Day Two: Writer's Digest Conference, NYC

I am exhausted. It has been a very long day.

But it has been a good day. I had the chance today at the "pitch slam" event to present myself and my novel to five agents, all of whom liked me enough to request a formal submission of text. I'd never done a pitch before, and although I will admit I had some nerves, once I got started, I felt like this was something I could really do.

So, today was a real success for me. Now, the agents I met with today may look at my work and decide it's not for them, but for me, stepping ever so carefully into the publishing world, one that I freely admit I am new to, was the real goal here, and I feel like, even if these agents don't turn into partners for me now, I've shown that I can represent myself and my work in a positive way. And maybe there's a place for me.

After the pitches were over, a large contingent of us discovered the hotel bar and did our best to stimulate the economy. A group of us ended up going to dinner and then to some other hotel with a good view before we all went our own ways. It was a lot of fun just allowing the social gravity of it all to move us into an adventurous evening, and I hope to be able to describe it better tomorrow, but for now, I'm too tired to emote.

I'm pau. But, regardless of the next step in the process, it was a good, very good, and significant day.

Day one, part two, Writer's Digest Conference, NYC

Well, the first sessions were generally very good, although I felt bad for the gentleman that passed out and fell down. I understand he's OK, which is of course very good news.

At the very beginning, day one at the conference felt a little like that first day of high school when you walk into the lunch room and aren't sure where to sit, and you stand there with your tray in your hands, and your brow and milk carton start to sweat as you try to figure out where to sit...

And, in fact, I started off with a poor choice. I sat by myself off to the far side of the ballroom. I realized my mistake almost immediately, but because I'm a little dim, I sat there alone trying to look interesting while everyone else was talking and networking.

So, after a few minutes, I called a do-over and left the room, re-entering and heading left instead of right, eyed a table of people who looked interesting, and asked to join them. As it turns out, it was a great selection. Soon we were playing business card poker and chatting away. Linda, Carol, Fifi, BJ, and Lloyd were a neat group and I look forward to seeing them in the morning. It seemed as though we all shared the same level of quirk, and got along very well.

The first session, led by Richard Curtis was very informative. He talked a great deal about the digital influence on publishing and about the soon to be everywhere "publishing on demand" phase of the industry. I took it to mean essentially there will be a "Red Box" for books as there is for movies these days. He illustrated some aspects of self-publishing that I hadn't thought of before. He made me think of self-publishing as of course, a mixed bag, but also somewhat akin to the "Napster Revolution." I think with time, energy, and resources, self-pub could be an interesting option for people in the dynamic world of books these days.

Chuck Sambuchino, who writes at http://www.guidetoliteraryagents.com/index.asp was tremendous. He broke down the process that most of us will go through tomorrow during the "Pitch Slam" and really, for me at least, demystified it. I've got a decent amount of work to do to feel like I'm ready to nail it, but he was beyond helpful and encouraging. Two brave souls got up and tried their pitch in front of the entire conference, and he was really very cool. I hope I get a chance to speak with him tomorrow, but regardless, I feel like I've got even more of a road map towards representing myself well tomorrow.

Off to dinner with Pelf! More to come. Thanks as always for supporting me!

Day one, part one: Writer's Digest Conference, NYC

I am in New York for the first time in at least 4-5 years. Registration at the conference starts in about 30 minutes.

There are over 400 attendees and somewhere near 50 agents expected. In all honest, I'm not certain what to expect. The topics are all interesting to me and the chance to pitch the novel to working agents is a real special one.

Having never done it before, there are moments of uncertainty as I prepare to do so. I've read every blog I could find on the subject of pitching to an agent, most of which were genuinely helpful. But, the truth is I've never done it.

But then, the one common theme I've discovered in reading up on this process and industry is that, in the end, it's about developing a relationship. I'm selling two things this weekend-the novel of course, but myself just as much.

I have a lot to learn about this industry. That I will know more in a few days is for certain. What it thinks of me is as yet unknown.


So, game face on. More to come. Aloha.

En route to NYC

I am on a train. It's very dark and very cold out but I am encouraged to learn that I can post to the blog from my phone.

Will have more later today. Despite the early hour I am excited to see what the conference brings. Stay tuned.

The State of Aloha Kugs, kinda.

It has been a while since my last column. I’ve been off the grid for a bit dealing with a number of things. That is not to say that I didn’t have things to write about, rather, that I’m not able to write about them in this space and format, for a variety of personal and semi-professional reasons. Suffice it to say that things have been equal measures of aloha and angst. I’m sure Steinbeck could put it better, but I never liked him that much anyway.

