Christina Katz's Author Mama E-Book Release Interview

In Author Mama, Christina Katz's new e-book, she shares her personal experience walking through the traditional book-deal process and book-writing experience and offers tips along the way, addressing common myths and challenging writers to get ready for the marathon that is writing a book.

Why would you do an e-book after two traditionally published books?

Like most traditionally published authors, who blog, teach, and speak, I have a backlog of quality content to draw on and some of it, though not all of it, will lend itself to the e-book format. So I plan to write several e-books over time and Author Mama is the first. I have old sketchbooks full of ideas I’ve had over the years, which will lend themselves well to e-formats. Equal opportunity access to e-publishing technology offers all of us writers a lot more creative leeway than we have traditionally had, which can lead to exciting and fun possibilities.

Besides being in e-book format, how is Author Mama different from Writer Mama and Get Known Before the Book Deal?

Author Mama is the story behind how I landed my book deal for Writer Mama and then wrote the book. I wanted to describe in play-by-play form what writing a non-fiction book is like for the benefit of moms considering the possibility with the lessons I learned along the way. One of my students who is on the verge of querying agents with a nonfiction book proposal says that Author Mama “goes there.” In other words, it deals squarely with the rollercoaster ride that most first-time authors experience. The format of my traditionally published books is not as driven by my personal experience, even though it informs them both. In Author Mama, I include all of the books that I recommend first-time authors read before, during, and after the book deal, so they can become as informed and empowered as possible.

Who are the intended readers for Author Mama?

Well, my two traditionally published books don’t target the same exact audience and neither does Author Mama. When I wrote Author Mama, I had my Writer Mama readers in mind, but of those readers, I was specifically focused on anyone seriously considering writing a book someday. Not every writer mama wants to write a book someday. Some are perfectly happy writing and publishing articles. So Author Mama is a slice (a writing book), of a slice (for moms), of a slice (who are considering becoming an author some day), and therefore too small of an audience for a traditional publisher. But many of my students and fans have this question and would like to answer it for themselves. Author Mama is for them.

Did you have any hesitations about self-publishing?

Considering how much content I have sitting around languishing on my hard drives, I am sorry that it’s taken me this long. The person I had the hardest time convincing was myself. I’ve had some hang-ups about e-books that I’ve had to get over in order to move forward. As long as my work continues to serve the best interests of my readers, why wouldn’t I self-publish? I certainly have a lot more to offer than I would just letting it sit around collecting virtual dust. At this point in time, I feel like it would be foolish not to e-publish, even as I continue to write traditional books.

Are publishers anxious about traditional authors self-publishing? Doesn’t this undermine their business?

I think, when it comes to self-publishing the opportunity always exists to take the enlightened view or the fearful view. I have heard people in publishing make comments that authors self-publishing is terrible news, which is absurd. The fearful attitude is, “Oh no, if that author can self-publish, then we lose.” The enlightened view is that when the people you partner with are more successful it’s good for you too because it raises all boats. Besides, when all the folks involved in a partnership are empowered and come together because they want to be there, that’s good for the relationship. It’s important to have good boundaries and communication in business and know the difference between what’s yours, what’s not yours, and what is joint ownership. When you keep these things in mind, and communicate clearly, there is really nothing to fear but fear itself.

How do you keep people from "stealing" your e-book?

I can’t stop people from stealing my e-book. I am completely powerless over that aspect of e-publishing, as most of us are. However, my target audience is not teenage boys and young men, who are supposedly the folks who do most of the pirating, according to the experts who study these trends. So I’m not going to lose any sleep over it. Also I don’t plan on giving my e-books away to avoid the impression that they are “freebies,” whereas with a traditional book I always do a lot of giveaways to get the content out into circulation. E-books are a lot easier to circulate. I can send one to you in seconds. So at this time, I don’t see the point in giving them away and encouraging others to share them without permission. I’d prefer to sell them to a smaller, more exclusive audience, who will see the value and, hopefully, respect my copyright.

What are three major points you hope aspiring writers learn from reading Author Mama?

That landing a traditional book deal and delivering a well-written book is possible but not easy by any means.

That someone else has survived the rollercoaster of emotions that come part and parcel with a first traditional book deal and you can too.

