Michelle Perin’s Blog

Woke up and headed to the conference. I’m always amazed at how a casino looks the same all the time. The only variable is the amount of people milling around and I guess the manner of dress. The closer you are to the strip and the ritzier the casino this matters a lot more. I liked the Orleans because it seemed pretty kicked back but not old. After all, I like the idea of perpetual Mardi Gras.

Walking into the conference room, I got to greet all my friends. Whether I’ve known them since my first conference 5 years ago or if I was just meeting them, PSWA members are the friendliest people I’ve met in a group. I think it has something to do with a lot of them being retired (or active) police officers or fire fighters. Being in these occupations, you spend most of your time in very concrete, solution-oriented thinking. To move to the other side of that and put out something creative, seems very vulnerable. I think that’s why there is a humbleness in our members that draws me to them.

The Queen, aka Marilyn Olsen greeted us. She stood in for our usual DJ A.J. Farrar who had to stay home due to an infection from a spider bite. How random is that? He and his wife, our Treasurer, Nancy were sorry missed. Marilyn did a great job saying howdy in her majestic way and off we went into a weekend of learning, networking and having a great time. The first panel, “What I Wish I’d Known in the Beginning” was populated by Sue McGinty, with panelists, W.S. Gager (my roomy), Michael Black, and Bette and J.J. Lamb. All novelists, they shared tips on hind-sight. This is always nice, especially since I am delving into the realm of novel writing. I may know quite a bit about the industry around trade magazines, but as far as what’s necessary for writing, editing, publishing and marketing fiction, I’m lost.

Michael Black led our next topic with “How to Outline Your Noel in an Hour.” I loved the poster board and all the colored sticky-notes. Everything should involve multi-colored sticky-edged pieces of paper. As a group, we outlined an outrageous story about a female arson investigator who was investigating casino fires while dealing with an annoying city manager, who ended up dead in a fire, an exotic dancer boyfriend, an ex-husband who had a gambling problem, lived on her couch and was using her credit cards, AND a boa constrictor. I couldn’t quite follow whether her boyfriend or ex-husband had a past which included a conviction for arson, but I believe it should have been the boyfriend. More sexual tension is always good in any story. Ah, the perpetual drama of men and women. Michael’s assistant was lovely as well. I don’t think women have the monopoly on being cougars.

Next up, my panel. We talked about “Writing for Trade Publications (Paper and the Net). Keith Bettinger moderated and alongside me were Kathleen Ryan and Kregg Jorgenson who stepped in at the last minute because member Ed Nowicki was ill and couldn’t make it. We talked about on-line vs. print, how to be professional, cultivate sources, big vs. little magazines and a myriad of other topics. It was great although it never matters how many times I’m up there, I always feel like, “OMG, they are going to realize I’m not a REAL writer.” I guess 10 years of writing still doesn’t qualify me in my own mind. Regardless, they all let me talk anyway.

The next topic, “Pleasing Editors and Agents: What are the Worst Mistakes?” was populated by publishers Billie Johnson, Becca Buckley and Lee Emory, as well as, agents Verna Driesbach and Holly Sullivan McClure. Half-way through, I was thinking, “Why are these people so negative? I don’t think I care for many of them.” Then, I relooked at what the topic was and realized they were supposed to be talking about the negatives. Once in context, I settled in and learned all the things I should never do when approaching a publisher/agent. Ok, no long winded spiels and go away when you’re done. These are BUSY people.
Next, Steve Scarborough taught us about “Detectives, Then and Now.” He had a great slideshow and it was neat to learn Edgar Allen Poe was an original detective writer. The covers at the end of the show were awesome too. Nothing has changed much over the last 50 years, scantily clad women still sell.

Madeline Gornell, Marilyn Meredith, Sunny Frazier, Michael Orenduff and Morgan St. James gave the next topic, “Promotion: Old and New, In Person and On the Net.” Great panel, but I just have to say Marilyn Meredith and Sunny Frazier are my idols when it comes to marketing and promotion. Both have prolific presence on the net and in person and seem tireless. They make me tired and I’m considerable younger than either of them. I want to be just like them.

