Judy Blume is a Person

I'm going to date myself here, but I didn't have the internet until I went to college. While I am glad for so many reasons that I didn't grow up with Facebook and Twitter, sometimes I realize how much I missed out on because of it.

As a young teen girl, I found out about the world around me from my magazines: Seventeen, Sassy, and YM. I learned about music from MTV and the arts from my grandmother's hand me down Smithsonian magazines that I obsessively cut up for scrapbooks I never made. I found out which celebrities I shared a birthday with by waiting until February 17th each year to see that episode of Entertainment Tonight.

When I was in high school I excelled in music, but never knew where a love for that could take me. I assumed all music majors had to be proteges at their instruments otherwise your only other option was to be a teacher. I majored in Biology in college because I had a really wonderful teacher my junior year and wanted to combine it with my love of tennis to become a sports physician. I signed up every year for career shadowing day, but there was never anyone to pair me with. I shadowed a Nurse Practitioner one year and learned a lot about the reception area of the doctor's office.

What I love about 2017 is that so many more things are accessible. I went to an author signing this week for a writer whose work I am completely in love with. Her books inspire me and, because I follow her on twitter, I get to see some of the behind the scenes parts of the process. I went to another signing a few days later for an author who gives out course-loads of free (and amazing!) writing advice and I was able to thank her in person for that.

When I was a kid I loved Judy Blume books so incredibly much, but I had no idea who July Blume was. She was just this name on the cover of these books I devoured over and over. And it never occurred to me that I could do that, too. That writing a book wasn't just sitting down at a typewriter (remember, this is pre-computers everywhere, kids!) and creating something wonderful in one try. My love for reading never translated to writing when I was growing up and I was terrible in my english classes.

A few years ago I was watching an awards show and a celebrity wore a dress in the most beautiful shade of yellow/green. I tweeted to Judy Blume (who I knew was also watching) and said it looked chartreuse to me, a color I learned about in her book JUST AS LONG AS WE'RE TOGETHER. She wrote back in agreement and pre-teen Scarlet was ELATED. (Who are we kidding, adult Scarlet was freaking out, too.) You guys...Judy Blume is a person. She sit at the computer like the rest of us and strings together words, whether they're on twitter or in a word doc to create a book. And this woman, this sensational writer whose books I have loved for most of my life interacted with me. It was cool!

I was thinking about this the other night at my second book event in a week and about how maybe just 10 years ago I said I didn't really care about meeting authors. "It's not that exciting to meet someone who wrote the book. I'd rather just read it." 2017 me laughs so hard at this, but also, 2007 me didn't have the same connection with so many of my favorite authors: the internet...and twitter specifically.

I drove to Pennsylvania last year to meet Sarah J. Maas because I love her books so much, but also because I follow her online and it seems like we both cry all the time at stuff we love. I love when she posts on Instagram about seeing a ballet and sobbing by the end of it. (I, too, can't control my tears!)

I went to Susan Dennard's book signing last night because I love her Witchlanders series, but also because I relate to her as someone who has interests in science and the arts and because she gives the best writing advice!

I left work early last Sunday to go to Victoria Schwab's event not only because I am obsessed with her books, but because we share a love of Scotland and I admire her work ethic. I know these things because I follow her on twitter.

I've always been a lover of the arts (books, music, films, etc.), but more than with musicians and actors, authors were always a little more inaccessible. I would walk into a bookstore and look for the latest installment of my favorite series, but it never went much farther than just thinking about what their last name was to find them on the shelves or reading their short bio on the last page. Twitter changed that, and while there are, of course, cons to being so out there, I, for one am so grateful to have learned more about books and writing.

I was always going to be a lifelong reader, but in the past decade I learned I could create something, too. I discovered so many different ways to explore and share my love of books and creativity.  I may never have a published book, but I learned that writers are just people. (Talented, creative, awesome) People who sit down and do the work. I love that the internet has provided me that knowledge.

It may suck that I never knew paid internships existed in college or that there are career paths for non-protege clarinet players, but it's okay because it's 2017 and if there's one thing the internet has taught me, it's that anyone can have success and at any age.

XO,
SVR

Dream Scene 12.28.2014

The first kiss, the one I gave, was to the side and unsure. Just minutes before I was convinced that this would be the last time I would drop you off. It was an awkward moment, but our muscle memories brought us back to an almost embrace and that is when I kissed the side of your mouth. It wasn't chaste, it was sad. It was full of uncertainty and want and confusion, but then, as I pulled away, you turned your head and caught me. Caught me in a moment that felt familiar and warm and your lips on mine erased a few of the questions barreling through my mind. But still, you had to go and our lips parted and I said goodbye. And I still wasn't sure if I would see you again, but you held on to my hand as you got out of the car, not looking at me, but the earth started to revolve around that new sun. Your hand held onto mine until a moment when it should have been humanly impossible and our fingertips stretched and held and we only let go when the essence of our prints were touching and then you were finally out of the car. But it was okay because I drove off smiling.

