When Schuyler's Monster was published, I think the thing that surprised my friends the most, even more than my confessed infidelity (because let's face it, who was really surprised?), was the fact that I wrote so much about God. To be honest, I was a little surprised myself.
"For now, she largely remains an enigma, the most daunting one of my life. She is the source of my joy and my sorrow, and for all my resentment at him for giving her this burden, it is nevertheless when I am with Schuyler that I feel closest to God."
After the book came out, and especially after I began talking about faith issues on tour and in book clubs, and now on television, a lot of people have been writing to me about it. That's fair enough, and it's a dialogue I welcome. If I didn't, I wouldn't have written about it. But it's been hard to discuss because my own feelings are in flux. I think that's the way faith is for most people. Does anyone ever truly arrive at an endpoint in their philosophy? I'm not sure I trust anyone who is absolutely sure of very much in this world.
It didn't take me long as a child to decide that I wasn't a Christian and never would be. Sorry, Jesus. I'm just not that into you. But my feelings about God have been more complicated, even before Schuyler was born. It's probably no secret that my feelings have become much more convoluted since she was diagnosed. Well, of course they have.
But the thing is, I've never given up on the idea of God, not completely. My God might not be your God, not if you buy into the whole "angry invisible man in the sky" idea. I find the idea of moral judgment from on high to be so subjective as to be meaningless. When I refer to "this grand rough world" as I sometimes do (and no one has ever identified the source of that phrase), I mean a place that is wondrous and terrible, a universe of unspeakable beauty and unblinking cruelty. It can be difficult to place God in the context of such a place.
And yet, sometimes I try. Sometimes I want an answer from God, an answer to why he sometimes breaks children. It seems like a fair question to me, and yet the God that I seem to have constructed in my head (like I think we all do, which is why our God tends to hate all the same people that we do) doesn't have the answers. Perhaps my God is less of a Creator and more of a Manager. Maybe he built the store, but now he works behind the counter, and what his customers do is beyond his control and maybe even his understanding.
I find Manager God easier to accept than Control Freak God, because then we're back to the idea that he intentionally breaks little children, allows vile things to happen to them, makes a mockery of their innocence. And that's hard. I hear a lot of variations on "God works in mysterious ways", about how Schuyler and all the broken children in the world are here to teach us things, or how their brokenness has some greater meaning. And I just can't accept that, I can't make peace with the idea that they exist and suffer in order to illuminate the rest of us.
And yet.
There are things about myself that I accept as a sort of hardwired reality. I can resist them, and I do, but they are there and they are me. I'm always going to have a temper, and poor impulse control, and most of all issues with authority. I'm not actually sure I'd want to change all that. I'm never going to be the poster boy for monogamy and I doubt very seriously if I'll ever get a job as a responsible financial planner. I can always try to do better, but the thing is, it'll always be something that I must try to improve. I'm flawed, like the rest of you but probably more than most. Perhaps it is to my advantage that my worser nature is in a book now; people who can't deal with my flaws can't say they weren't warned.
And yet, Schuyler came to me. To me, and to Julie, who shares most of my flaws. And I'm going to flatter myself to think that we've done pretty well for her. We made lots of mistakes, and we continue to do so, and our flaws haven't magically disappeared. But we're managing to raise a pretty amazing little girl, one who is as broken as we are and yet perfect in her own way.
I don't know how God fits into that. I remember that very few of the people in the Bible or throughout history who were doing God's work were very strong believers. Blind faith and religious fealty don't necessarily seem to lead to great deeds. They doubted, and they sinned, and if a doubter and a sinner can labor for God while simultaneously calling him on his bullshit every so often, then perhaps I've still got some work to do. I can shake my fists at the sky and say "oh, that's fucked up!" when such a gesture is appropriate, and then get back to work.
God and I have some things to work out. But negotiations haven't broken down just yet.
Showing posts with label robly matters. Show all posts
Showing posts with label robly matters. Show all posts
April 28, 2008
April 24, 2008
Good Morning Texas Redux
Some of you were having trouble seeing the video from the WFAA site. Also, it cut off at the end before you got to see Julie's Stepford Wife smile and Schuyler mentally compiling her list of places she would rather be at that moment. So here's another shot at it. (Sorry the quality is sort of weird. I'll keep working on it.)
April 15, 2008
I have macho cred
Shut up, I do!
(By the way, the macho tv watching behavior I engage in is actually those police chase video shows. Seriously, if I'm channel surfing and I come across one of those shows, I am powerless to NOT watch it. Dash cam or helicopter POV, it doesn't matter. If loving the spectacle of drug-crazed teenagers driving stolen cars into oncoming traffic or over those spike strips that make their tires EXPLODE is wrong, I don't want to be right.)
April 5, 2008
The John McMullen Show
I survived my first live radio experience with a minimum of anxiety this week. It was a longer interview than I've done before, and a little light on laughs, but he asked some questions that were different from past interviews, so that shook things up a little. Overall, I think the interview went pretty well.
Sadly, there were some weird technical issues that made the actual broadcast almost unlistenable. For some reason, the levels on my input kept getting louder and softer, over and over, as if I were walking around waving the phone like a maniac. In fact, I was sitting at my desk at work, with a minimum of maniacal gesturing, so I can only assume that there was something about my phone that was sabotaging the call. Stupid phone.
