Solo Protagonist vs. the Squad

JENN McKINLAY: I'm currently working on my next contemporary romance, entitled IF SUMMER NEVER ENDS, and I'm in the "dead marsh" which for me is and always will be...the middle. If this was a mystery, there would 100% be a dead body to move the plot along, alas, it is not, so we are saddled with a donkey named Maybellene who can tell when people are lying. *Jenn shrugs*

All that to say, as I was toiling away on this saggy middle, I couldn't figure out why the book wasn't coming together for me and then I realized I hadn't crafted my squad. Doh! *Jenn smacks forehead* 

I am a pack animal. I always travel in a squad or a posse or a crew, whatever you want to call it. I’m not sure how it started but I think it goes back to when I was nine years old and my family moved across the state of Connecticut from Kent to Niantic, ripping me away from my best friend and the social status I had carved out for myself as one of the cool kids. Oh, the drama! The move was not easy. I went from a school where we called the bathroom a “bathroom” to a place where it was referred to as a “lav” as in lavatory. What? It melted my nine-year-old brain.

Then, of course, came the big trauma. I'd been at the new school for just a few weeks. I'd approached a few kids but I was freakishly tall in the fourth grade so I was regarded with suspicion at best and contempt at worst. The cool kids were already well established and there was no way I could break in, being a tomboy in a town where Barbie reigned supreme.

One of the only pics of Jenn in a dress in existence before the age of 16.

Naturally, I tried to fit in, clocking the other kids' slang, fashion, and social cues, as all newbies do, and I started wearing (kill me) dresses. But the thing is, you can stick a tomboy in a dress but you can't make her girly. For example, I was one of those kids who liked to tip her chair back in class, titling it on the back two legs and riding it like the horses I rode after school. Now in jeans a spill was no big deal, I'd simply pop back up to my feet and shake it off. But in a dress, yeah, not as easy to pop anywhere, especially when you're blinded by the skirt that is wrapped around your head and the entire class is dead quiet and then roaring with laughter while they check out your Underoos, mine were Wonder Woman, natch.

The humiliation dogged me for weeks. The mean kids mocked, derided and picked on me mercilessly. Good times! Sadly, my mother staunchly refused to let me drop out of the fourth grade. Darn it! I had it all planned. I was going to show them! I'd run off and be a jockey and win the Kentucky Derby, never mind that I was already too tall. With that dream squashed and with no other viable options in sight, I knew if I was going to survive this situation, I was going to have to form my own squad.

Did you ever see that episode of I Love Lucy where Lucy joins a rag tag group called the “Friends of the Friendless”? Yeah, that was me. Every classroom I entered I found the kid who looked as out of place as I felt and befriended them. Being a friend to others is not as difficult as people think. You smile and you ask them their origin story and then you listen and decide whether you click or not (i.e. does their crazy match your crazy?) and BOOM you have a squad or at the very least people to share Jell-O with at lunch. This skill set has served me well over the years and is one of the reasons I became a Red. Squad up with awesome writers? Yes, please!

It has also influenced my writing. While I mostly write my stories in the third person from the perspective of the main protagonist, they are never on a solitary journey. My characters all operate on the buddy system whether it's a bakery squad, library peeps, the Maine crew, a hat shop posse, or a clutch of neighbors on the OBX (Outer Banks).

Needless to say, with my crew formed in the new book the writing has taken off! Woo hoo!

Tell me, Reds and Readers, do you prefer a solo protagonist or one with a squad? Or does it not matter so long as the story is a page turner?

The Great Photo Purge (Send Snacks)

Jenn McKinlay: Recently (last year, the year before, I have no idea), I listened to The Gentle Art of Swedish Death Cleaning by Margareta Magnusson. It is exactly what it sounds like, a book about cleaning out your possessions before you die so that the people you leave behind don't have to. 