Hold On To What You Believe

My friend Serena recently wrote about completing the first draft of her novel. CONGRATS! It's a huge accomplishment and great feeling. One which I guess I sort of know. A year or two ago I wrote a complete story: beginning, middle, end. It has characters, plot, conflict, resolution, and kissing scenes. I'm super proud of myself for completing the project, but once I was at the editing stage, I realized that I had another, more complex story I really wanted to tell. That is the story I am working on right now. And I'm super excited about it!

But, the point of this blog post is to talk about musical inspirations. Serena mentioned a couple of the works she listened to while writing, which happen to be some of my favorite compositions out there! Holst's "The Planets" and Lalo's "Symphonie Espagnole". There is no one song inspiring me for my current project, but I did want to share what I was focused on while working on my first story. Mumford & Son's "Hold on to What You Believe". It's amazing:



XO,
SVR

Breakout

Words:

“Virginia,” he said. Just one word that shook me to the core.

My name slipped from his lips as easily as the kisses we used to share.  

My own mouth could not form a word in reply. 

“Can we talk for a moment? Alone?” he said the words so easily, like they weren’t breaking me apart inside. I had not spoken to or even seen him in person in months. 

+ Title from Foo Fighters

Sample

“You must be on crack, Jessica!” I yelled into my phone.

                There was a pause on the other end as my best friend took a deep breath. I felt bad being so angry, but she knew I was dreading this weekend.

                “You know I wouldn’t ask if I had any other option,” Jessica said in a much softer tone.

                I fell onto my bed, which was covered in jeans and t-shirts. I had planned on spending my morning organizing my closet and had just pulled out every article of clothing I had in there when my phone rang.

                Jessica was the only person I knew who would rather call than text so I had immediately known it was her. She had left for work while I was still asleep so I hadn’t expected to hear from her until she got back to our dorm room later that afternoon.

                “I know,” I said, my voice muffled as I fell onto my bed and buried my head into a pillow. “Are you sure there isn’t anyone else who can do it? What about Jacob?”

                Jessica snorted. “Yeah right, Jacob’s the one who called out!” she said.

 I groaned. Jacob was always calling out and I said as much to Jessica. It had gotten ridiculous lately with the call outs at work. It was like no one needed to make money anymore.

“I know,” she said. “Unfortunately, everyone else who usually works on weekends requested the day off, as you know. I only called you because I’m desperate and knew your Friday class was canceled today. And because you love me and want to help me out.”

I could hear the sounds of the coffee shop through the phone. The churning of the coffee bean grinder, the steaming of the milk wand, and the clattering of plates as Jessica patiently waited for my decision on the other end of the line. She was anything but patient, though, so her lack of nagging meant that she really must need me.

“Fine,” I said, “but I’m not working the register and I’m leaving the second the afternoon shift gets there.”

My demands seemed reasonable, but I blinked back tears as I realized what I was about to do. At least if I just made drinks the whole time my chances of having to talk to anyone were low. Of course, hiding in my room all weekend would have been better, but I couldn’t leave Jessica hanging like that. She would never have asked me to come into work if she wasn’t desperate.

“You’re the best!” Jessica exclaimed. “Thank you so so so so much! Okay, I have to get back to work.” The phone clicked as she hung up.

I took a deep breath and blew it out slowly, trying to stop my stomach from expunging itself.

“You’re welcome,” I whispered, but of course, the line was dead and she couldn’t hear me, which was for the best. If Jessica was still on the phone I probably would have changed my mind.

Somewhere Else

#31DDD

Day 4: Write about the best experience you’ve had in another country.

The moment I stepped off the plane, I knew I was somewhere very special. For years I had dreamed about visiting this land rich in history and heritage and finally, FINALLY I was here. Suitcase in hand, camera charged, and a smile that couldn’t be paid away, I was ready to explore and love.

I am the type of person who knows she will love something or somewhere even before experiencing it. How could I not? I have had the map of this country pinned above my bed for years. No part of my being would allow me to finally make it to this part of the world and not completely enjoy every single second of it.

I think my favorite part was the accents. It had only been here and there, and mostly on TV, that I had gotten to hear this particular accent so to be where almost everyone has it was overwhelming…and confusing. “What?” “Pardon?” “Um, no?” And yes, I admittedly forgot to pay attention to the words sometimes as I just listened to how they were pronounced. I am a sucker for an accent.