That some writers actually give up along the way and don’t succeed at delivering their first book but this won’t happen to the writers who read Author Mama because forewarned is forearmed.

Is this book only for nonfiction writers or can fiction writers benefit from it too?

Author Mama is specifically about my nonfiction book writing process, which is different from the process for other genres like fiction or memoir. However, a lot of my readers, who write in other genres, have said over the years that they find a lot of takeaways in my nonfiction experience. Also, I fully expect Author Mama to convince a few readers to try writing a nonfiction book, who might have only considered themselves other types of writers or not even writers at all.

Can I order a print copy of Author Mama?

When the book comes out in the final version in May, I will make it available for purchase in print-on-demand format, as well as all the other e-formats. During April, while it’s in beta, Author Mama is available in PDF format, which means you can print it out and put it in a binder yourself, if you prefer a hard copy. I’ve invited the first readers to participate in the process, so I’ve included a feedback form with the e-book but participation is voluntary. However to sweeten the deal, I will provide those who share feedback on the beta version with the final version for free, after it’s updated in PDF form.

Can I order this e-book for someone as a gift?

Sure you can. When you place your order, simply submit their e-mail address in the notes section and I will e-mail the copy to them instead of to you.

Thanks for your questions about Author Mama. If you’d like to learn more, please visit http://christinakatz.com/introducing-author-mama-how-i-because-a-published-author-how-you-can-too/.

About Christina Katz, The Author Mama

Christina Katz has been teaching writers to cultivate thriving careers for the past decade. Many of her students start by writing short articles and work hard and long until they eventually succeed in landing traditional book deals. Christina is the author of Get Known Before the Book Deal, Use Your Personal Strengths to Grow an Author Platform and Writer Mama, How to Raise A Writing Career Alongside Your Kids, both from Writer’s Digest Books.

In addition to writing books and articles, Christina publishes a weekly e-zine, The Prosperous Writer, hosts The Northwest Author Series, travels to writing conferences and literary events, and coaches a hundred writers a year. She holds an MFA in writing from Columbia College Chicago and a BA from Dartmouth College. She lives in an idyllic cottage in Wilsonville, Oregon with her husband, daughter and far too many pets.

Keep up with Christina at http://www.christinakatz.com/.

My Easter Wish for You via Magic Beans

One of my favorite respites, Al's Garden Center, holds an Al's Kids Club event every month. For March, and in preparation for Easter, they had the kids plant 'Magic Beans'.

Here is one of the beans ... with a message of "Hope" on one side, and a picture of a butterfly on the other:

Just in time for Easter, here are the results ... no magic fairy dust required:

"Peace" ...

"Family" ...

A view of the other side ... flowers and a peace sign ...











Hope, peace, and family ... that is my Easter wish for you!

Come With Me to Kauai ...

I've mentioned it often ... my love of travel. Recently, and for various reasons, 'big' travel has not been able to grace our to-do list. When I start feeling antsy, but can't hop on the next flight to some wonderful destination, I look through pictures. This week, I have been enjoying Kauai. We traveled there in late 2007. Please join me on a quick photo-trip through the gorgeous island ... and be sure to play the video at the end!

Rainbow east of Kiahuna Beach ...

Our last night on the island, we were graced with this gorgeous sunset (taken in Po'ipu) ...














Bottle Palm in the National Tropical Botanical Gardens ...



















Oh, to have a tree that looked like this one, located in the parking lot of the Botanical Gardens ...
















A stunning orchid in the Botanical Gardens ...



















A sky flower, also in the Botanical Gardens ...
















Puu HinaHina Lookout in Waimea Canyon ...















Waipo'o Falls in Waimea Canyon State Park ...



















The lush Hanalei Valley ...















Kilauea Point Lighthouse ...















Hubby heading out to snorkel ...















The Spouting Horn, seen from Kukui'ula Harbor ...













Look at that form! :-) Ziplining in Princeville (SO fun!!!) ...

Enjoy the zipline ride (courtesy of my hubby, who was holding the video camera) ...

The Luck of the Irish

In honor of St. Patrick's Day :-) ...