The last panel of the day, “How to Spot a Lie,” was given by Mark Bouton. Here I have to admit my restlessness. I love going to Las Vegas for the conference, but I hate sitting in a conference room all day. I don’t get away from parental responsibilities very often and I hate losing all that time. So, because I had the privilege of reading Mark’s book on this top, I figured I knew pretty much what he was going to talk about. So, I went to the gym, and then sat around the pool until dinner time. After grabbing some pizza at Sbaro’s, I wandered around the hotel just watching people. I played my $20 daily allotment on the slot machines. I was trying to win a 2010 Camaro so I figured each time I pushed the button, it was another chance at the car. I was up past $200 at one point, but thanks to my compulsive nature (and I’m not alone, that’s how casinos make their money) I kept playing and lost it all. After that, I headed to the lounge where I heard as show. Keith and Bert were entertaining the sparse crowd with requests from Bruce Springsteen to Kid Rock to Toby Keith. It was cheesy and a perfect Vegas show. About midnight, a class reunion (Mojave High School classes 1977-1986) came in. That’s when the fun and dancing began. I joined in, had a great time and headed back to my room at 2am. I tried to sneak in so I wouldn’t disturb Wendy, but she woke up. We talked a bit, and then I was asleep before I hit my pillow.

I flew into Las Vegas on Thursday night. I actually had a pretty good flight with only a few minor panic attacks. I was able to get a window seat on the wing (seat 23F to be exact) on my Allegiant flight. I like, actually I have to sit on the wing. For some reason, it makes me feel safer. Does this make sense? NO! But, I don’t care. I liked this particular seat because I had 1 1/2 windows and could look through the front one and see the ground and the sky and stuff and then look back and do my assessment of the functionality of the wing. Flaps in place? Check! Lights working? Check! Creepy, hairy monsters not standing there? Check!!

Flying into Vegas at night is amazing. That is a beautiful city when you’re above all the lights. I had paid for a Gray Line Shuttle to the Orleans and went to stand in the appropriate line behind the sign when I got in. Two shuttles pulled up. The drivers talked to people in both lines and everyone split into the buses. My sign was right in the middle of them and I went to ask one driver if it went to the Orleans. He said no, the other shuttle would. I turned and asked the other driver the same question. He said no too. What? He asked who said it was the right shuttle and I told him the other driver. He told me to sit tight. Then the drivers had a conference in the street before one of the drivers came back and said, “Since no one else wants to take you, I guess I will.” Nice. Of course, I got on the shuttle.

I was the last person on the shuttle and the driver asked me something. I yelled from the back of the bus and he said I should come up closer. I did. Then, we talked a bit about what I was there for. Then the questions started. Why is it when you tell someone you’re a writer, they want to ask advice? It doesn’t matter what the topic is. So, I ended up discussing the difference between men and women and the way they communicate. I explained what I knew about style and common male/female motivation. I noticed the ring on the driver’s finger and realized he was asking for advice on how to relate to his wife. I shared what I new and when we got to the Orleans he said he felt he knew how to be a better communicator and was glad he picked me up. Glad I could help.

I ran into some friends and fellow conference attendees in the lobby and then checked into my room. I was sharing with Wendy who writes under the name W.S. Gager. She has two books in print, The Case of Infatuation and The Case of the Accidental Intersection (Both excellent I should add). I chatted with her a while then fell happily into slumber.

What would my life be like without hockey in it? From October through March, do I have an identity aside from being a hockey mom? What would it be like to have to drive over 2 hours to strap a pair of skates on and take a few laps around the ice? What happens to the kids who have been picked up by the Eugene Generals if they have no where to play even though their contract goes through 2011 and try-outs for other teams are over?

All of these questions and about seven hundred more have been racing around my head since about 3pm today. That’s when I got an email stating the Lane County Board of Commissioners is considering immediately shutting down the Lane Ice Arena. Although this ice rink has been around for 20 years, a study done while the county was considering the viability of the rink suddenly deems it a hazard. Because of this, they are stating they might not allow ice to go back in and that will be the end of hockey (as well as figure skating, speed skating and skate parties) in Eugene. But because of the distance to the next closest rinks (Portland or Medford), ice hockey will be essentially over for the Willamette Valley.

