Sarah Samudre

sarahsamudre: This is the story about one of my heroes. It’s a...

Mon, 21 May 2012 19:27:14 -0400

This is the story about one of my heroes.

It’s a story about the failings of our collegiate system and the horrible economy and hope in the face of all that.

Yesterday, my youngest sister, Claire, got into Chapman University. I wept when she told me over the phone.

If you knew what Claire had been through in the last several years, you’d cry too.

Claire was a 4.0 student in high school. She took all the AP classes, took Running Start, volunteered, and ran herself ragged doing everything that a student can do to get into college. She got accepted to several colleges and took the one with the best financial package: New York University.

Claire’s freshman year at NYU was wonderful. She fell in love with the city, made great friends and blossomed being out of our house which, as great a family as we are, is nonetheless crowded at seven people, especially if you’re the youngest.

At the end of her first year, however, she received a shock. NYU wasn’t going to continue to take care of her financially, despite her excellent grades. They went back on the offer that had led her to turn down other colleges and raised general tuition on top of her rescinded financial aid. When she explained that her parents were putting three other children through college and they had lost their land development business after the Stock Market Crash of 2008, they said the only factor they could consider is how much our father made. He made too much for them to consider helping Claire, even though she had earned their help through her hard work in highschool. They refused to offer her any financial help, as they did to many other students that year. Claire had no choice. She couldn’t pay her way. Mom and Dad couldn’t sign for loans. She had to drop out of school.

I don’t think I know anyone in my life who embodies perseverance like Claire does. She was devastated, returning home to life in the country after life in New York. We may live 30 minutes away from Seattle by car, but it takes 45 minutes to walk to a bus stop from our house. On top of the loss of city-life and her new friends, her future was uncertain. She had worked so hard all of her life. She’d been told that if she worked hard, she’d achieve success, only to be thrust into a situation where her only options seemed like retail.

But Claire, though discouraged, wasn’t destroyed. She began working on her first album later that year. A talented songwriter, singer and musician, Claire’s first official album was more than I ever thought possible, and I’ve heard her playing for years. Her songs were beautiful, catchy and incredibly intelligent… specifically my personal favorite, “David”. It affirmed to me that no matter what Claire’s collegiate future would be, her talent would lead her to great success.

Unfortunately, not a lot of people bought the first album, although people streamed it (and still do) like crazy. And yes, if you’re in that group, I am trying to make you feel guilty. You’re not ripping off Britney Spears here. You’re robbing someone who desperately needs the money so you can have something to listen to while you browse the internet. Do the right thing and pay the four dollars today.

*backing down off my soap box*

Claire pressed on, both with her musical career, recording and playing local gigs, and with college applications, despite the discouragement coming at her in both arenas. Last year, she was turned down from USC. After that, she decided her next plan of attack was to finish up her AA at Bellevue College and then apply to a whole host of colleges again this last Fall and Winter.

Each month that’s gone on, as we’ve heard of more and more colleges doing exactly what NYU did to Claire, as Republicans in Congress suggest cutting Federal loans to students, as publications write about the death of college, we all wondered what would happen to Claire. Even our local university, University of Washington, is barring in-state applicants in favor of out-of-state students that they can gouge more, and still, they’re raising tuition two to three times a year, every year since we went there.

It’s one thing to say that college is dead, and it’s another thing to be out in the world. Employers don’t know that college is dead yet. We knew that she was talented and insanely dedicated, not only continuing with her music, but going to community college for her Associate’s and interning at Richard Hugo House with me. But what would happen to her talent if doors kept being slammed in her face?

Then, last week, she began to hear back from colleges. She got accepted to Bennington, who agreed to pay half her tuition, leaving her with the burden of $38,000. They, like NYU, would only look at the most basic financial information on my father, showing his earnings, not his failed business, his family of seven, his sick parents, dead mother-in-law and sick wife. Claire plead with a financial aid officer who seemed, as so many of them do, not to understand English unless it’s specifically worded on a pre-approved form in front of them.

All of that, of course, ruled Bennington out. Within days, she was turned down from the next two. Claire could only go to school if she had over 95% of the full cost covered. This began to seem almost impossible. But Claire, as frightened as she was, continued to believe that something would work out.

And that’s the thing I love about Claire. She has been very depressed over the last several years. She has been enraged by the injustice of the systems that beckoned her and demanded her hard work and then rejected her over technicalities. She’s been sick. She’s been frightened.

But she never lost hope or courage to keep trying.

You see, that’s the thing about courage and hope. They don’t require your happiness. They don’t require a stalwart repose. There is no zen-master calm that you have to have. In fact, the more scared you are, the greater courage you must have to balance it out and a brighter hope you that you have to keep to outshine the darkness in your own heart.

Courageous people are scared. Hopeful people are dark. The only thing that keeps them from being cowards is that they persevere. They believe. The press on. Their hearts are strong.

Claire only sent out those applications this last Fall and Winter, after being rejected year after year, because she is one of the absolute bravest people I know.

She got into Chapman, who will be covering the requisite 95%, because she didn’t stop believing and working hard to fulfill that belief. It would’ve been so easy. She is so young and has been so stomped on. But she believed. She put her songs out there for us to hear, whether or not we pay for them. She worked hard at a community college, though her high school prep had aimed her at the Ivy League, believing that it would all be for something, even though she constantly doubted and feared that it might come to nothing.

But now… it won’t! Claire now gets to finish her four year degree. She gets to continue to work hard, learn amazing things that will help her in her writing, her music, her view of the world. She gets to meet people who will connect her to opportunities and get that STUPID PIECE OF PAPER that still means so much to employers!

Does this mean all will be perfect in her life from now on? Of course not. But this is a win. A big win, in a day and age when colleges are raising costs and screwing over students. This is an incredible win, and it never would’ve happened if Claire had taken the first several rejections as a sign to stop believing.

She dealt with her pain and her fear and her anger and she kept hoping, courageously, against the odds, that she’d make it if she kept trying. And this win inspires me. I hope it inspires you to read about it.

This win doesn’t protect her against future losses. But like any good story, it will give her and those who hear the story, courage to believe in the face of hardship, courage to keep hoping and trying and struggling when all seems lost.

I look up to her so much, nine years younger than me, and she is truly one of my heroes.

