During the course of the conversation, I made the comment that I really only needed $30,000 a year to survive and didn’t care so much about money beyond that. I was more interested in a job that let me spend time with my family than one that promised promotions and big money. Apparently, my comment sparked several debates with the upper managers and they threatened to let me go. Ironically, however, they promoted me and I became one of them.

His argument was that employees who didn’t feel pressured for financial reasons were a weakness. The company lacked the leverage and power to control them in a way that was best for business. Employees can’t say “no” to a request to work the weekend or to attend a week-long conference, right? Well, when they aren’t leveraged they can. Although I said yes most of the time, there were some no’s…because they didn’t have the control. I didn’t feel locked into my job and I knew I’d be fine without it.

It takes some planning to be able to pull this off I have a few suggestions that can make it easier. First, a good degree and strong resume (makes finding new jobs much easier). Second, make less money than you are worth (then you never feel pressured to stay). Third, keep your financial obligations to a minimum (stay away from credit cards, drive a used car, keep expenses down, and read this book).

The big drawback is you probably won’t ever drive a Ferrari, live on the lake, or have a closet full of designer clothes. In addition, a lot of people might see you as a loser. But if you’re like me, the time spent with family, hiking, camping, writing, taking pictures, or playing video games (where you can drive as many Ferrari’s as you want) is well worth it.

I’m not the best employee, I admit it. I honestly don’t know if I’d hire myself or not. Actually, if I was hiring a photographer or writer, I’d hire myself in a heartbeat. And if you need one, you should hire me to. You’ll get your money’s worth. The real question is this: should a business really have the leverage my former boss wanted or is there something to be said for a free-thinking employee who has a life outside of work? On the one hand, you can’t order them around like a dictator. But on the other, maybe you don’t have to worry so much about them flipping out, harassing co-workers, inviting lawsuits, embarrassing clients, or going AWOL.

Years later, at that same job, I told my new boss that I was tired of working for the man. He was an awesome boss, I hope he didn’t take it personally…he wasn’t the man I was talking about. I didn’t have another job lined up, I hadn’t been looking, and I knew I was breaking a golden rule by being honest with my employer. But he asked where my passion had gone and I honestly told him it was gone forever. Given, I had just gone through a tough divorce and my life had been turned upside-down, but it felt awesome to say exactly what was on my mind.

He didn’t fire me, in fact he encouraged me to stay. But I left five weeks later, took four months off, and wrote my first novel. Then I found a job that paid more, was only an hour of commuting each day (instead of three), and had double the vacation time. Oh, and was for a non-profit company (no more making the rich man richer).

My future? I don’t know. But I do know I’ll pay the bills one way or another…things just always work out if you structure it right. Sure, I fall way short of my potential. I know it and so do countless others who have told me as much. But that’s only when you measure potential in terms of career. Just ask my kids and their friends how I measure up as a father. In that area, I’m not so shabby. And who knows, maybe someday I’ll sell one of my novels or break open my photography. Until then, I’ll keep plugging away as best I can.

I liked Milli Vanilli too, back in the day. Now before you rag on me for admitting it, I’d like to point out that their albums sold millions and they won a Grammy, so I wasn’t alone. I didn’t like them because of the dancing puppets we thought were making the music…I liked the music. I was sad there weren’t more albums. But were the dancing puppets necessary to get the music out? The sad truth is that I probably wouldn’t have ever heard Milli Vanilli otherwise…because it’s not just about the music.

This rubs home the fact that as a society we value all the wrong things. We want superficial appearance over content. We want a level of perfection that doesn’t exist in reality. We need air brushes, video editing, and surgery to create people worthy enough of our attention. We piece together the best parts of individuals to make someone beautiful enough for us. And we pay millions of dollars to people who are, essentially, hollow shells of humanity. No matter how creepy they may be in person, we only see the superhuman appearance and swath them in gold and lace. We want a reality that doesn’t exist and deny the truth. Even though so many of us feel outraged at this little seven year old girl’s talents being hidden from the world, we are the ones who drive it.

The media presents something attractive and gets our attention…and our money. The next time, they have to up it a notch. In the process our minds change and our thinking is altered. We start expecting a fantasy level of perfection in ourselves, our friends, our spouses. Before long, we become prejudice and judgmental against those don’t measure up to these ridicules standards. We push the media to do it to us and become brainwashed even more in the process.

