When Great Trees Fall

This past May was a tough month for me. As you know from my last post, on May 19, 2014, we lost my grandmother, and I was heartbroken, which is part of why it's taken me so long to write a follow-up post. Sorry about that. But if I could, I'd like to take you back to that week, because while I did experience personal loss, I also experienced something pretty special.

After we got the call about my grandmother, my family and I had to scramble to get flights to Florida as soon as possible. But there was one problem: I had already committed to doing a reading that Thursday at the Washington Elementary School in West Orange, New Jersey, as part of their literacy night event.

I thought of backing out. I wanted to back out. How could I get through the event with a smile on my face as I read about Maya and Miguel and their loving grandmother? It seemed like an impossible task. 

But like my grandmother, I am a woman of my word. If I promise to do something, I do it. Besides, I knew she wouldn't have wanted me to disappoint the children. My mother told me that Grandma had once confessed that when she was younger she wanted to one day produce puppet shows for kids, but life got in the way of her dream of entertaining children. I began to look at fulfilling my promise to attend Literacy Night as a way to honor her. 

So that Thursday, the night after the rest of my family had flown to Florida to begin making funeral arrangements, I found myself driving to New Jersey. On the way there it started pouring, of course. When I arrived, Wendi Giuliano, the teacher who had invited me to speak, met me at the door with a huge umbrella--and a hug. She knew about my loss and greeted me with warmth and sympathy. I know she would have been understanding had I decided to cancel, but she was clearly relieved that I hadn't. And once I got inside, so was I. They had made all kinds of signs welcoming me to the school. And the art teacher had even drawn a life-size cut-out of Maya and Miguel.

How cool is that? Immediately, I understood how much they'd been looking forward to my visit and how hard they'd worked to prepare for the event.

Little by little, the audience of parents, teachers, and children began to pour in. They'd braved the rain too to be there. Eventually, every table in the cafeteria was full. Wendi decided the first thing we should do was have me sign books for the kids while we waited for the audio equipment to be set up.

So I sat down, expecting that only a few kids would want to have their books signed by me. But soon there was a line that stretched across the room. As each child stepped up, they told me why they liked the books or the show, or they told me how they like to write their own stories. I asked them about their favorite subjects in school and marveled over their beautiful names and how bright and interested they all were. I wrote long personalized messages in each of their books. 

But we realized that the book signing was taking much longer than they'd anticipated. I tried shortening my messages, but eventually, we had to ask that the rest of the children wait until after the presentation. Finally, Wendi introduced me to the eagerly awaiting audience. It was, by far, the largest crowd I'd ever spoken in front of, which made me nervous. But there was no need to be. The room was full of people smiling at me and quietly encouraging me, as I read Maya & Miguel: Paint the Town into the microphone. Wendi had created a slideshow of the book, which she projected behind me, so the audience could read along. They laughed at all the right things, and squawked with enthusiasm when I asked them to serve as Paco the parrot's voice. 

The best part was when I asked for volunteers from the audience to help me portray the silly things that happened to Paco in the book. Almost all of their hands shot up. But while I was trying to decide the best way to choose a volunteer, a small group of girls just ran up and stood beside me. Well, that was easy. I had one girl play Paco while the others dressed her in all the crazy things I'd brought that reflected the things Paco had to wear in the book: swim fins and goggles, a feather boa (I used a Hawaiian lei), a giant hat, a soccer ball (I used a volleyball), and a red cape (I used the one I'd gotten as part of a Wonder Woman costume I'd worn on Halloween). By the end, my volunteer Paco looked appropriately ridiculous and everyone was laughing and having fun. The reading was a success.

Afterword, we had a question and answer session. One of the kids wanted to know if I was rich and lived in a big house (no and no), what my nationality is (of Puerto Rican decent and proud), how they could become writers too (read everything you can get your hands on, learn as much as you can in school, and write, write, write), and--the best question, in my opinion--why Maya and Miguel wear the same clothes every day. Ha ha ha... I told her I thought there were two reasons. 1. Having them wear the same thing all the time helps you identify them as characters, just like Charlie Brown always wore a yellow and black shirt. As soon as you see a yellow shirt with a black zigzag line across the top, you think Charlie Brown. Hopefully the same is true for Maya and her hair ties and orange sweater. 2. It makes it easier on the illustrators, who have a tough job as it is. 

