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Why I want my books sold in used stores and for it to be shared among friends

Buying used books or borrowing books appears to be a controversial issue. I have read quotes, blogs, etc. from several writers who feel betrayed when a person buys a book used instead of buying it new off the shelf or online. As writers, we earn our living from royalties of books bought new. Without the new sales, we lose. It is essential to our lively hood to sell our books for profit. So yes, I want people to read my book that they have bought from a book store or online, I want the royalties. I want to do well.

I do not, however, want the royalties so badly that I have an issue with those who buy it second hand or borrow it.

Many, or even most of you, especially writers, will disagree with this thought, and that is okay. I am happy enough with myself that a little controversy does not send me into a fit of depression. I realize each of us have different views, values, and opinions. So, feel free to disagree.

The reasons I write are:

• I love telling a story
• I enjoy escaping into a fantasy world and get a thrill out of creating my own fantasy world, fictional characters who become my family and creating the outcome of situations, something I can not do in real life.
• It is fun seeing how a character will develop and where the book takes them
• I want to make a living selling my work
• I want others to be touched, entertained, or open their mind by something I have created
• I believe reading is a necessity in life for children, young adults, and older adults. It strengthens the mind, encourage free thinking, touches lives, allows escape from reality for hours in a safe, healthy way

I am from rural West Virginia where economy is slower than large cities. Many families are enduring hardships dues to lost jobs, layoffs and illness. I personally have dealt with poverty and know it is truly heartbreaking. When faced with financial hardship, it is often an act of faith to have a loaf of bread and peanut butter on the table. There isn’t money available to purchase a $12 or $25 book. The price of a new hard back book would provide a family of four with a loaf of bread, a jar of peanut butter, a gallon of milk, a small bottle of laundry detergent and a pack of toilet paper. If given a choice, a parent will choose the needs of the family over a book. With that choice, the person has two other choices: not read or read a book that is bought for $1.00 second hand or borrow a book. I would much rather my novel be read without me receiving a profit because it was bought second hand or borrowed, than for a person to not be able to read it.

So what if I lose money? Yes, writing is about the money, but for me, it is about so much more. I want people to read my work and if the only way they can is to borrow it or buy it for $1.00 then so be it. Yeah, profit is awesome and wonderful, but even more fulfilling is knowing I am touching lives.

If I ever get to a point in my writing career where the money is more important that wanting my work to be read, I will stop writing.

A Year of Writing

The year is coming to an end and I am reminded of all that happened over the last year. Many personal struggles, successes and failures have taken place, but that is for my personal blog. You can read it at http://www.tinatoler.tumblr.com/ if you are interested. Here, I will discuss my writing struggles, failures and successes.

First, I began working for a non-profit magazine, Divinity Girlz, writing one article a month. It's strictly volunteer work, so no income, but it is a huge honor to be helping girls, especially on issues of faith, morality, and avoiding being like everyone else and finding their own way. That is something I have always done, so writing is another avenue for me.

The magazine went through many changes. Writers don't want to stay involved in a project that doesn't work immediately and that is volunteer. Sad, but true. I stuck it out because I believed in the magazine and I believed in the editor, and I am so glad I did.

During the beginning, I wrote five articles, which were loved. Sonja asked me to be contributing writer, writing many of the feature articles, as well as offered me the position of Assistant Editor. I went from writing one article occasionally to being responsible for several articles per issue as well as organizing all the material and making sure it was all received.

Things happen in life and in business and the magazine was put on temporary hold. I went for months without hearing anything. Although I didn't forget about it, I pushed it to the back of my mind.

Two months ago I received a message from Sonja the magazine was coming out January 2011 and was I ready to get to work. I, of course, said yes! For six weeks I worked hard, writing new articles, finding and revising old ones, gathering other assignments and filling in for assignments that had not been received. It was definitely time consuming and at times overwhelming, but I loved every minute of it.

I am jaded and have real trouble believing things will actually happen until I see it, so I treaded my faith in the magazine with trepidation. I figured that way if something else happens I wouldn't be too heart broken. Probably a bad approach, but hey, it works for me.

