MamaBlogga

Originally posted at my writing blog

I don’t make a secret of it—I hate writing contests. And this is because I have never gotten useful (or even non-contradictory!) advice from them. That may be a reflection on the organization sponsoring the contests I’ve entered, of course, because after my first contest through another organization, I’m quickly beginning to change my mind.

This last weekend, I went to a writing conference. Despite my past experiences and with more than a little trepidation (and very low expectations), I entered the conference’s first chapter contest a month ago. I was really hoping to place, of course, but I didn’t expect to do well.

Nevertheless, every time I happened to see the Saturday lunch hour in the conference schedule (“First chapter contest winners announced”), my hearing dulled, my heart pounded and my stomach shriveled. Just thinking about that day put me through the first stages of a panic attack.

(This made planning my conference schedule very stressful .)

Finally, lunch rolled around. About halfway through, the conference coordinator got up, and the pulled up the PowerPoint that would announce the winners on the two 20′ screens in the hall. To all 450 attendees.

They received almost 200 entries. They printed over 900 critiques which would be returned to each entrant after lunch. And then they started on the winners. I almost hoped they’d start with my category, just so I could have my disappointment and work to move on. But no—first came third place, non fiction: title, author. Second place. First place.

They moved on to General Fiction. And another category. And another.

And then my category, Mystery/Suspense. Third place. Not me. Hey, maybe this wasn’t so bad.

Second place. Not me. Oh. There was no way I took first place—so I had my answer. It wasn’t me. That’s okay, I know how much these things are the luck of the draw—get one judge who doesn’t love your chapter and you’re hosed. And not everybody loves everything I’ll ever write. That’s okay.

Seriously, this felt like the longest pause of the ceremonies. Despite my best efforts at consoling myself, I could hear the contest coordinator’s voice saying the title of my story over and over again.

Stop, I told myself. Don’t torment yourself.

“First place, Mystery/Suspense: Saints and Spies.” This time it wasn’t in my head. “By Jordan McCollum.”

So that little announcement is why we’re not starting a new series today. Tomorrow for sure.

This came at a time I really needed it. Many thanks to all those who helped me prepare the chapter. Thanks for a great conference, to all those who worked so hard to put it on. I also want to congratulate so many of my friends who also placed!

We’re often told raising our children isn’t enough: we should be “productive.” We should have “real jobs.” Strangers ask us to justify raising our children when we’ve obtained higher learning. We should “contribute to society.” I promised you a rant on how nothing contributes more to society than raising children will, but lovely guest blogger G.K. Chesterton (at right) has taken that up for me.

He was way ahead of his time, you know. I mean, the man died seventy years ago, and he had the foresight to write this post for me. Okay, okay, so really this is just a long quotation. Emphasis, images and paragraphs breaks added.

Woman is generally shut up in a house with a human being at the time when he asks all the questions that there are, and some that there aren’t. It would be odd if she retained any of the narrowness of a specialist.

Now if anyone says that this duty of general enlightenment (even when freed from modern rules and hours, and exercised more spontaneously by a more protected person) is in itself too exacting and oppressive, I can understand the view. I can only answer that our race has thought it worth while to cast this burden on women in order to keep common-sense in the world.

But when people begin to talk about this domestic duty as not merely difficult but trivial and dreary, I simply give up the question. To be Queen Elizabeth within a definite area, deciding sales, banquets, labors and holidays; to be Whiteley within a certain area, teaching morals, manners, theology, and hygiene; I can understand how this might exhaust the mind, but I cannot imagine how it could narrow it.

How can it be a large career to tell other people’s children about the Rule of Three, and a small career to tell one’s own children about the Universe? How can it be broad to be the same thing to everyone, and narrow to be everything to someone? No; a woman’s function is laborious, because it is gigantic, not because it is minute.

G. K. Chesterton, What’s Wrong with the World, p 118-119

Thanks, G.K.! (Note that this is taken slightly out of context, but seriously, it’s a lot better this way. Don’t bother reading the stuff that comes before or after it; it’s not quite so “enlightened.”)

