Category Archives: Kimberly MacCarron

Happy Valentine’s Week – Day Two

Happy Valentine’s Week from the Waterworld Mermaids!!!

Here in our lovely mermaid lagoon, we are all abuzz with the holiday of love. And because we’re in such a happy mood, we wanted to share some stories and memories from mermaid-pasts. Best of all, we’re celebrating all week long! We hope you enjoy!

Today’s stories are guaranteed to melt your heart. Behind every beautiful flower, sparkly crystal and shining star are the real heroes. Here are some examples….

 

Roses, Tulips, Lilies
Carlene Love Flores

A soldier once sent his wife flowers for Valentine’s Day.  She would never know how he’d pulled it off.  It shouldn’t have been possible.  That big ole desert was far, far away and most days that year, even emails had been scarce.

But sure enough, three bouquets were delivered to her Oklahoma doorstep that morning.  Roses, Tulips, Lilies.

But soldiers do extraordinary things every day.  So when the wife sits and thinks about that Valentines, she doesn’t wonder for too long.  She’s just thankful.

 

Some Flowers Do Last Forever
Kim MacCarron

My husband is not the most romantic man in the world.

But, every once in a while he surprises me.  Mother’s Day of 2005 was just such a day.  By this time, we’d been married for not quite six years, and we had four children.  Romance wasn’t really that high on our list of priorities.   We fell into a daily grind of getting very young children ready for the day and basically stumbling through it until we climbed, exhausted, into bed at night.

On this particular day, my husband arrived home to tell me that he bought me flowers for Mother’s Day.  I casually glanced around him, looking for a dozen long-stemmed red roses.  No such luck.  I grinned and rolled my eyes.  Typical of my husband to not get caught up in another commercial holiday.

After putting the kids to bed that night, we climbed into bed and watched Desperate Housewives together, and after it was over, I went to the bathroom to brush my teeth.  When I came back into the room, I saw a Reed’s Jeweler’s bag sitting on my dresser.

Jewelry trumps flowers any day of the week, as far as I’m concerned.  He was grinning at my surprised expression, and I tried to not tear into the bag.

When I finally looked, I saw not one but four little boxes.  Four!  When I opened the first one, it wasn’t jewelry at all.  It was something far better than that, something I’d been collecting for years.  Swarovski crystals.  This particular one was a pretty pink crystal flower in a vase.  The next box revealed the same one.  The final two were yellow flowers.  Four separate flowers to represent our four children—two girls and two boys.

I blinked hard to not let the tears fall because I really hate to cry in front of him, but, man, it was hard.  He knows how much I love Swarovski crystals.  Oh, and my kids, of course.   That was the best, most thoughtful present he could have given me.

Placing my beautiful crystal flowers on the dresser, I sashayed over to the bed.  I’m not sure how great I looked sashaying when I had a baby seven months before, but I did my best.

About two weeks later, I had to tell him that I needed another flower.

Flowers wilt.  Cards become compost.  But those five Swarovski flowers still sit in my curio cabinet, reminding me of my best Mother’s Day gift of all.  Not my flowers.  My daughter…Shannon.

Shooting Star
Dana Rodgers

Several years ago my husband came home from work to find me on the couch in the fetal position. After a terse reminder that my abdominal pain had been getting increasingly worse over the past two days and me confessing the little incident where I just about collapsed a couple of hours earlier (I was fairly certain a Mac truck had been plowing through my living room and deemed it appropriate to rip out my intestines while passing by). My husband scooped me up and whisked me off to our local Emergency Room, chastising me for not calling him along the way.

Two hours later I was terrified. The plethora of tests revealed that I was pregnant, but it was ectopic. The fallopian tube had ruptured and the reason I was having severe abdominal pain, along with the overwhelming desire to sleep, was because I was hemorrhaging, badly. The doctor said that if I had gone to bed, I wouldn’t have woken up.

My husband held my hand all the way down the hall when they wheeled my gurney to pre-op and said all of the mushy things I needed to hear. It was one of the handfuls of times I have ever seen my 6’6, 230lb Marine get a little misty. (For the record, the other times involved a 14-month separation and the birth of our children–what a guy.) He was there when I woke up, stayed by my side in the hospital, and was there to support me through the emotional aftermath. (And trust me, that wasn’t pretty.)