So, I thought we could play a little catch-up. These items are in no particular order. Enjoy the stream of consciousness.

-The kids are doing well. The twins are in Kindergarten and enjoying it a great deal. They’ve acclimated to their new school and love their new teachers. They are excelling in the classroom and making friends. They both played soccer this fall, their first team sport experience. They both had a lot of fun, and even scored some goals. Some of those were even in the correct goal and on purpose. They will turn six on Saturday, but I will touch on that in more detail in my next column, hopefully.

-The bear just turned four. She’s in preschool three days a week and loving it. She’s made a lot of friends in class and continues to be, as someone’s Irish grandmother once said, “Entirely herself, to be certain.” She’s a riot most of the time. She and her sister still share a room in the new house and most nights it has been fine, though last night they were up for about 3 hours after bedtime playing “Dragons” and flying around their room in the dark.

-The kids-and my wife and I-are cold. We’ve clearly not yet acclimated to the temperature differential between Virginia and Oahu. It’s only November… the bear started wearing her winter coat in September. I myself was recently shopping for colder weather clothes, and spent 20 minutes staring at the racks in a store trying to remember what I used to wear in cold weather. I just had to put away my shorts and T-shirts. My only real pair of shoes is my Crocs. But, I found a sweater the other day that survived the great purge of 2007, so that’s something I guess. We have a fireplace that has gotten a tremendous workout already this season and, while I do rather enjoy the cooler weather, it is definitely an adjustment.

-I have some edits to make of a few newer re-writes, but outside of that, the novel is as done as I can make it. When the edits are complete, I will likely print and bind a few copies and then set about the tedious job of trying to find a literary agent or a publisher or both. In addition, I’ll likely enter it in some “first novel” contests that I’ve learned about. With that project waning, I am revisiting a short story project that I shelved when I started the novel in addition to returning to work on the children’s picture book I wrote-I’m going to try and learn to draw…that should be interesting. Stay tuned on that front. That said, I feel some accomplishment regarding the novel project, and while I have notes and some chapters written on a follow-up to that story and its characters, I’ve decided to shelve it for now, possibly for ever. Time will tell on that one.

-The wife is doing remarkably well in her work and is enjoying it quite a lot. She exudes awesomeness in all she does, but as she’s a big-time DC muckity-muck now, that’s about alls I can say ‘bout that.

-The Phillies failed to advance to the World Series. Blech.

-Football and hockey continue to be a consistent source of both joy and pain.

-We’ve all had strep throat at least twice since we moved. Add in a few ear and sinus infections and all told, mainland germs are having a field day with the lot of us.

-Mount Vernon, the Smithsonian Air and Space, American History, and Natural history museums are great. We’ve enjoyed them a lot. The Air-Space annex out near us is perhaps even better than the one in DC, and not just because of the R2D2 mailbox.

Beyond that, there’s not a lot to report. I realize this is not the thought-provoking column that I usually aim for, but I figured I should catch up before I write another one, which I am planning to do this weekend regarding the kids birthdays. I was going to write that today but wanted to revisit earlier topics and journals on the topic before writing. So hopefully I’ll have something more substantive in this space this weekend.

The lack of a more substantial column now is not due to a lack of things to say about the events and activity of the last few months. It is due more to the fact that this space is, regrettably I think, not at this time suitable for some of the issues I’d like to comment on. It doesn’t mean I’m not writing about it. It just means I can’t share it here, yet.

So, with that, Aloha. Check back soon.

The Power of Choice

Whether we want to be or not, we are all part of a family. Whether that family embraces us, rejects us, or is indifferent to us, we are a part of it, like it or not. If that family is loving or harsh, heartening or spiteful, they are related to us, regardless of our wishes.

We all come from somewhere, and while that may be a place, in the geographic sense, it is in in fact far more than that. We all come from a crucible fraught with people, places, and experiences that permeate the fabric of our lives for the entirety of our lives. This occurs whether we want it to or not.

Resistance it futile. Is it? Really?

I’m not certain, but what I am certain of is that the crucible in which we are mixed, the family and the places and the people who shape us, while they are significant, vital even to who we may become, they hold nothing to bear on the power of our choices.