Last week Divinity Girlz magazine produced an e-zine that was awesome! I am incredibly honored to be a part of it. Sonja did a fantastic job getting everything together and getting it available on line. I am even more excited that it available in print...and yes I ordered 5 print copies.

I also finished my Devotional Book, GOD SAID WHAT? last December and during 2010 I made approximately $650 on it. It's not a lot and I can't exactly call it a success, but that book was written to make me rich or famous. It was written to help teens, and that is a goal that I accomplished. 60 books were sold to a local church and used for their summer devotionals and I have heard the stories of lives it has touched. That to me is the biggest success.

I still have a long way to go with writing and I have many resolutions this year to make it happen, but if I never do anything else, I will always have Divinity Girlz and GOD SAID WHAT? I am happy.

Happy New Year!

Ricky the Reindeer - a Modern Day Rudolph

This is a short story I wrote for my oldest kids for Christmas. After watching "Rudolph" with them, I realized how important the lessons were and how they still relate today. My aspiration for this story was my son, Eric , and the judgment he has received. Please enjoy! MERRY CHRISTMAS!

“It's a boy!” the old wrinkled doctor announced to the proud parents.

Ivy cried with joy as her husband, Greg, danced around, smiling like a silly little boy. Their lives had been blessed with the birth of a child. They were now a family.

“What are you naming him?” The doctor asked.

“His name is Richard, but we will call him Ricky. Ricky the reindeer.” His father announced with excitement. Greg's grandfather had been named Richard and he wanted to carry on the family name. Luckily his wife, Ivy, loved the name as well.

“I'm sure Ricky is going to be a wonderful man!”

“I am too,” smiled Ivy. As parents they already had ideas of what their son would be like as he matured. They discussed it at length during pregnancy and agreed he would be strong, incredibly handsome, and highly intelligent. He would be wanted by all the girls, but would only choose one, the love of his life. They would marry and have their own children, giving Ivy and Greg the extreme pleasure of grandchildren, and would live happily ever after. Yes, their little Ricky would lead a charming, carefree life.

The day was made even more special when Ivy's sister, Mandy, gave to birth to a strapping young reindeer named Samson. Ivy and Mandy were excited to raise their children together, often daydreaming about watching their football and basketball games, for both boys would certainly be stars, and sharing the joys of motherhood with one another.

*

“Happy Birthday, Ricky and Samson!” Ivy announced at the party.

“I can't believe they are already five years old. Where has the time gone?” Mandy whispered to Ivy while the boys were admiring the football shaped birthday cake and shaking brightly wrapped presents, guessing what was in each package.

“I know. They are growing up so fast.” Ivy agreed.

“Aw, look at Jenny. Doesn't she look pretty with her little bows in her hair?” Mandy gushed at the cute little reindeer girl who had become fast friends with Ricky and Samson the day she moved into the neighborhood.

“Yes she does. It almost makes me want to have another child so I can have a girl.” Ivy admitted sadly.

As she watched Jenny playing with her dolls, Ivy wished silently for a little girl. She loved her little boy more than anything and was delighted by his boyish antics and games, but she longed for a larger family. Unfortunately, after Ricky's delivery she had complications and was unable to have more children.

Ricky and Samson walked over to where Jenny was playing with dolls and sat down to play as well. Ivy watched in amazement as Ricky showed much love to the little stuffed items and treated them as if they were living, breathing children. She smiled, knowing he would be an incredible father one day. Her amusement turned to concern when she saw Samson pick up one of the limp, newborn looking baby dolls, pulled the tiny blonde tuft of hair from the plastic head, and proceeded to beat the baby's head ruthlessly on the concrete patio floor. Although it was only a pretend baby made of plastic and filled with tiny beads, it still hurt Ivy watching the child be battered.

Ricky grabbed the baby from Samson and yelled at him. He took the little doll gently, wrapped it in a tiny yellow silk blanket, kissed her head where Samson had beat it, and sang sweet songs to the toy, calming it's pretend wailing to a hushed, baby's breath. It warmed Ivy's heart throughout to watch her son's gentleness and compassion. Yes, he was indeed a child to be proud of.