A few months later, Valentine’s Day rolled around. I was thinking that we’d exchange cards, I might get chocolate, but since we don’t really buy into the commercialized holiday thing it wouldn’t be a big deal. I was Oh-So-Wrong! My husband strolled in that evening, grinning ear to ear, and handed me a letter-sized envelope and flowers. It was a star. My husband had named a freaking STAR after me. I mean how cool is that??? When I asked him why, he said that I was his compass and the light in his life, that I had scared the shit out of him and that he never wanted to be without me. Wow. I mean really, W-O-W!

So why do I write Romance? How could I not when I live with all that hero inspiration every day? I never want to be without him either.

 

We hoped you enjoyed our stories today. Come back tomorrow for more sweet stories that are sure to make you feel all gooey (in a good way)!

 

 

Instant Gratification…NOW!

 

          We live in a world where we expect everything to happen immediately. There’s no waiting involved. The element of surprise and wonder has been replaced with knowledge, which is good, right?
          I remember a time when I would come home and wonder if someone had called me. The wondering was fun, exciting. I could daydream about what the conversation would have been like if I had been home to answer the phone. Maybe he called a hundred times. Maybe just once. He could have without any embarrassment because I wouldn’t have known any better. Those were the days before caller ID.
          Not so much today. We know exactly how many times someone has called because we check the caller ID. We know the exact times. We know if they left a message. We know everything. But where is the wonder? Where is the excitement in knowing?
          We live in a time of instant gratification. We want everything and we want it now. People don’t chat in the checkout line because the customers stomp their feet in protest of having to wait. Get more people behind the registers! Stat!
How many times have we called someone’s home only to roll our eyes when they don’t answer? How could they not be there? We immediately call their cell phones. Still no answer? Send them a text message. Find out if they’re on Facebook. Where could they be? It’s been a whole three minutes!
          Writing is the same way nowadays. We want our stories published and we want it done today. What happened to the times when we waited it out? When we waited for our stories to reach a standard that deserved to be published?
I’m just as guilty as the next person. I want my stories published, and I want those books on the shelves immediately. But am I truly ready? Granted, I have only sent out one query in the last year, but I still expect someone to arrive on my doorstep with a gigantic check, roses and champagne, telling me that my books are the best out there.
          I love to write. I love to create stories in my mind and see them on paper or the computer screen. I love my characters, and they become real to me. But, I gyp them. I create them and love them and wish the best for them, and then I send them on their merry way, far away from me. I certainly don’t like to fix their problems. I don’t like to see the holes in the story. Let’s face it. I don’t like to revise.
          Some masochists out there love to get down and dirty and completely restructure their stories. Some decide to even switch the POV or even move from a first person narrative to the third person. I can’t stand these people. 
          I’m only partly joking. Those are the people who stick with their story and see their characters through their problems together. I’m jealous. That’s the simple truth.

          Part of the problem is wanting to get published right away. And so I give up on the book I just finished and start another one because it’s much easier for me to create new characters and fresh problems than to fix the ones in unrevised books.

          Because we want everything immediately. We want things to be easy. Life shouldn’t be hard. It shouldn’t be complicated. But isn’t making it to the goal more exciting when we hurdle the obstacles?
           It’s sad, really. How much are we missing in a world where we have everything at our fingertips? There’s no time to relax. There’s no time to appreciate life and the world around us because we’re too busy texting someone who hasn’t bothered to call us back after two minutes. We’re too busy complaining about standing in line with three other people to appreciate getting to know a stranger. Maybe that stranger would have become a friend in another time. A less hectic time. A time where we might have been content to wait together.

Yes, I’m a Big Fat Failure!

I don’t think I lasted more than a day with my New Year’s Resolution, but even if I had it would have bitten the dust on Sunday night.  That was the night that damn Tebow blew my Steelers’ chance in the Playoffs.

Yep.  One of my resolutions was to stop swearing.  Although I said a few whispered swear words under my breath throughout the game, I let loose a long, and—I might add—loud string of them in those brief seconds of overtime.   Very brief seconds.