I did manage to get a clean copy from a nice person out there, and I went into iMovie and futzed around with the levels to try to minimize some of the weirdness. It still sounds a little strange, but I think it's at least listenable now.
Anyway, here it is.
April 3, 2008
Fancy pants LIVE
A few booky things for you this morning.
I'll be venturing into the terrifying world of live radio tomorrow, on The John McMullen Show in Palm Springs, California. (AM 970, 1140, 1250) If you live elsewhere but would still like to listen in and see if I'm going to drop an F bomb or throw up on the air, go to the K-News Radio 970 page for streaming audio. The show is on from 10am to noon, Pacific time. (Crap, now I have to do math.)
Next week, a reporter from a station in Houston is coming up to do a story on us. I'll keep you posted.
I've also got a live television appearance coming up on April 23, on a local Dallas area show, Good Morning Texas. The segment is called The Not So Perfect Parent. Schuyler might just make an appearance, so catch it if you can. If Schuyler has one predictable quality, it is her unpredictability. She loves chaos. I have no idea where she gets that.
I'll be venturing into the terrifying world of live radio tomorrow, on The John McMullen Show in Palm Springs, California. (AM 970, 1140, 1250) If you live elsewhere but would still like to listen in and see if I'm going to drop an F bomb or throw up on the air, go to the K-News Radio 970 page for streaming audio. The show is on from 10am to noon, Pacific time. (Crap, now I have to do math.)
Next week, a reporter from a station in Houston is coming up to do a story on us. I'll keep you posted.
I've also got a live television appearance coming up on April 23, on a local Dallas area show, Good Morning Texas. The segment is called The Not So Perfect Parent. Schuyler might just make an appearance, so catch it if you can. If Schuyler has one predictable quality, it is her unpredictability. She loves chaos. I have no idea where she gets that.
March 27, 2008
Eighteen years ago
(Quick book biz: I made a best-seller list, here in Dallas. Not the end-all hootenanny of hootenannies, I realize, but baby steps, I tell you. More stuff coming, too, so stay tuned. My plan to eventually install Schuyler as the Cyborg Queen of America is proceeding on schedule. Mwuh-ha-ha-ha...)
This week marked eighteen years since my father died. It wasn't exactly a sad anniversary; eighteen years is a long time, after all. It won't be long before I will have lived without him for longer than he was here, and not that much longer before I find myself having lived longer than he did. So I've had some time to come to terms with not just his death, but his life, and mine as well.
If you've read the book, you know better than others how many of my father's most egregious faults have become my own. I'm aware of them, and I've fallen prey to some but not all of them. I'm a better husband than my dad was, but not always by much (and fans of Chapter Seven know what I'm talking about), I'm a better diabetic by far, and while I have my father's temper, I watch it constantly and at the very least vent it in ways that don't hurt anyone. I'd like to do better with that temper, but I remember just how afraid I always was of my dad when I was Schuyler's age, and I won't allow her to feel that same fear, ever.
It's one of the reasons I refuse to spank/beat/whatever-word-you-like my kid, and to be honest, it's the same reason I don't think anyone else should, either. Who has the temperament and self-control to be trusted never to cross the line between discipline and abuse? You? Are you sure about that? I'd want to be pretty sure myself, but that's just me.
(Sorry, tangent. Settling down now.)
I'm working on a new project, and what started off as a book about fatherhood is turning into something more personal, sort of a fatherhood memoir, from my perspective as a father but also as a son. There are still other stories I am including, such as Paul and Gage Wayment, and Joseph and Rolf Mengele. But it's my own perspective as the father of a broken but extraordinary child and the son of an abusive but complex father that I find myself wanting, or perhaps needing, to explore.
I'm forty years old, and I'm working on a second memoir. How narcissistic is that?
Will anyone want to read it? Well, obviously I hope so. We'll see. I wasn't sure anyone would want to read about seven years in the life of a mute child, either. There are plenty of inspirational warm fuzzy fatherhood books out there. I don't know that the world needs another Tim Russert book, and if it does, I think Tim's probably got that one covered.
Eighteen years ago, standing at my father's graveside, I thought that perhaps I hated him, and that he certainly hated me. Almost two decades later, I know that I don't, and probably never did, not for long, anyway. As to how he felt about me, I find myself not much closer to that answer. He took that one to the grave with him. Which is perhaps just as well.
This week marked eighteen years since my father died. It wasn't exactly a sad anniversary; eighteen years is a long time, after all. It won't be long before I will have lived without him for longer than he was here, and not that much longer before I find myself having lived longer than he did. So I've had some time to come to terms with not just his death, but his life, and mine as well.
If you've read the book, you know better than others how many of my father's most egregious faults have become my own. I'm aware of them, and I've fallen prey to some but not all of them. I'm a better husband than my dad was, but not always by much (and fans of Chapter Seven know what I'm talking about), I'm a better diabetic by far, and while I have my father's temper, I watch it constantly and at the very least vent it in ways that don't hurt anyone. I'd like to do better with that temper, but I remember just how afraid I always was of my dad when I was Schuyler's age, and I won't allow her to feel that same fear, ever.
