Thoughts...

Today was a good day. Instead of going into work at the tool shop to do engineering, I had my weekly tutor day. On these days, I get the opportunity to work with two really amazing students. The first student is in middle school and has Autism. The second student is a junior in high school and has specific learning disabilities in reading and math. Both students are different, but they both amaze me each time I get to work with them. 

On the way home from tutoring, I was emotional again. I miss being in a classroom working with students. Each day now for the past three years, I feel as though my opportunity to be back in education is slipping away from me. The number of interviews I got this year was significantly less than previous years. I'm afraid that this trend will only get worse.

My wife and I talked about moving again. We have this conversation every year, and every year I come up with an excuse not to apply for teaching or principal positions outside of our area. For me, it all comes down to fear. I have a fear that if we move I might not make it in the classroom as a teacher. I've struggled in past positions. In addition, I also have a hair trigger when it comes to things going right or wrong. What will happen if I get into a position and then hate it because of the school or administration? Will I have to put my family through another move? What if I do not do well? Will I have a job at the end of the year?

I just wish that I had a clear answer on what to do. I love working with students and the daily absence of this makes me sad. Sure, I have tutoring and my writing, but it doesn't feel like it's enough. It doesn't feel like I'm making that much of a difference - which is why I got into education in the first place.

Anyways, I hope you had an amazing day!

Peace

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Chapter Reveal - Hope of St. Aelred High

Good Morning Everyone!

Wow, after last night and the change in my attitude, I have a new determination and view of life. I feel more peace. I know that something great is coming and I'm excited to see what each day will bring toward that greatness!

I thought that today I would share a glimpse of the new novel. Here is a sample chapter and I hope that you enjoy it.

Broken

     Another school year begins today. Everyone, including my own family, tells me that time heals all wounds. Yet, each day I feel more broken. Just one day is all I want. I want one day to wake up from this nightmare. I want one day to see her smile. I want one day to hear her soft, calming voice.

     Looking at her picture perched on the old milk crate I use as a nightstand brings a flood of emotions. Her hazel eyes mimic the bright blue sweater she’s wearing in the picture. I remember that day fondly. Elliot, Dad, and I did everything we could think of in order to convince Mom to get her self-portrait taken. She hated cameras. Mom always did whatever she could to get away from a camera. That’s why we had so few photos of her to use at her funeral last year. Anyways, Elliot tried to persuade Mom by promising to win the Diocesan football championship. Dad’s version of persuasion was a new Mercedes. Both of their attempts failed. It was my promise that got her to get the portrait taken. Now that she’s gone, I’ll never get to fulfill that promise.

     I look at the alarm clock next to Mom’s picture. The bus will be here soon. I dry my cheeks with the underside of my t-shirt and rush over to my dresser made from the cardboard moving boxes we used to move into our little hellhole on the third floor—apartment 3B. Luckily, my grey uniform skirt and white polo didn’t wrinkle too much in the makeshift dresser. I really miss having a real dresser and closets. I just hope that my uniform fits because, unlike other years, we couldn’t afford to buy a new one this year. With my uniform in hand, I sift through my shoe pile on the south wall.

     I gingerly walk down the hall toward the bathroom so that I don’t wake Dad sleeping in the living room. Looking into the small space, I see him still asleep on the couch. He looks like some kind of contortionist. Half of his body is on the seat of the couch. His left arm and head rest on the arm of the couch. His right arm and leg gently brush the floor. I wish he wasn’t so stubborn. With his condition, he really needs a room with a bed. Sleeping on the couch can’t help him get better. I’ve offered him my room multiple times, but he refuses by saying that, “Kids come first.” If his condition gets worse, or the unthinkable, how would that help us?  