“You need to put a stop to that right now,” Mandy demanded of Ivy.

“To what?” Ivy was confused. It was her son that was brutally abusing the beloved toy of Jenny, not Ricky.

“If you continue allowing him to play with dolls and act like a girl, he is going to be gay.”

Ivy laughed loud enough that other mother's turned to look at the commotion.

“And what if he is gay? And, Ivy, what are you teaching your son? That child is abuse is appropriate and not an issue?”

“No, I am teaching him to be a real man. To not play with girl's things. I don't want him to grow up to be a sissy.”

Ivy felt her blood boil. She and Mandy seldom argued or disagreed, but this was a serious issue and Ivy was going to stand her ground.

“So, you want him to grow up to be the kind of father Jim is?” Ivy knew it was wrong to butt into her sister's marriage, but she couldn't stop herself.

“What does that mean? Jim has never hurt Samson.”

“No, not physically, but he never has anything to do with him unless he is teaching him how to fly, play ball or do manly things. He never has a kind word for him. Everything he says drips with disdain. Like, yesterday when Samson fumbled the football. He had played well the whole game and dropped one ball because he was tired and Jim treated him like he was a grown man who had fumbled on purpose. Poor Samson is going to think he always has to be perfect and can never do wrong. What's that doing to him, Mandy?”

“I know Jim isn't the caring, loving father Greg is, but he's a good father. We want him to be his best and succeed at everything. It works for us,” Mandy admitted.

“I'm sorry, Mandy. I didn’t mean to be cruel, but I just think Samson needs more love and affection instead of pushing him to grow up too fast.”

“With that attitude Ricky will never be on Santa's team. We are working hard to push Samson, to train him to be strong, physically and mentally. He will one day lead Santa's team while your pampered son will sit and watch the takeoff.”

“There is more to life than being part of Santa's team. I know Greg loves it and it's a huge part of his life and it's a tremendous honor, but he also loves being with his family. There has to be a balance, Mandy.”

“Are you serious? Being on Santa's team is the most important thing in the world! It's a goal every reindeer works for and only few are selected. Once you are on the team you are there for life so unless a reindeer gets hurt, quits, or retires, there isn't a spot. The way I figure it is by the time our boys are old enough there will be two spots. At least one hundred reindeer will be fighting for the chance to do it. I know Ricky and Samson will be in the final twenty because of their father's, but from there they have to do it on their own. Don't you want that honor for Ricky?”

“Yes, I do, but I also want him to find love and happiness.”

“Whatever,” Mandy said before prancing off to steer the little reindeer toward the cake.

*

“Okay boys, gather around. Let's pick teams,” Santa announced. Today was the first time Ricky and Samson were old enough to gather with the other reindeer and play games. They were most looking forward to games involving flying. Although each one had been working hard and could manage a take-off and landing, they weren't great at the actual staying in the air part. None of the new kids were. Santa's main goal for the kids was to help them develop their flying skills and learn to lead a sleigh. It was like camp for wanna-be fliers. 

“I'm so excited! I hope I am on a good team,” Ricky whispered to Samson.

“Yeah, I hope I am too,” Samson replied before walking off to hang out with some of his football player buddies. Although Ricky had played two years, he didn't enjoy the game, so he dropped out. His interests were theater, art and music. He never bonded with the jocks like Samson had, so he was left standing alone.

The names were called one by one. As each reindeer moved to their side of the field Ricky's heart sank lower. His name was not being called. It was down to two names and Ricky just wanted to go home.

“Um, do I pick the queer or the reindeer without a back leg? This is a hard choice,” the team leader on the blue side said with laughter.

“Don't pick the queer! Let him go home and bake cookies with his Mommy,” another girl yelled.

“Yeah, we are better off with a lame reindeer than one who may be hitting on us or checking out our hind quarters while we are in the air. Come on, pick Timmy.”

“Okay, I pick Timmy.”

Ricky was hurt. He wasn't gay, or at least he didn't think he was, and even if he was, so what? It didn't make him less of a reindeer or make him less qualified for the team. It wasn't even like the guys had to worry about him checking them out even if he was gay. They were definitely not his type. He didn't appreciate the stuck up, mean personality in anyone. They were totally safe.

