By Susan Saraf

By Susan Saraf

Thursday, March 27, 2014

B- Roll

Song: Born This Way: Lady Gaga
*My apologies for disjointed photo configuration, getting the pictures up took 3 un-thankable hours and this is the result. Editors please apply:) Continue to scroll ALL the way down. :D


I'm here!  I can't believe it's been three weeks since I've posted. My innards were churning. What's an innard? Who cares. I feel disappointed with myself when I procrastinate which only leads to more procrastination. Does this happen to you? Vicious cycle. But I'm breaking it. Ta-night:) I can't believe we've gotten almost 600 views since last post?...12, 744 to 13, 266.  Well, I haven't been doing math...but that seems about awesome. Thank you!

Wonder where I have been? Take three guesses? Times up. Bowling. Yep, yep, you heard right. Our little Henry-who has become a legit Hank-is obsessed with bowling. Bowling and Hank? They go together. Bowling, Hank, chances of a posh girlfriend? Slim odds there. But hey, I can live with that;) I'm betting I'd rather live with that.

A word on Hank.

His head was smaller than this flower
I remember some Crazy Lady said to me during the first week of my most beautiful, glorious sons life, "So, what's a nickname for Henry?" Then before I could offer up Harry as wanted, she shouted and cackled,  "Hank!" She might as well have taken a pocket knife to my babes angelic cheek. My upper lip curled under into a face that said, I will chew you. "Sure, as long as I can call your kid Carpenter Crack?" I asked. She looked defeated, but just to make sure I was clear (and crazier than she was)  I added, "Henry is never going to be Hank." Hi nuts! Hi. Hi hormones! How are you today? Making friends as usual? Yep. Nope.

Never say never. Although I can't say I'll get it monogrammed on his lunch box, Hank is who he seems to be. What a lesson there. She who was Crazy Lady now appears to be a prophet. He loves it. He calls himself Hank, he sings to himself, "Hey Hankie, Hankie, I'm calling your name." It's the cutest thing I've ever never thought I'd want to hear. The more I see him operate in the world, that he is Hank makes perfect sense to me. He knows his own mind (bulldozer.) He curls his hair down like Elvis. Plus he's OBSESSED with bowling. There's lots more about him on top of those three that feel more Hank-ish than Henry...I don't even know where we got Henry from? Oh, yes, I was leaning on Harry and Danny thought, being half-Persian and hairy he had a good chance of being called Hairy Harry, so he picked Henry. By our third child, I'd seen the many sweet offspring of our friends and family. I learned we fall in love with the baby not the name. Whatever name he picked we'd love. Plus, I was really into The Tudor's then Henry VIII and all that. Sure, I'll have a King. What's in a name? Yet, would a Hank smell as sweet? (*See Shakespeare. Knowledge drop.) I wasn't sure. Hence, nipping Crazy Lady in the bud.

Back to Bowling


begging to bowl
Santa Claus made Henry a set of plastic bowling pins for Christmas. It was clear they were from Santa's workshop because they were synthetic and made in China. He's been bowling ever since. He carries the pins with him everywhere. Any part of the house is a bowling alley; the stairs, the basement, the bathroom and his favorite-my bed. When he's not bowling all over the house-he's watching himself bowl on my phone from the videos I take. If he's not watching himself bowl, he's virtually bowling on the WiiU.  First choice however, is the bowling alley-RVC Lanes, in Rockville Centre. That's our jam. He asks to go everyday. If I say not today, he transforms into Hankenstein. How can I who has so little at stake here at home deny Hank his crown? How important are my daily tasks, my piddling aspirations? VERY. MOST. VITAL.

aw, c'mon, my bowling! 
We are there 4x a week. I told him it was closed on Fridays. Last Friday, I woke up to him curled up around my face, gently brushing the hair off of my forehead, shaking his head sympathetically side to side. He was saying, (in his perfect english with a strong east Asian accent speak,) "Mama, I'm sorry, it's Friday, bowling is closed today, I'm so, so, sorry Mom." He had tears in his eyes. For me! I wanted to come clean. I wanted to sing to the tune of Evita, "Don't cry for me Argen-Hankenball, I lied about Friday's, it's actually not only open... but half price!" Instead I re-decided that another day at the alley would break me.  So I kept mum. Can you say "selfish, lying dream squasher"? Well, don't say it to me. I can't imagine even one of you larvae doing three days in a row in any alley, no less four, unless it had fake handbags in it. Huh? Who am I talking to? Forgive me. Momentary lapse.
works every time! 










notice anything? like my strike?!
I can carry my own balls!