So yes, the guys were high on my list to do. (Kidding! I kid.) In all honesty, I did go there with the fantasy of falling in love with a native who would sweep me off my tired, touristy feet and begin a whirlwind romance with me that would end with him coming to America to find me and declare his love and say that he needed (needed!) me to come back with him. And I would go, because he would be wealthy and able to encourage me to play in orchestras and would pay for me to visit my family often. Our children would be so cute and would have little baby accents. Baby accents are the best!

That didn’t happen, but that’s okay. I still had a great time. The pubs were amazing and I have to say, I was quite the hit with the locals. It’s not often my ability to drink a lot of beer gets me cool points, but it certainly worked there. I was the girl who always had a pint in her hand and kept asking people to say certain words so I could hear their accents more.

When I wasn’t in the bars, I was exploring. The city was a photographer’s dream and I took so many pictures that I ended up buying another memory card while there. Every building had a history older than my homeland and the overcast sky provided the perfect lighting for pictures. I even had some luck getting the locals to pose for pictures that I will forever cherish. They make me laugh every time I look at them and I can’t wait to go back to visit as soon as possible.

I left a little piece of myself there when I finally got on the plane to come home. Not that I don’t love America, but I feel such a connection to this other place. This country that plays a part in my ancestry and continually amazes me with the music and greatness that comes out of it. I’ll be back. I know I will. And maybe next time my fantasy will come true and I can start to call Scotland home, too.

This post was written from the future as I have never actually been to Scotland. But this is pretty much how I know it will go. I will love it. 

+ Title from Travis

Missing

#31DDD Day 3:

Tell Me About Your Grandfather

The worst part about what I am about to write is the use of the past tense. The best part is that I have three wonderful people I have been lucky enough to call Grandfather.
What I love about grandparents, besides their incredible love, is the names children make up to call them. I remember nine years ago when my aunt was about to become a first time grandmother and was trying to decide what name she wanted to be called. Mamere was her top choice and while I laughed at the thought of a baby using this French title, it also made me smile to think of a new set of grandchildren growing up with their own special grandparent.
My dad’s dad was always Grandpap to us. He lived in Pennsylvania and I have such great memories of our visits up there. He passed away when I was only 11 so to have such a rich and clear memory of him is something I cherish. He was also the only living member from my dad’s side of the family. My dad’s mother and brother died when he was pretty young, so Grandpap was it. Visiting him was special and my brother and sister and I always loved to go up there. We always ate at a truck stop restaurant my grandpap loved and we would stay in the guest bedroom in the basement. I remember watching a lot of Benny Hill and seeing those DVDs still reminds me of my grandfather.
My “extra” grandfather is Bob. My half brother (only in genetics!) started calling his dad’s dad Bob when he was little and it stuck. Bob was really cool and he always treated my sister and I like his own grandchildren. My best memory of Bob is when my family would go on vacation to Ocean City, MD and he would make us brunch when we first got there. They had a condo for years and it was one of my favorite places until they sold it about 10 years ago. We would get there at about 11am and Bob would be cooking up a storm. He would send my siblings and I out to the balcony with a bowl of steamed shrimp to work on as we waited for everything to be ready. He would make his special eggs, bacon, sausage, cantaloupe, fried potatoes and anything else you could imagine. It was so delicious and the perfect way to begin a week at the beach.
The grandfather I spent the most time with was my mom’s dad, Granddad. He passed away just a few years ago and it was one of the toughest things to go through. He had always been the rock of the family. Never ill, always there, and he just kept on truckin’. My grandmother was the one who had back problems, diabetes, and even a stroke about five years ago. I don’t think anyone thought that my grandfather would be the first to pass away. He was there for Thanksgiving and then started to feel ill. That was the year my brother got married on New Years Eve and I think he held on until after that. I will never forget visiting him in the hospital and seeing how small he looked. He said, ‘I’m not doing too well, honey.” And I told him I loved him and that was that last time I saw him.
Granddad was awesome, though. We called him “The Godfather” because he would take the whole family (10+  people sometimes) out to dinner, sit at the head of the table and just let everybody get whatever they wanted. He was incredibly generous and part of that came from the success he made for himself. He came back from World War II after being a paratrooper (because it paid more) and started his own business that is still running today.
It makes me sad that I only have memories of my grandfathers left, but I also feel so fortunate to have had three. They all made me who I am today.

+ Title from Beck

Get Me Away From Here, I'm Dying

#31DDD
Day 2: Write a  poem to an apple.

Crunchy and raw.
Red death.
Skin that lays on my kitchen counter.
An itch and burning deep inside.
An answer that comes with pain and regret.
Bite down.
Resist.
So sweet. So sweet.

+Title from Belle & Sebastian