My best friend is Swedish and we talked quite a bit about the book while I was listening to it. My friend confirmed that this is how most Swedes are - thoughtful about not leaving behind problems for others. I can vouch that this is true because she and I are the same height and weight and every time we visit, she gives me shoes or clothes because she's also 12 years older than me and in constant death clean mode. I'm okay with this because she has excellent taste and takes care of her things so it's a win win.

What I loved about Magnusson's book was that she made the death cleaning easy and straightforward and then you get to the final chapters and she talks about the one thing that makes even death cleaners stumble -- photographs. 

Well, I was determined not to falter. Armed with a trash bag, a shredder, and the misplaced confidence of someone who has watched exactly one episode of a home organization show, I opened our storage unit.

You know the one. The Indiana Jones warehouse of my past where between the Ark of the Covenant and the Holy Grail were seventeen boxes labeled “PHOTOS—IMPORTANT!!!” (Apparently, I felt very strongly about that in 2009.)

Here’s the thing about old photos. You don’t simply “go through” them. You time travel. One minute you’re tossing duplicates, the next you’re misty over a blurry snapshot of a long-gone dog who, in that photo, is mid-zoomie and eternal.

I found hairstyles that should have come with warning labels. Seriously, I think my bangs in the 80's are solely responsible for the hole in the ozone layer. Outfits that were clearly chosen during a period of temporary insanity, I mean, were shoulder pads that doubled as pillows really necessary? Entire vacations documented before smartphones, when I took 24 photos and 19 of them featured my thumb or a sunset that looked beige.

And yet.

There were the Hooligans dressed up as toilet paper mummies. The Hub's grandparents dancing at our wedding. Friends tailgating at the college game where the keg was featured but we're all there in our  day-glo highlighter hued clothing, holding red Solo cups.

I’ll confess: the shredder remained tragically underfed.

Yes, I mailed a decade of photos to an ex so he could remember what he looked like in the 90's. Yes, I let go of the mysterious landscapes that simply didn't translate their awesomeness to a faded 4 X 6 inch print. Yes, I bravely discarded photos of people I absolutely couldn't identify. Who are you, sir, and more importantly why are we hugging?

Still, knowing that my Hooligans (bless their hearts) are never going to care about the 20,000 photos that document their Dad's and my lifetimes, a solid dent was made. Many giant boxes have been distilled into several much smaller ones with their contents to be digitized at a future date. The rest? Well, progress is best measured by hefty bags and I have many to go before I sleep (nod to Robert Frost).

How about you, Reds and Readers, what do your photo archives look like?

Happy Lunar New Year! by Jenn McKinlay

Jenn McKinlay: If you're like me, the new year comes around and you're never prepared. Seriously, I am never prepared! So, decades ago, I adopted Lunar New Year as my chosen start to the new year. This has worked out really well for me and not just as an excuse to order Chinese food, although that, too, is a perk.

This is the year of the Fire Horse, combining the horse's freedom and speed with the fire element's intensity and urgency. A year of chaos and opportunity! Very exciting, I know!

For me, there are two horses in the family, Hub and Hooligan 2. While Hub was born in the year of the Fire Horse, H2 was born in the Water Horse cycle. Hooligan 1 has the coolest of years as he is the Metal (Golden) Dragon, while I am (alas) the lowly Sheep. 

My friend Xui Hai (from China) brought me a beautiful baby outfit from Shang Hai when I was pregnant with H1 and explained that he would be born in the year of the Golden Dragon and would always be lucky. 

Xui Hai then asked my birthdate and when I told her, she sighed and said, "You will always struggle, Jenn." Really, Xui Hai? Really? 

I have since discovered I'm a Fire Sheep so I hope that balances out the struggle. LOL.

The chart below is from: 

https://www.travelchinaguide.com/intro/chinese-zodiac-years-chart.htm

to find your exact Zodiac symbol use this calculator as the lunar year starts later than the Gregorian so you can't go by year exclusively: 

https://www.travelchinaguide.com/intro/social_customs/zodiac/

Now Reds and Readers, tell me, what is your Chinese Zodiac sign and how do you feel about it?