It's one of the reasons I refuse to spank/beat/whatever-word-you-like my kid, and to be honest, it's the same reason I don't think anyone else should, either. Who has the temperament and self-control to be trusted never to cross the line between discipline and abuse? You? Are you sure about that? I'd want to be pretty sure myself, but that's just me.
(Sorry, tangent. Settling down now.)
I'm working on a new project, and what started off as a book about fatherhood is turning into something more personal, sort of a fatherhood memoir, from my perspective as a father but also as a son. There are still other stories I am including, such as Paul and Gage Wayment, and Joseph and Rolf Mengele. But it's my own perspective as the father of a broken but extraordinary child and the son of an abusive but complex father that I find myself wanting, or perhaps needing, to explore.
I'm forty years old, and I'm working on a second memoir. How narcissistic is that?
Will anyone want to read it? Well, obviously I hope so. We'll see. I wasn't sure anyone would want to read about seven years in the life of a mute child, either. There are plenty of inspirational warm fuzzy fatherhood books out there. I don't know that the world needs another Tim Russert book, and if it does, I think Tim's probably got that one covered.
Eighteen years ago, standing at my father's graveside, I thought that perhaps I hated him, and that he certainly hated me. Almost two decades later, I know that I don't, and probably never did, not for long, anyway. As to how he felt about me, I find myself not much closer to that answer. He took that one to the grave with him. Which is perhaps just as well.
March 10, 2008
Jumping Monkeys
I've been looking forward to this for a while, because it's a program I've started listening to since I was a guest a few weeks ago, and I've really come to like it. I recorded a guest spot on a podcast called Jumping Monkeys, hosted by Megan Morrone and Leo Laporte, and they are running my program now. Go check it out, it's a lot of fun. It was easily the most fun I've had in an interview. Also, when you're done, check out their very funny interview with blogger Dad Gone Mad.
There's a funny story behind my Jumping Monkeys interview, by the way. When my publicist set this up, we worked out the date and time and I was given a phone number to call. When the time came and I sat down in a quiet office and called, it rang a few times and then suddenly I was hearing voices. It was the hosts, talking about no call lists.
I figured that like many stations, I was on hold and listening to a pre-recorded program instead of hold music. I'd certainly rather listen to Jumping Monkeys than, you know, Chariots of Fire on the pan flute, so I just sat back and listened while I waited for the program producer to pick up.
And that's when I heard it.
"Hey, speaking of calls, I hear Robert on the line!"
Oh, I'm live. I see!
Turns out, I had called directly into the program, and whether it was God or Fate or my Imaginary Friend in the Sky, some powerful force kept me from talking to myself or belching or practicing my F-bombs during that minute or so that I thought I was on hold. Aside from a slightly surprised "why hello there!" tone to my voice, I don't think you can even tell.
I tell you, I'm a cautionary tale just waiting to happen.
There's a funny story behind my Jumping Monkeys interview, by the way. When my publicist set this up, we worked out the date and time and I was given a phone number to call. When the time came and I sat down in a quiet office and called, it rang a few times and then suddenly I was hearing voices. It was the hosts, talking about no call lists.
I figured that like many stations, I was on hold and listening to a pre-recorded program instead of hold music. I'd certainly rather listen to Jumping Monkeys than, you know, Chariots of Fire on the pan flute, so I just sat back and listened while I waited for the program producer to pick up.
And that's when I heard it.
"Hey, speaking of calls, I hear Robert on the line!"
Oh, I'm live. I see!
Turns out, I had called directly into the program, and whether it was God or Fate or my Imaginary Friend in the Sky, some powerful force kept me from talking to myself or belching or practicing my F-bombs during that minute or so that I thought I was on hold. Aside from a slightly surprised "why hello there!" tone to my voice, I don't think you can even tell.
I tell you, I'm a cautionary tale just waiting to happen.
March 7, 2008
"Say a little prayer for Mister Fancy Pants..."
First things first. Last week, I was interviewed by Jennifer Stayton at KUT Radio, the NPR station in Austin. Her story, "Taming a Hidden Monster", ran during Friday's Morning Edition, I believe.
I'll warn you, it's a little disconcerting. Since there's no introductory material included with the clip, it just goes right into it. Also, I'm stammering like a head injury patient, for some reason. (I recorded the interview at KERA in Dallas, so while it was live, I wasn't actually looking at the reporter, but instead was facing a big, intimidating, floofy microphone. For some reason, that made me nervous.) Other than that, I like how it turned out, especially the reading at the end. She actually got a little choked up when I read it, but that part didn't make it into the story, which I think is a pity. They also edited out the section of the reading where I got to drop a big fat F-bomb. I guess they enjoy their FCC license. Big babies.
So I'm sitting here in my hotel room in Houston, living a life of fancy pantsedness that you can probably only dream of. The glamor of a book tour is hard to describe in mere words; the empty Popeye's bag in the trash can will have to tell the tale for me. I went down to the hotel bar, but I'm staying near the airport and the collection of sad, half-buzzed businessmen didn't hold so much appeal for me as I thought it might. I reluctantly gave up the promise of that glitzy scene and came back up to my room to post for you fine people instead, because as you know, my biggest flaw? I care TOO MUCH.
I do have a traveling companion, however. Jasper 1.0 joined me on this trip, sitting smartly in the passenger seat the whole way down. Now that I've gotten accustomed to his one eye and his rough-chewed edges, I find myself becoming weirdly protective of him and his reputation. Perhaps I need to find some human friends tomorrow when I get to Austin.