What hurt Ricky the most was neither Samson nor Santa took up for him. Santa just patted his head and said, “Sorry, Ricky, but they are right. We can't have any distractions on the team.”

*

Posting on his “ReindeerPlace” social network site, Ricky decided it was time to admit to everyone, including himself, that he was gay. He was prepared for the hate comments and ready to face whatever challenges lied ahead. Before he changed his profile to say, “gay”, he wanted to tell his mother.

“Mom, I need to talk to you and Dad. Do you have a few minutes?”

“Of course, let me see if I can get Greg out from in front of the computer for a few minutes. He is absorbed in blogs about football and Santa. I swear, I think he's addicted,” she laughed as she pranced into the living room.

“Greg, Ricky needs to talk to us. Can you come in the kitchen for a few minutes, please?”

“Can it wait? I found a great blog I want to finish reading. Listen to this, it is some woman talking about how Santa isn't real and how it's against her religion to lie to her children and have them believe in anything but Jesus. It's insane. Why do people not have faith in Santa and why do they think Santa takes from Jesus? It makes me so angry. Santa doesn't compete with Jesus and doesn't want people to forget about the birth. People are the ones who have done that.”

“I know, it's horrible, but I think this is serious. Please?” she pleaded.

“Oh, alright then,” he forfeited grudgingly, “Just let me save this page and I'll be right there.”

He walked into the kitchen to join his wife and his son.

“Okay Ricky, what's this all about?” Greg asked.

“Um, well, you know how all the kids pick on me about being gay?”

“Yeah, so what? They are a bunch of stupid reindeer. What do they know?” Greg said lightly.

“Well, the thing is, I really am gay.” He sat down on his two back legs, leaned his head against the table and closed his eyes, prepared for their cruel remarks.

“So?” Greg asked nonchalantly.

“Did you hear me dad? I am gay.”

“I heard you, but that doesn't change anything does it? Are you still the same person? Are you still a great and compassionate and caring man? Do you still have your faith? Do you still treat people the same?”

“Yeah, but I am gay.” Ricky couldn't believe his dad. He knew he often did not listen well and figured this was another one of those times, but his remarks made him wonder if his dad honestly didn't care if he was gay or not.

“You're dad's right, Ricky. This doesn't change anything and I am proud of you for admitting who you are. It's going to be a difficult road, but you already know that. Your dad and I will be here supporting you the whole way. We love you, Ricky.” Ivy said with compassion for her son.

“Thanks, I love you too.”

After changing his profile to say, “Interested in reindeer with antlers” he sat back staring at the screen. He knew he made the right decision and was proud of himself, yet he couldn't help but wonder if he did the right thing.

The comments came in quickly. Some were comments of support.

            “That's great. I'm proud of you. Love you.”

            “I got your back dude.”

            “Nothing wrong with that, stay strong bro.”

Some were not so great.

            “You suck. I hope you die you friggin’ fag.”

            “Gays are going to hell. Have fun.”

            “Santa will have you banned from the games and from his team. He doesn't want queers!”

            “You're sick man.”

He sighed and signed off the computer, bracing himself for the future.

*

Tragedy struck the high school on a cold, blustery Wednesday morning. A bomb threat was announced and the school called for a full lock down. Ricky had been running late that morning and was in a hallway that had been abandoned by students in classrooms. He was all alone when he heard the lock down. He knew good and well he should get into a class or find someone in authority and get to safety, but he also knew with his nose that could smell anything he could help.

He walked silently up and down the hallways, praying his hooves didn't make noise. Although he was breathing hard and his heart was thumping, he kept control. Sniffing in trash cans, corners, door frames, everywhere he could think of, he felt defeated. Surely there was a scent somewhere, unless this was just a hoax, in which case he would be caught wandering the halls and get suspended.

