The Goal of Improvement

When I was much younger, I had dreams of becoming a best-selling novelist. Imagine, millions of people waiting to purchase my next book as soon as it comes out, flooding my inbox with questions and comments, and my only job would be writing. I know that there are best-selling authors in the world, and despite how few of them there are, I find a lot of beginning writers share a very similar dream.

I don’t think there’s anything wrong with lofty aspirations, but I suggest a goal that all of us can work towards regardless of whether or not anything we write ever becomes published: to improve our writing. We should be able to look back on something we wrote a few years ago and recognize the fact that we’re writing better now than we were then. Why do swamps smell? Because the water is stagnate. Our writing can become fairly putrid as well if we stop moving forward.

By focusing on the craft itself, we find something achievable to set our sites on. No more disappointment (or at least not devastation) because the last story written didn’t make it into a professional market as we’d hoped. No more pity parties because we just turned X years old and still don’t have a novel published. Instead, we look to the improvements at hand and say, “Yes, this story is better than the ones I wrote a few years back, and I’m going to work on some weaknesses to make sure the next few I write are even better than this.”

Let’s work on getting better. No one can stop that dream but us.

Toddler Fun

At some point recently, my daughter became a toddler. She can run, open cabinet doors, unspool rolls of toilet paper and bring terror to our cats in her excitement to play with them.

Elora loves going outside now, and we run around sporadically in the backyard. I tried to teach her to play tag, but she doesn’t grasp that concept and remains “it” constantly. The grass is less scary for her than it was several months ago, but when she falls, she still likes for me to pick her up rather than pushing herself up off the ground.

One of Elora’s favorite outdoor items is her tricycle. She’s not big enough to make the pedals turn, but she doesn’t care. The tricycle has a detachable pole in the back that I can use for pushing and steering (though sometimes I have to compensate for Elora jerking the natural handlebars). Together, we go up and down the sidewalks, and she waves to everyone she sees like she’s a parade princess.

It’s hard to see my baby turning into a little girl, but we have so much fun together. It warms my heart when I come home to see her because she runs up to me and shouts, “Matt!” (Once she found out my name, “Dad” slid by the wayside, and I haven’t been able to change my identification back yet.) My toddler is a blast.

April Fools

My mom lives for today. It’s a day when she can try to dupe unsuspecting family members into believing incredulous tales. She tries to base her deceptions on a grain of truth in order to increase plausibility. Her other tactic is to strike early in the morning before her targets become aware that the month of March has passed.

I remember one April first morning when I was in middle school. Mom came into my room to tell me that there wasn’t any point in getting ready for school. When I inquired about this, she informed me that the recent roof construction at the school (the nugget of truth) had gone awry. Debris had smashed into a boiler, causing a terrible explosion that wiped out half of the building. After gleefully telling me the date, she told me that she wanted to fool my dad the same way, so I stayed in bed feigning sleep. Dad had been up for a while, so his reaction was instant shock. Had Mom continued the lie for much longer, I think he would have had time to process the fact that she wouldn’t have access to such information without his knowledge (this was before the Internet had taken off). Instead, he was yet another victim. To fool my much younger sister, all she needed to say was, “Your school blew up last night.”

I think the only time I actually fooled anyone was the year I fooled Dad. That was Mom’s idea as well, though, so I can’t really take credit for it. In our upstairs bathroom, we’d had some trouble with the toilet overflowing periodically, but Dad thought it was fixed. I waited until he came inside from doing something else (activities tend to distract someone from the current date) and flushed the toilet for effect. Then I shouted, “Dad, the toilet’s overflowing!” The man bounded up the stairs, taking three steps with each stride. Mom and I were both up there laughing. Clearly, he didn’t care for the jest, but he let it go.

I haven’t been duped in a while, and I don’t try to dupe anyone else. Still, each year when the day hits, I become a bit wary of any information that comes my way because I’m never quite sure if someone’s trying to take me by surprise. And don’t bother trying to get me this year, Mom. I already know what day it is.