So if you don’t follow my sister’s tumblr, and if you haven’t bought her album, remedy that. This won’t be the last time I sing her praises on my blog and they’ll only get more impressive as she presses on.

Posting this on my other site with one addendum:

Claire has released a new album. All proceeds go towards helping her pay for college!

Writing On A Spring Day

Tue, 10 Apr 2012 14:26:00 -0400

I had to drop my puppy off at the vet at 7:30 a.m. this morning. She might have a broken toe and has to get sedated for a series of x-rays. I hated leaving her at the vet’s office. She kept trying to hide in between my knees like that would save her.

As heartbreaking as leaving her was, I loved being outdoors so early this morning. It is a perfect Northwest Spring morning. When I left my house, the air was still heavy with low-traveling clouds, perfumed by cut grass, budding cherry and magnolia blossoms, rhododendron flowers and daffodils. It’s warm enough to be out without multiple layers, and still chilly enough to give you extra energy. All I want to do today is be out in nature. I contemplated taking the car up to Snoqualmie Falls and hiking.

But I have a lot to do today. Other than working on Hugo House stuff, I’m refining the memoir piece I’m working on so I can submit it to literary journals. I’m also working on a short story to submit.

I haven’t been doing enough of this stuff over the last decade. Sure, I’ve written a novel. I’m working on my current projects: my next novel, my memoir, Vasant and I’s script. But that’s not the “right way” that you’re told to build a writing career these days.

I can’t tell you how many independent presses and agents want a list of where you’ve been published even if you’re marketing yourself as a debut writer. Being a debut writer, for some people, means “unpublished”. For others in this industry, it means “hasn’t published a NOVEL yet”.

Of course, I don’t care too much about the “right way” I’m told about versus the way I find that’s “right for me”. But I can’t be pig-headed about it. I’m glad I wrote a novel first. I meet a lot of authors at Richard Hugo House that are absolutely scared to death of writing a novel, so they stick to short stuff like they’re safe in the shallow end of the literary pool.

I don’t mean that short fiction or narrative essays are shallow. Quite the contrary. They’re incredible difficult to write because you have one-tenth of the length of a novel to communicate just as powerful a story to your reader. Every word has to count for a thousand.

That said, I wrote my novel first, not because I preferred one form over the other, but because it was the story that needed to be told first. I started working on my next projects because those stories needed to be told and I had to get the process of rumination and drafting underway. Now that they are underway, however, I’m giving myself some time to balance them out with more career-building writing.

So while The Ashes continues to search for a home in the great, wide world of publication, I need to pave a way for it with short fiction and essays. This used to be a thought that made me squirm, but lately, I’ve really warmed to it. My memoir is a series of essays that all stand alone, so that’s already material I’m passionate about developing. As for short fiction, writing flash for #FridayFiction has given me a lot of inspiration for stories I can tease into “longer-short” pieces.

Stories shouldn’t serve my career. The few times I tried to take a break during writing The Ashes to do this kind of “career-building” writing, the stories were awful. I didn’t care about them, so the writing reflected that apathy. My prose is powered and ruined by my heart. If I make try to make my stories bend to a list of job expectations, nothing will come from it. I learned this the hard way, but my career needs to serve the stories that need to be told. It’s just up to me to be discerning about what stories need to be told and when they need to be written.

I don’t know if epiphanies like these are as hard to come by for other writers as they have been for me, but I feel pretty happy with this realization of a happy medium between doing what I’m supposed to do for success and doing what I’m inspired to do as an artist.

sarahsamudre: Yesterday, I finished my design project for...

Tue, 10 Apr 2012 08:02:52 -0400

sarahsamudre:

Yesterday, I finished my design project for Meghan O’Keefe, a writer and comedienne in NYC. Her sketch comedy group is putting on a show “Dorothy Parker & The Salon of Spirits” on April 15th (go see it if you’re in NYC!).

This was an incredible project to work on. I loved drawing Dorothy. Not only is she one of my favorite poets/writers, she is also a ton of fun to draw because she looks exactly like her works: droll, sharp, witty and arch.

The skeletons were a lot of fun to draw, too. Honestly, I kept thinking of Disney’s 1929 Silly Symphony “The Skeleton Dance” while drawing them.

Although, the problem with my brain is that I had skeletons on the brain for a couple nights and my subconcious was like, “Hmm. Skeletons, eh? Let’s see what kind of narratives can we come up with to accompany these images…”

So I had about three nights of weird CBS-style dreams of trying to figure out where the skeletons had come from.

So now that the project is done, I’m back down to two jobs. As nice as it is not juggling three jobs, I’m a bit sad there isn’t another design project immediately lined up after this. I’m never happier than I am when I’m drawing.

Anyone want to order a custom project from me? ;)

It is very difficult to have strong friendships or family...

Fri, 16 Mar 2012 21:21:00 -0400

It is very difficult to have strong friendships or family relationships that can withstand a writer’s curiosity.

—Patricia Spears Jones, BOMB 52, 1995

This Artist's Promise

Fri, 02 Mar 2012 01:52:44 -0500

People with great imaginations make the best friends.

There is nothing that you can tell me that I don’t know. I’ve imagined every bad thing, so I will always be prepared to forgive. I’ve imagined every good thing, so I’ll always believe in you. I’ve imagined the impossibly grand, so I’ll never let you give up and I will push you past the places you’ve thought were the edges of your known strength.

I’ll always have good stories to tell. I’ll always have new jokes. I’ll always come up with something for us to do.

Yes, I’m weird. I’m overdramatic. I’m prone to take a small thing and analyze it over and over, but that is what makes all of the positive things I’ve listed prior to this possible. I will dwell in darkness, but that’s only so I can understand it enough to not be afraid of it in this world, in myself, in you.

If you are my friend, I will always make you smile, make you challenge the world and yourself, make you laugh, give you wisdom, tell you tales.

But I am largely unlovable because all of this, to the world at large, is desirable only in prose. When you meet me, you’ll see someone who does not fit. That’s why the most that you’ll ever see of me is in these letters on your screen, here on your computer, your phone, your iPad, a book.

If you do meet me in person, bear in mind I’ve grown up in a world that laughs at me, beats me down, mocks me and has turned on me for being too different. I’m often loved only when there’s no one else available and then discarded once more conventional friends are to be found.