     The old, wooden floor of the dump we call home creaks with every step toward the bathroom. Son of a…, I screech to myself when something jabs into my heel. Keeping my left foot in the air, I hobble the last three steps to the bathroom door. I have to use my butt to push open the door wide enough to squeeze through because, like everything else in this crappy apartment, nothing works right. The only window in my bedroom doesn’t open. Last week the faucet in the kitchen started flowing brownish water instead of clear. Half of the lights in the apartment don’t work, so we use candles at night to see. Dad keeps telling me that he’ll get things fixed, but nothing ever does. It’s not his fault. He’s too weak to do the repairs on his own. Elliot is always out with his friends or at practice, so he can’t help Dad. I’m busy with work. And Uncle Gary, who owns the building, is the laziest man on this planet. It took him three days to get the faucet in the kitchen fixed. According to what I read on the internet at the library, all he had to do was change one pipe in the back of the sink. Uncle Gary calls our apartment building the never-ending money pit with character. Where he actually puts money into the building, I’ll never know. Nevertheless, he is right about the character. This building is the very definition of a horror villain. It’s cold, calculating, and leaves you screaming for mercy.

     A foul stench invades my nostrils the moment I press through the small opening into the room. The smell is so bad that I dry heave right in the middle of the tiny space. Looking to my right, I spot the culprit creating the disgusting smell. I try to flush the toilet, but nothing happens. This is what we absolutely don’t need right now—another broken piece to our broken apartment that affects our broken lives. With frantic speed, I jam pieces of toilet paper in my nostrils attempting to block out the vileness. It’s a good thing that I took my shower last night before the toilet broke because I wouldn’t be able to make it through with the stench in this room. I close the lid to the toilet bowl and rush through my morning routing.

     After escaping from the bathroom, I go to check on my little brother. Well, maybe not so little now that he’s a big eighth grader. I reach his room and watch as he tries to tie his tie in the broken mirror. “Need help?” I ask.

     “Go away,” he says while fidgeting with the black, satin tie.

     Our rooms are almost identical. The only difference is that he has a working window and the fact that he refuses to pick up anything. None of his clothes occupies the cardboard boxes stacked along the north wall of the room. I carefully enter. It’s interesting how hooded sweatshirts, jeans, and socks can mask the sound of an old, wooden floor. I get next to him,   “Here Shellie Eli, let me help.”

     He pushes my arm away. “Dang it, Midget, I hate it when you call me that. And, I already said I can do this myself. I don’t need my older sister to dress me,” he snaps.

     Elliot definitely got his height from Dad’s side of the family. He’s three years younger than I am and he’s already two feet taller. Some days I wish I could’ve inherited my height from Dad’s side of the family. But I’m glad that I got my height from Mom’s side of the family. Even though Elliot always teases by calling me vertically challenged, I definitely can hold my own. I’ve taken down both guys and girls that were much taller than I was all of my life. “You know I can help you, right? Don’t you want to look your best for your last year at St. James?”

     In one quick motion, he strips the tie from his neck and flings it at my head. “Fine. Whatever. I wish we didn’t have to bother with this crap. I hate St. James. Life would be so much better if I could just skip this year and start high school at St. Josephs,” he says.

     “And give up your last year of middle school?” I ask as my hands go to work on his tie. “You’d miss the best year of grade school. Eighth grade was awesome. You get to run the school. Not to mention, eighth graders get extra field trips and fun events. I can’t believe that you’d give that up,” I say, finishing the perfect Half-Windsor knot and cinching it around his neck. “Trust me, Beaner, high school isn’t as great as you think,” I say, admiring my handiwork and taking a seat on his mattress lying on the floor.

     “You don’t understand, Brandy,” he says.

     “Don’t understand what?”

     “We both know that Dad is getting worse. He sleeps all of the time,” he says.

     “So what does that have to do with you skipping eighth grade to go directly into high school?”

     “Because the sooner I get into high school to play ball, the sooner I get into college and then drafted by the Raiders or some other NFL team. I’m the only one who has a shot at saving our family from this mess,” he says.

     “Thanks a lot, Jerk,” I say, tossing the pillow at his head. His comment hurts. He’s right, but it still hurts. Even if I would’ve continued playing softball, it’s not like I can make a living being a professional softball player. Elliot’s face whitens as his eyes bulge. I turn to my right and see why Elliot looks scared.

     “Seriously?” I ask, picking up the bottle that was hiding under the pillow I threw.

     “Come off it Sis. It’s not like you don’t do it,” he says.

     “But—”

     “But nothing, Midget. You started in eighth grade too. I remember the night you came home drunk and climbed through my window so that you could avoid Mom and Dad. I lied to them when you crashed into the chair in my room. On top of all that, I spent the next day scrubbing my bathroom because you puked over everything,” he says, snatching the bottle out of my hand.