Anyway, after all that, I signed more books and took pictures with some of my young fans. 

He told me he was my "favorite fan." Aww... 

They sort of look like Maya and Miguel, don't they? 

I think these two were the first to take their picture with Maya & Miguel.
 I love it!

A couple of these wonderful kids helped me out as volunteers. Thank you! 

Finally I was treated to a delicious meal prepared by the kitchen staff: rice, chicken, salad, platanos, and all kinds of tasty treats. My kind of meal. 

And of course I took a picture with Wendi--who had worked so hard to coordinate all of this--and the principal of Washington Elementary. 

It's always such a pleasure to meet with educators who truly care about the students in their charge and are constantly trying to think of creative ways to get them excited about reading and literature. They also seemed sensitive to the cultural needs of their school's community. I was so impressed with all the teachers I met. Their love for what they do really showed. No wonder the children seemed so engaged, and the parents were so deeply involved. Nice job, Washington Elementary.

Finally, late that night, I headed home in the rain with a to-go plate of food, a giant Maya & Miguel cut-out, and a good feeling inside. In one of the last conversations my mother and I had with my grandmother, she told us how proud she was of us and the women we had become. We told her that everything we'd ever accomplished was because of her. She made the sacrifices and the brave choices that allowed us to be where we are today--my mother, a college student fulfilling her dream to become a teacher; and me, a published author, entertaining kids as she'd once hoped to. Because she'd been such a wonderful mother, her daughter had become a wonderful mother too. She seemed surprised that her own life had had such an impact. I'm glad we got to tell her how important she truly was while she was still with us. 

The same week she passed, the world also lost Maya Angelou, a poet I admired and respected very much. In many ways, she reminded me of my grandmother. So I leave you now with a few lines from Maya Angelou's poem "When Great Trees Fall," which she wrote in honor of James Baldwin but will always remind me of Guillermina White. 

And when great souls die, 

after a period peace blooms,

slowly and always

irregularly. Spaces fill

with a kind of

soothing electric vibration. 

Our senses, restored, never

to be the same, whisper to us. 

They existed. They existed. 

We can be. Be and be

better. For they existed.  

In Memory of My Grandmother on Her Birthday

Usually this blog is about my writing, but today all I want to write about is my grandmother, Guillermina White. She passed away a month ago and it's been tough to think of anything else since. I've heard it said that the unrecorded life is the life that disappears. As far as I know, my grandmother never kept a diary, and the only videos she made were on grainy silent film reels she took during trips to Puerto Rico and New York. Though she was a wonderful woman--the most loving, selfless person I've ever known--it would be easy for her life to disappear, to go unnoticed or forgotten by anyone besides those who knew and adored her. So I've decided to put her story in writing--as much of it as I know, anyway--to give her the immortality of words, the only kind I can give. It might seem long, but if you'd known her, you'd say it wasn't nearly long enough or anything close to what she deserves. Obviously, I have more to say about her than this brief biography. I loved her like crazy, so don't be surprised if my next post is about her as well. But for now, I give you the life and times (a small portion of them, at least) of Guillermina White. *Note: At the writing of this post, I changed the color of my blog to pink, her favorite color.

Prologue

If you're a member of Facebook, you know that in December they post your year in review--the highlights of the past twelve months of your life. As I joked with my friends, according to Facebook, the highlights of my year include winning a volleyball game because the other team forfeited, having my hair blow dried, and finding $20 on the floor. So...nonstop excitement, in other words.

I thought Facebook was being sarcastic. Whoa! Another big year for you, Crystal! (snicker snicker) My life events, as Facebook calls them, didn't exactly measure up to the highlights of others' on my friends list, some of whom got engaged or got married or bought their first home. In fact, most of my highlights weren't even my highlights--they were those of people I love who had pretty big things happen for them this year. My nephew, Eli, graduated from army bootcamp. My friend Ericka gave birth to a precious little girl. Her sister Yezi ran her first marathon. And these were just the things that made it onto Facebook. 