Strike! 







Holding a real pin! 
Bowling bag

Selfies!



Summer leagues! 





























Waiting with the Senior Birds
How sweet, my little Hank. Ugh, he breaks my heart.  On Thursdays RVC Lanes has a senior group, the Senior Birds play every lane until noon. Hank was verging on Hankenstein. He'd wanted to bowl since 6am. Just when I thought he was going to knock an 86 year old man out with a bowling ball to the knees, he turned to me and said, "Mama, I'm SO HAPPY TO BE WITH MY BOWLING!"Anybody at any age being that sincere, that passionate, that loving breaks me up- but my baby at almost three desperate for bowling? Knowing that all that Friday means is "bowling is closed." Come on. Who turned on the lights?

I love to dream but I never dreamed I'd be spending huge chunks of time in a bowling alley. Never once. Even as the mother of three boys-I figured the odd birthday party, a rainy Saturday. But as a sport? Nein. I guess I figured lacrosse, soccer, football, well not really. I'm not a fan of standing or sitting sideline on athletic fields in general, cold, windy, portable chairs? Other parents? No, not my bag. I must have blocked that out with the use of spiritual books by Eckhart Tolle. Staying in the now is swell for denial. Puppet theatre! Music! Costumes! I'd likely not get a shot at my artsy fartsy things. Hiking! Surfing! Skiing! Skate parks! Those I could get down with! However, I gotta say, I loved football with my eldest because he did. And now I love bowling. I'm a bowling mom. It's warm in there. It's rather anonymous, for now, no teams (leagues?), no traveling. Everyone there knows him, they call his name, welcome us. Then they throw up the guard rails, set him up with a dragon toddler ramp, put his name (Hank) up on the board and disappear. I sit at one of four swivel seated chairs attached to a table. Hank pushes the ball down the dragons back hurling toward a strike. And he's happy. And I'm happy. We heart RVC Lanes. The music's playing, the pins are crashing. Free Wi-Fi. No one cares or knows if you're there. But what makes RVC Lanes so special is the people behind the counters. They are so nice. I recently saw an article in Newsday where the owners have even dedicated a spot for teens to hang out with flat screens, wi-fi, and comfy couches. Check that out. *We are gone by then so no worries on killing the cool factor guys...
Set from TheLandofNod.com ($60)

I figured he'd be over bowling in a week. Well, wrong again. His enthusiasm has never waned. Over the full length of the winter-(a substantial period considering 30 minutes usually counts as a career), he managed to dent every plastic pin so they now share the appearance of starched tube socks. Thick and white at the bottom-two circles of red tape at the top. Hankie earned himself an upgrade. The Land of Nod.com did not disappoint. What a set. He's more dedicated than ever. Hank. The name is just as sweet. Love to spare;)
Happy son, happy mom:) xx


Saturday, March 1, 2014

SpunkerFly Woman of the Month Amanda Eyre Ward!

Song: Turn The Page - Bob Seger
"What I like in a good author isn't what he says, but what he whispers."
Logan Pearsall Smith, essayist (1865-1946)


** It wasn't the world of writing that was generous, it was the world of Amanda Eyre Ward.  
Click here to link to her website. 

My first blush was with Love Stories In This Town. The rest of her books are as delicious and inspiring. Please do yourself a favor and read them. I am honored and proud to host author Amanda Eyre Ward as the SpunkerFly Woman of the Month. Knowing her work I imagine her answers are deceptively simple, look close.  "A novel can't  be tamed..." So good.  No matter what your ambition, Amanda's daily choices quietly reveal all we need know about setting goals, supporting those goals with strong boundaries and focus-in order to achieve the work-life balance that eludes most.  (Run on sentence anybody? I'm out of breath. Editor!)