We kinda-but-not-really-buried my Grandmother today. Gram was in her late 80’s and had not been well for some time. The last few visits I shared with her were pleasant in the manner of, “here’s a nice young man doting on me,” but there was little of the fire and energy that I always expected from her. She was a good lady and I will miss her tremendously. The hope had been to bury her in the plot that her mother and father had shared since they passed. Gram told everyone involved that, after she died, she wanted to be with her parents. Her wishes were documented--she didn’t want to be alone in the end and in the end, none of us wanted her to be alone either. We all gathered to make that happen for her, but it didn’t happen.

At the risk of airing my own personal dirty laundry, which is something that this space has never been about for me, there was a party in the family who apparently had a legal right to an opinion, and he disagreed strongly with that plan. He exercised his right, vehemently and with dramatic effect, and my Grandmother was denied her wish for her final rest. His motives are still somewhat unclear to me, but his ridiculously selfish act is the culmination of a complicated and often tenuously confrontational relationship with the family as a whole.

The family that was able and willing to honor my grandmother gathered this morning. We held a service at the graveside and laid copious amounts of flowers on the graves of several generations of the family, including both my father and sister. It was the last time that any grouping of my family had gathered in that place and number since we buried my father, which felt like a very long time ago. My hair was different then to be sure.

In the end, the day was a surprisingly positive one, for a variety of reasons. Our little service, with my wife at the helm, was very nice. We shared stories about Gram and did our best to lean on one another. A father and son, who have been apart way too long had the chance to reconnect with one another. Their meeting was one of the most amazing family moments I have ever seen and I hope they make it work. I know I would give almost anything for the chance to embrace my father again. I placed flowers upon his grave, as did my sister, my mother, and my wife. It was the first time my wife had the chance to “meet” my father.

The remains of the day were very much like those of other days I’ve gathered with the family. But, the entire family was not there. There are those who remain so full of anger and misunderstanding that they refused to participate. They made a choice. They need to live with theirs as much as I will with mine. I think that, the choice, is a large part of what being part of a family really means. We are born into a family, but we have to choose to either embrace it or run away from it. I’m certain that most of us could make arguments either way, but in the end, if we are connected to our family, however we truly define it, it is because we have chosen to connect ourselves to them. We choose to be there.

My father died very young and as I grow older, our ages grow ever closer. I had a sister die as a child. The fragility and immediacy of life and death have always been themes in my life, whether I wanted them to be or not. As I now have children, for whom I would love to move the world, I have become very focused on them becoming persons who value not only themselves, but one another, and our family as a whole. My kids get along great when they aren’t tackling one another. Actually, sometimes those are the moments they are getting along at their best. But my hope is that as they grow older, they will choose to remain close and connected. I want family to matter to my children and I pray exhaustively that I will be able to teach them that one lesson, if nothing else. I can’t imagine a world where they would be so far apart from one another that they could not come together and face the challenges that my family has faced together this week. I can’t imagine being so angry with my own sister that we could not come together over the body of our parent.

This is perhaps more personal that I have written over the years, but I think what I want to say right now is that while life and circumstance might make a family, we are truly only connected to one another when we choose to be connected to one another. I have uncles, aunts, and cousins, all of whom I’ve had fun with at one time or another. But are we there when it matters? Do we choose to be present in the times when life is more awkward and difficult?

I know that the friends in my life are people who, over the years, I’ve chosen to be with. They are people with whom I’ve grown and fought and become the man I am now. They are a small group who do not ask for, nor do they require, an explanation of my quirks or occasional idiocy. (For the most part)

The family in my life and I imagine, in the lives of most people, is truly far more complicated. We are all thrust together by genetic circumstances, and we either like one another or we don’t. We interact well or we don’t, but, we have no choice in that we are family. One way or another there is a forever in our makeup as a family that is irrefutable, and, when it’s good, it’s great. When it becomes an obligation or something that “used to matter,” it’s a problem, but only if that is someone’s choice, sad as it may seem.

In my family, which gathered this weekend to almost but not really bury my grandmother, there was a time when we all liked one another and enjoyed being together. That changed, for some, and then it changed again, for others. A father and son talked this this weekend--that mattered a lot to me. Choices will be made in the coming days that will show if that will have been a fleeting moment or a significant moment in the life of both men.

I wrote earlier that I have uncles, and aunts, and cousins, and I do, and I should take more time and energy to connect with all of them. I should and hope that I will and that it will matter. Gram was always the center of this side of the family, but we don’t have her anymore, so any relationship we have as a family going forward will be one that we choose to have. Or not have.

Family is family. I miss my father and missed the chance to know my oldest sister. I miss my grandmother too. She was a real strong lady. Her family came first all the time. Even when they were difficult and the choices were painful, she chose family. I hope I live to be the grandparent she was for me.
Every time. Every single time. She chose family.