At first I felt that my year in review was pretty lacking. Where were my own triumphs or failures? Why were my highlights about everyone else? What exactly had I been doing all year (aside from griping about the 7 train)? But then I realized that I had spent a good part of 2013 bearing witness to the milestones in the lives of my friends and family, so their life events became mine too. I was in North Carolina to watch my nephew march across the field and take his first official steps as part of the National Guard. I was in the Lenox Hill Hospital waiting room with Ericka's nervous family as she brought Alessandra into the world. And I was at the Queensboro Bridge--about the halfway mark of the NYC marathon--holding up my "Go, Yezi, Go!" sign and screaming her name as she came running down the street toward the bridge, on her way into Manhattan.

Probably like most people, my average day is pretty humdrum. I get up, I go to work, I complain about the subway service, I go home, I watch TV, I eat, same old same old. So anything that makes me clap and scream at the top of my lungs out of pride (like watching a friend reach a goal she'd trained for months to achieve), or that makes me stop and quietly marvel at the beauty of the universe (like holding a week-old newborn in my arms) definitely counts as a personal life event. So maybe Facebook is onto something after all. 

Besides, some years aren't meant to be blockbusters but prequels, time spent laying the groundwork for bigger things to come. Like a prologue to a novel. I'm sure many months of my college career would have been mind numbingly boring to post about on Facebook--had it existed back then. (Ugh, I can just imagine how many posts there would have been about pizza and snow and expensive textbooks. And instead of the 7 train, there would have been lots of griping about Greyhound buses.) But even those times when nothing much happened were all prologue to graduation, to landing my first real job, to eventually getting published.

2013 was that kind of year for me. While I may not have met the love of my life or backpacked around Europe, I did write more this year than I have in a really long time--probably since college when writing was more or less my full-time job. I completed a book that I'm fairly proud of that may be published in the UK. And after a few failed attempts, I've been chosen to write another YA series for a major publisher. I don't know what will happen in either case. The book I finished could never see the light of day. The YA series could fall through, the publishing house could change its mind, or I could just blow it. (It's been known to happen.) But that won't change the fact that I spent the year working toward a future as a writer. Hard to believe, I know, but to me that's more exciting than finding $20 on the floor. Okay, it's AS exciting as finding $20 on the floor.

When I got the news about the YA series, I posted about it on Facebook. Almost immediately, the likes starting pouring in. At first just from my mom and a few coworkers. Then my college friends and high school friends and elementary school friends, and then former neighbors. My cousins and my brother. Former teachers from junior high and high school. The woman who ran the writing workshop I'd attended in Greece. The librarian who'd let me be part of her book festival. The woman who invited me to do my very first author appearance at her bookstore in Brooklyn. Fellow aspiring writers, and a few established writers I'm lucky enough to know. My oldest friend, Dereeka, who's been around since we were 12 years old. My nephew, Eli. Ericka. Yezi.

Eventually the number of likes hit 145--the most any post of mine had ever received. Although the writing part is so solitary and too often leads to nothing, it's amazing to know that I have a crowd of people cheering me on (if only in cyber space), hoping I make it as a writer, gladly bearing witness as I try. Even Facebook seems to support my efforts. It added the post to my 2013 highlights reel.  

The Cutest Blog on the Block

I love having a blog. It's great for communicating with fans. Sometimes it's like having a therapist I can call any time of the day or night just to get something off my chest. And it often takes the role of a best friend who allows me to annoy her by telling her every little thought that pops into my head--like the fact that a couple of nights ago, I had a dream that I was at work and my boss told me that my new job was watching soap operas all day. So I'm at my desk in front of this gigantic flat-screen TV watching Days of Our Lives while my coworkers are answering phone calls and filing paper. Crazy, right? And why was there a swimming pool in the middle of the office? I mean, in the dream it seemed perfectly normal, but...