Although I read that 88% of New Year’s resolutions fail, it doesn’t make me feel a whole lot better.  I admit that my resolution was a bit half-assed anyway. 🙂  I couldn’t think of much that I wanted to change this year. 

I’m blessed to have wonderful friends and family.  I could stand to lose a few pounds, but I don’t particularly stress about it.  I could try harder to quit swearing, but then I’d have to stay off the roads. 

Instead of resolutions, I’d rather look at the things I’d like to accomplish and just work toward that goal.    

One of those goals is to get one of my books published.  I’m not setting an unreasonable time limit on this one though.  Just as long as I work toward it, that’s good enough for me. 

So, I’d like to share the goals that I’ve reached so far in the first ten days of the month.

  1. I’ve smiled at strangers for no apparent reason, and most of the time, I get one back.
  2. I’ve donated eight bags of clothing to charity. 
  3. I’ve spent time with my kids, playing games and trying not to swear when they beat me. 🙂
  4. I started the Harry Potter series.  Finally!
  5. I’ve renewed contact with old friends. 

I certainly don’t want to feel like a failure for the things I couldn’t do.  I’d rather feel victorious for the things that I have.   I may let some curse words slip out time and time again, but I’ll continue to smile at strangers, and hope that it makes someone’s day better. 

If that’s all I do in 2012, I’m happy with that.  🙂  

Do yourself a favor.  Set reasonable resolutions this year.  It sure makes you feel like a winner when you reach them!  I don’t look at it as copping out or lowering my standards and expectations.  I look at it as giving myself an edge.   

Give me a couple reasonable resolutions that you’ve set.  I don’t want to hear any hard ones.  That just makes me feel like a Big Fat Failure.

Give Me Some Cheesy Christmas Songs, Please!

I love Christmas music.  There.  I admit it. 

As soon as the leftover Thanksgiving turkey is tucked away in the fridge, it’s nonstop Christmas music for me.  Some might say it’s tacky or overly sentimental or just plain cheesy, but I can’t help myself. 

Then I wondered why.  I realized that it’s the writer in me that loves the Christmas music, and the songs I love best contain a story—whether it’s funny or sad or sweet, it’s the story that gets me every time.

I’ll Be Home for Christmas, written in 1943, tells the story of a World War II soldier writing to his family.  Although it was written during a time when many of us hadn’t even been born, we can all relate.  Many have different reasons for not being able to spend the holidays with the ones they love.  Maybe they were deployed.  Or they can’t afford a plane ticket or haven’t accrued vacation leave.  Maybe divorces and custody issues play a part.  No matter the reason, we can all relate.  And if you listen to the lyrics and can keep a dry eye when Bing Crosby croons at the end, “I’ll be home for Christmas…if only in my dreams,” then you’re heartless. 

On the flip side of the sentimental song, I also love Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer.  It, too, tells a story.  And it throws a few good lessons in there for good measure.  Don’t overindulge in eggnog.  Don’t forget your medication.  And, for God’s sake, don’t wander out into the snow, especially when Santa is recklessly driving a sleigh.  It also presents the listener with a question.  What would you do with Grandma’s gifts?  Open them or send them back?

The song that grates on my nerves is The Christmas Shoes.  That one gets me—but not in a good way.  It’s so overly sentimental and designed to pull at my heartstrings.  When I know that’s what’s being done, I resist at all costs.  I. Will. Not. Be. Moved! The boy in line buying shoes for his dying mommy doesn’t do a thing for me, story or no story.  I’m not so sure Jesus will be all that impressed with her new shoes.  There.  I’m going straight to hell in a handbasket.  During the Christmas Season no less.

I remember sitting at a church puppet show when I was in second grade and watched the performance of Mommy kissing Santa Claus.  I was absolutely appalled.  Appalled!  I looked around at the adults chuckling, and I remember distinctly feeling like they were all messed up.  Why would it have been funny if Daddy had seen Mommy kissing Santa?  Isn’t it still cheating even if it’s with Father Christmas?  I asked my mom about it in the car on the way home, and she looked troubled, too.  She never did answer my question.  But, again, the story is what got me.  