Maybe someday we will value people because of their strong character. Maybe someday we won’t reward a narcissistic personality because of a pretty smile, shrewd tongue, or athletic prowess. Maybe, but it’s a long ways off. In the meantime we each need to notice when we have been duped. We need to try and give our admiration and attention to the people who deserve it. Like little seven year old Yang Peiyi. We need to let the media know that we care about genuine beauty and talent and we aren’t going to be superficial drones anymore.

And no matter how beautiful and athletic a person might be…if they are assholes, stop rewarding them. Stop reading about them, buying their products, watching their performances, and giving them our attention. And I readily admit I am part of the problem, Yes, I’m a hypocrite. It’s just too easy, sometimes, to get sucked into the nonsense.

His hands shot to his face just in time to conceal the wide grin that parted his cheeks. Everything had worked out perfect. Since her fall, two weeks ago, he’d prayed every day that she would hold on long enough. When the phone would ring, his heart would stop. Mom would talk low and quiet and the thought of grandma dying too soon made tears trickle down his cheek. But she hadn’t. His eighth birthday was yesterday and since then, he’d been ready to explode with excitement. Masking it with sadness had been like trying to hide a bucket of exploding firecrackers.

A hand touched his shoulder and he looked up to see his mother and his blood ran cold. He breathed heavy and sweat beads appeared on his forehead as he stared back at her in wide-eyed fear. Could she see the happiness? Would she be angry?

She picked him up and buried his head in her shoulder.

“Poor Blake,” she told somebody. “He has been dreading this day.”

He pressed his grin into her fluffy dress and almost laughed. She didn’t know. Nobody knew. He held her tight and didn’t let her put him down until she asked if he wanted to take a nap. He nodded and she carried him off into one of grandma’s cold, dark bedrooms and plopped him onto the bed.

She stayed with him for a few minutes, stroking his hair, but he kept his face buried in the pillow and pretended he was asleep until she left. Then he spun over and let his mouth go free. It stretched from ear to ear as his eyes danced with excitement. It was now only two days away.

Last year they had all gone without him. Mother, Grandma, and everyone had rode off leaving him alone with an older girl he didn’t even know. It wasn’t fair to leave him like that, to exclude him from father’s mourning just because he wasn’t eight. He’d cried all afternoon…so hard even the girl started crying, saying she was so sorry but not to worry because his father was watching from heaven. Of course father was in heaven. He never told her why he had really been crying…or told anyone why he’d cried every day since. At least every day until yesterday. Now he could go and partake like everyone else.

Waiting the next two days was torture, worse than Christmas. Mother was gone most of the time, helping with all the work. Grandma had to be prepared for the ceremony and everything had to be blessed by the elders. The church had to be set up, talks had to be prepared, friends and family notified. It was a lot of work and he was glad they were all busy. It was too hard to look sad all the time when they were around.

On the big day, he woke up before Mother, put on his church clothes, and clipped his tie into place. He climbed onto the sink and drizzled water onto his comb and ran it through his hair until it was straight like mother liked it. Then he sat on the big chair in the front room and waited.

He heard the water running when she started the shower. A short time later, the hum of the blow dryer made him think of her hair bouncing around as she fixed it up. When she came walking down the hall she stopped when she saw him.

“You look very handsome…how long have you been awake?”

“Not very,” he said.

“Did you already eat something?” she asked.

“We aren’t supposed to, remember?”

“Well, adults aren’t, but kids can if they want to. You don’t have to fast like me,” she said.

“I want to,” he answered.

She nodded, walked into the room, and sat on the couch. “Do you have any questions about what happens today?”

He shook his head, no.

“Today we honor Grandma by accepting her into our own hearts and lives forever. We take all the good in her and make it part of us.”

“I know,” he nodded. “Just like you did last year with father. And Grandma was there, so part of father is in her. And now, he will be in me, too.”

Her eyes flooded and several drops escaped down her cheeks. She opened her mouth to speak but no words escaped. She nodded and wiped her tears.

She pulled him onto her lap and squeezed. For some reason, now he knew she wouldn’t mind that he was happy. She understood.

The chapel was dark and empty when he pushed through the large double doors. He was the first to sit and he took the front row on the edge so he would be the first to partake. The lights flickered and the shadows vanished. Hushed whispers chased the silence as others entered and sat on the long wooden benches. Old lady Jergins walked up onto the stand and sat at the organ. Moments later, the pipes hummed and soft music drowned the whispers.

He didn’t have to hide his smile anymore, it was gone. This was important and even though his body shivered with excitement, he sat still with his arms folded. This was serious; he was with the adults and was expected to act like one. And it was almost time.