I was standing in line at the post office when I heard, “And how long are you going to be?” I looked behind me to see an older man, possibly in his sixties, with an unwavering face and twinkling eyes that just screamed of dry humor and wit. I smiled and laughed, noting that I just had the one box and would make it fast.

I didn’t expect the conversation to continue. Thankfully, it did.

“My wife has me mailing these birthday cards to Ireland,” he continued gruffly. “We’re always sending things over there.”

Being a travel fanatic, I was intrigued. “Ireland, huh,” I responded, “I’ve never been there, but it’s on my list of places I want to visit.”

“Oh, we’ve been there many times … at least a couple dozen,” he said. “Both of our families are from there, and many are still living there.”

“Really?” I asked, “Is that where you met?”

“Oh no …”, he chuckled. “I was an auctioneer. Traveled all over the place. One day, I received a call from a rancher in central Oregon. I was to come pick up some items that would then be auctioned. That’s when I met her.”

“At the ranch?” I asked, amazed at such a chance meeting.

“Yep … she was the rancher’s daughter. That was thirty-some odd years ago … and things have been going downhill ever since,” he added with a sly grin.

“Well … it couldn’t be too bad if you’ve been together for thirty-some years!” I countered with a smile.

“Well, she was quite the successful businesswoman. I couldn’t give that up,” he said with the dry wit that had become the trademark of our short conversation. He then went on to explain that she had owned several thriving businesses – including a clothing shop and a salon – in the very complex we were standing in. “Back in the day, there would be a line of people waiting to get into her salon,” he added with a hint of pride.

I glanced at the service counter where, fortunately, the customers in front of me were having some sort of difficulty with their mailing progress.

“I can’t believe both of you are from Ireland, and you ended up meeting on a ranch out in the middle of central Oregon,” I added.

It was then that he told me that on one of their first trips back to Ireland as a couple, they decided to check into each of their family histories. Through their research, they discovered that their grandparents had been from the exact same small town in Ireland. His had owned a hardware store; hers had owned a grocery store. They traveled to that little town and discovered that – even to that day - his family’s original hardware store and her family’s original grocery store sat on the very same street, right next door to each other.

“Wow,” I said with all the eloquence of a rock. “That is absolutely amazing … a marriage meant to be.”

The customers at the counter retreated and it was my turn.

I mailed my package and turned, intending to smile and convey wishes for a good day with this man who had shared his wonderful story with me.

He was nowhere to be seen.

I couldn't help but smile. ‘A marriage made in heaven’ came to mind. Yes, definitely that … sprinkled with a little ‘Luck of the Irish’, had clearly brought these two individuals together.

My potentially-tedious trip to the post office was made special, with a beautiful and unexpected story of providence usually saved just for the kids and grandkids. It made this German-Irish girl feel a little lucky too!

An Encounter with Gloom

I promise to return with a much happier and light-hearted story next week, but thought this one important to share. It comes straight from my college photo book, highlighting my time as an exchange student in Austria. While most of the entries and captions are happy and hilarious, this one is devastatingly solemn. When I put the photo book together, this particular entry displayed no photos, just words.

Mauthausen Concentration Camp

October 18, 1992

I suppose the weather was what one would call "perfect" for a trip to a concentration camp - cold and damp, with a constant drizzle falling from the cloudy gray sky. For me, the weather added to the heaviness and gloom that I felt as I walked through the buildings and grounds of the camp. Mauthausen was built beginning in 1938, and was listed as a Level 3 camp, i.e. no return to society. Thousands died in this labor camp under the Nazi regime.

As we entered the camp, the first building our group was shown was a bunker. The rooms in the bunker had wooden bunk beds in them - each bunk bed wide enough to fit one normal-sized man laying flat on his back. The "prisoners", however, were forced to sleep three men to a bed. Even at the extremely emaciated state these men and women were in, this would have been extremely difficult. I'm sure, however, that this must have been one of the only ways they were able to stay warm throughout the night.