So I’m shy at first. I’m reserved. It takes a while now, after 30 years of this, for me to be all the positive things I’ve described for someone who wants it. I’ve been too hurt, too betrayed, and am now too used to the world deciding against me.

And that’s why I’m an artist.

Because I still want to love you. To make you laugh. I want to make you believe in yourself. I will tell you stories and give you my wisdom and my belief that you’ll make it through the darkness that I know so well to the other side. I will pour into you my fire, my hope, my determination and my humor.

I will do this through my writing. I will do this through my blog. I will do this through my films. I will do this in any way that I can since I’ve discovered that usually, the people who are brave enough to be my friends are far away from me. I have too much love to hold it all in for myself and my husband.

And all that I wrote above about myself is true for him as well.

We will create art for you. We will tell you our stories and spend our strength making you laugh, hope, cry, and giving you fire to fight for what’s right. Because we love you.

And that’s our promise.

sarahsamudre: Valentine’s Day, for me, has always been a day to...

Tue, 14 Feb 2012 13:32:00 -0500

sarahsamudre:

Valentine’s Day, for me, has always been a day to tell your family that you love them.

Think about it. This is not your primary impulse on Thanksgiving.

You get out of bed on Turkey Day and you think, “FOOD!” or, if you’re me, “I’m late. It’s 8 am and I haven’t started cooking yet!”

You get out of bed on Christmas and you’re thinking “Presents! Nostalgia! Shiny!” it is basically the day when we all become ADD-afflicted eight year olds, hyped up on sugar that we haven’t even ingested yet.

You have Easter and you think… well, nothing. A melange of religious symbolism, bunnies and horrible dresses you were forced to wear to bee-infested picnics as a kid.

Of course, all these holidays and those smaller ones in between, are supposed to be about family togetherness. But there is no overarching mandate of love. If you dig at the symbolism, there is of course, a bounty to feast upon for those starving for reasons to attach the day to a philosophic truth. And I do that. Every year. I LOVE searching for meaning and taking opportunities to remind myself of family, memories, my values and my faith. Observing holidays for me is like a calendar rosary. Each date touched, another thought or value observed, imbibed and passed on to those around me.

But this is why I love THIS day.

I never dated anyone before Vasant. I went out with a bunch of guys, but I never went on more than dates. I never called anyone a boyfriend but him, because my standards for a committed relationship were high but also… the view of marriage that I had was kind of poor. I didn’t want to settle down with anyone unless I found someone extraordinary. And I did.

But this means that for more than two-thirds of my life, Valentine’s Day has just been a day to say “I love you” to those whom I loved. My Mom started this off when we were kids, preparing Valentine’s Day treats for us. Sometimes we got books, sometimes flowers, rarely we got candy but we did see it now and then, mostly they were gifts that said “I love you”. They told us that she was paying attention. She and Dad would write a card and send us a note telling us what they loved. And that’s how I viewed Valentine’s Day.

I never felt bad for being single. I had people in my life whom I loved and Valentine’s Day was simply the day to tell them that. It was also the day to tell myself that.

That is still, though I’m married, how I view Valentine’s Day. It’s not a day exclusive to me and my sweetie. It’s a day where I tell my family how much I love them. Give them whatever presents I can afford to get them. Vasant and I still do romantic stuff, but for me, it’s the afterthought to just telling him and those around me how much I love them. Because that’s what this day is to me. Today is the day you take time to tell people you love them.

And I know Hallmark has capitalized on this day. So what? How isn’t it nice to get a note that says I love you? Or in my sisters’ cases, heart-shaped snowflakes with a love note and cookies on top….

And this year, I wanted to widen the net and tell you all that I love you. You are just simply the best online community I’ve ever been connected with and I can’t imagine how I would’ve made it through 2011 without your support, humor and encouragement.

I hope that tonight, you feel loved and cared for, whether you’re with someone or not. There isn’t a single one of you who isn’t incredibly talented, intelligent and hilarious. You brighten my day, push me creatively and CONSTANTLY inspire and humble me with how you all handle your problems, look for beauty around you and how you reach out to others.

Thank you all for being so wonderful. I love you.

Happy Valentine’s Day.

Sooo... this?

Wed, 04 Jan 2012 20:29:00 -0500

I’m thinking of moving my Squarespace site over to Tumblr. Squarespace costs me a lot of money, and if I gave up hosting it there in favor of Tumblr, I could afford to get my custom domain name back, as well as buy a pretty theme.

I’ve got to have a professional site for potential agents/publishers/employers. So. This may be it. Still debating. And if it is it… do I go by SarahSamudre.com or SarahWritesAndDraws.com?

If I do move (which is almost 99% for certain) this will be the account I turn into the my professional site. I may change the name of my original tumblr to something more casual so I brand here and not there.

sarahsamudre: So… I’m 30. 30 years have passed between the two...

Thu, 22 Dec 2011 13:28:00 -0500

sarahsamudre:

So… I’m 30.

30 years have passed between the two photos you see above. I have slight wrinkles in both photos and there are two very important guys holding me. There are a few other similarities: my first name, lactose intolerance, I was loud both then and now and seem uncharacteristically quiet in both photos…

Mostly, and unsurprisingly, the years have changed almost everything else. I like this. I like always changing. I see life as a constant series of video game levels. You have challenges, you gain allies, avoid enemies, rack up points and once you’ve done enough, level up.

Leveling up doesn’t always coincide with a birthday. In fact, most of my birthdays over the years have been horrible. Sometimes, you feel like a particular level of life lasts more than a few years and what gets you through the door can be a transcendent realization, a situational change, or a meaningful event.

As I said, my birthdays typically interfering with Christmas, I’m not used to them being meaningful or restful events. I usually feel guilty for getting in the way of everyone’s Christmas celebrations.

That is why Vasant took me away this year. He wanted me to have fun, to think up new stories and get a chance to relax. That’s exactly what this trip has been. We went to our storytelling mecca. We wrote, drafted outlines, came up with new myths. We slept and did yoga and ran. And he celebrated me. I didn’t feel guilty for getting in his way of celebrating Christmas. I didn’t feel like observing my birthday was an imposition. That isn’t normal for me, and it was really liberating.

