South Carolina as an art major. After just a semester, though, I realized that the school was not the right fit for me. (The cafeteria was segregated, for a start.) I transfered to a community college for the remainder of the year because I had missed the deadlines to transfer to any of the other schools I was interested in. My big hope was to go to the Rhode Island School of Design (RISD), but I applied to several other schools "just in case." The acceptances came in quickly-- Pratt, Parsons, I don't even remember where else. I took a trip into the city by myself one day to see how it felt, though, and a man followed me from the subway to Parsons. I ended up hiding in a bathroom for at least an hour until he left. Decided the city was not the place for me. So I eagerly awaited the response from RISD. I watched...

Just noticed Christine also tagged me for Crazy 8s. I accept. :) 8 things I'm passionate about 1. Being a mom 2. Chocolate chip cookies and milk 3. Disability issues, specifically Down syndrome 4. Music with excellent lyrics-- try Counting Crows and Indigo Girls 5. Musical theatre, in all its forms 6. Children's books 7. Fighting injustice, defending underdogs 8. Homemade things 8 things I want to do before I die 1. Have more children 2. Make more crafts 3. Take vacations, pretty much anywhere 4. Go to more Renaissance Faires 5. Learn to cook 6. Get smarter 7. See scammers put out of business 8. Get back to the theatre in some capacity... maybe backstage 8 things I say often 1. I love you 2. You are the sweetest baby in the whole world 3. Are we out of milk? 4. I have to go to the post office 5. People are weird 6. Have you seen my shoes? 7. Awesome 8. I have to get some work done 8 books I've recently read 1. All the Available Light 2. Marilyn Monroe 3. Marilyn Among Frien...

Christine over at the blog From Dates to Diapers is having a birthday bash this week, and as is the nature of cool people, giving other people presents for her birthday. One of the ways to win is to respond to her blog prompts, and I'm going to take her up on this one-- an unforgettable birthday surprise. I was in college. My roommate had a thing about birthdays-- she always wanted to make sure that no one was forgotten on their birthdays, even if they were people on the floor who we didn't know very well. I thought that was a special thing about her. Can't remember now whether or not she actually bought everyone little presents... I think it was just a card, but still. Most of the people on our floor were freshmen, away from home for the first time, and knowing someone remembered your birthday is a good thing. Anyway. I had a favorite a cappella band at school. I'm kind of an a cappella junkie, if you must know. But The Dear Abbeys were the ones I actually followed a...

Well, here we are at 7 months, and I'm still a "full-time pumper," meaning that I use a breast pump every 3 hours. I had planned on doing it for 6 months, and to be honest, thought that was rather heroic. But then I joined an online group called "PumpMoms," and the first couple of messages I read were sobering: there were two messages from moms who had been exclusive pumpers for a year, and were writing to say they were finally calling it quits. Damn. A year. Well, if they could do it... I felt wimpy for stopping at 6 months. The APA recommends breastmilk for a year, so these women were determined to provide it. It was like coasting along at the end of a race, only to have someone pass you and tell you they're going to run the race again. A personal challenge. Or peer pressure, depending on how you look at it. Either way, I decided I would try to make it to a year, too. I can't pretend that it's fun, though. I've pumped in the oddest places-- inc...

For just about every book I've written, I've kept a large looseleaf notebook filled with notes, correspondence, photocopied medical studies, etc. If I kept all these notebooks on my shelves, though, they'd crowd me out of my office eventually-- so I reuse them. I have two big ones (1 1/2 inch ring binders) and two smaller ones that I keep swapping out when it's time for a new book. It's always a strange feeling, though, tossing out the old. Each of those notebooks represents several months of my life. But when I look through them, I realize I'm done-- there's no need to hold on to a hundred newspaper articles about bullying when the book is already in bookstores. So I throw the notebook contents in the recycling bin and put a new label on the spine of the notebook... but it's still hard to do. Only once did I regret it, and that was my Celine notebook. I still know which one it was. I replaced it with notes for another book, but every time I look at it, ...

and I gave it to her. Waaaaaaaah!!! *Flogs self forever.*

And here's the video to prove it. And a still shot. :)

and they were, "I have to go to work." I asked her to repeat it in the dream, and she did: "I haf-ta go to work." I was so excited that she was talking, and so sad that that's what she was saying. I knew it meant that she had heard me say that too many times. Sometimes my dreams are really on the nose.