Next, we were directed towards the museum, where we were also shown a movie about the holocaust. The things I learned from the movie and museum were disgusting, sickening, and fascinating. Thousands of prisoners were forced to carry large boulders up the steps of the "Stairway of Death." If one of these people were to slip or "get pushed", it would turn into an avalanche of people and stones, killing hundreds. Himler, who was in charge of the camps, stated that he didn't "enjoy" his visits to the camps because they made him "sick to his stomach". While Germans and Austrians usually had some chance of survival, Poles, Russians, and Jews had no chance. Prisoners were usually fed every third day, only three spoonfuls. If they ate more they were beaten to death. When it rained, the prisoners had to lay on the ground and form a human carpet for the S.S. men to walk over so their shoes wouldn't get wet and dirty. No matter what the weather, prisoners had to stand outside from 5 a.m. to 5 p.m. every day.

Towards the end of the movie, I could hardly bring myself to keep my eyes on the screen. I kept forcing myself to watch, however, because it's too easy - in our day and age - to forget the tragedies that occurred so many years ago. It's so easy for us to simply turn our eyes away and not watch. The movie showed piles of emaciated dead bodies; bodies being carelessly thrown into carts; close-ups of bodies covered with flies. The pictures were powerful and frightening. How could any human care so much for dictatorship and so little for human life and dignity? After seeing the movie, I didn't want to be at the camp any longer. Many people came out of the movie in tears.

We continued our tour in an amazing silence - there was absolutely nothing that could be said. We walked through rooms with human-size ovens which were used to incinerate dead bodies, then continued into a room resembling a large communal shower area. The prisoners who walked into this room thought they were going to get a shower . . . instead of water, however, they were sprayed with fatally poisonous gases.

We were led through a torture chamber, and into an area resembling a hallway. This hallway, however, had open spaces on either side, and its walls were chipped and worn. A single sign posted on the wall stated something to the effect of "The chambers on your left and right were once used as storage for dead bodies." I could envision the bodies carelessly piled on top of each other as if they were really there. I stood in that one spot for a long time.

Americans are generally taught in school that the Jews were the prisoners in the concentration camps. However, the Jews were only one of a large number of populations, including black people, Poles, Russians, homosexuals, Germans, Viennese, and many more. Prisoners wore I.D.s which identified why they were in the camp. There were even "special" I.D.s for those who fit more than one category.

After touring the buildings, we were encouraged to walk around the grounds of the camp. Several of us decided to go find the "Stairway of Death". It was raining, and the rocky path leading down to the stairs was slippery. From the path, we could see the cliff that the S.S. would push prisoners off of into the lake far below.

I wanted to take a picture to show my family and friends what this place was like, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. A picture couldn't do justice to what really happened. All anybody would be able to see in a picture would be a lake and a cliff, or steep, rocky stairs, or an empty building ... but, that was not what this place was.

Read Across America Day & Happy Birthday, Dr. Seuss!

Cat in the Hat, by B, 3/2/10

Not only was today the 106th birthday of the phenomenally creative and talented Mr. Theodore Geisel (aka Dr. Seuss), it was also Read Across America Day!

My son's class celebrated all day with visits from special guests they dubbed 'Reading Royalty', who had the pleasure of reading their favorite picture book(s) to the kids.

As royalty, of course, we got to wear a paper crown while sitting in the Reading Royalty Chair. We weren't the only ones sporting snappy headgear ... the kids were all wearing paper Cat in the Hat hats they had decorated first thing this morning!

I was the very last Royal Reader of the day, so I decided to read some of my favorite fast-paced, silly, crazy picture books ... including the original "SkippyjonJones" by Judy Schachner and "Do Unto Otters" by Laurie Keller. And, what a joy to be asked to read a third (I had brought plenty to choose from! :-)) ... we chose "Bear Feels Sick" by Karma Wilson.

As we drove home, I asked my son if I had done alright as one of the Reading Royalty. "Oh, yes," he said encouragingly, "you did really great. You had good fluency." :-)

He makes me smile. As does Dr. Seuss and Read Across America Day!

Rock that Tiara!

Dictionary.com's Word of the Day today is fructuous \FRUHK-choo-uhs\, adjective: Fruitful; productive.

And, here, I will use it in a sentence:

I have not been terribly fructuous with my blog over the past week, because I am completely and hopelessly obsessed with all things related to the Olympics.

I was actually going to do a post about the Olympics this week ... truly, I was.