Mother sat next to him and put an arm around him. He felt a soft kiss on his forehead. Then the preacher walked up to the pulpit and motioned for all to stand.

Blake heard the back doors open and watched the isle anxiously as they brought her forward. The elders appeared, carrying the large, covered silver platter. It wouldn’t be long now; Father would be a part of him forever.

He sat still, arms folded, and looking ahead as if he was listening to the stories and talks. But his eyes were glazed and his mind filled with images of his father as he waited. When it was time and the preacher again asked the front row to stand, his eyes filled with tears. Mother squeezed his hand and he looked up at her. She smiled at him, through streaks of tears on her cheeks. She was the prettiest woman alive and he hugged her. His chest was tingling and more tears fell down his face. This was the happiest day of his life.

He walked up the steps, first in line, and the row followed. The elders lifted the cover and he stepped up to them. He opened his mouth and one of the elders leaned forward and put a small piece of meat in his mouth. Now, father would always be a part of him. Forever.

The Twilight craze has spread like an unstoppable virus. Spread either by airborne sound waves or by computer, where countless blogs and chat rooms buzz with an addicting blend of romance and fantasy. The power of these stories astounds me. Nearly every woman in my life (wife, daughters, sisters, sister-in-laws, mother, friends, niece’s…) has been pricked by its allure (the teenagers especially). I was curious as a writer and a parent. So far I’ve read two of them.

I rolled my eyes a lot…too many references to “dreamy eyes” and “perfect skin” for my level of testosterone. But, I kept reading. Stephenie weaves a good tale and I found myself intrigued, although I would have been happy with a less oogling. But, I know that’s part of what the females love about it. I’m not quite the demographic.

I’ve read many books on writing, studied the rules, and tried to learn the craft of writing. In fact, I rewrote my book to fix a particular “problem” that I was surprised to find plastered on every page of the two of hers I have read. Based on what I have learned about writing, the books (word by word) are not written well. But before you all flame me for saying that, let me qualify that statement with this: I’m an unpublished author that can’t get signed and she’s a multi-millionaire superstar author. I thought they could have been better written, but I’m going against millions and millions of readers. Obviously I’m the one off base. So it makes me wonder, why have I spent all this time trying to learn the rules? Who made them and why? In the end, they obviously don’t matter and maybe by focusing on the mechanics I have lost a connection with my muse. I did think the storyline was well done. The events, characters, the tension…no complaints there.

Stephenie was named one of the most 100 influential people of the year by Time Magazine. The important question is, how is she changing people? What are people, primarily teenage girls, learning from her stories? A passion for reading? Yes, and that is excellent. A fuel for imagination? Yes, another good thing. Books are a staple for growth, especially books like this that have controversy and generate passion. But at the same time I have seen the extreme obsession that teenage girls show for Bella and Edward and I have a few concerns. Not necessarily huge concerns, but for girls who read the book and don’t analyze and discuss certain issues, I think the influence could be harmful. Those who examine themselves and the reasons the books are so captivating, I believe come out wiser and stronger.

Orson Scott Card, in the Time magazine article, makes an excellent point.

“You really want your teenage daughter to live inside the story of a girl who lies to her parents, invites a boy to sleep in her bed and trusts him not to take advantage of her?”

If this statement makes you angry, maybe you are just the type of person I’m concerned about. I think we have a book with adult themes but targeted for young girls. Girls who read, enjoy the story, and can point out mistakes made by Bella have quite likely grown and become stronger. Stephenie has influenced them for the better. But what of the teenagers who read a statement like this and become defensive and angry? Does that mean they condone such actions? Would they trust a potentially dangerous person in real life? Would it make them more susceptible to indulge in dangerous activities or to seek out the same thrills and adventures that Bella encountered? Things worked out for Bella, but in the real world these activities will more often lead to disaster. Girls need to realize this, think about it, and remember that it is fantasy. Just like my son needs conversations about the violence in the video games that he plays, my daughters also need a frank discussion. This is a romance novel. It’s pretend. Have fun reading it.