For creatives her words on craft are boss- "I am very careful about who I show work to, and even careful about who I talk to on writing days." That floored my inner/outer people pleaser. While Amanda admits that being recognized for her work has its rewards, her strongest message was that the writing itself remains the main event. Here, here! Since our interview I have integrated some of her techniques. I have written twice as much as I did before getting on board. Although, I haven't managed to break up with my T.V., I can't wait to to use, "I'm going to the motel to write for the weekend, mind the kids," wink wink...




How We "Met"

I had been writing the same book for years.  I had been writing by committee-finishing pages and then asking friends for feedback. Then I'd edit accordingly- ripping up the rhythm, removing characters, decimating plots and adding non-sense in hopes that this girl would like it, then that one. Talk about ridiculous. I wanted to be better, but the way I was going about it was by trying to be liked. Sound the gong! That doesn't work no-how for nobody. Unless you're commissioned-I guess. But then
don't artists get commissioned for their work? Whose work was mine? Everyone's but.

I have always loved reading. I read everybody from Cheerios copy to Hemingway. Typically, I'd find myself most engrossed in literary fiction or anything with a historical bent. However, now, in 2009, I was trying to BE a writer- I was reading to break down stories in order to see how they were best told. What was the recipe? Why did this bunch sell out and that bunch collect dust? I understood why classics were classics- they were great! (Great at collecting dust:D.) I understood why "bad"writers went into consecutive printings- they were fun! Current and cathartic even. Then I'd go back and read my own stuff. Do you remember hearing your own voice for the first time played back on video or voice message? That's how it felt, the horror of thinking you are one way (cool, deep, amazing) and hearing clearly that you:

 A.) Talk slow as shit and B.) Obviously suffer chronic sinusitis.

Oh wait, this is about you, not me! (Actually, it's supposed to be about our author. Slap my face. That hurt. Less palm next time.) Okay, so maybe your personal brush with your actual voice made you say something like, "I love my voice! It's even better than in my head!" Or like me, "That's what I sound like? Sign language for me. I'm never talking again." But you do because you must. So it was with me and writing. I had to write yet my voice made me cringe like I was watching someone chew bananas with their mouth open. It still does sometimes, (ie: this piece feels like the part where the mashed banana gets pushed through the slivers of the front teeth.) And while sign language is beautiful it's surprisingly complicated- not to mention the low numbers of co-signers amongst the general pop. I thought getting my Dad to co-sign on a Corvette when I was 16 was impossible? Try getting the kid at Dunkin' Donuts to swear he poured decaf while only using your hands and facial expressions.) But I had given up the idea of being published.
Packing up an old desk-I found this calendar.
I used it to track my writing days XNOS=yes
 Look at August 6-
"Read Amanda Ward..."  

Until this day. I was making a return to my roots of reading for pleasure. There was a display of "Librarians Picks"- books librarians themselves recommend.  One paperback stood out- Love Stories In This Town by Amanda Eyre Ward.  I love, love. I fell for these stories fast. But they weren't like any of the love stories I'd heard before.  Fresh, twisted, deep, irreverent, funny.  I was in heaven.  She had her own voice and it didn't feel categorized. She was true to herself and in that I found the permission to be true to myself. Being true to yourself-the attribute that is always cathartic and in my case often requires dusting.  Classic. I had a voice. A gift not bequest to all creatures-use it, I said to myself, you must. (I hope you will say that to yourself!)