But, this hilarious Olympics-related post by Real Simple Managing Editor Kristin Van Ogtrop came across my e-mail the other day and it conveniently summed up pretty much everything I had been thinking (minus the Curling one ... with that, I'm more on the side of being thankful it isn't in prime time (sorry, Curling fans...)) ... it's titled "Those Times in Life When You Need Your Tiara"!

And to her list, I think I would add ... signing my first book contract! :-) Now, go and rock that tiara!

Overheard at Tiny Tigers Taekwondo ...

There are about twenty of them standing in four rows, their little bodies perfectly erect, hands pasted to their thighs. They range in age from 4-6 years, and they look beyond cute in their white uniforms. You can see their admiration for the instructor in the way their eyes follow him around the room. They are listening carefully, as he talks about a very important topic:

Instructor: "You've got to have integrity."

Tiny Tigers, in unison: "Yes, SIR!"

Instructor: "Do you know what that means?"

One Little Boy: "No, SIR!"

He may not know what it means, but he's definitely got it! :-)

Shelter

We arrive at the shelter in the morning with eight carloads of first, second, and third graders. They are energetic, eager, sometimes distracted. In concept, they understand that they are helping, but do not yet know how much.

From our cars, we pull out bags of mittens, socks, children’s books, teddy bears, coats, and blankets. In addition, they have collected cans and bottles since the start of school, and have raised $106.00 to share with this place called Father’s Heart Street Ministry.

We tour their very organized warehouse-like surroundings, led by the founder. She is small in stature, but clearly a force of nature. She has been called for this purpose, and is passionate about serving those who have no place to call home. She is adamant they be treated as equals and called by name. There is no such thing as a John or Jane Doe.

It smells of cigarette smoke mingled with laundry detergent. We hear the click-click of a zipper as clothing is tossed about in a nearby dryer. Visitors are able to wash and dry their clothes once per week. Comforts of home have been recreated in the form of a living room area, with cozy couches covered in once-popular fabric colors arranged in rows in front of a large-screen television.

We learn that a second shower has been added recently thanks to the blessing of donations. The shelter is always open during the day. At night, they are open when the temperature drops below freezing. Mats line the walls in perfect piles. We are told that these mats – on frigid nights – are used by those needing a warm place to lay their heads. They take the mats, and find any open space they can on the cold, concrete floor.

A few of the school children remain distracted by the surroundings … the voices from the television, early visitors having a bite to eat. Most of the others have a look of concern as they simultaneously listen to the leader describe what led her to create this haven while watching an older gentleman, curled up on a mat, coughing deeply. It is sinking in.

I am having trouble seeing clearly, as my eyes fill with tears. I will not cry. The individuals here have smiled at us as we’ve walked through the facility. They don’t want our sadness, they have no interest in pity. They simply want our minds to be aware; and, if possible, our hearts to stir us to action. I blink back the tears by focusing on the sheer magnitude of organization throughout this place - - coats, sweaters, socks, shoes … meticulously arranged and labeled with care so items can be quickly and easily located.

My eyes connect with my son’s … literally and figuratively, they are wide open. He is clearly saddened by what he is seeing and hearing.

We hear of children who come and visit this place to have a meal, take a shower, read a book, and maybe receive the blessing of a soft teddy bear. Something to hug when they are scared, or cold, or hungry.

I suspect that each child’s grand illusion of how cool it would be to live in a car is slowly being replaced by the reality of what that really means, as we hear of families literally doing just that, or sleeping under bridges, or - if they are “lucky” – rotating through the homes of friends and families who have some extra space for a night.

The high walls of this large space would likely tell stories of both heartache and healing … those who have found hope, and those who are still seeking. The space is remarkably tidy and our guide shares that – upon opening the doors that morning – those waiting in line picked up a mop and broom, and started cleaning before doing anything else. They respect this space in which they are given the same.

I leave with an unrelenting feeling of tension in my chest that lasts well into the afternoon. But, that feeling is slowly replaced by others which linger long after the day is over … among them, gratefulness, heartbreak, inspiration, and hope.

Did I Hear You Correctly?

Mondegreen \MON-di-green\, noun:

A word or phrase resulting from a misinterpretation of a word or phrase that has been heard.