I made an important decision about the Jaspers. When I get back to Plano, I'm going to come clean with Schuyler. I might even do it tomorrow morning via video conferencing, which Julie and I made work tonight, thanks to the magic of iChat. That would blow Schuyler's little mind. Julie already began explaining what happened to her earlier this evening, and she said that Schuyler seemed unconcerned. I'll show her Old Jasper and explain that he's delicate now and is going to retire up on a shelf of honor, so New Jasper is going to step in and take on his duties. Sort of like Joe and Steve on Blue's Clues, if Steve Burns had left the show due to a disfiguring accident.
Don't ask me why I feel so guilty about trying to deceive Schuyler regarding the Jaspers. I think it bothers me because I seem to have gotten away with it. I think I would feel better about it if she'd called me on my bullshit.
I'll warn you, it's a little disconcerting. Since there's no introductory material included with the clip, it just goes right into it. Also, I'm stammering like a head injury patient, for some reason. (I recorded the interview at KERA in Dallas, so while it was live, I wasn't actually looking at the reporter, but instead was facing a big, intimidating, floofy microphone. For some reason, that made me nervous.) Other than that, I like how it turned out, especially the reading at the end. She actually got a little choked up when I read it, but that part didn't make it into the story, which I think is a pity. They also edited out the section of the reading where I got to drop a big fat F-bomb. I guess they enjoy their FCC license. Big babies.
So I'm sitting here in my hotel room in Houston, living a life of fancy pantsedness that you can probably only dream of. The glamor of a book tour is hard to describe in mere words; the empty Popeye's bag in the trash can will have to tell the tale for me. I went down to the hotel bar, but I'm staying near the airport and the collection of sad, half-buzzed businessmen didn't hold so much appeal for me as I thought it might. I reluctantly gave up the promise of that glitzy scene and came back up to my room to post for you fine people instead, because as you know, my biggest flaw? I care TOO MUCH.
I do have a traveling companion, however. Jasper 1.0 joined me on this trip, sitting smartly in the passenger seat the whole way down. Now that I've gotten accustomed to his one eye and his rough-chewed edges, I find myself becoming weirdly protective of him and his reputation. Perhaps I need to find some human friends tomorrow when I get to Austin.
I made an important decision about the Jaspers. When I get back to Plano, I'm going to come clean with Schuyler. I might even do it tomorrow morning via video conferencing, which Julie and I made work tonight, thanks to the magic of iChat. That would blow Schuyler's little mind. Julie already began explaining what happened to her earlier this evening, and she said that Schuyler seemed unconcerned. I'll show her Old Jasper and explain that he's delicate now and is going to retire up on a shelf of honor, so New Jasper is going to step in and take on his duties. Sort of like Joe and Steve on Blue's Clues, if Steve Burns had left the show due to a disfiguring accident.
Don't ask me why I feel so guilty about trying to deceive Schuyler regarding the Jaspers. I think it bothers me because I seem to have gotten away with it. I think I would feel better about it if she'd called me on my bullshit.
March 3, 2008
"Positively TEXAS!"
Another TV moment, from "Positively TEXAS!" on CBS 11 in Dallas, hosted by Iola Johnson. I didn't expect it to run until next weekend, but my DVR is apparently smarter than I am.
This interview felt a little awkward, for some reason. Perhaps it was all those extra chins I wore that day. Good lord.
March 1, 2008
"Don't believe you're all alone."
I've mentioned it before, but there's a line that I love from a song sung by my favorite musician, Andrew Bird, in a cover of a song by The Handsome Family. The song is called Don't Be Scared, and seems to be (at least to my ears) about a child who lives mostly in an internal world and who perceives our world differently. The line that always reminds me of Schuyler is this one:
"Don't be scared. Don't believe you're all alone."
I frequently think about Schuyler being alone, which is interesting only in that practically speaking, she is almost never actually alone in an immediate sense, aside from when she plays in her room by herself. Even then, I get a little nervous, because one of my greatest fears is that the seizures that she is statistically likely to develop could land on her while she's by herself, and the thought of her going through that for the first time without someone there with her makes me want to go roust her out of her bed this very moment and keep her by my side until I grow old and die, and not let her go one second before.
In a larger sense, I worry about what will happen to Schuyler after we're gone. I think about her having to make her way in this mean fucking world, and I almost can't stand it. It's funny how fear and love go hand in hand so often in our lives. The very act of opening up your heart to another human being can also reveal such vulnerability and rawness that to contemplate abusing it feels like imagining a murder. Or a suicide.
Yesterday I watched Schuyler charge through her little world as a reporter, a photographer and a videographer from the Dallas Morning News followed her around at school. I was once again reminded how easily she adapts to change, how in fact she thrives on it. Schuyler only seems to stumble when things become too routine; her world thrills her when it throws her curve balls.
I envy that about her. Last night, I attended a local music showcase and got to hang out with a newish friend whose media work I've always admired, and I had a great time being me for a change, not The Author or The Father or anything else. And yet, I was still aware the whole time of how shy and unwieldy I can feel in unfamiliar social situations. Sometimes I feel like Bigfoot, dressed up like a normal person and trying to fit in despite being, well, a big clumsy monster. It is in those moments that I appreciate Schuyler's breezy ability to embrace the world on her own terms.