Romance novels present extremes. We have a classic fairytale, damsel in distress rescued by knight in shining armor. Bella spares nothing when it comes to describing Edward’s beauty. Not even a perfect man, he’s beyond that. He’s superhuman and immortal. He has powers way beyond anything Bella has ever imagined and she is quickly sucked into a whirlwind of adventure and romance that exceeds what a teenage girl will ever experience. But do our teenage girls realize this? Most probably, but even then, it effects them. Not only is Edward beyond the reach of any competing mortal, the other boy after her affection also possesses superhero strength and abilities. Even number two exceeds reality. With that as a standard, how could Bella ever be happy with Mike, a normal boy at school? Is it possible that some of the passionate young readers of this book could have altered expectations that might make future relationships troublesome? How can any real person compete with the excitement and romance offered by the world of Twilight? For girls who are mentally and emotionally stuck in that world, I think it could have an impact on their real world relationships. It could influence them to make poor choices.

Young readers should be encouraged to talk about how aspects of the story are far-fetched fantasy, and I don’t mean the vampires. Media taints our view of relationships all the time, this is nothing new. But what is new is the level of passion this trilogy has generated in young readers. If this book is used as a tool to spark conversation and discussion, it can have a very positive effect. My concern is for the girls so enthralled that these ideas are met with anger, rationalization, and a quick defense. And from my experience, knocking anything Twilight is like handling plutonium. Get ready for the explosion.

Bottom line, the books are excellent, obviously. Use them as tools to explore the reality of relationships and sexuality. If your kids are sucked into this world, I suggest you read the books too. And don’t try and keep the books from them, no need for that. They are going to read them anyways reglardless…and if you fight them, you’ll lose. Besides, they’ve been exposed to the power of media all their lives and it isn’t ever going to stop. This can be a powerful lesson for them on how something that stirs passion and desire, borderline obsession, can be riddled with lessons that don’t apply to real life…lessons that can be damaging in real life. And then have them round out their reading with literature well grounded in reality. With discussion and exploration, I believe Stephenie Myer influences for the better. Her infecting saga of romance and fantasy can help our girls explore the power of media and its impact on reality. I’m proud at how open my girls have been in discussing these issues with me. I know they get frustrated sometimes, but they have been willing to explore and consider how they have been changed by one of Time Magazines “Top 100 Influential people of the year.”

Am I missing something? Maybe that sport fisherman call them one of the more challenging catches because they jump and splash and fight. We wouldn’t want to take that fun away now would we? I guess that makes it okay. And of course their impressive fang laced mouth looks better hanging over a fireplace than swimming through our oceans. They kill swimmers too. The wiki article referenced above reports 8 attacks, 2 fatal. I guess we better remove them and every other animal that has killed at least 2 human beings.

This just upsets me. They didn’t have to kill this shark. I’m not opposed to fishing or hunting. I haven’t hunted in years but I do go fishing a couple times a year. But this is a creature that we are in danger of losing. And they had a good look at it before they chose to cut it down. And then they win a contest and are plastered on CNN and newspapers reveling in their glory. Obviously I’m in the minority here. What am I missing?

I was sitting this afternoon in a workshop on characterization and looked over to see Robert Dugoni sitting several people away, listening and taking notes. He’s a New York Times best selling author and still attends and participates in these conferences. Pretty damn cool! He was also one of the keynote speakers and gave a touching, inspiring presentation. He seems like Mr. Perfect: great speaker, high-achiever, hard worker, wonderful family, best selling author, and comes across to me as one of the nicest guys I’ve ever met. I especially liked his dedication to family values, genuine compassion for the people around him, and his obvious high work ethic. Somehow I gotta get me a work ethic like that.

Mary Schneider, an editor at Writers Digest, was at my dinner table and we all talked a lot about blogging. I’ll have to start watching her blog.  Gayle Lunds, the author who broke the barriers for women thriller authors signed a book to my daughters (her book “Masquerade” is considered by Publishers Weekly as one of the top ten spy novels of all time). What really touched me was how genuinely interested all of these celebrity authors were in us “non-published” authors. They asked about my life, what I’ve written, what I’m working on, and encouraged me in my writing passion. In fact, Gayle assured me that I was indeed a writer, but I still can’t quite accept that label. I need to get something published before I accept it.

Robert Liparulo seems like a fun guy. Easy going, sincere, down to earth…the kind of person that reminds me of a good friend. I felt real comfortable and at ease talking to him. I haven’t read any of his books but I have “Comes a Horseman” right next to me and plan to start it tonight.

Fleetwood Robbins, an editor from Wizards of the Coast, was another real sincere, easy person to talk to. I know these editors are busy and get tons of submissions yet he spent a half hour talking to me about Mandala’s Catalyst. He welcomed me to send it to him, but sending a submission is like buying a lottery ticket. I pretty much know I won’t win, but there is still that outside chance it could happen. I’ve often wondered if the money I spent on stamps for my submissions would have a better chance giving me a return on a lottery ticket. But I keep trying, and I don’t buy lottery tickets. At least I’m not alone. All of these authors had a long hard road to where they are today. It was encouraging in one sense yet discouraging to be reminded that rejection really is the life of a writer. I don’t know any lottery winners, but at least I know a few best selling authors now.

