A Little Snow

It's snowing on Christmas eve! I'm in Colorado visiting my family and was so excited when the flakes started falling. What a wonderful way to celebrate the holidays with the people I love the most.

Being Scared

The news is incomprehensible and I'm not really sure what to write in response to the shootings in Newtown. The specifics are still coming in, the number of dead still rising and the grief in any public place palpable. It seems like only yesterday that I was writing about the shooting in Aurora, Colo. And, as we've come to know, I'm sure there will be other horrific days like the one we are experiencing today.

We're all scared. We're all wondering how those children, those poor, suffering, weak, shocked and innocent children, will go back to school. How will this affect their lives not only in the now, but in the future? The saving grace, or at least what I keep telling myself, is that children are resilient.

I'm scared that I could, at one point in my life, bring kids into this world, a world where hearing the words, "children are among the dead" always takes your breath away, but they don't come across as a complete shock in a world that never ceases to be mad and angry and mean. While I cannot wait to be a parent and share the joy of life, there also seems to be a crazy amount of pressure on any parent to keep their children safe. And how can we when things like this happen?

NaNoWriMo Success!

Whew. Just in the nick of time, as the clock counted down til the beginning of December, I finished my novel. Well, I got to 50,000 words and made it end there. 

I can't believe that I actually wrote that many words in 30 days. I am ridiculously proud of myself. It's been a few days since the end of NaNoWriMo, but I still haven't gone back to read my whole story from the beginning. I think I need a little breathing room to let it all sink in - I'll go back when my eyes are fresh and I'll wear my editing hat at that point.

In the meantime, here's a little excerpt from the story - I would love to hear what you think.

As he comes upon the factory, it feels out of place among the kitchy tourist shops, the dim sum restaurants and the high-end jewelers that seem to sell everything from jade to diamonds to rubies.  The nondescript front is made even more nondescript by one-way glass windows, like the ones in Jeremy's office.  When Mr. Sung first bought the building in 1979, he had all of the window panes replaced with the one-way glass.  It's not as if he had any secrets; the business of fortune cookie making had only changed a few times, like when a machine had replaced the workers who had once folded the cookies by hand as they came out of the oven.  And even that machine had been standardized and purchased by all of the companies that manufactured the cookies.  He had no secrets.

The only thing that gives a hint as to what goes on inside the factory is the small, handwritten sign next to the door buzzer that, if translated from Chinese to English says, "For Mr. Sung, fortune cookie master, ring bell."  Fortune cookie master.  He should write that on his business cards, Jeremy once joked with Min Li, a short, stocky, emasculate baker.  His joke fell flat, and her accusing eyes made him feel like a child again, caught drawing a mustache on the yearbook picture of a teacher.