This year has been one of the hardest of my life. I’m still not over some of the things I’ve gone through/am going through. I’ve been trapped in a mental fog for most of this year, feeling as if, because I failed at being pregnant (don’t bother saying I didn’t… it’s how miscarriage feels), that I was going to fail at everything else.

Most birthdays are just days. When someone says “So how does it feel to be [x] age?”, you shrug and say “It feels the same”.

I don’t feel the same this year.

I feel like the second the clock struck midnight, something broke loose.

30 is a new level.

Now, this means tougher challenges and bigger enemies. It also means new skills and better allies.

I’m ready to play this level. I’m throwing off all the crap that was in my twenties and I’m ready for all that this next decade has.

Thank you, you wonderful people, for your amazing birthday wishes. My phone was exploding all Thursday with birthday cheer.

Now, it’s time to board my plane and head back to Seattle. Starting later this evening, by the way, this blog becomes all about Christmas. I hope you all enjoy your holidays. Thank you for being such great friends.

sarahsamudre: A Sad but Brilliant Win. Vasant and I have had a...

Sun, 11 Dec 2011 20:57:00 -0500

sarahsamudre:

A Sad but Brilliant Win.

Vasant and I have had a real weekend.

We didn’t work Friday night, or anytime on Saturday, or anytime today. It feels like we won the lottery or something. To not work on ANY project, or go the extra mile for work, or even do construction, it feels like we’re on a five-star resort vacation.

This is both beautiful and VERY, VERY SAD.

You see, for those of you just tuning in, Vasant and I have never not worked hard.

Our first year of marriage we worked like dogs at thankless jobs and made our families and friends our second jobs. That was the most miserable year. The year we tried to make everyone happy but ourselves. The year we tried to please bosses at jobs that were beneath us. The year we bent over backwards to appease people in our personal lives who we knew had betrayed us, were currently trash-talking us, and would betray us again in the future. But we thought this was the way. Get married, work full-time at whatever job you can get, appease the people you’re stuck with.

Our second year of marriage was a revelation. We realized that no, this is NOT the way. We can go back to school, get our degrees, get jobs we like and surround ourselves with people who treat us well. We did not realize, however, how hard this would be to make a reality. We moved in with my parents, began building a place for us to live on my Dad’s property, went back to school, and began setting boundaries with people. This was the beginning of our seven day work week. This was the end of several friendships. This was the beginning of a whole new level of hostile activity from people who weren’t just mad at us for getting married, for changing our priorities, but a new level of hostility from people who mocked our living arrangements, the fact that we were married and in school, the fact that we had to take out loans to do so.

Our third year of marriage was more of the same, minus some relationships and adding on more drama. When we weren’t studying, we were building our apartment. When we weren’t doing those things, I was writing my novel and Vasant was still doing construction. He was never not doing construction when we weren’t studying. He and my Dad worked incredibly hard, not just on our apartment, but on the up keep of the property, the cars and the odd construction job my Dad dug up for them to do. One was hours away, during finals week. But that was the year we got from community college to the University of Washington. Our workload doubled, since we decided to pursue two degrees each. We did video gigs on the side and I doubled my efforts to finish my book. On top of all this, we were still recovering from all the relationships we’d lost in the first two years of our relationship.

Our fourth year of marriage was more of the same. Studying, apartment construction, novel, odd construction or video jobs on the side. We never took a weekend off. But things began to get traction that year. I realized I had to redo my book when I, at the gym, thought up an amazing character named Arnold Hitchens. I had to start from the beginning, but I knew it would be the last time. Arnold was what had been missing from my book. Vasant and my Dad finally finished our apartment. We moved in at the end of 2009, the day I turned 28. We still had no weekend, but we had our own roof that Vasant had built with his bare hands.

Our fifth year was our busiest yet. We had until the end of the year to finish our degrees, and again, we were working on two each. We were going to film in Rome in August of that year and we needed to, for our degrees and for the trip, get through six quarters of Italian in 8 months. We took intense language courses that crammed several quarters into one. I finished my book by August and edited it through the fall. We finished our degrees by December 21, 2010. We filmed a documentary in Rome. We did not have a single day off that year. It was, though, our most rewarding year of our marriage to that point. Whereas our first three years were all work, no tangible achievement, in 2009 and 2010, we were finally getting a few things. A place of our own. Our degrees. My book. A documentary shot in Rome. Some people in our lives still left, mocking the fact that our parents helped us out, sneering at the fact that we needed student loans to get to where we were. Those people, while idiotic, still hurt us when they left.

Our sixth year has been interesting. We were out of work, and yet scrambling to find it for the first five months of 2011. We had our own business, and we were working very hard to turn one project into others. I was pregnant in January and by March, had begun a miscarriage that would last until mid-May. But in May, Vasant was offered a job doing video work at Smartsheet. I got an internship blogging and doing social media strategy at Richard Hugo House in June. We worked harder than all previous years this summer, specifically Vasant. Smartsheet dangled a fulltime job in front of him for five months and Vasant put in about 90+ hours a week until they were confident that he was the right man for the job. He became salaried in October, but then we took a job working on a friend’s TV series. My grandma began dying. Life was all set to ease up, but then bam! We were back to cramming 8 days of work into a normal week.

Luckily, our producer unintentionally gave us this last week off. He had a baby in November and got us our notes on our most recent cuts this afternoon.

That’s how we got this entire weekend off.

We had massages. We slept. We had pancakes. We had adventures. We slept MORE. Seriously, I think I finally caught up on sleep from September.

We’re about to go see Gary Oldman introduce Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy and then do an interview and audience Q & A. And then we’re going to go see Christmas lights downtown and then swing by our producer’s place, pick up another harddrive of footage, and then go home, watch last night’s Merlin and then go to bed. An actual complete weekend.

I know this seems weird, but this is a bigger deal then getting our own place to live, finishing my book, finishing our degrees or filming in Rome. Even with all of those things, we were still working seven days a week. But we’re not now. We had an actual weekend. And sure, it may not last. We will always be crazy hard workers. There is just so much we want to accomplish. But maybe, just maybe, weekends will become more common. That is sadly, and wonderfully, a thing to look forward to. Sure, some people still make fun of us, sneering at the fact that we didn’t go to school before we got married and don’t have a big house in the suburbs and kids and blah, blah, blah. No, we didn’t do things perfectly. But we had a great time having adventures before we met each other and I’m GLAD we didn’t spend our single years studying. We had adventures and traveled and met people and had extraordinaire experiences that we’re STILL telling each other about, in our sixth (technically seventh) year of marriage.