I hate to say I saw it coming, but when the County is already ignoring a facility that could be an immense asset and decides to remove the ice to “assess” any upgrades, it has to make you wonder what they will do when the ice is gone. Well, exactly what they are doing. Although, I thought they would honor their contract with the Generals. I guess I was wrong. Now, they just want to say, “Sorry it costs too much to fix and we have other priorities.” I don’t think they are looking at the whole picture.

We can’t afford to lose a safe, constructive place where our youth can go, be active and enjoy themselves. Ice hockey affords kids from 3-18 years old a way to learn team ethics, sportsmanship and dedication. If you’ve never seen a group of Mites out on the ice, you haven’t lived. They are probably the cutest, funniest things ever, especially a goalie when the gear is bigger than he or she is. When they fall, they look like a turtle. But they get up and keep going and growing. The Eugene Junior Generals Bantam Team took second place in both the San Jose Winter Classic and the State Championships last season. These boys and girls played hard all season long and improved exponentially under the tutelage of Coach Flint Doungchak (also the Generals Manager) and Ross Friesen (whose daughter, Nikki who plays with the Bantams was chosen as one of the elite to make regional Selects). Along with the youth league, there is an adult league with a variety of levels, a women’s league (Eugene Xtreme) and special hockey. This doesn’t even touch the surface of all that is offered at our ice arena.

The Board of Commissioners is supposed to make a decision on shutting down this valuable resource in the next 7-10 days. There is a petition you can sign to help draw attention to the value of the rink at http://www.ipetitions.com/petition/icecenter/. Donations are also being accepted to try and offset the $125,000 -1.2 million estimated to fix the rink. This is necessary if Lane County decides it does not want to find the money to save this community asset. I’m hoping this community will come together behind what it loves and won’t allow the government to say what is and is not important to us. After all, when I moved from Michigan, I chose to live in Creswell (15 miles from the rink) so that we would be close to the rink. My boys love ice hockey and so do I. It would be tragic to let the County take that away from us and so many others.

Do you ever have days where you just don’t know where to begin? Ok, that’s a stupid question. I find it hard to believe that I’m the only one in this great, big world whose eyes flutter open in the morning and thinks, Crap, I have too many things to do!! Then pulls the blanket back over my head and buries my face in the pillow.

Today is Mother’s Day. I set my alarm for 7:30 am. There used to be a time when I would wake up whenever I just woke up on a Sunday, but that doesn’t happen anymore. I have too much to do and Saturday and Sunday are the only days in the week where I have the WHOLE day to fill up with stuff that needs to be done. Of course, that is after I schedule baseball games and practice half the year and hockey games the other half, house cleaning, church, laundry and blah, blah, blah.

Ok, back in the present. The alarm went off and I quickly shut it off so that it didn’t wake up the kids. After all, mornings are the only time when I don’t have to answer a million questions about nothing from my kids. Don’t get me wrong, I love that my two boys still want to talk to me, especially my 14 year old. But, do I really have to listen to him tell me for the hundredth time that they crashed 300 or more Dodge Challengers filming The Dukes of Hazzard? Or, have him ask me some obscure question which I don’t have the answer to or even if I did would argue with whatever I said anyway…all this at 10 pm when all I really want to do is go to sleep, so that I can wake up at 5 am and start all over again?

Oh, yeah, back to the point. I got up and started reading. I have to finish the First Place entries in the PSWA writing contest in the next 2 weeks so I can award Grand Prize. I love doing it. I just wish I had a week off without anything else to do (like work, take care of kids, eat, etc) so I could just read. Wouldn’t that be rad?