In my dreams, Schuyler talks to me, telling me that things are going to be okay. I think she means more than just her own monster battle.
"Don't be scared. Don't believe you're all alone."
I frequently think about Schuyler being alone, which is interesting only in that practically speaking, she is almost never actually alone in an immediate sense, aside from when she plays in her room by herself. Even then, I get a little nervous, because one of my greatest fears is that the seizures that she is statistically likely to develop could land on her while she's by herself, and the thought of her going through that for the first time without someone there with her makes me want to go roust her out of her bed this very moment and keep her by my side until I grow old and die, and not let her go one second before.
In a larger sense, I worry about what will happen to Schuyler after we're gone. I think about her having to make her way in this mean fucking world, and I almost can't stand it. It's funny how fear and love go hand in hand so often in our lives. The very act of opening up your heart to another human being can also reveal such vulnerability and rawness that to contemplate abusing it feels like imagining a murder. Or a suicide.
Yesterday I watched Schuyler charge through her little world as a reporter, a photographer and a videographer from the Dallas Morning News followed her around at school. I was once again reminded how easily she adapts to change, how in fact she thrives on it. Schuyler only seems to stumble when things become too routine; her world thrills her when it throws her curve balls.
I envy that about her. Last night, I attended a local music showcase and got to hang out with a newish friend whose media work I've always admired, and I had a great time being me for a change, not The Author or The Father or anything else. And yet, I was still aware the whole time of how shy and unwieldy I can feel in unfamiliar social situations. Sometimes I feel like Bigfoot, dressed up like a normal person and trying to fit in despite being, well, a big clumsy monster. It is in those moments that I appreciate Schuyler's breezy ability to embrace the world on her own terms.
In my dreams, Schuyler talks to me, telling me that things are going to be okay. I think she means more than just her own monster battle.
February 23, 2008
Media for Monsters
Yep, that's People Magazine. Obviously, this was very cool.
American Public Media's Weekend America has posted their story about Schuyler, which you can also listen to on the page or via a podcast. (I tried embedding it here, but apparently I am not so bright.)
Speaking of being not so bright, apparently I fooled at least one person. I appeared on Think last night, and in a followup to D Magazine's Frontburner, the host, Krys Boyd, said, "He's great. Funny and candid and very, very sharp."
Which was also very, very cool. Usually I'm sharp like a Weeble, so it's nice to know I can pull myself together when necessary. I'll post the interview whenever it becomes available.
If you were considering coming to either of my book signings but decided against it, you missed what can only be described as Extreme Schuyler. On Friday night, she was rambunctious and crazy and starring in her own little variety hour special. The crowd was packed with people who know and love her, including my family, so it was to be expected. At today's signing, she became an unashamed capitalist, sitting beside me at the signing table and smartly handing the book to people as they walked up. She even participated in the signing, using funky pens made for her by one of her teachers.
If you were to suspect that I have never in my life had a prouder moment than the one in which I sat in a Barnes & Noble autographing copies of my book with Schuyler signing them right alongside me, well, you'd be correct.
February 21, 2008
Surreality Show
I'm finally getting a moment to sit down and actually update, after a busy week in New York. I arrived on Tuesday, after a flight through high winds so bad that there were no fewer that THREE people utilizing barf bags, one of them sitting in the row in front of me. Being in the back of the plane makes for an especially wild ride in high winds, although I must confess, I thought it was a lot of fun, aside from the entirely unwelcome puke whiff.
Tuesday evening was as surreal as any I've ever experienced. Michael Malice is now a New York Times bestselling author, but he remembered what it felt like the first time he was published, so when he showed up at my hotel, he knew exactly where to take me: on a quick tour of Manhattan bookstores to actually see the book on the shelves and, you know, take photos of it. I'll be cool one day, and maybe even all jaded about the whole writing process, but for now, I can allow myself an evening of extreme dorkitude and enjoy the moment like a tourist in my own life.
(My favorite moment came when a security guard at the Barnes & Noble at Union Square told us we couldn't take photos. Michael explained that I was the author of the book. "I don't care," the guard said. "You can't take photos in the store." I thought that was awesome. My fancy pants did not dazzle him in the least.)
Not once but TWICE during the evening, I was actually recognized on the street outside two different bookstores. Imagine my ego as a giant blimp, filled to bursting with equal parts self-importance, terror and an appreciation for the absurd.
The book release party itself was great. I got to meet a lot of people I'd only known online previously, and the number of old friends who showed up was staggering. I can't tell you the last time I wore a suit, on that wasn't a rental, anyway. but I think I cleaned up okay for the occasion. All in all, it was an amazing way to kick off the book's release. I felt like the pretty girl at the prom.
There have been a lot of really nice things written about the book by my friends in the past several days. Here are just a few:
Pamie (for the Dewey Donation System, which I'm very happy to be contributing to this year, in the form of a signed copy of the book as a prize for donations)
Omar (who contributes to the expansion of my ego to near-critical levels on a regular basis)
Erin (who shares her own memories of a pivotal part of the book, and her feelings about Schuyler)
John Scalzi (whose writerly opinion means a lot to me)
Michael Malice (sharing his thoughts on our whirlwind tour of Manhattan bookstores, and on how how our friendship seemed unlikely but turned out to be almost inevitable)
(EDITED TO ADD) Chris Naze (one of the very early friends who I met online; we are either Old Skool, or just old.)