And there is so much more to accomplish. Paying off student loans. Saving up enough to take care of my parents in their old age. Finding a place to raise our kids. Writing more books, writing for a TV show and making films. More travel. More adventures. Having kids. Going to culinary school (Vasant’s goal for our fifties).

But for now, we need to master sleep and have occasional weekends. We’re working on that other stuff, but they’re long-term goals. This month, we’re having a weekend. In our sixth year of marriage, in 2011, we finally managed to keep our work week to five days and have a solid Friday through Sunday weekend.

It feels amazing. It feels, as funny as it sounds, like a major victory.

sarahsamudre: Lilo does not seem to get the “no whining”...

Wed, 30 Nov 2011 20:58:00 -0500

sarahsamudre:

Lilo does not seem to get the “no whining” policy.

I want to whine. It makes it harder when Lilo won’t stop squeaking at the door, crying for Vasant to come home. Whining is always easier to give into when you hear someone else doing it. It’s like seeing yourself cry in the mirror. You don’t want to look away.

Even though Lilo and I’s styles of whining are very different, hearing her whimper makes me want to give into my own personal version of whining.

But I don’t want to give into the temptation to whine. So I find myself telling the dog to “suck it up”.

Dogs have no concept of “suck it up” unless you’re referring to food spilled on the floor.

I have not spilled any food on the floor, so Lilo is nonplussed as to my meaning.

I know it is not good to force your own emotional parameters on a being as fluffy and simple as my puppy, Lilo. Telling her to stop whining so I won’t be tempted to think about my internal whining is selfish. She just wants to follow Vasant to Bellevue. She knows he is somewhere out there. He is not here. And this concerns her. She still refuses to acknowledge the five day work week.

I am still very tempted to whine. I literally fell on a sword today. I got dizzy and tripped and fell on my Elven sword, a reproduction of Arwen’s Hadhafang from The Fellowship of the Ring. That is the funniest bad thing that’s happened. Other things are not so funny and goodness, I really want to join Lilo in her very vocal whining.

But I am, honestly. If Lilo could blog, it would be this awesome, self-deprecating blog that would begin each day with “Why did Daddy leave? We were supposed to go play! Mom is nowhere near as fun. She does yoga and doesn’t let me play under the bridges she turns herself into.”

Her blog would end each day with “Life is the best, guys! Dad came home and we totally played and snuggled and I napped on Mom’s head and ate things and went outside and EVERYTHING.” And then she’d reblog some awesome gif sets.

I suppose just because I’m not also running around the house, doing laps around the kitchen island, whining at the top of my lungs, doesn’t mean I’m not also co-pouting with Lilo.

So, this is it:

I’m having a very bad reaction to medicine, and I’ve been immobile for two days.

When I’m immobile for one day, it’s bad, but I always battle depression on day two, when it lasts this long.

The medicines I’m having reactions to aren’t new medications. They aren’t for colds or the flu or whathaveyou. They’re for chronic conditions I have had for years and will have for the rest of my life and when I do something stupid that causes bad reactions, I think about how I should know better by now, and that makes me think about how I’ll need these pills for the rest of my life and that depresses me.

Our new bed came today and was the wrong size. It was a stupid mistake, but it will cost a lot of money to either get a new mattress or a bigger bedframe, and it will have to wait until January at least. This means we have to return it and spend another month or more of sleeping on the floor. This is partially okay, because it’s romantic. We put our Tempur-pedic mattress topper in front of the fire and sleep next to the couch, where Lilo sleeps, and she rolls on top of us around 6 am every morning. This isn’t okay because it’s a) very embarrassing b) inconvenient to my aging knees to get up from the floor instead of three feet above the floor c) not what I was expecting. I was very excited about a remodeled bedroom right before Christmas.

All in all, being so dizzy you can’t stand isn’t so bad. Even when you fall on your sword while trying to open a window. And having to return the bed that you measured for incorrectly isn’t the end of the world, especially when you have a romantic, albeit knee-murdering, alternative. I always feel weird complaining about the little things, but honestly, stating your problems makes them smaller, especially when you’re trying to do it humorously.

Lilo isn’t whining anymore, interestingly enough, as soon as I take the time to whine on my blog. Maybe she feels like I’m commiserating. Nothing calms you down like hearing that someone else is also having a bad day. If she did blog, her next post on her site would be, “I’m so proud of my Mom for getting over herself. Everyone has the right to whine a little”.

I'm Full of Nerves

Sat, 08 Oct 2011 20:56:00 -0400

sarahsamudre:

I am panicking right now.

I am submitting my manuscript on Friday.

I tried to set a deadline of September 23rd, but I got caught up with work stuff. September 30 is the absolute latest I can submit my book, since the presses I’m submitting to have September and May reading periods.

Ugh. So not only do I have a lot of work to do on this, but I’m struggling with a lot of doubt in my abilities.

Last fall, after I’d gotten a request for my full manuscript from an agent I was very excited about, I figured I’d get a hold of my old creative writing teacher and let her see my manuscript. She is a published author whose first book was a national bestseller, but has been trying for the last four years to have her second book accepted by the publisher. It has been sent back multiple times. When I got a hold of her, she sounded very discouraged about it, but also, very excited to read my book.

So I sent it to her, at my expense. She asked me what kind of feedback I’d like and I was really looking forward to her comments.

On my birthday last year, I got them. She’s only read the first 60 pages of the book and some of what she offered was very apt criticisms, but a bulk of it was based off of not having read more (such as criticizing spending too much time meeting townspeople or wanting me to reveal what Arnold’s secret was in the beginning, not realizing that A) it’s a novel about community and B) if Chloe knew Arnold’s secret right away, she’d never would’ve gotten involved in the town). I was processing her advice, both the good and the ill-informed, but it was my birthday and we were leaving town for a day up in Leavenworth.