I read for an hour, got a Happy Mother’s Day call from my long-time friend Aaron who I think I’m kind of dating (don’t ask) and then dragged myself out of bed. After all, I still need to do my Sunday walk to Dari-Mart to get coffee and a Eugene Register-Guard. I keep hoping I will sit down and read the paper cover to cover and get a million ideas for magazine articles I can write. Each week, I do read the front page, usually, and the City/Region so I know what’s going on in my neck of the woods. Did you know we have a new counterculture exhibit honoring Eugene’s Hippie past? About time…

Now, I’m typing this to avoid going to the gym (which I actually like to do—most days) and waiting for my new tie-dyed jeans to finish washing (Aaron and I made them at the UO street fair yesterday). I also need to clean the living room, get the laundry off my bedroom floor, do the dishes and find a CD I borrowed from a friend like 6 months ago. Anyway, Happy Mother’s Day to all the mother’s out there and also to those surrogate mother’s that do all the work of a mother. Have a great day. Take care of yourselves. Hopefully, I will type more on this blog now that I found it’s a wonderful side-track from all the things I have to do.

I just have to write with words of gratitude for writer friends. I’ve been pushed by a new friend to really write more. We’ve agreed to share a page a day for the rest of the year. Because of this, I’ve had to organize the 50,001 word “novel” I wrote in November and actually determine what I said in all those pages. I pulled out Scene 1 and edited it to send off which I did. I feel like I will really have something done this time. I love this story and I have wanted to share Max’s experiences with the world for several years. Now, I’m doing it. AND, I get to help out another writer with his project. AND since we’re both social scientists with busy other jobs, we can share the lament of never having enough time to nurture our creative sides. I love the writing life. Don’t you????

I’ve started making time for my novel. I wasn’t doing this before and I got exactly…nothing…done. Now, I use the time I’m just sitting around (like at my son’s baseball practice) to do my organization and editing. I was talking to a new friend the other day while eating at a fabulous Eugene cafe. My friend is a screenwriter from Australia. During the day, he’s a psychologist and struggles wtih finding time. I was telling him that you have to make time for your writing. If you write only 1 page a day, you will have 365 pages at the end of the year. I realized after our talk–I’m a hypocrite. I need to take my own advice. So, I’ve started carving out a little time each day. I guess that’s how you work a “real” job and still do what you love…write.

I’m not going to go on and on about how I seemed to disappear from the writing world. I’ve had to get a “real” job before I went crazy sitting in front of the computer by myself all day. So, my freelancing has gone down to bare minimums.

The cool thing is this frees me up to work on my Young Adult novel “Desert Ice”. I’ve gotten around 26000 words written. I’m trying to accomplish 50,000 words by midnight on November 30th (National Novel Writing Month nanowrimo.com anyone?) Anyway, here’s an excerpt:

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Max concentrated on long strides. Just keep putting one foot in front of the other. Now turn. Right over left. Right over left. His face burned from sweat trickling down his cheeks. Puffs of breath crystallized the air in front of him. Two more steps then straighten out. He watched Hannah’s back in front of him and kept his body even with the white “31” on her jersey. One more step. Max’s left skate caught under the blade of his right foot toppling him forward. He put his hands out in front of him but even the padding on his thick gloves did little to deflect the impact as his palms slammed against the ice. Crack! His shin guard made a hollow sound as he hit his knees. Losing his grip, the used Bauer flew out of his hand skittering across the ice. Eric flew by, spraying him with a cloud of ice.

“The idea is to stay on your feet,” Eric commented flipping around so he was skating backwards a smirk across his face. With little effort, he flipped back around his long strides easily and quickly making distance.

Max slammed into the boards just after his stick did. Pulling himself to his feet, he saw all his teammates lined up on the goal line ready to charge back across the ice. Coach Kumpula skated towards him from center ice.

“You’re doing better, but you have to learn to control your legs around the turns,” he said.

Max felt his face turning crimson under his face mask.

“I know, Coach,” he replied. Trying to avoid looking his coach in the eyes, he picked up his stick. Man, I know I can get this. Max started around the face off circle as all but one of his teammates passed him going the other way.

“Was your mom able to get your skates tied up tight enough?” Hannah asked when he reached the other side. Max liked Hannah. She was an amazing skater. When he watched her streak across the ice it was no surprise she had been skating since she was two. The youngest of seven children, Hannah was the only girl. Her mom had put her in figure skating, but finally gave up when she kept finding her in her brothers’ hockey gear. When she got her first stick, she had refused to do anything without it, even taking it into the bath with her. It was no wonder when she handled the puck it looked like she was using an extension of her arm.