Now I'm sitting in the lobby of my hotel, waiting for a car to come pick me up, and I'm torn between the feeling that I just got here, so there's no way that it's already time to leave, and the very real absence in my life of my family, and particularly of a little girl whose presence I feel next to me constantly, even when she's so far away.
Tuesday evening was as surreal as any I've ever experienced. Michael Malice is now a New York Times bestselling author, but he remembered what it felt like the first time he was published, so when he showed up at my hotel, he knew exactly where to take me: on a quick tour of Manhattan bookstores to actually see the book on the shelves and, you know, take photos of it. I'll be cool one day, and maybe even all jaded about the whole writing process, but for now, I can allow myself an evening of extreme dorkitude and enjoy the moment like a tourist in my own life.
(My favorite moment came when a security guard at the Barnes & Noble at Union Square told us we couldn't take photos. Michael explained that I was the author of the book. "I don't care," the guard said. "You can't take photos in the store." I thought that was awesome. My fancy pants did not dazzle him in the least.)
Not once but TWICE during the evening, I was actually recognized on the street outside two different bookstores. Imagine my ego as a giant blimp, filled to bursting with equal parts self-importance, terror and an appreciation for the absurd.
The book release party itself was great. I got to meet a lot of people I'd only known online previously, and the number of old friends who showed up was staggering. I can't tell you the last time I wore a suit, on that wasn't a rental, anyway. but I think I cleaned up okay for the occasion. All in all, it was an amazing way to kick off the book's release. I felt like the pretty girl at the prom.
There have been a lot of really nice things written about the book by my friends in the past several days. Here are just a few:
Pamie (for the Dewey Donation System, which I'm very happy to be contributing to this year, in the form of a signed copy of the book as a prize for donations)
Omar (who contributes to the expansion of my ego to near-critical levels on a regular basis)
Erin (who shares her own memories of a pivotal part of the book, and her feelings about Schuyler)
John Scalzi (whose writerly opinion means a lot to me)
Michael Malice (sharing his thoughts on our whirlwind tour of Manhattan bookstores, and on how how our friendship seemed unlikely but turned out to be almost inevitable)
(EDITED TO ADD) Chris Naze (one of the very early friends who I met online; we are either Old Skool, or just old.)
Now I'm sitting in the lobby of my hotel, waiting for a car to come pick me up, and I'm torn between the feeling that I just got here, so there's no way that it's already time to leave, and the very real absence in my life of my family, and particularly of a little girl whose presence I feel next to me constantly, even when she's so far away.
February 16, 2008
Monster Days
Today the book insanity begins in earnest, or at least the part that takes place in the real world rather than the one that looks out at my from my screen here. Until now, most of the excitement of this whole book experience has taken place online. It has all felt almost virtual, like becoming emperor in Civilization. Ruling the world is nice, but defeating the Visigoths doesn't mean you don't have to stop to heat up some Chef Boyardee for your kid.
Today it all steps into the real world. A reporter from a public radio show called Weekend America is going to spend the morning with Schuyler and myself. (Julie will be at work, which is fine with her; as always, she prefers to be the silent partner.) I feel sort of bad about how the day is starting off; thunderstorms are rolling through and are probably going to wreck the better part of the day. I hope our crapy little apartment makes for compelling radio.
The next couple of weeks are going to be hectic, in the best possible way. Tuesday is the big release day, of course, although the book is already making its way to some stores (and is even being delivered to the UK by Amazon, apparently). I'll be getting up bright and early that day to fly to New York City, for the Mediabistro Book Release Party on Wednesday. Then I fly back to Dallas on Thursday.
Friday will begin with a bang. I'll be in the tv studio at our local PBS station, recording a segment for Think, a show that I actually like a great deal. Then, later that day, I'll be recording a podcast interview for Jumping Monkeys (and how often do you get to say that?), before ending the day with a reading and signing at Julie's store. The next day, I'll have another signing at another Barnes & Noble in Dallas.
Next week will include another tv appearance, on a local CBS show called Positively TEXAS!, and a return to the public radio station for a taped interview for KUT Radio in Austin. March will start off with more book signings in Arlington, Houston, Austin and San Antonio. And at some time in all this, People Magazine will be reviewing the book, hopefully without employing words like "crap" or "suck" in the process.
It's exciting and terrifying, all of it. And yet, in the midst of it all, real life goes on. With everything that is happening, the thing I find myself wanting to tell you about is how Schuyler had a week in which she was out of school on Monday and without her device for an evening (hers had to be sent back after the screen failed, and the loaner didn't arrive until the next day), and yet she still managed to come back on Friday and do really well on her spelling test. I'm a little embarrassed to say that she exceeded my own expectations, which is what she does on a regular basis to just about everyone, really. We believe in Schuyler because we know how tenacious she is, but we also fear her monster, in ways that she never does. Schuyler never fails us, and yet our fear for her still persists, and shakes our faith, to our shame.
And that, my friends, is what my life is like. It's one in which there's a book, and a little girl, and an invisible monster that still colors every aspect of our lives, both good and bad. All this book business is exciting and surreal and wonderful. I don't take a bit of it for granted, not for a moment, and I'm incredibly grateful for every moment of it. But there's a reality here, the same one that is omnipresent through every good day and every bad one.