I love the sentimental songs.  One of my favorites (and my mom’s) is Merry Christmas, Darling by the Carpenters.  When Karen Carpenter sings in that sweetly melancholy voice about “being apart, that’s true” but “on this Christmas Eve, I wish I were with you…” Oh.  That’s so heartbreaking.  They could be apart for any reason, and it always gets me.  He could have died.  He could be deployed right now.  He could have moved on to a different relationship, and she could be a psychotic stalker, but the words are so beautifully sung that none of that matters.  The story remains for you to fill in between the lines.  It can be your story.  Or your sister’s.  Or the crazy lady next door. But, it’s someone’s.  

My two favorite songs of the season are relatively new.  Believe by Josh Groban goes hand-in-hand with one of my favorite movies—Polar Express.  It’s a movie about growing up, of letting magic slip away and giving up dreams.  But, there’s a positive side.  You can find the magic again.  I love the lines:  “Believe in what you feel inside, and give your dreams the wings to fly.  You have everything you need…if you just believe.” 

And my favorite Christmas song of all time?  Drum roll, please…  My Grown-Up Christmas List.  Holy Cow.  I can’t keep a dry eye.  Seriously.  I get chills and my heart feels like the Grinch’s—growing three times the normal size during that one song.  My favorite version is Kelly Clarkson’s, when she sings about writing to Santa with childhood fantasies but now, as a grown up, her wish list is different.  She wants “not for myself but for a world in need.”  To me, it’s the epitome of the season.  Moving from selfish requests—wrapped presents—to righting the wrongs of the world. 

So, what are your favorite songs, and why?  That’s the important part.  I don’t want to hear that the 1984 version of Do They Know it’s Christmas? is the best.  I want to know why.  Because it’s chock-full of super star musicians or because it tells of the famine to hit Ethiopa in that year and our power to help those suffering? 

When you decide your favorite, maybe you’ll realize that often it’s the story behind the tune that touches your heart.  And what better time to have music touch your heart than Christmas? So, give it up!  What’s your favorite Christmas song and why?

I wish you a Merry Christmas… I wish you a Merry Christmas…I wish you a Merry Christmas… and a Happy New Year!

 

Things You Love to Hate…Pet Peeves

Yes.  I’ve got some pet peeves.  Years ago, they may have merely been classified as annoyances, but today there are things that just bug the living hell out of me.

 What have I done about my pet peeves?  Well, I’ve thrown many of them into my writing!  Don’t you?

 Come on, admit it.  Don’t you have things that you wish you could say or do, but you feel like you can’t?  But, your characters can say and do anything they want!  You can’t be held responsible for their actions.  It’s fiction!  Right?

So, if I write that one of my characters finds it annoying when someone dips their French fries in her ketchup, what’s wrong with that?  Maybe those French fry dippers will stay the hell away from my ketchup and find their own…if they read my first book.  🙂

 If I can rid the world of things hanging off rearview mirrors, that’s a campaign I can seriously get behind.  I have a friend who admitted that she has tacky dice proudly swinging from her rearview mirror.  (You know who you are, Kerri)  Another friend has a dream catcher.  Cute.  Right?  Wrong!  The number one thing I hate is the crystal prism that practically blinds the people both in the front and back of that car.  To all of you who feel the pressing urge to adorn your rearview mirror—Just. Say. No.

 Do you secretly throw your pet peeves into books as your own personal therapy session free of charge?  Do you give your hero or heroine your own annoyance of a particular pet peeve?  Do you make the protagonist chew her hair or crack his knuckles?  Maybe have someone say, “You know” after everything they say? 

 What are some of the things that drive you nuts?  Do you identify with characters in your favorite book because they share the same likes or dislikes? 

 Fess up!  What are the things you love to hate the most?  I’ll go ahead and get things started.  Let me know if I should include some more.  Unfortunately I have tons.

I love this saying by George Carlin:  “I don’t have pet peeves—I have major psychotic f***ing hatreds.”

I’m not that bad.  Yet.