Huh? Oh, sorry. Got a bit off track there. My point is that while I love my blog, I do realize that it is, for the most part, pretty self-centered. What did I do today? What do I like? How are my books doing? Who talked to me today? I, I, I. Me, me, me. [Shaking my head sadly.]

Well, here's what I have to say about that: It won't be changing anytime soon. Ha! You heard me! I, I, I, ME, ME, ME!!! Being this self-absorbed might be completely socially unacceptable in real life, but in here? Well, it's almost a requirement!

I kid. But the reason this even occurred to me is that I've been reading a lot of YA blogs lately--blogs that were started by book lovers who spend their free time writing about something besides themselves. Sure, there's some talk about the books they liked and why, but even that is serving to help others. They spend huge amounts of their own time organizing book giveaways (I'm looking at you, Princess Bookie!), writing reviews, interviewing authors, promoting other people's blogs--all in the name of the love of young adult books. And some of these bloggers are young adults themselves! It's impressive and inspiring. It makes me want to be a better, less self-obsessed person.
...
...        (<---quiet reflection)
...

That said, check out Ashley Suzanne's blog right now. I thought I had the cutest blog on the block, but I was wrong. She's got the title. Says so right on her homepage. Oh, and who did she just interview? And which author's books is she giving away? Who is currently in her spotlight? ME ME ME!!!

http://www.ashleysuzanne.com/2011/11/spotlight-crystal-velasquez-your-life.html?spref=fb

Ahem... I'll work on it.

NaNoWriMo Time

Hey, everybody! Long time, no see. I know, I know. But I won't waste time on apologies this time. Just know that whenever there's a long stretch of quiet from me, I have my reasons. And some of them are pretty good! (Yes, sometimes it's just laziness, but not usually.)

This time it was mostly that I was working on a couple of writing projects, both of which fell through in the same week, believe it or not. One was a result of some corporate restructuring--que sera sera. But I don't mind telling you that the other really shook my confidence as a writer. No one likes to hear that her writing wasn't good enough. And as I mentioned before, I live on gold stars and pats on the back. So to get the opposite of that, well... How can I describe it? Ouch. OUCH! I spent a few silent days curled up on my couch, eating nothing, listening to sad music, and questioning my entire career--followed by a few days of eating everything in sight, watching lots of happy movies, and getting pep talks from my friends and family. (Shout out to Oprah Winfrey and her Life Class. It sounds corny, but hearing her talk about how she had been demoted from doing the evening news, and how that turned out to be the best thing that ever happened to her, really helped me get past this.) I'm happy to say that I did eventually come out of my funk and even found the silver lining in the whole situation:

After several months of toiling away--and putting pretty much everything else on the back burner, including trivial things like laundry and leaving my house once in a while--I find myself with free time again. More important, I find myself with time to write for myself again! I've spent so long trying to realize someone else's vision, but now I get to come up with one of my own. I'm excited. I feel free! And yes, a little nervous. Will I be able to do it on my own? Will I be able to write something that will get an agent's attention? Or am I about to face another year spent writing something that will earn me a mountain of rejection letters? Well, there's only one way to find out, right?

And what better time to start than November, which, if you don't know already, is National Novel Writing Month, also known as NaNoWriMo. Everyone is welcome to participate in this. You don't have to be a published writer. You don't have to have taken any classes. And you don't even have to pay. All you need is a bit of creativity and the willingness to spend a solid month trying your hand at writing a novel. And to support you in your efforts, the fine people at NaNoWriMo.org have developed all kinds of handy tools on their website, including a word count calculator and a place where other writers can give you encouragement. Why have I never done this before? Even if I don't finish a whole novel, it will be great to just focus on the joy of writing--something I'd almost lost.