     He’s right again. I want to yell at him for drinking, but how can I? After Scarlett left St. James because of the bullying we received, I spent the remaining months of my eighth grade year finding ways to get drunk. If I didn’t go to a party with Steph, I made excuses to hang out at my cousin Nia’s house. Uncle Skip was always out of town, so Nia and I would slam through a bottle or two. Nia often went over to her neighbor Daniel’s house to get us beer.  After Mom died last year, I can barely remember the whole month of December. Steph made sure that I had every opportunity to escape from the pain with an abundance of parties and alcohol. My grades slipped, but I didn’t care. Dad constantly lectured me about school. I don’t think he knew about the drinking because he never mentioned it. It hurt disappointing him. Yet, the pain was too much to handle. Dad’s diagnosis last March sort of curbed my drinking, but there are still times where getting wasted helps me escape. 

     The thoughts about why I started drinking makes my eyes burn. I rush out of Elliot’s room right before the tears cascade down my warm cheeks. Our old house had a million places for me to hide. In this dump, I have nowhere. My chest caves. I can’t breathe.

     “Brandy, wait. Where are you going?” Dad’s voice echoes from the living room. I look over. His bones crack as he sits up on the couch. “Please come here,” he says.

     I move closer to him. The tears soak my face. I get closer and he reaches out to dry my tears with the sleeve of his St. Aelred High sweatshirt. “You were thinking about her again,” he says.

     I nod right before I bury my head into his chest.

     “It’ll be okay. Just relax. I miss her too,” he says.

     Stepping off the number two city bus, a warm breeze brushes my hair against my neck. Hopefully the rest of today will be better than this morning. I spot Steph over by the oak tree near the peace garden. She’s standing with a couple of other girls getting their last nicotine fix in before going into the school. She holds out her cigarette right when I make it over from across the street. “Thanks,” I say, taking the cigarette from her. I take a few quick hits before handing it back. Gabby, Lindsay, and Kara, the other members of our little smoking group from last year, don’t even turn to say hi to me. They continue talking as if I didn’t exist. I guess that’s what happens when you go from social elite to poverty-stricken outcast. “So did you get it?” I ask.

     “Yep. I still don’t understand why you just didn’t ask your dad to get you one,” she says, rifling through her backpack. She pulls out the blue sweater and hands it to me.

     “Thanks.” I take off the old uniform sweater and put on the new one Steph handed to me. “I promise to get you the money next week.”

     “Don’t worry about it,” she says, handing me the cigarette.

     I finish off the cigarette and toss it to the curb. “Hi Gabby, Lindsay, and Kara,” I say. No one responds. They don’t even turn. Lindsay begins to laugh. “Figures.”

     “Don’t pay any attention to them, they obviously haven’t learned any manners yet,” Steph loudly says. The three girls laugh and start walking toward the school’s entrance. “I know why you asked me to get the new uniform sweater for you, but how did your dad come up with the funds to get you to come back this year?” she asks.

     “He told me this morning that Mrs. Hagerty found a donor to pay.”

     “That’s awesome, but why do you look like it’s the worst news in the world?” she asks.

     “Because I wanted to go to the public school. Now that I’m no longer in the popular crowd, my whole year will be just like how Gabby, Lindsay, and Kara acted.”

Steph grasps my arm and stops me in the middle of the sidewalk. “Seriously, Brandy, just because your family is going through problems doesn’t change who you are. You’re still the same fun, cool chick I’ve known my entire life. If other people want to act like twerps because you don’t have a ton of money anymore, it’s their loss,” she says.

     “I guess.”

     She stops. “You should be happy. I know that if I were you, I’d be on cloud nine knowing someone came forward to pay for my tuition,” she says.

     She’s right. I should be happy. I’m grateful, but for some reason I’m not happy. Maybe I’ve lost the ability to be happy. Between Mom’s death and Dad’s illness, I don’t feel happiness anymore. I don’t even see any hope. Everything is broken, and there’s no way to fix it. Besides, what’s there to be happy about? Life truly sucks. If Mom was alive and Dad was healthy, then maybe I’d be happy.