 Kim’s Ten Top Pet Peeves

  1. You guessed it…dipping your food in my ketchup.
  2. Rearview mirror decorations…especially prisms.  Hate those.
  3. Bumper stickers.  Who cares what you think???
  4. Smart cars.  Enough said.
  5. People who have to One Up others.
  6. Double negatives
  7. Twenty Questions at the gas pump (credit or debit/do you want a car wash?/gas card #?/receipt or no receipt?  Wouldn’t it seriously be faster to just go into the gas station???)
  8. People who begin an explanation with, “…Again, I said…”
  9. Gum chompers–if I wanted to hang out with a cow, I’d visit the zoo.
  10. Self checkout lanes–shouldn’t the stores be paying me for MY time?
  11. People who can’t stop at 10 on lists.  🙂  
  12. Texting while you’re with other people–RUDE!
Unload!  Tell us all your pet peeves.  Who knows?  Maybe one of them will end up in a book.  

Summer Lovin’

Summer Lovin’, had me a bla-aast…

Don’t you remember the anticipation of summer?  Counting down the days and planning adventures with friends.  Just waiting for life to begin. When every day was a gift and you yearned to make the most of it. 

I’m not talking about the scents of freshly cut grass or wild honeysuckle or even the feeling of sand between your toes and the sun’s rays tingling the tanning oil on your body.  I’m talking about feelings of love and anticipation and a world ripe with…possibilities.  The possibility of falling in love.  Again and again.

I remember the excitement about boys.  I can now look back with the realization that summer relationships taught me a lot.  It was that first taste of all-consuming love—when you knew IN ADVANCE that it wasn’t meant to last beyond the season so you tried to make each and every little moment count.

Sleeping in and sneaking out.  Giggling into the night with girlfriends about boys and willing to sneak out for stolen kisses because summer put your life in slow motion for a while.  It was time suspended, and we made the most of it. It was a time when taking a walk at sunset with the love of your life (for that part of the summer) and intertwining your fingers with his seemed like the most romantic thing in the world. 

As writers, do you tend to write scenes occurring in the summer because they come easiest to you?  I wrote my first book around the place where we used to summer vacation every year, and those scenes always felt the strongest.  The love always felt the strongest there, and I think it’s because our memories of those days remain fresh somehow.  The magic of summer love and the bittersweet flavor it leaves long after it’s gone.  

There’s a comment made in The Notebook that I’ve always loved:  “Summer romances begin for all kinds of reasons, but when all is said and done, they have one thing in common.  They’re shooting stars, a spectacular moment of light in the heavens, fleeting glimpse of eternity, and in a flash they’re gone.”

What are some of your favorite movies and/or books dealing with summer love?  Here are a few of mine.

Kim’s Summer Love Movies

  1. Man in the Moon (with Reese Witherspoon)
  2. The Notebook
  3. Dirty Dancing
  4. Little Darlings
  5. Grease

I’ll leave you with an anonymous quote I read that started me thinking about my old boyfriends of summer:  “In every girl’s life, there’s a boy she’ll never forget and a summer where it all began.”  Who is the boy you’ll never forget?

Summer Lovin’, happened so fa-aast…

Why Can’t Weeds Be Flowers?

 

Looking at life through the eyes of a child, I’ve learned to see the possibility and joy in the small, everyday things.  To search for the magic.  To believe in the magic.  It’s only as we grow older that innocent wonder abandons us.  Or do we abandon the wonder?

I remember my daughter running to me on stubby little legs with a fistful of dandelions.   Her wide smile split her face and pride glimmered in her eyes when she handed me those beautiful flowers.  To me, they were weeds.  To her, a glorious find.   Since I didn’t have the heart to tell her that she’d just handed me a bunch of weeds, I thanked her and put them in a bud vase on the kitchen counter.

But something strange happened.  Every time I washed my dishes or felt the urge to gripe about cleaning the counters, those weeds stopped me cold.  Stored forever in my mind will be my daughter’s smile.  Granted, they weren’t long-stemmed red roses, but they were picked with love and devotion, and that simple act and those simple weeds taught me much about life.

When I told my son years later that dandelions and buttercups and milkweed are just weeds, he looked confused.  He asked my, “Why?” I’m sure I could have googled a bunch of scientific reasoning to back up my words, but, in the end, I ended up disagreeing with my own words. 