I've also recently gotten reacquainted with my other literary love, poetry. About a month and a half ago, a friend of mine from high school, Pura Fernandez, invited me to see Beau Sia perform at a little spoken word spot on 1st Avenue and 1st Street called the Nexus Lounge. I've been a huge fan of Beau Sia's ever since I saw him perform on HBO's Def Poetry Jam, and again in the Broadway show featuring some of the best Def Poets around. His poems are hilarious, thoughtful, angry, refreshing--just so, so GOOD. But his real claim to fame is his in-your-face delivery. So of course, I high-tailed it over to the Nexus Lounge, and I was not disappointed. Before Beau went on, they had an open mic segment. You could tell that some people in the crowd were regulars, there every Tuesday and Thursday night, with notebooks full of poetry in their hands. And some, like me, were there for the first time. Pura was one of the first to take the mic, reading from her BlackBerry a poem she had written on the train that morning. It turns out my friend, who I hadn't even known wrote poetry, had been a regular for a while too, and it showed.

Pura getting down with her poetic self. 

The room was full, but it felt intimate and supportive. And you didn't even have to be a poet. There were musicians and comedians. One girl did a monologue from Rachel's Getting Married. Then a hip-hop/spoken word group called People with Teeth went on and blew me away. I ended up buying their CD and loved it.

Here are two members of People with Teeth along with
my friend, Pura.

Finally, Beau Sia took the stage, and everyone could see right away that he wasn't his usual explosive self. He was quiet; he wore a pair of dark shades the whole time (in what was already a dark room); and he seemed exhausted. It turns out that he had been in a serious car accident not too long before and had  been struggling to recover ever since. Even the dim light of the spotlight hurt his eyes. He'd thought about canceling his appearance, but he didn't want to let anyone down. Plus, even though he was in pain, he still loved to perform and he had a lot to say. He read us poems about getting hurt and how vulnerable it had made him feel. He wrote about Facebook and how overwhelming and isolating it can be, and how chasing fame had gotten in the way of his writing. And he talked about how frustrating it was to not be able to perform the way he usually does, not to be able to give people what they want. But personally, I found this Beau Sia even more compelling than the ball of energy I'd see on HBO. At times he was downright tender and philosophical. He wasn't just trying to entertain; he was trying to figure something out about the world and about himself. I became even more of a fan.

After the show, Pura and I hung around, waiting to talk to him. Pura had taken a writing workshop with him years and years ago (before he was who he is now) and wanted to reintroduce herself. She assumed he wouldn't remember her. But as soon as she walked up, he took her in for a moment, pointed at her, and said, "Pura Fernandez." Beau Sia is awesome. They talked for a while and then she introduced me to him. I told him how much I loved his work and that it was an honor to meet him. He seemed genuinely appreciative, and he shook my hand, giving me his undivided attention for a few minutes. These are the kind of people for whom I become a groupie--as you can see from the crazy look in my eyes in the picture below.

Me and Beau Sia.
(I promise, he was friendlier than he looks here.)

Anyway, I left there that night inspired. I needed to get to writing! At the very least, I vowed to come back and become one of the regulars. So the very next Tuesday, I went back--this time by myself, since Pura couldn't make it and none of my other friends are into poetry, really. I always feel beyond awkward going to do stuff like this alone, but as I often tell my mom, if I were to wait for someone else to go with me to do everything, I'd miss out on a lot. I would never have gone to Penn State. I wouldn't have seen tons of movies. I wouldn't have gone to Greece! So I went, and long story short, I performed.

Unlike the last time I was there, it wasn't a packed house. That night it was pouring rain outside, so only a few brave souls showed up--about 10 people total. But Mike Geffner, who runs the Inspired Word nights, and the host, Nathan P., were there and made it seem as if the room was overflowing. I read a poem I'd written in Greece, and a couple I'd written years ago. I hadn't done that in so long. I'd forgotten how good it felt. Even better was listening to everyone else who took the stage that night. They were incredible! And yes, one of the Def Poets was in the house and set the stage on fire (not literally).

This is everyone who read at the open mic night. The gentlemen in the pin-striped suit and fedora is the super-cool host, Nathan P. And the man in the black shirt to my left is Mike Geffner, who puts the whole thing together. 

Anyway, I am now inspired, ready, and willing to write something new. And I've gotta tell ya, I can't wait to get started.

Fame Is Fleeting, Ya Know?