I hope you enjoyed this brief chapter from the new novel. It's still rough, but I know that it will be spectacular when it is finished and ready for publication. 

Count your blessings, give thanks, pray often, and enjoy each moment of life.

Peace

 

 

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Time for a change...

Looking at my Blog, I apologize to all of my readers for not posting in such a long time.

One of my quirks is that I am a perfectionist. I've tried over the years to shed this, but no matter what I do it never works. I think that is one of the reasons why I've struggled professionally and personally over the past few years. Granted, the personal losses these past two years have also placed a strain on me.

Anyways, I've continued to work toward getting back into teaching. I've interviewed a number of times and each time I walked away feeling confident that I did my best in the process. To date, no one has offered me a position in education. My current status in engineering is good. I'm respected. I've been told that I'm valuable. I even got a raise a few weeks ago. Yet, I don't feel as though I'm making a contribution in this life. I think most of it comes from the idea in my heart that I am destined to help change the world for the better. Education provided that vehicle as well as writing my novel. But my education career has not been jump-started by a new position. And my novel isn't selling very much. So the question is - "What is going on and how do I fix it?"

I recently watched a video from Joel Osteen. One of the things that really struck me was the idea that you need to be thankful for the little things before the big things become evident in your life. I think that's where my life has been as of late. Even though I do not have my dream job or a best-selling novel, I never really thanked God for what he has done in my life. Because of this, I think that's why I've struggled so much. The Bible teaches us that God loves us unconditionally. He is waiting for us to need him so that he can give so many blessings that it would make our heads spin. The trick, however, is just like Joel said - "that we need to thank him for the little things in order to receive the bigger things."

I believe that it's time for me to change my life and attitude. I need to remain thankful for the things God has blessed me with in my life. I need to stop complaining about my situation and look for the good things each day.

That is what today's Blog is about - Time for a change.

So, I am thankful that I have a house, a vehicle that gets us places, my amazing wife, my awesome daughter, a decent job that pays the bills, great family, good friends, good health, and my talents. I pray that I continue to develop my talents to honor what God has given me. I pray that my situation changes to whatever God wants me to do in this life. And, I pray that those who follow my Blog or writing see the goodness in their lives as well.

As of today, I'm tossing out the negative and self-defeating thoughts in my life. I am unique. I am a work in progress.

The new novel is progressing. I am about 3/4 of the way finished with the new re-write of the book. Hopefully, I can get it done within the next few weeks so that it can go out to my first-round Beta readers. After that, it goes to a second-round of Beta readers before heading to my editor.

I hope you have a great night!

Peace

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Changes

What a difference a month makes. I know I haven't blogged for about a month and I definitely miss sharing my thoughts and everything happening in my life. This past month has been very difficult. So here's the long and short of everything that's been going on so far...

• I've had a few interviews so far for teaching and administrator positions here at home. I've decided to try and stay here in NW Pennsylvania rather than looking for positions elsewhere. I think the biggest part is money. It will take so much more just to get my house ready for sale, finding a new place in another area, and then actually moving. Right now with our abysmal finances, I just cannot make the commitment needed to move somewhere that has teaching/administrator positions open. I have a few more leads yet to explore and then it's probably the end for this year's hiring season.
• The current novel is doing okay with sales. I'm selling more than I had with the previous cover design so I think making the new cover was the right decision.
• I got my novel into a local Independent Book Store here in town. I'm excited to see it on the shelf, but like all things with books, people (and teens) just aren't buying them as much anymore. I'm hoping and praying that the book starts to take off. I'd like to at least make back the amount of money I spent to produce the book (editing, website, book cover, contest give-a-ways, promotional items, etc).
• I'm still waiting for the results from the Indie Reader Awards/Review for my novel. I really hope that the novel gains a positive review so that it can help with sales.
• A few people have remarked that the title may be a reason why teens and others are reluctant to purchase the novel. Apparently, teens are shying away from any book that mentions bullying because of how much it is crammed down their throats at school. I knew the title would be a gamble, but I hope that some teens look past it and read the book. It does have a good message in it about misconceptions. 
• My mom died exactly two weeks ago today. The pain is still difficult at times because she's all I knew growing up. My dad died when I was only four-years-old, so my mom became two parents. I get sad knowing that I can't just hop in the car and drive over to her house, which is only two minutes away, to talk or get advice. I don't have anyone anymore that I can talk to that has that "parental" wisdom. Part of me is scared that I will continue to make a ton of mistakes which will put my family into further despair. 
• Because of the funeral and all, I haven't been writing at all. I've spent most of my time doing things to get an education job, mind-numbing pursuits, and spending time with family. I hope I can get back on track soon to get the second novel completed. The story is turning out well so far and I think it will satisfy my readers.
• I've met some interesting people and authors so far with my journey. I can only hope that things continue to progress for this venture into writing. Right now, I'm still not too sure if I made the right decision in publishing my novel. 
• My latest contest on Goodreads was the best yet! I am in the process of getting the books ready to ship out to the winners. I should have them in the mail sometime tomorrow or Wednesday.