I saw her email on her webpage and I typed with shaky fingers my first fan letter. She responded! After that I read her whole profile. She had been at Williams College, (my favorite summer was at Williamstown Theater Festival, she had little boys, I had little boys, I wrote in the morning, she wrote in the morning...). It became obvious that the universe was intervening. Or that I was becoming a stalker. I went with my first thought. (I had read The Secret). Unsurprisingly, I did the next embarrassing thing and asked her to read a few of my pages, (slap me again.)  Amanda replied that she was on deadline for her next book though happy to refer me to her agent. Then she recommended two additional agents and told me to use her as a referral. I nearly fell off my chair. Talk about 'I'll do you one better'. Requesting her agent never even occurred to me. I had one run in with a writer- a friend who nearly took my head off when her agent asked me to submit my stuff- that left me terrified- no thanks. **Yet, here was a complete well-accomplished stranger handing over her connections as naturally as taking her next breath. It gave me a tremendous boost. If in your life, no matter what you do, if you manage to help one person feel hope for even one day-you have succeeded. I felt super hopeful. 

That book on deadline? Close Your Eyes, was published in July, 2011, received a four-star review in People Magazine, won the Elle Lettres Readers' Prize for September. was named Kirkus' Best Books of 2011, and won the Elle Magazine Fiction Book of the Year. It is now in paperback. 

Here are my five (plus) questions and her answers, enjoy.


1.  When you dreamt of being a published author (did you) what did you imagine life like and how is reality different? 

AEW:  What a great question.  It stops me in my tracks, actually.  I guess I always knew how much I loved creating fictional worlds and how great it feels to craft a perfect sentence.  That hasn't changed at all with book deals, etc.  The actual act of writing is exactly the same as when I first typed on my Brother word processor in college.  I have always written in a closet (or a motel room), and when we moved recently, I chose a big, gorgeous room to write in.  After a few weeks, however, I moved to the closet, where I'm working now.  I guess I just feel happiest here, as if I'm hiding in a Nancy Drew crawl space.  I must admit that the validation feels wonderful.  It can be lonely to write all day, and being able to talk to people about my work is extremely rewarding.


2.  What steps did you take to first get published? 

AEW: I went to graduate school, writing conferences, and contacted agents...the usual routes.  But the best advice I got was from my professor, Bill Kittredge.  As I was finishing graduate school, he said, "move to where your best friend is and write".  It's really important to finish your first novel, and not get hung up on the first fifty pages, always tinkering, never hauling it over the finish line.

Interesting! See how she DIDN'T answer, "I tried to crack the code on my own perusing the RVCPL and then sent fan email before basically giving up." Shrewd. 

3. How do you write with kids? Do you have a daily routine? How important are deadlines to your process? 

AEW:  I have three children.  I write three days a week in my closet, and weekends in motel rooms as necessary.  Two days a week, I hang out with my daughter and see friends, grocery shop, etc.  I try to be completely focused on my work or completely with my kids.  I don't watch TV, so I also read a lot.  I try to say no to almost everything else.  I make deadlines for myself, and stick to them.  That said, novels can't be tamed: I just set aside a book I'd worked on for three years.  I couldn't figure it out.

4.  I had this friend read my stuff who insisted no matter what the story line-that the fiction was true and about me. It was so irritating. It was as if she were implying I was a hack (maybe;) and a liar. Does that ever happen to you? 

AEW:  I would never let this person ever see any of your work again. I don't show my work to anyone except a very few, trusted friends (mainly writers).  It's so precious, and weird reactions can ruin the work. This used to happen to me, but now I am very careful about who I show work to, and even careful about who I talk to on writing days.

5.  When you do pull on your life, do people get mad? Do others opinions freeze you up? 

AEW:  It is really hard, but I write fiction and of course, fiction comes from a mixture of my experience, my reading, my mistakes.  I do not worry about what is real and what isn't real AT ALL until the very last draft.  I write the absolute best pages I can, no matter who might be upset or hurt.  In the final stages, I will sometimes ask my editor, "Do I really need this scene?"  If she says yes, I talk to the person who might be upset.  Usually, we can change the scenes to cut anything questionable.  I really try to make a bubble for myself where I can write, and I don't let the world into my closet until the very end.

Again, I can't thank you enough!  You are FLY!

AEW: THANK YOU!!

*Amanda's new novel is to be published Spring, 2015! I can't wait. 



Coming up SpunkerFly Woman of the Month - Andrea Rosen of NickMOM