It's the thing that sits silently watching through it all, the thing that made all this happen and yet the thing that I'd trade away every bit of this new success, just to be rid of it. I'd give it all up without hesitation, just to hear Schuyler say "Good morning" when she wakes up in a few hours, or to watch her talk about Hannah Montana with her friends, or to take away the lurking phantom of seizures that haunts her future.
I love that Schuyler's Monster is doing so well, but I hate that Schuyler's monster is, too.
Today it all steps into the real world. A reporter from a public radio show called Weekend America is going to spend the morning with Schuyler and myself. (Julie will be at work, which is fine with her; as always, she prefers to be the silent partner.) I feel sort of bad about how the day is starting off; thunderstorms are rolling through and are probably going to wreck the better part of the day. I hope our crapy little apartment makes for compelling radio.
The next couple of weeks are going to be hectic, in the best possible way. Tuesday is the big release day, of course, although the book is already making its way to some stores (and is even being delivered to the UK by Amazon, apparently). I'll be getting up bright and early that day to fly to New York City, for the Mediabistro Book Release Party on Wednesday. Then I fly back to Dallas on Thursday.
Friday will begin with a bang. I'll be in the tv studio at our local PBS station, recording a segment for Think, a show that I actually like a great deal. Then, later that day, I'll be recording a podcast interview for Jumping Monkeys (and how often do you get to say that?), before ending the day with a reading and signing at Julie's store. The next day, I'll have another signing at another Barnes & Noble in Dallas.
Next week will include another tv appearance, on a local CBS show called Positively TEXAS!, and a return to the public radio station for a taped interview for KUT Radio in Austin. March will start off with more book signings in Arlington, Houston, Austin and San Antonio. And at some time in all this, People Magazine will be reviewing the book, hopefully without employing words like "crap" or "suck" in the process.
It's exciting and terrifying, all of it. And yet, in the midst of it all, real life goes on. With everything that is happening, the thing I find myself wanting to tell you about is how Schuyler had a week in which she was out of school on Monday and without her device for an evening (hers had to be sent back after the screen failed, and the loaner didn't arrive until the next day), and yet she still managed to come back on Friday and do really well on her spelling test. I'm a little embarrassed to say that she exceeded my own expectations, which is what she does on a regular basis to just about everyone, really. We believe in Schuyler because we know how tenacious she is, but we also fear her monster, in ways that she never does. Schuyler never fails us, and yet our fear for her still persists, and shakes our faith, to our shame.
And that, my friends, is what my life is like. It's one in which there's a book, and a little girl, and an invisible monster that still colors every aspect of our lives, both good and bad. All this book business is exciting and surreal and wonderful. I don't take a bit of it for granted, not for a moment, and I'm incredibly grateful for every moment of it. But there's a reality here, the same one that is omnipresent through every good day and every bad one.
It's the thing that sits silently watching through it all, the thing that made all this happen and yet the thing that I'd trade away every bit of this new success, just to be rid of it. I'd give it all up without hesitation, just to hear Schuyler say "Good morning" when she wakes up in a few hours, or to watch her talk about Hannah Montana with her friends, or to take away the lurking phantom of seizures that haunts her future.
I love that Schuyler's Monster is doing so well, but I hate that Schuyler's monster is, too.
February 7, 2008
Coincidental booking
Holy crap, I just realized, and I mean just this moment, that I will be doing a book signing in Austin during the same weekend as the SXSW Festivals. I'm not sure what this will mean for me, other than I will probably end up sleeping in my car since all the hotels are probably already booked. Does it mean that absolutely no one will be at my signing because they'll all be at SXSW? Or does it mean that I'll have lots of people at my signing who wouldn't be there otherwise because they're in town for SXSW? No idea.
Well, if you're going to be in town anyway, I hope you'll come listen to me jabber and maybe talk to me afterwards. I'll also be in Austin for another day after that before my event in San Antonio two days later. Let's hang, yo.
February 5, 2008
Pinwheeling
I did an interview for Jennifer Graf Groneberg over on her blog, Pinwheels, mostly about writing. Go check it out, yo.
Jennifer has her own book about parenting a special needs child, Road Map to Holland: How I Found My Way Through My Son's First Two Years With Down Syndrome, coming out in April and available for pre-order now.
January 29, 2008
Wondertime supplement
As part of the upcoming article in the March 2008 issue of Wondertime Magazine, you may now read a web exclusive interview I did as a supplement to the print article.
If you read it and find yourself wondering if I really am that eloquent, or if Wondertime was able to edit out all the "um"s and sputters and parenthetical blathering that I am prone to when actually speaking rather than writing, well, I'm going to say that I am just that naturally well-spoken.
No, really. What?
January 14, 2008
My housekeeping? It's good, thank you for asking.
Well, I've wanted to mention this for a long time, but I didn't expect it to happen quite this soon.
The February 2008 issue of Good Housekeeping has an article about Schuyler. Page 161. Look for Dr. Phil on the cover. Dr. Phil and me, we're tight now. He's going to come talk me down the next time I freak out.