In other news, I’d like to note that I was one of five winners of literary agent Nathan Bransford’s guest blogging contest, and my guest post will go live on his blog next week .

Photo credits: question mark—Svilen Mushkatov; globe—Sanja Gjenero

Once upon a time, I was part of something great. Though I knew it was important at the time, looking back as I recently had the chance to do, I realize even more what a unique and important opportunity I had now that it’s gone.

For two years while I was in college, I was a teaching assistant for a 100-level required GE course. Now, for most courses, TAs mostly grade papers and do other grunt work. While we did that in this course, we also had the opportunity to actually teach as well: under the direction of the professor, we taught the third hour of the course each week. (The course was structured with two hours of 1000-student lectures on Mondays and Wednesdays, and the students’ third hour was in a 30-student “lab,” of which I taught 3 to 4 each week.)

But teaching was not the thing that made this job so important. It was the course that we taught. The course, as far as we know, is unlike any other college course. It was called American Heritage and the material was, basically, a touch of political science, the history of the creation of and the evolution of Constitution, and the basic economics and the economic founding principles in the US.

But the course material doesn’t begin to express what was so important about this course. It wasn’t about “America first” or “America best”; it was about the efforts that real people made to create a unique beginning for a country.

From the beginning of time, civilization has struggled between two extremes—tyranny and the control and stability that it brings, and anarchy and the overriding freedom (and insecurity) that it brings. The cycle between these forms of governing ourselves is called the Human Predicament.

Many societies have made an effort to escape the human predicament, but most solutions have devolved into the same vicious cycle. During the formative years of this country, there was no guarantee that this country would be any different.

With great concerted effort, the founders of this country established what they hoped would be a good start, the framework and guidelines that could provide both stability and freedom for the people. It was a great experiment, really, since this form of government hadn’t been tried in quite this way before.

And, so far, it’s held up pretty well. Almost 220 years later, we’ve only required 27 official additions, changes or clarifications to that framework. A lot of the changes to the system have become matters of tradition rather than codification.

It’s so easy to look back at history and think that the way it happened was inevitable. But there really isn’t anything that guaranteed that this country would succeed other than the determined study and efforts and compromises.

And there’s no guarantee that it will continue to succeed in escaping tyranny and anarchy without the determined study and efforts of our citizens today.

I helped with that. I taught hundreds of college freshmen (mostly) about this—about our heritage and our responsibility to this country. Not all of them, and probably very few of them, fully caught this spirit at the time, but if and when they do, they will have the understanding of the country’s founding principles that should best be able to guide them in how to lead the country today.

I had the opportunity to remember this experience and these principles recently as dozens of professors, teaching assistants and administrative staff for this course gathered to honor the two founding professors of the course at their retirement. It was a very emotional experience, having worked with one of the professors, and having to realize just how important what we did was—and that I’ll probably never be involved in that again.

But I can hope that I’ll be able to feel this way about raising my own children. It’s probably not something you can appreciate fully at the time. It is a lot of work. It is a lot of effort. And after months and months of the same lessons, the same principles, still they just don’t get it.

But one day they will get it. One day what I’ve done here, like what I did there, will make a difference.

Happy Fourth of July!

Today I got to meet Wendy Piersall of eMoms at Home! Woot! Oh yeah, there was a conference on blogging, too, somewhere in between conversations with Wendy.

If you’ve never met Wendy, in person or online, run (don’t walk) on over to eMoms. It’s the ultimate resource for WAHMs (and WAHDs)—especially for information on starting your own business, entrepreneurship, overcoming fear (and life’s hardships) and more. Plus, Wendy is a total sweetie! (This never, EVER hurts!)

Not sure why we’re so red . . . maybe we were just laughing?

Okay, so the Blogging for Business conference was fun (although it made me feel bad for not making very much money off my blog. Now where is that old monetization strategy?).

Okay, enough buzz words about blogging—you guys are going to get to hear plenty more about that. For my full write up of Wendy’s excellent keynote, see my post on Marketing Pilgrim today.