If Kathy Griffin is on the D-List, then I'm hovering somewhere around V or W. I'm giving myself credit for having published a few books, for maintaining my very own blog and website, and for once appearing on a Game Show Network game show and losing miserably. (No, I won't tell you the name of the show, but if you've ever watched that channel and saw some poor girl looking like a deer caught in  headlights and saying "round head" when the answer was clearly "redhead," um, yeah, that was me.)

I've actually never aspired to be famous, at least not on a Kate Middleton or Oprah level. Okay, it would be pretty awesome to hobnob with the other rich and famous folks, some of whom are just dreamy. It wouldn't be the worst thing in the world to be invited to a party with the likes of James McAvoy (I heart you, James!), Jesse Williams (I heart you sooo much), or the cast of Glee (yes, I'm a die-hard Gleek)... And I'd gladly take a celebrity's bank account balance, and their ability to raise awareness and obscene amounts of money for charities. But the rest they can have. The rest seems like kind of a nightmare. I mean, who can take that kind of scrutiny? That total lack of privacy and pressure to be perfect all the time? Not me.

I still find it a little strange when someone I've never even met before invites me to come speak to a group of kids, some of whom have actually read my books. Even though I've now done seven book signings (including the two that were attended only by my friends and family), I'm pretty shocked when people who aren't blood relatives actually show up to see me. The most recent occurrence was on May 14th at the Montclair Public Library. Thanks to a recommendation from Tonya Johnson, the same woman who invited me to participate in the Watchung Booksellers panel last year, the head librarian, Matilda, asked me come visit as part of their mother/daughter book club. Of course I said yes. But the closer the day came, the more nervous I got. Was I supposed to be entertaining somehow? Should I have prepared a speech, peppered with just the right amount of jokes? Would I be expected to be wise and witty, saying things these girls could take with them for the rest of their lives? More important, what should I wear??? I swear, I don't know how actual celebrities do it. If I have this much angst over a friendly visit to the library, I'd surely have a full-blown panic attack on a red carpet.

But once I got there, I felt kind of silly for being worried about it at all. Matilda welcomed me with the warmest smile, even though I got lost on the way there and ended up arriving right when the event was scheduled to begin. She told me to relax and breathe. She showed my mom and me to the third-floor room where about fifteen people were waiting patiently for my arrival--a bunch of young girls and their mothers, and some teachers and librarians. Tonya was there with her daughter, Bria, and Bria had brought her friend Gina, who I'd met at her birthday party. And my friend Maria was there with her baby. Smiling faces everywhere! I immediately apologized for keeping them waiting and told them about the evil GPS that had nearly sent me to Newark. They all laughed, and almost instantly I felt like I was among friends.

I started by telling them a little bit about myself. (Right away I got a "Me too!" from one of the girls, Jayla, when I said that I was born in the Bronx.) Then I did a short reading and chose Jayla to take the first quiz in the book. In case you haven't read Your Life, but Better yet, the book begins with a  girl who is at the mall with her friends being approached by a model scout who offers her the chance to be in a photo shoot. The first quiz is meant to determine if you will go for it or not. When I asked another girl in the audience if she would try to be a model if given the chance, she totally surprised me by saying, "No." When I asked why, she said, "Because fame is fleeting, ya know?"

Wow! Not the answer I'd expect from anyone, let alone a nine- or ten-year-old girl. Everyone laughed, but I think we were all impressed. How refreshing to find a young girl who recognized that fame was not the be all, end all of existence. I have nothing against models, and I can't say that if I were a foot taller and few dress sizes smaller that I wouldn't be one of those America's Next Top Model hopefuls, begging Tyra for a chance at the big time. But I don't think the message of some of these shows is getting through in quite the way they intended. I heard once that there was a teenage girl who got pregnant on purpose in hopes of being cast on an MTV show about teen moms. How unbelievably sad! I thought. Did this teenager really think that fifteen minutes of fame was worth a lifetime responsibility that she most likely wasn't ready for? Or had she simply not thought beyond the thrill of seeing her face on TV? In an age when the more outrageous your behavior, the more likely you are to score a reality show, I can understand why kids might be confused. The message seems to be that fame is the most important thing in life and you should try to achieve it by any means necessary. So it was nice to hear a kid acknowledge that while fame might be nice, it can also be brief and there are more lasting goals to shoot for.