The article is actually "by" me, in the sense that it consists mostly of blog material from the past year or so, edited to remove gratuitous F-bombs, clarify some of the narrative and generally make me look like a little less of a dumbass. It's long, about six pages, and features a full page photo of Schuyler. (It's the photo from the book cover, except in color, which is a little startling to see after all these months of looking at it in black and white.) I am extremely happy with how it turned out.
I mean, I feel a tiny little bit like throwing up, but in the good sort of "need to throw up" sort of way.
-----
While we're on the subject of the book and my increasingly fancy pants, if you live in the New York City area and would like to meet and/or abuse me in person, mediabistro.com is very graciously hosting a book release party for Schuyler's Monster on February 20th, the day after the official book release. Here's some info for you.
Stalkers, start clearing a space in your freezer for my head. A swell hat would be nice, too.
The February 2008 issue of Good Housekeeping has an article about Schuyler. Page 161. Look for Dr. Phil on the cover. Dr. Phil and me, we're tight now. He's going to come talk me down the next time I freak out.
The article is actually "by" me, in the sense that it consists mostly of blog material from the past year or so, edited to remove gratuitous F-bombs, clarify some of the narrative and generally make me look like a little less of a dumbass. It's long, about six pages, and features a full page photo of Schuyler. (It's the photo from the book cover, except in color, which is a little startling to see after all these months of looking at it in black and white.) I am extremely happy with how it turned out.
I mean, I feel a tiny little bit like throwing up, but in the good sort of "need to throw up" sort of way.
-----
While we're on the subject of the book and my increasingly fancy pants, if you live in the New York City area and would like to meet and/or abuse me in person, mediabistro.com is very graciously hosting a book release party for Schuyler's Monster on February 20th, the day after the official book release. Here's some info for you.
Book Publishing Party
with special guest author
Robert Rummel-Hudson
(Schuyler's Monster: A Father's Journey
with His Wordless Daughter)
Hosted by mediabistro.com
Dip
416 Third Avenue
(between 29th & 30th)
New York, NY 10016
RSVP required
Stalkers, start clearing a space in your freezer for my head. A swell hat would be nice, too.
January 10, 2008
SCHUYLER'S MONSTER: The Author on God
Transcript:
Rob: I think a lot of parents with broken children find God, and they find religion. They find a spirituality that sustains them. I certainly understand that, and I certainly respect it.
For me, I've always been an Agnostic, and I think I'm more agnostic now than ever before. You know, Schuyler's situation certainly raises a lot of questions, and it shakes any faith that you might have. But I've never given up on the idea of God. Julie says that she thinks the reason I could never be an Atheist is because then I wouldn't have anyone to blame. And I guess maybe that's true.
I do have a lot of questions that I would put to God about Schuyler, about all the kids like Schuyler, the kids who have it so much worse than Schuyler, about how that could happen. How a God of love and compassion can do that. But I don't have any answers.
My faith is in Schuyler, oddly enough. Watching her struggle and watching her fight. And I don't attribute faith to some invisible person in the sky, but I do feel very strongly when I observe Schuyler.
It's funny. I'm not sure if I believe in God, but I believe in Schuyler.
SCHUYLER'S MONSTER: A Higher Purpose
Transcript:
Rob: Yeah, I don't think anyone who knew me before Schuyler was born would have ever said, "Yeah, that's the guy to raise a child, and certainly a child with special needs." I was... Things were a lot different. I was a very selfish person. I wasn't a bad person, I don't think, but the decisions that I made in my life were very self-centered, and if things got hard, I would bail, I was out. And after Schuyler was born, I learned a lot about myself.
And it wasn't just that I couldn't bail on Schuyler. I found that I didn't want to. You know, we've been through so much, and it's been so hard at certain times, but at no point was I ever, "God, I wish I could get out of this."
You know, Schuyler taught me a higher purpose, and a higher feeling. And that's made me a better person. I'm a much better, a much different person than I was before Schuyler. So I don't think I certainly was the ideal father, but I've really learned to be exactly, I think, much of the time anyway, exactly the father that she needs. In that sense, she's been my greatest teacher.
January 7, 2008
SCHUYLER'S MONSTER: Sadness and Joy
Transcript:
Rob: I think it's pretty clear that I can be a sad person. It certainly comes out in my writing. Schuyler's situation makes me sad. I think about it. Sometimes I have dreams, I dream about her, and in my dreams she talks to me, and she tells me everything's going to be okay. And then when I wake up the next day, it's the first thing that hits me, that it was a dream. So it is sad, and it does weight down on me.
It doesn't seem to be sad for her, though. She's always very positive. She gets frustrated, certainly. But I don't know that she seems to get depressed about it. I think she's accepted the situation and is ready to fight. And so the joy that I get and the strength that I get in my life is that which I draw from her. And in that sense, she's made me a better person. I'm certainly ten times the person I was before she was born.
I think... There's a temptation, I would think, to feel pity for parents who have special needs kids. And yet, I see how much Schuyler has changed my life, and how much she's improved me as a human being, and I sort of think that people shouldn't pity me, they should envy me. They should be jealous because I've got Schuyler in my life, I've got Schuyler doing the "Schuyler Effect" on me.
And if they don't they should. They should envy me. And I hope that comes out in the book, I hope I represent her accurately and in a way that people can see beyond her disability to this amazing person. It sounds like a cliche, and it's absolutely true.
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