My birthday, by the way, is December 22nd. So I figured I’d wait until after Christmas to respond. However, I got an email from her on Boxing Day, four days later, assuming I was ticked off with her, telling me she only meant to compliment me and then writing:

“In my humble opinion, your novel is potentially publishable - the majority of what I read is not.”

I couldn’t respond to that. First off, she didn’t read my novel. She didn’t even read a quarter of it. Secondly, you can’t have a HUMBLE opinion and then issue an edict against something, especially if you’ve only published one book. That doesn’t make you an authority

I was so hurt by what she’d written. I was hurt that she stopped reading at page 60 after promising to read the entire book, I was hurt that she said it was, in its majority, not publishable. I was hurt that she took two months to get back to me and then didn’t even allow me four days at Christmas to process what she’d said before she accused me of taking offense.

I’ve told myself over and over that she was probably struggling with her own book and the last thing she may’ve wanted to do is go over someone else’s. But I’ve been dealing with “In my humble opinion, your novel is potentially publishable - the majority of what I read is not” for the last ten months.

A lot of you have read the book and have told me the opposite, and trust me, you’ve all healed my psyche in that respect. I don’t know why she said things as harshly as she did, although I can guess based off of her career hardships why, it’s still crushing when a mentor does that to you.

This is basically a Rory/Mitchum Huntsberger thing, only I didn’t convince Vasant to steal a yacht with me.

Anyway, as far as those of you who’ve read the book have carried me, I’m still struggling against those words. I’m scared over every little thing that might convince someone to turn off before hitting page 60.

Every time I hit a snag, her words haunt me. Every time one of you tells me you love the book, I am able to fight back a bit, but still. There may not be enough self-confidence in the world to shut my doubts up this week.

And that may be good. Doubts will keep me digging for the absolute best. I just need to be prepared for a mental and emotional shut down on Saturday.

Anyway, I just wanted to let you all know where I am this week. I may be extra quiet this week, especially compared with all the teacups and coffeemugs on Sunday. I promise to be back, ranting, writing and drawing this weekend. But until then, as I labor away at getting this manuscript ready, think good thoughts for me. I’m fighting a few bleak words off with the many I’ve received from my beta group, but oh, it’s hard to fight bleak words at all. Especially when they’re from someone you weren’t on guard against.

Anyway, I’m rambling. I’ve been editing for 14 hours and I should get some sleep. Goodnight, tumblrini.

sarahsamudre: Seven years ago yesterday, I started falling in...

Sat, 24 Sep 2011 20:59:00 -0400

sarahsamudre:

Seven years ago yesterday, I started falling in love with my husband. He came to my rescue, when no one else would, after I was forced into an awkward set up with someone else. He skipped out on his plans and came to be there for me, even though we weren’t that close. That night, we talked about tattoos, travel and everyone at the table disappeared while we talked. We stood out in the freezing cold that night, once we finally left the restaurant, talking for an hour in the parking lot. When I finally drove away that night, I felt different. About everything in the world. About myself.

I started to cry, because deep down inside, I knew something had changed, something had begun in the star-sparked midnight outside our favorite dive cafe.

This was supposed to go up yesterday, but today will have to do. This is a post I wrote a couple years ago about that night.

Official “we became official/engaged/married” anniversaries are nice, but there’s something about being about to celebrate the moment that something began that I love. I love that I had the perspicacity (delicious word) to know that moment as it struck, and realize that nothing I’d even convinced myself to feel in the past came close to that life-changing moment.

A Mini Update! I have two weeks to get my book submitted. There...

Sun, 11 Sep 2011 13:38:00 -0400

A Mini Update!

I have two weeks to get my book submitted. There are no words for how tense that makes me.

I haven’t been on this site much lately. I’ve been spending the summer basically creating a new position at my workplace (I was hired as a blogging intern, and since then, I’ve established a full social media position at the House). I’ve also been working on my book, editing it further than it was before and having a lot of fun discussing it with a betagroup I formed on Tumblr. I’ve gotten amazing feedback to apply to the editing of the book and it’s helped more than I could’ve dreamed. However, I still don’t know that it’s ready to go to a publisher. It still needs more work before next Friday rolls around. Vasant is doing video work for a great software company in Bellevue and we’re still running our video production business on the side. Needless to say, this summer has been, like most years, a breathless race towards a perpetually out of reach finish line.

My job at Hugo House has been really exciting lately, however, and this week I have a thousand things to do for it. My official job at the House is in social media. However, on top of that, I’m blogging, doing graphic design and this week, combining all of those things together with our Fall fundraiser. I’m doing decorations, banners, souvenirs and running a social media campaign to get awareness of the event up.

We are really underfunded this year. We do a lot of great work in the community, offer amazing classes for writers, bookmakers and readers and if our doors are to stay open, then we need people to buy tickets for this event (hint, hint, reader… if you’re not doing anything this Thursday, come drink, watch celebrities and help them cheat. $25 tickets and it all goes to keeping our doors open.)

I will try to work on my book as much as possible this coming week, but between my regular job and the fundraiser prep, I don’t know how much time I’ll have to spend on it until this Friday. Not that I’m complaining. I love where I work. I love what I’m doing. I’m just starting to freak out with two upcoming deadlines that have nothing to do with each other, so there’s not chance of helping either project with overlap.

I’ll be taking the following week off of work and doing everything I can to get my manuscript ready. As such, I still won’t be on here as much as I’d like to be. But I’m on my Tumblr site daily. Feel free to follow me there, check in and wish me good thoughts either here or there. I’m looking forward to getting the book out of my hands, but I’m also incredibly nervous over what I might miss up until the moment I submit. It’s like a type of packing anxiety, I suppose.

It’ll be great. I just won’t sleep at all next week.

I’m not afraid.

And that twitching? That’s my new thing. A fancy dance of sorts…

sarahsamudre: This is just not true. I have an incredible love...

Thu, 04 Aug 2011 20:43:00 -0400

sarahsamudre:

This is just not true.

I have an incredible love life. I have amazing friends. And I work very hard at what I do, and have a lengthy novel (of what I feel is quality stuff) before the age of 30.

Now, I will say this:

Since getting married, many of my friends dropped off. 85% of them, I’d guess. Since starting the book, even more dropped off. Some of them told me outright to my face that I was going to fail. Told Vasant and I that our dreams of creating art where folly and parted ways with us because we were just “too different”.