I think it’s an important lesson for readers and writers.  We’re meant to turn something average into something extraordinary.  Straw into gold.  Coal into diamonds.  A grain of sand into a pearl.  It’s part of the mystery of life and love and wonder. 

Turning something average into something extraordinary makes me think of my friend Erica O’Rourke’s debut novel Torn, out this month with Kensington.  In it, Mo—quiet, ordinary, unmagical Mo—will have to enter a world of raw magic to avenge her best friend’s murder and to save the world.  Not bad for an ordinary high school girl.  Oh, but the story.  The characters!  I can’t say enough great things about this new young adult book, which won RWA’s Golden Heart in 2010. 

So, what books or movies have captivated you and made you appreciate the average or sometimes overlooked?  Forrest Gump definitely springs to mind.  You can’t get much more average than Forrest…Forrest Gump. 

If you can’t think of a movie or book that takes the average and makes it extraordinary, what about the small, overlooked things that bring a smile to your day?  Like my flowers.  My dandelions.  Because one woman’s weed is another woman’s flower.  I learned that much, at least.  Another thing I learned while researching flowers and weeds is that it truly all depends on WHERE it’s located.  Dandelions on the side of the road are beautiful.  Dandelions in a perfectly manicured front lawn?  Not so much. 

The moral of Kim’s rambling blog today? Plant your ideas—whether they’re found in books or a worldview—in the right places so that others can fully appreciate them!

Calling All Underdogs!

 

Doesn’t everyone want to be inspired?  Let’s face it.  We all have that hunger to be the one-in-a-million shot.   And if we can’t be it, we at least want to root for that underdog.    

The first movie that had me sitting on the edge of my seat was Rocky.  With my heart pounding with excitement, I watched as he beat the odds.  I remember being so disappointed and even dumbfounded that Rocky didn’t win that fight with Apollo Creed.  I’m not sure I even knew that he didn’t win until years later.  I couldn’t imagine it.  Where’s the happy ending?  Between Adrian’s red beret falling off and her running, running madly for the man she loved and Rocky not caring a fig that the announcer was declaring the winner and him shouting, shouting soulfully for the woman he loved, it sure felt like he won. 

But then, I got it.  It was about GETTING THERE.  Getting the shot and not being afraid to take it. 

Everyone assumed Rocky would lose.  It was a publicity stunt, after all.  But they didn’t count on one thing.  The drive and determination of the average guy, the common man, to rise above and let nothing stand in his way. 

I love the real life underdogs as well as the fictional ones.  I love ‘em all.

As writers, we want to create characters that not only go the distance, but make the journey to get there inspirational.  As readers or viewers, we want to cheer for those characters. 

Who didn’t cheer for Susan Lucci when she finally received her Emmy?  After eighteen nominations, she finally won in 1999, and celebrities there that night openly cried.  Hell, Oprah Winfrey rushed the stage in her excitement!  Even though she’s beautiful and glamorous, we all felt a bit sorry for her when she lost.  Because she lost so many times and became an ongoing joke in the media, we felt sorry for her—glamorous life or not.  She was our celebrity underdog, and we rooted for her.  I never watched All My Children a day in my life, but I sure wanted her to win that Emmy. 

I also love the romantic underdogs or the story where either the man or the woman jumps life’s hurdles, takes the shot, and WINS!  One of my all-time favorites is the original Ice Castles.  Who can ever forget that moment when the blind ice skater finishes her program successfully only to slip and fall on the flowers? Or Robbie Benson coming to her rescue as he skillfully maneuvers her through them to the theme song “Looking Through the Eyes of Love”?  And him saying softly, “We forgot about the flowers.”  Oh. My. God.  I loved that movie when I was a kid.  The romance.  The blind girl not wanting anyone to know she could no longer see after her accident.   Wanting to be judged on her skill and not win by pity. 

So, when writing or life is getting you down, do you tend to see movies or read books where the Underdog wins?  And which of those stories are your favorites?  I wish I could name the top 100, but I’ll limit my list.     