Timing can be a funny thing ... last week, I wrote about me and a friend misinterpreting the question, "How was the hike up?" for "How was the vodka?"

Mere days following that post, Dictionary.com sent MONDEGREEN as their Word of the Day.

So, as it turns out, "How was the vodka?" is a mondegreen. Did you already know of that word? Please ... be nice, and tell me you didn't.

I suspect mondegreens abound in the world of song lyrics. My personal favorite hails from a time before I could read. I had memorized many of the songs we sang regularly in church. There was one song, in particular, that included a phrase that stumped me every time we sang it. Nonetheless, I sang the words with all the confidence and vocal power I could muster, "P for Pine-sol, the highest good."

I remember being uncertain as to why we were singing about a cleaning product and how the church had picked Pine-sol as the best one. If I remember correctly, I even consulted with a dear friend. She agreed with the words, but didn't understand them either.

When I learned to read and decided to double-check the actual words ... imagine my surprise in learning that the phrase I had been singing, so often, as "P for Pine-sol, the highest good" was actually, "Be for my soul, the highest good." Ahhhh ... that made much more sense.

Think back ... do you have a favorite, funny mondegreen?

How Vas the Vod-Ka?

This is a re-post from about a year ago, with a few minor updates. I've been thinking about Austria lately, and this is one of my favorite memories. And, I'm so thrilled for the upcoming Winter Olympics, I can hardly stand it ... so there's a bit of Olympic trivia at the end of the post. Enjoy! :-)

One of my favorite memories of my exchange student days in Austria involved a trip to Innsbruck, Austria.

Admittedly, I’d label the majority of Austrian towns as ‘gorgeous and amazing’, but - oh my - is Innsbruck ever cool. It’s situated right in the midst of the Austrian Alps, which makes for great hiking, especially when you’ve been blessed with stunningly beautiful weather.

We visited the Alpenzoo first. Situated 727 meters above sea level and nestled into the mountain, it is the highest zoo in the world. And, as its name would indicate, it is home to animals that originate from the alpine region, showing them in their natural habitat. The Alpenzoo, in and of itself, could be considered a hike for many.

After visiting the zoo, our group split into two and my dear friend, Rachel, and I decided to hike up into the Alps. It was my absolute favorite day in Europe … exhilarating and incredibly beautiful.

Halfway up the mountain, we were joined by Marco from Germany. We had no clue who he was, but he stayed with us for the remainder of the hike. He seemed nice enough, as did all our fellow-hikers that day. I guess back then crazy stalkers weren’t as prevalent on our minds. I’m still quite certain he was a bit enamored with Rachel!

We made it above the tree line and, after a few moments of sitting and taking in the beautiful view and brilliant blue sky, decided to commence the joint-pounding trek down the mountain!

Towards the end of our descent, we passed another hiker who was headed up the mountain. As he passed, he greeted us and asked, “How vas the vodka?”

You know how you respond when you don’t really know what someone has said, but you still want to reply in a friendly and jovial way? You kind of do a hearty laugh and throw your head back like you ‘get’ the joke or the funny comment even though you haven’t a clue as to what they actually said?

That’s what we did. And, I think we added something like, “Gut … sehr gut!”

We giggled as we tried to figure out what had possessed him to ask us about vodka. I mean, we knew these particular hills were alive with music, but not vodka-drinking hikers.

It wasn’t until a few laughter-filled minutes later, that it dawned on us what he had really asked.

“How was the walk up?”