For the next half hour or so, I signed books for the kids and talked to the adults about possible future events. One girl hugged me and thanked me for coming. And we all took pictures together. If this is what being on the V or W list is like, it suits me just fine.

I don't remember why I had that look on my face. 

Matilda, Bria, and Gina getting their snack on 

Me signing a book for Maura

Most of the people who attended. The one who told me that fame is fleeting
is on the left in the green striped shirt. 

Baby Aida. Isn't she a cutie? Look out, Angelina Jolie!

Matilda, one of the nicest librarians I've ever met. 

Matilda and me. I'm holding the flyer she had made for the event. 

My mom, me, my friend Maria, and the adorable Aida

Career Day

Once, when I was a junior in college, a fellow student asked me what I was majoring in. When I said, "Creative writing," she tilted her head and looked at me with these big, sorrowful eyes, as if I had just told her my dog had died.

"Aw, you're going to be homeless," she said. What? "I mean, what are you going to do with that?" she continued. She was a psych major, secure in the belief that there would be a million and one job offers lined up for her once she finished grad school. (Not necessarily true, by the way.)

"What do you mean?" I countered. "I can do lots of things with that."

She eyed me skeptically. "Well, I guess you could teach," she said dismissively, "but that's about it." She made a "tsk tsk" sound and patted my hand.

"I'll be just fine," I assured her. And I felt sure that I would be--even though truth be told, I hadn't thought much about my future career beyond "I will write." When I chose my major, I wasn't thinking, This will make me loads of money, or This job is in high demand. I simply thought, This is what I love to do and if someday someone pays me to do it, great. 


All these years later, it gives me great satisfaction to say that I was right. Not only am I being paid to edit other people's books (thanks in part to the skills I picked up as an English major), but I've been hired to write and to simply sit around with other people and be creative. The idea I pitched at the first brainstorming meeting with my editor was well received. Meanwhile, I'm slaving away on a new book. And this past Saturday I was asked to come to the Montclair Public Library to read from one of the Your Life books for their mother/daughter book group. (More on that later. It was sooo much fun.) I've even gotten to teach a class at NYU, all thanks to the "useless" degree in English I received. I'm not rich by any stretch of the imagination, but I had the means to take myself to Greece and Prague last summer and to Barbados this past March. Not too shabby in my book. Bottom line, creativity and a love for the written word has not only kept me from winding up on the streets but has allowed me to live a life I actually enjoy.

And I'm not the only one. I now have lots of friends who have taken it one step further and quit their day jobs to fully commit themselves to their art. My friend Jo is making movies. My friend Kanova quit her job at an advertising agency to pursue her Broadway dreams and is now auditioning and performing. My buddy Doug is now a published author and one of his books is being made into a movie! I was recently  on line at the Kelly Cutrone book signing at the BookMark Shoppe with a woman who told me that she had quit her high-powered finance job in order to start her own business that offered makeovers and style tips to women and young girls. She is working on her first book and is happier now than she ever was crunching numbers. The point is, it can happen. There are other roads to success besides becoming a doctor, lawyer, or accountant--not that any of those things are bad things to become. They're great things. They're just not for everyone.

So when my cousin Ines invited me to the school where she works in the Bronx to participate in Career Day (which I'll be on my way to in about an hour), I jumped at the opportunity. I look at it as a chance to tell the kids there who may think there are only five possible careers out there for them--or that going into anything even remotely artistic is at best a long shot, at worst a big waste of time--that that is simply not true. There are a world of careers out there and definitely more than one way to success. And if you're a creative type all hope is not lost! There are ways to follow your passion AND eat three square meals a day. And if you're really lucky, you won't even have to take four part-time jobs to do it.

I don't know what ever became of the girl who told me that I'd end up destitute and on the street. Maybe she became a renowned psychologist with her own private practice. Or maybe she became a circus clown with the Big Apple Circus. Whatever she did, I hope she's learned what I've known for a while now: Do what you love and the money will follow. Hopefully.