Kim’s Top Ten Underdog Stories

  1. Rocky (of course.  I’d pick all five, but that really limits the rest.)
  2. Karate Kid (the original with Daniel LaRusso and Mr. Miyagi)
  3. Gladiator (where a gladiator defeats the emperor of Rome)
  4. Slumdog Millionaire  (all I can say, is OMG)
  5. Pretty in Pink (this is what I call a romantic underdog story)
  6. Gattaca (defying the odds at any cost)
  7. Twilight series (need I say more?  Vampire…human.  Yeah.  Work THAT out.)
  8. Eva Peron (from the common people to EVITA, for God’s sake)
  9. Ice Castles  (the original.  I Cried.  Cheered.  Cried.  Cheered.)
  10.  Cinderella Man  (Russell Crowe apparently plays a great underdog.  See #3)
  11.  Shawshank Redemption  (Okay.  I know I cheated with eleven, but, come on.  Who wouldn’t want Andy to get some recognition here?  Defeating a corrupt warden and his posse?  Climbing through literal crap to escape from prison after being falsely imprisoned….? )

Please share your top five Underdog stories.  You can cheat if you want.  I won’t judge if you list six.

Who Needs Best Friends?

Whether it’s in real life or found on the big screen or between the pages of a favorite book, we need best friends.

Anyone who’s been through either good or difficult times can appreciate the steadfast friend who remains at your side.

As a writer, I can’t imagine having a main character without the benefit of a best friend.  Sometimes they provide comic relief or that voice of reason.  Whether that best friend is quirky, serious or just sweetly loyal, I love best friends!  Love, love, love ‘em!

Where would Lucy be without her Ethel?  Probably not in as much trouble, but, come on, where’s the fun in that?  Can you even picture Fred Flinstone without Barney Rubble?  Or Spongebob without Patrick. 

There are, of course, the stories with best friends that have you reaching for your tissue box.  Beaches.  Bridge to Terabithia.  My Girl.  Fried Green Tomatoes.  Charlotte’s Web.  Those are the stories that make you want a best friend just like the one you read or saw—even though the outcome of that friendship may be about loss and pain and learning to go on without them. 

Mohammed Ali once said, “Friendship is the hardest thing in the world to explain.  It’s not something you learn in school.  But if you haven’t learned the meaning of friendship, you really haven’t learned anything.”  So, so true.  We usually do learn the important lessons from our friends because they’re the sounding board for our hair-brained ideas, and if we’re lucky, they’ll manage to talk us out of them!  From the crib to nursing home, we depend on our friends.  No pun intended on the Depends.  Well, now there is…

What does friendship mean to you?  As a person?  As a writer?  What are the qualities that a best friend has to have as a supporting character in a book?  For me, they have to have a strong sense of loyalty and acceptance.  You can tell a lot about people by their best friends.  In some ways, they help define us.  They help us to understand ourselves, and, sometimes to accept ourselves—faults and all. 

Many times best friends come together because they have so much in common.  Others join forces because they’re so different and can somehow, someway balance out each other’s weaknesses and complement their strengths. 

Writers are an amazing group of friends when they finally meet.  Who else can fully appreciate the need to talk to imaginary people?  Who else can understand the mad scramble for a pen and paper while driving because you just thought of an amazing idea?  Who else can sympathize with you as you hit a bump in the publishing road?  No one else gets why a rejection letter from a complete stranger can feel like someone close to you just broke your heart.

Within the past year, I was lucky enough to become part of several amazing groups of writers.  My Unsinkable Sisters (and one lone brother) from the 2010 Golden Heart Finalists.  My MargaRITA sisters, the YA finalists from that same group.  RWA and the smaller chapters—WRW and YARWA.  And, now, my very own Waterworld Mermaids, who recently joined forces as first-timers at our local conference. 

When you think of best friends in books, movies or real life, who comes to mind?  Who inspires you?  Oprah and Gayle?  Huck Finn and Tom Sawyer?  Laverne and Shirley?  And, when you write those secondary characters—best friends for your hero or heroine—what character traits do they have to have? 

I’ll end with an anonymous quote I once read:  “A friend is someone who knows the song in your heart and can sing it back to you when you have forgotten the words.”

So, when life kicks you in the butt or things don’t seem to be going your way, make sure you have the friend who will remind you not to forget your dreams and the songs in your heart.  Someone who will pick you up, dust you off, and then give you another swift kick in that same butt—but in a good way.