To this day, Rachel and I still laugh about that story. And, it just goes to show that the hills are alive … with music, yes … but also with fresh air, exhilarating views, and very friendly German-speaking hikers. No vodka required.

~~~~~~~

Now for the trivia! Just so you can impress your friends and family with your vast knowledge of international Olympic trivia, here are a few interesting tidbits about Innsbruck:

• The Olympic Winter Games were held in Innsbruck twice, first in 1964, then again in 1976. The 1976 Winter Olympics were the last games held in the German-speaking Alps (Austria, Germany, or Switzerland).
• Along with St. Moritz (Switzerland) and Lake Placid, NY, Innsbruck is one of only three places which have hosted the Winter Games twice. (It also hosted the 1984 and 1988 Winter Paralympics.)
• And … this excited me quite a lot … on December 12, 2008, Innsbruck was chosen as host of the first-ever Winter Youth Olympic Games to be held from January 13 to January 22, 2012.

When God Closes a Door ...

It was a very cold, snowy night in December. Our gas-powered fire was pretend-crackling and I had a million things to do before Christmas arrived. I was quickly flipping through the television channels in search of something entertaining to keep me awake while I accomplished my never-ending list of “to-do’s”.

I found "The Sound of Music" and was hopelessly drawn in. I got very little done for the rest of the evening, and went to bed way past the time I had hoped for.

Sure, I've seen it a dozen, maybe more, times (though never from start to finish). Yes, I know the story, but certain details sometimes need refreshing. Yes, the song lyrics have long been ingrained in my brain. Nevertheless, I still had to watch it.

Maybe because it is such a gentle, hopeful movie about the love of family, standing up for what you believe, and holding on to the hope that "when the Lord closes a door, somewhere he opens a window..". But, I think it's also because it reminds me of my time as an exchange student in Austria, including a funny little incident involving a certain gazebo in Salzburg.

We traveled to Salzburg in November. My most vivid memory is that of hillsides crowded with trees in every shade of autumn you could possibly imagine, against a brilliant, clear-blue sky. It was like walking into a painting. It was gorgeous.

I also remember our long and comical search for the famed gazebo from 'The Sound of Music'. Just when we were about to give up looking, we found it. Locked! Hours of walking, and it was locked. I could see inside, but it wasn't the same. I wanted to be inside where they had filmed that touching scene between Maria and Captain von Trapp.

So, I did what any reasonable college student would do. I started pulling and yanking on the door. Not that I thought I would get in ... my roommate and I were laughing to the point of tears when she took this picture.

Nonetheless, I still do believe that when God closes a door, somewhere he opens a window ... just not the one to 'The Sound of Music' gazebo.

Success Redefined

My steps were finally coming a bit easier as my feet rhythmically pounded the old cobblestone streets of North Tacoma. Distractions were – thankfully – abundant, as I passed beautifully-restored historic homes; well-manicured gardens; and the towering trees that stood like sentinels along the street.

My first time running ten miles in one outing was going surprisingly well (I attempted to ignore the fact that I was only 1/3 of the way into the run!). My breathing was steady as I wound my way through the neighborhoods of North Tacoma, heading downhill to Ruston Way. There, one of my favorite diversions – expansive bodies of water – would come in the form of Commencement Bay. I would worry about getting back up the hill when the time came. For now, I was reveling in the fact that I was running rather effortlessly.

Months before, I had walked out of a meeting with The Leukemia Society’s (now The Leukemia and Lymphoma Society) Team in Training, excited and anxious that I had just committed to not only running a marathon, but raising money for this remarkable organization as well.

Raising the money twisted my stomach more than the thought of training for and running the marathon. So, I did what all good sisters do … immediately called my sister to rope her into signing up as well. Misery loves company, right?

“Heidi,” I started, “I have a proposition for you.”

“What,” she said as a skeptical statement rather than a question.

She thought I was going to ask her to go skydiving, so – initially – raising thousands of dollars and running a marathon felt like a more sane alternative. She agreed to join me.

Our final destination would be The Mayor's Midnight Sun Marathon in Anchorage, Alaska, a race that takes place each June.

Shortly after committing to the marathon, an unexpected opportunity arose and I accepted a position with a company in Seattle, leaving behind an organization I had considered home since college. For six weeks, I spent the early morning and late evening hours commuting from Tacoma. Weekends were spent looking for a place to call home in Seattle. Marathon training was squeezed into the brief moments in between.

The donations that had come so abundantly at the beginning of my fundraising effort, began to taper. At the ‘go/no-go’ point, I was still over a thousand dollars away from my goal. I decided to continue, which committed me to either raising the remainder of funds or paying them myself prior to the deadline. My sister had raised a bit less, and was not able to commit to going forward. My heart sunk with the news that she would not be accompanying me to Alaska.