But if you don’t feel like reading all that, I’ll pluck out the parts that are most pertinent to personal bloggers. (The brackets are there because I’ve rephrased it to take out language about your business and your customers.)

Let’s get personal: Why did you . . . start this [blog]?

• To pursue a dream (passion)
• To make a difference in people’s lives
• To fill a need in an under-served market

In other words, you were passionate and/or you wanted to help!

Blogs don’t benefit business unless they BENEFIT YOUR [READER]. You have to have that passion, the cause—what’s in it for your [reader]? What are they looking for? What do they really need? Why did you go into [blogging] in the first place? Because that’s why your [readers] will come to you, spend more with you, and seek you out.

Questions to answer for yourself

• How can I help my [readers]? What do they need?
• What personal stories, ideas or experience an I share on my blog that will encourage people to connect with [me]?
• How can my . . . blog be a true reflection of [its] founding inspiration (passion, making a difference, filling a need)?

Blogging is about community—it’s about connecting with other people. I started this blog (on MamaBlogga.com, at least) to help connect with mothers who are struggling to feel fulfilled in motherhood to help them (and me!) find fulfillment.

So why did you start to blog? And is there anything I can do to help you feel fulfilled in motherhood?

Friday morning I was suddenly reminded that the event of the year for my industry, Search Marketing Expo Advanced (SMX), was impending. I’d wanted to buy tickets long before, but frugality, homebodiness and an insatiable need to be with my son won out. Tickets were sold out now, plus I’d have to travel to Seattle.

I lamented my case to my husband, who recommended that I e-mail my boss, Andy, to see if he had any extra passes. I demured. And that afternoon, Andy posted on the blog—he had come across an extra pass. Did any readers want it? I said I did, but so did a couple other readers, who wouldn’t have to travel.

Andy decided I deserved it (how deeply flattering!). And now I’m in Seattle.

Saturday I’d convinced myself that I deserved/needed/would enjoy some time away from Hayden. Not that I don’t love him, of course (I know you understand). But ever since he was born, I realized that motherhood was the one job I’d never be able to take a vacation from, no matter how burned out I got.

And here I am on vacation (ish).

So, we shall see how my son and I hold up apart. A huge thank you to my friends who are watching him today and tomorrow. I’ll be home very early Wednesday morning, and back into motherhood.

But today, I’m playing the part of the experienced professional. Oh, and I’m also pretending to be outgoing and friendly, which is a lot harder in person than it is online and in print. (Luckily, an opening social last night broke the ice, so I should be okay. I hope.)

Blogging may be a bit light until Thursday, but I’ll try to get a couple posts in.

This week is the eComXpo, a virtual tradeshow for Internet marketing. This marks the third time I’ve attended the semiannual event. It’s strange to think how much things have changed over that time period:

1. Early April, Hayden’s 2 months old. I sit at the computer, Hayden is next to the desk on the floor. He gets a little tummy time, too. The nursing pillow cuddles him until he starts to get fussy. Then I lay him tummy down across my lap and pat his back. He had a little bit of a cold. He sleeps on my lap or on the floor. I can attend pretty much as much of the show as I can stand.

2. Late October, Hayden’s almost 9 months. Was he around that week? Poor kid is totally neglected since I not only have the eComXpo but an entry in the prestigious SEM Scholarship Contest at Marketing Pilgrim that I have to drive traffic to. Luckily, I do both at once and send hundreds of vCards and invitations to view my entry. Every little bit helped—I won by only 3 visitors. When I couldn’t stand to sit at the desk anymore, I tried to listen to presentations and panels while playing with Hayden; this didn’t work.

3. This week, Hayden’s 13.5 months. We’re in day 2 of the conference. There’s not as much that I’m interested in this time around. I no longer get paid by the hour (well, not to attend the conference, at least), so I try to listen to sessions while researching and writing blog posts. This doesn’t work either. I’m interested in the two panel discussions this afternoon; I’m not sure if I’ll get anything out of them if I try to listen while Haydie’s awake. And they’re conveniently scheduled right before and right after his normal nap time. There’s no way I can hope to do my thing while Haydie sits passively by.

Sigh. Yep, just sigh.