However…

I have incredibly close friends. My sisters, Emily, Mary and Claire. My friends, Danielle and Matt, Will, my friend since the age of two, Jen Bliss. I have Jules, who is now a real-life friend, as well as here on Tumblr, and Tumblr… I am loving some of you so much lately (I’m especially, but not exclusively, looking at you Erin and Jennifer). I can’t wait to meet some of you in real life, like I met Jules.

I have a bunch of friends whom I won’t list here, but who are still there for Vasant and I. One couple even moved down to Vancouver to live with my friend’s mother, because they were inspired by our “it’s never too late to go back to school and the price of education isn’t too high to live with family” ideal. They were our champions when others let us know they looked down on us for it, both directly and in a passive agressive “do you know so and so is talking about you” kind of way.

So I’d say I have 20% of the friends that I did before I got married and before I started writing. But I can tell you this: the friends I have now are better than the ones I lost, with the exception of one single person.

And I have to work hard at my marriage. I have to work hard at my book and my art. My life is not easy. I strive for the best in all these areas and so often, over the years, I feel like I fail miserably before I succeed. But the failures are part of what make the art great. Failures make a marriage more interesting, and most importantly of all…

Failures are how you tell who really loves you.

Writing a book, marrying who I married, moving back in with my parents so we could finish school… it rooted out a lot of people who were gossipy naysayers in my life. For a while, this was incredibly depressing. But now, as I find a home for my book in the world, as I look around at a smaller, but truer group of friends and *cough* tonight when Vasant comes home…. I know that it is possible with bullheaded idealism, perseverance and grace, to have all three.

So the poem is right and wrong. It does cost you to have something truly GREAT in your life, but it’s wrong to assume that the cost you pay means that you can’t have all three. You can. It will cost you heartache and tears and late nights. It may take your health for a time and you will lose friends who weren’t worth keeping. However, if you persevere and work hard at all three, you can have it.

And that’s a lesson it’s taken me six years to learn.

sarahsamudre: So I did some art for an event that Hugo House is...

Wed, 27 Jul 2011 20:41:00 -0400

sarahsamudre:

So I did some art for an event that Hugo House is holding in August for a zine called Rad Dad. It’s been published as an anthology and we’re hosting the release party.

So for the Dad, I was inspired by Vasant (my husband, for you new followers). This was pretty emotional for me to draw, and honestly for me to share. The image we’re hosting at Hugo House is this:

It’s not just Vasant, but what I think our child will one day look like. For the image of just him, I took away the visible tattoos, although it is VERY IMPORTANT that you know that Vasant has tattoos. Tattoos are cool. They’re just not on his arms or neck. I took away the belt and the shirt, and of course, he’s wearing Smauglock, everyone’s favorite dragon of deduction.

Some of you may not know, but I went through a rough and lengthy miscarriage earlier this year. Just drawing this has thrown me for a loop. But it was good to draw. It feels like I brought one more bit of my heart back.

Oh, and also, here’s what Vasant looks like, just so you know. I’m pretty darn proud of how good it turned out.

Also: my husband is amazingly attractive. Also also: that’s him filming! In Rome!

So yes. That was last week’s art.

This week’s art project is Doctor Who related! It’s about Wilfred and his telescope!

Anyway. I love you Tumblroos. Thanks for giving me the courage to share this stuff.

Stories Save My Life: Pride & Prejudice

Fri, 15 Jul 2011 20:38:00 -0400

The sixth post in the series “Stories Save My Life” is written by Claire Salcedo, who is my youngest sister and great friend.

Claire is a singer/songwriter and an amazing upcoming talent. Listen to her music here on Bandcamp and PLEASE support her, if you like the music, by purchasing her incredibly affordable EP.

Follow her on Twitter and on Tumblr and make sure you add your comments below:

What character (from any media) made you feel more secure in who you were as a child?

- Sarah

“Familiar Friends: Returning to Pride and Prejudice”

Guest Poster: Claire Salcedo

I read Pride and Prejudice when I was eleven years old. I vividly remember sitting by the fireplace in my family’s apartment, reading Jane Austen’s words as the logs crackled and burned away. This memory, of exactly where and when I read a book, was the first of its kind. I can’t recall specific books I read before that moment, but I could point out any book on my shelves that I read after Pride and Prejudice, and tell you the date and place I first read it. Something new had happened.

I had already enjoyed reading when I was very young (at four years old, I used to sneak out of my room in the middle of the night to look at picture books in the bathroom). I had loved stories in general—whether being spun a new tale at bedtime (Sarah can attest that I am still, 13 years later, asking her to write down one of those stories) or dreaming one up just to pass a pleasant day.

Pride and Prejudice, however, was my first serious book, and it triggered a hunger in me to read like I had never known before. I began to really love literature after I read it, and I eagerly devoured any book that came my way.

For a long time, I was a quiet kid who struggled to find a voice and the courage to use it. I was an observer. Elizabeth was bold, witty, and while she watched others and their follies, she knew when to speak her mind. She was never afraid just to be herself—whether that was teasing her friends, supporting her family, or tearing into Mr. Darcy.

I liked the fact that she wasn’t perfect and was very aware of it. When you’re in the throes of growing up, and most things in your life seem to be tumbling around you, it’s nice to have such a forgiving standard.

The characters always draw me in deeply. In every one of them, I feel like I see the reflection of someone I know— a friend, acquaintance, or family member. I laugh and sigh with them, and never feel like they hang off in the distance, like some awkward acquaintance I have nothing in common with. I squirm at the antics of Mr. Collins, am horrified at Lydia and annoyed at the haughty Caroline Bingley. I’m always rooting alongside the elder Bennets and muttering insults when Willoughby tries once more to ingratiate himself with Elizabeth. They’re just as human, flawed and ridiculous as you and I.

Strangely enough, that’s one of the reasons why Elizabeth Bennet became one of my heroes. She was flawed and complex, and more than just a static character on a page. So when I looked up to her and admired her, it wasn’t as if I was looking at a character that felt unreal. Emulating her was never some unattainable standard.