His nose started itching profusely. Lifting his large back leg to scratch it, he fell on the floor. Scratching his nose didn't help. It burned with a scent of something he was vaguely familiar with but couldn't quite figure out. He stopped scratching and sniffed up and down. He was shocked when he recognized the pungent odor – gunpowder. He continued sniffing until he found the source. Looking up at the rafters in the open ceiling he spotted a small black box. He knew he had to be extremely quick and careful. The bomb, which they had learned about in “Saving Santa Tactics” class, was fast acting. Even if the air blew on just right it would go off. This was a highly sophisticated, state of the art bomb and one that only been disarmed once and only because the maker had made a mistake preparing it. Even the Special Team Santa had devised to tackle crisis could not handle a bomb such as this one. Although they were highly trained and flew fast and flawless, their hoofs were too harsh for such a gentle piece of work. There were a few smaller agents who may have been able to disarm the bomb, but they didn't have the strength to move the large metal covering to get to the fuse. It was a very difficult situtation, one that anyone else would avoid. More than likely, if left up to the Special Team, they would evacuate the school and allow the quad to be blown to pieces, only to rebuild it again. It would be better than killing all the students and teachers, they would rationalize.

Ricky knew his hoofs were smaller than most because he was often made fun of his small, feminine girly hoofs. Right now, he believed it was a blessing instead of a curse. He also knew his own strength. He wasn't weak like the other reindeer thought he was. He was also fast. Since he wasn't allowed to participate in the reindeer games, he often went out into the woods alone or with his best friend, Sally, to practice flying. When he stood in the shadows and watched the reindeer games, he learned better techniques and knew he could out fly and out maneuver any one of the best reindeer. Now was his chance. He didn't want to do it for the glory; he never even considered that. All he thought was “I have to save my fellow reindeer and this school.”

Taking a deep breath, Ricky took off swiftly from the ground, flying effortlessly through the maze of rafters until he neared the bomb. Slowing down his flight to a bare crawl, a speed which would cause other reindeer to fall out of the sky, he carefully glided to the bomb. Very carefully but effortlessly he removed the metal casing covering the bomb. Working fastidiously while hovering in the air like a bird, Ricky disarmed the bomb. Once it was safe, he picked it up with his front paws, put it in his backpack and flew down to the ground.

He didn't know what to do with it or where to go. While he stood breathlessly considering his options, he was attacked by the Special Team, Santa, and the Principal of the school. He knew he was in trouble for not following protocol.

“Ricky, we have been watching you through the cameras since you flew up into view. You did an amazing job. You are by far the best flier and strongest, most adept reindeer I have ever seen,” the officer in charge of the Special Team announced with pride. Mr. Ritchie, the principal, stood by his side, nodding in agreement.

“Yes, Ricky, that was amazing. I could use a man like you to lead the Special Team since Mr. Ritchie is retiring. Would you consider the position?” Santa asked.

“Are you serious? What about me being gay? I thought you didn't want a gay reindeer on your team?” He didn't want to bring it up, but apparently Santa had forgotten and Ricky didn't want any surprises.

“Um, I have been meaning to talk to you about that. I am sorry for the way I acted. I have been thinking a lot about it, and I love all reindeer and it doesn't matter if you or gay or not. That has nothing to do with anything and I am truly sorry.”

“It's okay, Santa. I know sometimes it takes a while to get used to.”

“So, Ricky, will you take the position?” Santa asked again with hope.

“I'll think about it. Hey, if Mr. Ritchie is retiring, who’s going to lead your team of reindeer Christmas? It's only a few weeks away.” Ricky was concerned. Someone with experience at keeping Santa safe and an excellent track record in the air had to take the job, and no one with the exception of Mr. Ritchie had the qualifications.

“Ritchie had agreed if I couldn't find a replacement he would fill in this Christmas, although he would rather spend it with his grandchildren. But, Ricky, I was hoping… well, Ricky, would you guide my sleigh as well as lead the Special Team?”

“Yes, Santa, I will do both. It will be a true honor.”

*

Before the end of the day, all the reindeer had heard the story of how Ricky saved the school. Walking down the hall he experienced something he had never experienced before, no one making cruel gay jokes.

Christmas Eve, the sleigh was loaded with presents and Santa sat proudly in his chariot of honor. The reindeer were ready to take off.