Well, that's about all for now. I really hope that all of you have had a good month and holiday. I'll get back to writing soon - I PROMISE!

Peace

 

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Contest Time - Win a Copy of My Book!

Check it out folks. My third contest to win a copy of the debut novel is now in full swing. This time I've added a bonus. If you are selected as the winner of the contest, you are automatically entered into another drawing for an ARC of "Changes of St. Aelred High," which is book #2 of the series. I'm hoping to have that completed by December - just in time for Christmas gifts! Make sure you enter the contest and share with all of your family and friends!

Goodreads Book Giveaway

Angels & Bullies of St. Aelred High

by Dan E. Arndt

Giveaway ends July 03, 2014.
See the giveaway details at Goodreads.

Enter to win

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Excited for New Beginnings

I'm so excited to share the new cover for my initial novel Angels & Bullies of St. Aelred High. It took months of saving money from novel sales, but the new design is exactly what the St. Aelred High Series brand needs. It gives me goose bumps every time I look at it. A big thank you to Deborah at Tugboat Design. She really outdid herself with this cover design. I can't wait to hear what others think about it. Hopefully, more people will decide to purchase the book on Amazon.com. It's a great story and those that have read it do enjoy it (take a look at my Goodreads profile on the novel).

Here is the new cover :)

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Inspired

Sometimes inspiration or direction hits me like a ton of bricks. I guess you could say that my powers of listening to the subtle suggestions don't work too well. That's why God continues to amaze me in so many ways.

I've continued to pray and look for some kind of direction in my life. Whether it's me getting back into the classroom or going forward with my novel writing, I needed a sign to understand where to go next. So last week I went book shopping. This, for those that truly "know" me, is a dangerous mission in life. It doesn't matter how rich or poor I am, I always go into the bookstore and come out with a ton of books. Last week was no different. I've been wanting to read some newer YA novels just to have a conversation starter at upcoming teacher interviews. It's one of the things principals and interview teams like to do most - ask about what you've read recently. Anyways, I picked up some great new books - especially Laurie Halse Anderson's latest novel (she's an amazing writer). I decided to walk over toward the Christian fiction section, which by the way is only two bookcases in length compared to traditional fiction or YA fiction. I noticed that 90% of the titles/covers had to do with Amish characters for the fiction. I didn't think anything of it and left with my targeted novel selections.

The next day I'm watching the Twitter feeds and conversations between a few authors that I follow. A great conversation was started about YA fiction that has either strong religious themes or strong religious characters. The authors remarked at how editors of the major publishing houses usually suggest changes when they see either in the author's manuscript. One author remarked at how this didn't make too much sense because there are teens out there that have a strong faith, so why not represent these teens in literature. This is when the light bulb started to illuminate.

The following day I read an article about the latest Catholic Youth Conference. It talked about the thousands of teens that travelled from all over the country to attend the event. That's when the light bulb kicked into high gear! Through three days of hitting me over the head, I finally figured out what God wants me to do with my novel writing - focus on strong faith characters that represent the Catholic traditions. I've already started it with the first novel "Angels & Bullies of St. Aelred High." That whole spark changed how I approach revising the second novel. I need to make it realistic to the practicing teen Catholic. It has to relate to their lives and others that they meet each day. It's exciting to know that I've found my niche market - teen Catholics. I can't wait to finish this next book so that I can share it with the world.

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