The kindness of that forgiving standard is why I come back again and again. It’s comforting to know that in all my moments of chaos and uncertainty, I can wrap myself up in the comings and goings of these characters. Somehow, I believe they’re real—yes I do know they’re actually fictional—and so when their troubles sort themselves out, I breathe a sigh of relief for myself too. It gives me the hope that even people still stumbling a little under the weight of their own faults find happy endings. Not perfect ones (although there are a few who have extremely good luck), but good ones. Pride and Prejudice is just so hopeful in having wonderfully flawed people live on, that I just have to be hopeful as well.

I’ve reread it about every year since, and I have to say, I think I have a much better understanding of it now then I did when I was eleven. I’ve written essays on it for English classes and college applications, watched the BBC miniseries probably a dozen times, and poured through all of Austen’s other books. There was also a point at which I could quote the miniseries, in ten-minute segments. Even today, probably to the great annoyance of anyone unlucky enough to be watching it with me, I like to say the lines along with the characters. I remember I also had a phase where all I wanted to wear was clothing with empire waistlines. And in high school, one of the few nicknames I have ever received was Claire Austen. Yet no matter how many times I read it, write about it, or am teased for it, do I ever lose my love for it. The story just stays with me, time after time, no matter what’s happening in my life.

That’s why I love Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice and all of the moments I can recall related to it. It has given me so much. It began my love affair with literature, and even influenced my decision to major in literature. It called me to be bold when I wanted courage, and gave me a hero. From the moment I first cracked open that book, I’ve had a constant source of inspiration, distraction, and comfort. I don’t think I could even really say how grateful I am for just one book that opened me up to such a wonderful place as is the world of the written word.

sarahsamudre: Taking the entire day to go over suggestions from...

Fri, 08 Jul 2011 20:51:00 -0400

sarahsamudre:

Taking the entire day to go over suggestions from all my lovely beta readers and begin making some serious changes to the book. Sections will be swapped. Things will be cut! All this is in preparation for the next round of manuscript submissions in September.

________________________________

This beta reading thing, btw, is still open. I’ve gained some lovely new followers in the last month and a half and if you want to help me out as I edit my novel, I’d love more readers. However, last time I opened this up, some people volunteered and then, once I sent them the book, never said another word to me. If you want to read it, then read it and let me know! Good or bad! Not letting me know if you ever got beyond the first page kind of shreds my poor heart to bits with worry. I have an overactive imagination (a bonus to a writer) and when I hear nothing, I imagine the absolute worst.

However, while some people finished it by the end of June, some people are still working their way through the book, and one is just as lovely as the other. So there’s definitely room for more readers since we have a lot of reading paces. All that matters is feedback. If I eventually get it by the third week of August, then I’m a happy camper.

_________________________________

Anyway… that being said, I’m off to the yard, thoroughly sunscreened-up with my big floppy hat, a cup of coffee and my manuscript.

sarahsamudre: hugohouse: “Writing Tools: Literary...

Fri, 08 Jul 2011 20:49:00 -0400

sarahsamudre:

hugohouse:

“Writing Tools: Literary Scrapbooking”

by Sarah Salcedo Samudre

One of the trickiest things about writing anything of length is finding the time to commit to the piece at hand. Most of us have jobs, friends and families, all demanding time from us. So how do we give our all to art when we’re pulled in a myriad of directions? This is still an unanswered question, one that keeps any artist worth his or her salt striving for better. There are, however, tools and tricks we can use to help us manage our art in the midst of our busy lives.

Last year, I finished my first novel. It began in 2003 and was written and rewritten over the course of the next seven years. During that time, I went back to school, worked, got married, built a house and completing my novel was always on my mind. In the last three years of the work, I threw myself into it as hard as I could but it still wasn’t enough. I would be pulled away from my book and have a hard time jumping back into it on my next free day.

So I began using a journal. I would write a summary of what I hoped to accomplish that day, plot and character-wise, the time at which I began, the music I was listening to and so on. After writing for the day, I wrote down what had happened, problems I’d encountered, problems that needed to be solved the next time I wrote and where I wanted the story to head next time I wrote.

Keep reading about this technique and the amazing journaling software that took regular journaling into the realm of literary scrapbooking…

This article is about how Macjournal software kept me fully engaged in my art, despite leading a really busy life outside of my novel.

I’m really happy to share about it because I feel that writers have a bad rap for not being able to commit fully to their arts AND lead good personal lives, especially where relationships are concerned. I love defeating stereotypes though, and this technique has helped me to do it so far.

I'm Feeling GREAT!

Wed, 29 Jun 2011 20:48:00 -0400

sarahsamudre:

So I came down with a bad stomach bug Sunday night and I’ve been feeling awful for days. Monday was just nauseous but Tuesday was nauseous and migraine-ridden. Today, however, I am feeling 100%.

So…

I’m editing my book.

Listening to a historical documentary for background noise.

Surfing Tumblr whenever I get distracted from my book.

But then I get this email. An email from my sister, Mary. And she says “I feel like you should design us “Dumbledore’s Army” t-shirts”.

So I am. I’m taking out my trusty Wacom Tablet and I’m going to do just that. I’ll use Cafe Press or some other site (any recommendations, Tumblr?)

I’ll let you know when it’s up. I’ve been wanting to do something like this for a couple weeks. Something with the gold coin, a wand, and the Room of Requirement incorporated into the design.

Anyway. I’ll post designs later in the day. Maybe you all can tell me which you like best before I pick one for the shirt.

So yeah! Today is going to be crazy productive.

Do you like to read? Do you like ME????

Sat, 18 Jun 2011 20:51:00 -0400

sarahsamudre:

So I’m revising my book, The Ashes. Again. I’m cutting things, and having a hard time.

I’m looking for more people to read my book and give me feedback. Some family and friends have read my book so far and I need their help as well.

I’m specifically looking for people who love to read good stories. People who don’t like fiction probably shouldn’t volunteer since, as the word “novel” implies, it is fiction.

And yes, I’ve had several people volunteer to read my book, who then tell me they don’t like novels, fiction, or plucky heroines. I don’t know why they want to read my book. Maybe I don’t say the word “novel” loudly enough.

Anyway. If you would like to read my book, I’d be really grateful. I need help, I need perspective, and if you’d like to help, just reply to this. I’ll message you, get your email and send you the PDF tonight.

THANKS!