After moving to Seattle, I had only three weeks to focus on training and a stunningly beautiful place to do it. Alki Beach became my training ground, and the crisp, blue waters and sweeping views of the Puget Sound were not only a beautiful distraction, but calmed my growing nerves.

Likely the result of a somewhat haphazard training schedule over the recent months, knees that had never known pain now strained with every bend. At one point, my joints rebelled in such a way that – after bending to open a lower filing cabinet drawer – I could not return to a standing position without physically pulling myself up.

One week before boarding the plane, exhaustion, then aching, settled into my body. As the week progressed, a fever and racking cough joined the unwelcome party. Two days prior to take-off, a doctor told me I had bronchitis, then gave me two simple orders: Do not get on a plane; and do not run a marathon. He solidifed those orders with a threat of pneumonia if I did not comply.

I returned home where the tears were inescapable. This was not the ending I had imagined or the outcome toward which I had labored. As the tears blurred my vision and overflowed onto my cheeks, I dialed my mother’s number. It was clear, from my barely audible voice, that I was both sick and upset. I had failed on multiple counts. As mothers do so well, she suggested otherwise. It took me some time, though, to arrive at the same conclusion.

It is true that my desire to challenge myself physically and mentally had triggered this marathon-running endeavor in the beginning. What continually emboldened me, however, was that I was doing it to raise money for the Leukemia Society. The individuals they serve tolerate excruciating treatments in order to heal; and, if they could endure that, then I could go outside, in the dark and the rain, and run.

I had envisioned handing over the entire sum to which I had committed to The Leukemia Society. In the end, I was not able to raise the full amount required by the organization. I came close. I raised far more money than I could have ever donated personally in such a short period of time. Those funds would do great things.

I had envisioned crossing the finish line in Alaska. In the end, I did not run a marathon. But, I had learned my limits, including that of knees that would need to be rehabbed and treated with much more respect than I had given them in the past. I had affirmed my love of exercise and how physically and mentally strong it made me feel. And, I had challenged and pushed my body further than ever before.

I had not failed. Success simply looked different from the picture I had originally envisioned.

Generation Gap

We had just purchased our beloved morning mochas and lattes at a local coffee shop in the small, coastal town of Manzanita. My husband and kids were waiting outside, as my dear friend and I exited the building, steaming drinks in hand. We were chatting as I held open the door for both of us, then quickly glanced behind me to see if anyone else was coming before letting the door close.

Just as my hand let go, I noticed a man – possibly in his late 70s or early 80s – walking up the ramp to the door. I grabbed the door to re-open it, saying to him in a cheery tone, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you coming!”

He smiled in a peculiar way and shared a hearty “Thank You”, as we exchanged responsibility for holding the door open. But, he didn’t proceed through into the warm coffee shop.

He turned to me, as he was still holding the door wide open, and said, “You know, I really appreciate you opening the door for me. Not many people from your generation do that anymore. It’s terrible … “ and then, still holding the door open, he launched into a speech about his experiences with people - apparently from my generation - who had failed to impress him in the ways of manners and etiquette.

I stood, smiling and nodding. And, then watched as – halfway through his diatribe – he let go of the door without looking … just as my friend’s husband was walking through the open door, hands and arms piled full with his drink, his son’s drink, and a coat. He quickly caught the door with his elbow before his piping hot coffee became a part of his wardrobe.

The man – still ranting about the lack of manners belonging to us Generation Xers (if that’s the generation he pegged me for) – was completely oblivious to what he had just done.

My husband, friend, and I – all having heard the rant – fought to keep our laughter at the irony of it all at bay until the man was in the building, and we were alone outside.

I’m inclined to be of the opinion that a lack of manners does not necessarily ‘belong’ to a certain generation. I’ve witnessed politeness and courteousness, or a lack thereof, across all age groups. I’ve observed 5-year olds holding the door open for those coming behind them; 65-year olds doing the opposite; and vice versa.

My very unscientific conclusion is that manners maybe have less to do with the generation you happen to be born into, and more to do with what you have been taught by example, what you have observed, and trying to be aware of and involved in your surroundings.

So, I will continue sharing a friendly smile, and maybe a ‘hello’, with passersby, waving a ‘thank you’ to those who stop their car to let me cross the street, and holding the door open for those coming behind me. And, I’ll expect my children to do the same on behalf of Generation Z.

Photo: October Sunset in Manzanita