“Up, up and away,” Santa called out.

“WAIT!” Ricky screamed.

“What is it boy? Aren't you up to the job?” one of the cruel reindeer who was jealous Ricky had bypassed years of working hard to get the head position curtly said.

“No, it's not that. Hold on just a second. Un-harness me someone, quick!”

Greg had retired from the team that year as well, but was still working ground maintenance. He didn't know what was wrong, but knew Ricky had to have a good reason for postponing takeoff. With expertise he took the harness off Ricky in a flash.

Everyone was screaming questions, even Santa, but Ricky silenced them from his head. Sniffing around the sleigh and checking things that had already been checked, he found a wire that had not been tied properly. If they had taken off without fixing it, the sleigh would have fallen within thirty minutes of take off and Santa more than likely would have been killed. The spiraling of the sleigh would have hit the reindeer and many would have been lost as well. It would have been the end of Christmas.

“It was a wire that wasn't tied properly,” he said to Santa after it was fixed. “I have it back together and we are safe. Let's get going.”

“Which wire?” Santa said hatefully.

“Doesn't matter. We have to get going.”

“It matters to me, Ricky. Which wire?”

“It was the quantimum guard.”

“Who was in charge of the quantimum guard?” Santa screamed.

No one answered.

“I asked a question and I expect it answered, NOW!” Santa's tone was not that of a happy person.

“It was my responsibility,” Trevor, the homophobic reindeer answered.

“Why was it not secured properly? That is the most important thing to do before take-off!” Santa asked.

“I didn't realize it was so important.”

“He's new, Santa. He honestly didn't know the importance of it,” his friend, Donnie said.

“That's no excuse. He has been in training for a year and I know the classes teach from day one how important that is. Why was it not checked, Trevor, and don't you dare lie to me.” Santa said as he climbed down from his seat to speak to him face to face.

“Well, honestly sir, I think it's wrong to have a gay reindeer leading the team. He isn't even a real man. I thought if I loosened it a little the sleigh would wobble and you would blame Ricky,” Trevor admitted hesitantly. He knew he was in trouble, but also thought Santa would see his point and want Ricky off the team.

“You are wrong, Trevor. Ricky is more man than you will ever be. Had Ricky not noticed something was amiss and fixed it, we would all be dead and kids around the world wouldn't have Christmas. You are banned from my team for life. Get out of here!” Santa had never fired anyone from the team before and the other reindeer stood breathless, watching in horror.

“But, Santa, he's gay.” Trevor was trying hard to get Santa to see the truth. “Did you miss that somehow? Everyone knows.”

“I know he is and I know it doesn't matter. I can't imagine what difference that makes. He is more than capable to lead my team, as he has proved over and over. Now get out of here before I have you arrested for tampering with the sleigh, attempted murder and trespassing.”

After Trevor slithered away, Santa boarded the sleigh again.

“Greg, we are one reindeer short this year. Would you do me the favor of harnessing into first position behind Ricky one last time?”

“It will be my honor to fly one last time with you, sir, and it will be honor to fly with my son.”

Throughout the night, millions of children received Christmas presents from Santa, all because Ricky was a true man!

Changing your avatar isn't enough

Over the last few days I have read blogs, comments, Tweets, etc. regarding the absurdity of cartoon profile pics on Facebook to raise awareness for child abuse. I had decided since this was such a popular subject and everyone has an opinion, I wasn't going near it. I am sure we are all getting tired of reading about it; however, I changed my mind. As a woman, that's my prerogative, right?

I admit, I changed my avatar to "Droopy". I didn't do it because I thought by doing so I was single handed changing or stopping child abuse. I am not that naive. I did it because, well, I couldn't think of a good reason not to. I think Droopy is adorable and I always loved his attitude. By changing my avatar I am hurting no one. So why shouldn't I change it?

In the big scheme of things, the opinion that it's a ridiculous idea and we should be doing more than changing an avatar is correct. It is my hope against all hope that just one of my Facebook friends sees my little cartoon character and thinks, "wow, I have been sheltered and forgot this is an issue. Maybe I should do something about the neighbor who abuses his child, or do something to help the little boy down the road whose mother is always drunk or spaced out from drugs." Maybe it will not happen, but there is always a chance.