While it may not be a choice to be a family, it very much feels like it is a choice to stay a family. We’re hoping to stay.

Aloha au iā 'oe, Grandma. A hui hou... E ho'omaha me ka maluhia. In Hawaiian, that translates to “I love you, Grandma, until we meet again, rest in peace.”

The Missing of Oahu. Or: Reflections of a New Jersey Haole, now living in Northern Virginia.

96 days ago, my family and I left our home in Ewa and moved into a hotel in Waikiki.

76 days ago, we returned to the mainland from Oahu, moving into another hotel.

64 days ago, we moved into our house in Virginia.

When I did the math for the above opening, I really did not expect it to affect me as it has. It’s barely been two and a half months since we left Hawaii, but it seems as though it was another lifetime ago. Perhaps that’s a little bit true.

While I’ve fought it thus far, the truth is, I really miss Hawaii. I know--it sounds shocking, but to be honest, I’m somewhat surprised. As wonderful as Hawaii was, it was not without reason that we pursued a return to the mainland. But now that we are here, I’m finding myself nostalgic for our old life, and for the island. The Ahi, the Musibi, our friends that are still there, the kids school, the pools, the Bishop Museum, the ocean, the weather. Ah yes, the weather. Holy guacamole, Virginia is HOT! I mean, come on--I spent almost three years living on a tropical island, and I didn’t sweat like this. I’ll admit, I forgot about the humidity, too. More than once, I lamented the lack of diversity in the weather while we lived on Oahu. Oops. My bad. It was lovely and I miss it whole-heartedly. I could go for a trade wind right about now. Actually, any kind of wind would suffice.

I imagine that a big chunk of what I’ve been feeling lately is the normal “We just uprooted our lives and are still adjusting to our new situation,” but I’d be remiss if I didn’t legitimately have a few (perhaps more than a few) moments of late where I wondered, “why did we move again?” Of course, during any move there were frustrations. Between the movers mislabeling every single box in Hawaii, to the guys on this end dumping boxes out in the middle of my son’s room and calling it, “helping you unpack,” we’ve had some hiccups along the way. Don’t get me started on the company who transported our car. I will freely admit I showed their agents and supervisors absolutely no Aloha spirit, whatsoever. But, we did finally get our car. Got new plates too. The new VA plates are full of Aloha, but I’ll admit, I got a little misty taking the Hawaii plates off the car. Not just because of the looks we got while driving on the highways, though that was fun to observe. Expressions ranged from, “Cool-I won license plate bingo!” to, “He doesn’t look Hawaiian.” But, I digress. Yes, there were difficulties with our move. In addition, living in a hotel can be irritating. That said, I’ll admit freely that there have been moments when I wonder if we made the right choice. There’s been a least one moment when I genuinely wanted to just “go home.”

So, was it a moment of weakness? When I expressed that, what was I really wanting to return to?

As I’ve discussed, it was not without reason that we looked to leave the island. Long term, the educational prospects for the kids were not as excellent as I would have liked. Also, there were occasional very strong feelings of isolation--from friends and family back home, but also, at times, from the people around us on the Island. While we had friends, many had moved away, and we’d not really been able to make new ones after the initial relationships we’d made early on. (We’re in the process now of instituting a “Arrange your own replacement policy” should any of our friends move away in the future. Take note ;) Plus, there was that land-locked feeling that would creep up from time to time. Not having the opportunity to, for example, just pick up and drive out for my niece’s birthday, or to do a long weekend in Wildwood, did wear on our own feelings and relationships. There were a lot of events and celebrations that we missed due to our incredible distance from pretty much anything. Plus, the wife’s career, which is truly the “straw that stirs the drink,” had rather peaked there, and the opportunity to become, as I like to say, “a big Washington muckity-muck” was too much to pass up, so we took a chance and scored. When we decided to leave Jersey for Hawaii in the first place, we knew that it was unlikely to be forever, so, logically speaking, there was always an expiration date on our time there. Heck, in the months before we heard if she’d been selected for the promotion, we genuinely anxious about it and were ecstatic when she got the call telling us we were headed back to the mainland.

So, why, now that we are here, do I feel as though Hawaii is but a distant memory? And why do I miss it as I do? It could be that we are still navigating our way around here and finding a place for ourselves. Or maybe it is just that I’m missing the normalcy of what our life, despite its challenges, had become on Oahu. Perhaps it’s that the pace of life here, or the humidity, or the lack of drive-thru sushi, that’s getting to me.