“Yeah, but she still has a hard time with them,” Max replied. He was a little embarrassed when his teammates brought up the fact his mom had to help him with his gear. It was all so new and bulky. He had learned to put on the shin, elbow and chest pad. He could finally shimmy his socks and pants on over the top. Usually he could get the jersey down, but sometimes he still would get tangled half in and half out of it. In the two months he had been playing ice hockey he had gotten better at that as well. But, for some reason, he still struggled with his skates. When he put them on and even if he strained over the laces, they never seemed to be tight enough and he would wobble on the ice. His ankles went every which direction and his skating was worse than ever. Sometimes Coach would have him skate back to the bench. Putting Max’s foot up on the bench, Coach would effortlessly pull each X tight and wrap the ends around his ankle twice. Patting the final foot twice, he would send Max back on the ice. Even though his feet felt better, inside his stomach churned. No one else needed to have their skates tied. So, having his mom struggle with the laces before practice was better than facing his teammates.
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It’s just part of the draft but I’m very excited!!!!

I just returned from Las Vegas where I attended the PSWA conference for the fourth year in a row. Like many of my trips, it was an adventure.

I got into Vegas on Thursday around noon. It took me about an hour and a half to get from the airport, pick up my rental car and check in to Binion’s on Fremont Street. I was sitting in my room flipping through the “What’s Happening” magazine you find in every hotel when I spotted something awesome. That night, The Palms was hosting the 2009 NHL Awards. NO, WAY!!! My mind screamed. My favorite hockey players were actually in the same city I was. I had to go. I called Ticket Masters or whomever holds the monopoly on getting into events and after listening to the recorded voice who just kept politely asking me questions, I found out that the event was sold out. Of course. And, besides, would I really be able to get into an event like that on an author’s salary??

Against my common sense (yes, I do have some of that), I threw on some jeans, jumped into my teeny, tiny economy Mazda G3 (remarkably roomy inside, I must say) and headed towards The Palms. I figured I wouldn’t even get close enough to park. After sitting through 35 minutes of rush hour traffic (I love living in a rural area), I made it to the hotel. Parking was a breeze. I went in and found the theater the event was going on in. Outside were two big screen televisions showing the live action inside. Alexander Ovechkin was thanking everyone and looking every bit the scruffie, hockey hottie. I had been sitting back by some slot machines but this incredibly rude group of guys in red t-shirts (hope they weren’t Wings fans) stopped and stood right in front of me. So, I moved closer to the red rope. Not two minutes later, a gentleman in a suit walked up behind me and said, “Any hockey fans here?” In my typically, quiet and reserved way, I shouted, “ME! ME!” He looked me up and down and asked, “Do you have a dress?” After all, this was a formal affair. My mind raced. I was 45 minutes away from my hotel and the closet full of dresses I had brought. BUT, he was holding a ticket!!! “I’ll get one,” I replied. He handed me the ticket and I raced through the casino. There had to be a clothing shop. There always was one or two and this was The Palms home of the Playboy Club.

The first shop I raced in to, I told the girl I needed a dress. She started (slowly I might add) going through dresses. I explained my circumstances and told her my price limit. She immediately stopped looking and said, “You might want to try the other store.” WHATEVER. I raced out and towards the other store–The Playboy Bunny store or something. I explained my circumstances to the girl at the counter and she pulled down a strapless, way-above-the-knee black number. I tried it on, stuffed my clothes into my purse, asked about my panty-lines and bought it giving her a 10% tip. I know–cheap, but someday I’ll have the money to be a big tipper. Of course, my shoes left a lot to be desired (black, velcro Birkenstock-type to be exact). Regardless, I raced back to the theater, handed over my ticket and found my seat. I was all out of breath, looked a bit strange, but I was there. All my boys were there. Malkin, Datsyuk, Ovechkin. I was in heaven. I got a few good photographs too.

Afterwards, I rolled into the PSWA reception (still wearing the Playboy number) exclaimed all about my good fortune and then raced to the bathroom to change back into my jeans. What a way to make an entrance and begin a conference. Guess this was an omen about completing my young adult novel, eh? This was only the first day.