I could go on. It was a great conference filled with a variety of authors (from best selling to unpublished) and it was a pleasure to meet and visit with everyone I met.  I’ll stay in touch with a several, like Tobin (an author I met from Oregon) and Karen Morison-Knox (an award winning author from San Francisco who helped me work on my pitch).

I wasn’t sure what to expect but I’ll for sure go back again next year. And I’ll try and talk my mom and Tracy into going too.

I loved summer as a kid; I dread it as a parent. At least the out of school part. Not because I don’t want the kids to have fun and get a break from school, it’s because they get so freakin’ bored and I feel responsible. I don’t remember being bored as a kid. Was I? It seems like my kids are constantly bored and I’m trying to figure out what I’m doing wrong as a parent.

I grew up in a small town surrounded by friends. There was hill after hill of Utah wilderness to explore right out of my front door. My kids live in the middle of suburbia and spend most of their time stuck indoors because of the rain and houses that fill the horizon in every direction. In addition, I don’t know many of my neighbors…there aren’t five kids of assorted ages in almost every house in the neighborhood. As a kid, I played constantly…basketball, football, rode bikes in the hills, had dirt clod wars, hunted with bb guns, and even some Dungeons and Dragons. Sometimes we’d even pack up supplies and as many as ten kids (ages 6-13) would hike several miles out of town, make a fire, cook dinner, and sleep under the stars. Just us kids.

The unknown is scary and I’m surrounded by it. I don’t know some of my kids friends. And although I know their closest ones, I don’t know most of their parents. I worry when my kids are with people I don’t know well or roam the streets like I used to roam the wilderness. My kids don’t have the foundation of religion that I did, which was pretty much the core of my life until my mid-twenties. Is it possible to raise good kids without religion? Well, my mother and father-in-law raised an incredible daughter, so I know it’s possible. And right now I have awesome children, ask anyone. But all of this is unknown to me. I’m not on familiar turf at all.

Even Ivins, Utah, where I grew up, isn’t the same anymore. Moving back there wouldn’t help. Back then, everyone knew everyone. Literally. I was thinking the other day how I’m tied to all the kids I grew up with, even the ones that didn’t like me. We all have a common bond, growing up in that small town. It’s something that can’t be explained. But what will my kids have? Will they remember a long drawn out boring childhood? Where I have fond memories will their minds be filled with sludge and misery?

The kids just spent 4 nights with me out of town on a business trip. They had a computer, movies, board games, a swimming pool, a mall across the street (but no money), books, cell phones, and TV…and they were bored out of their minds. It’s the same story at home. They get so bored. Maybe I would have been bored too as a kid with electronic entertainment everywhere I turned. Maybe it has trained them to need a constant blitzing of flashing lights that never really satisfies. I loved the computer we finally got when I was in High School, an Atari 800XL (after years of begging and pleading). But I had a lot more to go with it.

Raising families in the city isn’t anything new, it’s just new to me. I need to do a better job of it. I don’t want my kids to be bored, but maybe the game consoles, computers, TV’s, stereos, movies, and MP3 players I bought them to help remove boredom, have made it worse. Maybe they have an inner need to explore the wilderness that no amount of Halo can replace. I wish they could. I wish they had friends in every direction, like I did. Maybe I need to stop worrying about it and let them negotiate their own boredom.

Aubree wants to get into piano lessons, Curti into guitar and Mikayla has a soccer camp coming up…those are good things. My parents may come up for a week, their Aunt Misty is moving up…so there is hope for the summer. I think the core issue is that raising my kids in a completely different environment that I knew is really scary. But I love them, we spend time together and they are good kids. We really are doing fine. Now if we can just somehow slide through these last few years clean, it’ll be okay. When I hear about the troubles some have with teenagers and I look at my own…I know I’m blessed. Maybe I’m forgetting my own rough times. Now that I think about it, most of the fun times I remember were younger years, before fourteen. Although I don’t remember being bored, I know I was depressed a lot from 15-17…maybe it’s the almost the same thing. And I turned okay, for the most part. I’m sure my own troubles at that age make it extra scary to watch them go through these years. Teenage years are tough, so many changes and adjustments. Even so, I hate to see them so bored!