It might be that we’ve had a hard time making friends here thus far. I’m perhaps more of an oddity here in Northern Virginia as a stay-at-home dad (at least one that doesn’t then work a full or part-time job while ‘staying at home with the kids’) than I was in Hawaii. Several of the stay at home moms that I’ve met work a job in their off hours, or even during their time with their children. The other stay at home moms that I’ve met have tended to be very “focused” on the programs their children are doing at pretty much all hours of the day, ensuring there is no free time whatsoever. I overheard one parent recently (I say overheard, as despite efforts to engage most of the parents I’ve met recently, I’ve met with little success) who described her seven-year-olds day as: Swim lessons, playgroup, lunch, afternoon park program, soccer program, dinner, tutoring, bed. Now, if that’s what works for their family, God bless. It doesn’t work for mine. My children do activities too, and we go places, and we do things, but I learned a long while back that my kids need time to just “do whatever.” Thus far, that too has somewhat set us apart from the other families that we’ve tried to engage.

I didn’t expect my gender to be as big an issue here as it was in Hawaii. It is, of course, but I didn’t expect it, which has made things more awkward for me at family events we‘ve attended. The glares I’ve been getting would give any Oahu “stink-eye” a run for their therapist’s couch. I even got a “oh great, what is ‘he’ doing here?” at a recent library function. Now, if this were someone who knew me, I think it’s safe to say that’s a reasonable question. That said, I’d never met any of these women before, so unless she was talking about my son, I thought the conclusion was clear. Perhaps I’m over thinking it, but I have been through this before. I didn’t like it then either, but I’m doing my best to embrace my inner Aloha and radiate positive goodness. Didn’t really work in 2007 either, but it’s still worth a try. In the end, at least as far as people’s reactions to me went, the only thing that ended up making a difference for be back on Oahu was time, which is why I pulled out my calendars and took a look at how long we’ve been here. Not long at all. So, I’ll have to give it time.

The weather here, the normal “just moved” menagerie of adjustments everyone experiences, and the “sort-of isolation” we are feeling as newcomers/outsiders here in Virginia may in fact have a something to do with the way that I’ve been missing our life in Hawaii. That said, I don’t think it is really the whole story.

I think that Hawaii is really an amazing place. Its beauty is legendary. It’s overwhelming in fact, so much so that, after a while, you get used to it to some extent. The rainbows are always lovely, and the ocean is always beautiful, and the mountains are always breathtaking, and the temperature is always warm, and winds are always cool, and when it rains, it rarely lasts too long. The crystal blue water of Kailua is different some the more pedestrian family beaches of Ewa, which are far more “local” than the lagoons at Ko Olina, which has yet to get a wave that would be called a wave up on Waimea Bay. Diamondhead seems like it’s always there--just about the only place you would miss it’s gentle arch is if you were standing atop it, gazing out at the Waikiki shoreline and miles and miles of Pacific Ocean. The plumeria flowers simply fall of the trees like rain, free for anyone to pick up and give to a pretty girl. My lime tree never did give me a lime, but it tried, and it smelled good, as did the pineapples we planted in the yard. You could just cut the top off of one from the store, and toss it in the ground. The mountains and cliffs near Pali Lookout are lush and green in parts, and the trail is dark and spooky. Pu U’alakea is breathtaking. The mountains on the Leeward side, while not as lush were a fine companion as you drove to the North Shore, until the stopped, and your car seems to be driving directly into both heaven and the ocean until the road drops down toward the Earth. Don’t get me started on the Big Island. I could go on, but the point is, somehow, someway, one gets used to this incredible visual and sensory paradise. It becomes normal. It becomes everyday life. While I know that I appreciated it then, I feel it now as a loss in its absence. It’s as though you’ve been in the Technicolor land of Oz for almost three years, and then return to the black and white of Kansas.

It’s as though the world is just different now. It is of course, as we’ve again moved halfway across the world, but I think that the island gets under your skin, and perhaps that’s as much to blame for my nostalgia and mood as anything else. You experience life in Hawaii, perhaps in a way that is different than any life I’ve experienced life before. It was all, the good and the bad, displayed in living Technicolor, and I miss the way that I felt in that life. Feels like without all that “Hawaii-ness” that there’s a small hole unfilled within. I wonder if that will change.

But, it’ll take time and effort to make a life here, just like it did there. And, time, because of the move, we have now, all of us, and that is a good thing.

But, I miss Hawaii. Way, way more than I thought I would.