One blog suggested we turn off our computer and get off our ass and actually do something. Give to shelters, volunteer, anything. She's right. We should do something and I want to, but it isn't always that easy.

I am broke. I am struggling to make it day by day. I am ashamed to admit this, but there have been times when I have gone to our local food pantry for a box of food so my children can eat. I have been searching high and low for a job, but there are few available in my small rural town. I have little experience and am competing against those that do. Even at fast food restaurants who were once begging for help, jobs are being fought for. So, please don't judge me because I am poor. I am honestly trying. I simply can not afford to give food, supplies, essentials or money to shelters.

Time wise, I am a mother of four children and help my husband push his furniture restoration business, as well as do his book keeping. Although business is slow right now, hence the reason we are broke, I still stay busy. When I have checked into volunteering I have found they want you to commit to a certain time. I can't do that, especially as the job search continues.

Does that mean I do nothing and believe changing my avatar is enough? Hell no. Do I do enough? Probably not. Do I do what I can? Yes.

I don't help on a huge scale, but I help one child at a time. My home is always open and everyone, with the exception of one nineteen year old man (that's another story), is welcome. I don't care if teens are rich or poor, super intelligent or struggling to pass, straight, gay, or bi, white, black, Hispanic or martian, popular or a loner, jock or nerd. None of that matters to my family.

God is amazing and has always provided. I have seen our home filled with my own four kids plus six more. We had little food in the pantry, but somehow found a way to stretch it so each child was full. Three of the children at our home one of those times has a drug addict mother, a father in jail, and grandparents that drove trucks and were never home. These kids ate one meal a day during the week when they had free school lunch. On weekends, they were often lucky to have a piece of toast with peanut butter. I gladly fed them every chance I could. Not only were they provided food, but they were provided something much more important. A loving caring place. They were always amazed we had family dinners and were astounded we said Thanks each meal. Eventually, these boys were asking to say the prayer.

Another young girl practically lives with us and calls me Mom. Her mother passed away four years ago from a drug overdose. Her step-mother had been abusive after that. We met her only a year ago, and since then she has a safe haven. A place where she can be herself, know love and never be afraid of abuse. Yes, I have yelled at her for coming in late without calling, but she knows it's because I was worried. I treat her exactly as I do my own flesh and blood children.

We have a friend whose parents are uninterested in him, except when they are telling him he isn't good enough. I know of no physical abuse, but I have my suspicions. I do know that he is emotionally abused. Again, I provide a safe haven where he can discuss anything and everything without fear of being ostracized. I gave him his first birthday party he has had since he was five. I hug him every chance I get.

It isn't unusual for me to receive a call at three in the morning from a kid who just needs to talk.

I have only been in one situation where the parent was known to be actually abusive, and I have worked hard with my sister in law to remove the 9 month old child from his parent's care. My sis in law now has temporary custody and I keep him during the day. I call it co-parenting. If and when I run into the situation again, you can be your bottom dollar I will be right there fighting with all my might to protect that child.

Bottom line, if you change your avatar, make sure you do it because you truly care and aren't just following the crowd or sitting on your butt pretending that's all it takes to help.

Censorship of Books is about More than Freedom of Speech

In the full throes of a Young Adult novel regarding a sensitive situation, I find I must take more breaks than usual from writing. I am falling in love with the characters and as I write about tragedy and pain my heart is being broken. After writing a chapter I am emotionally drained.

Of course I would love for this book to be published. That's every writers dream isn't it? I wonder, however, if it is published how it will be be viewed in the YA genre. Many books on serious topics, such as drugs, alcohol or sexual abuse, sexual activity, GLBT, etc, are banned. Parents, school officials and preacher want to protect young, easily impressed teens from these topics. Will mine be one of those meeting the criteria for censorship? If so, how would I deal with it? These are questions than torture my restless mind when I should be sleeping.

Due to the topic of my book, a teen's suicide, I am concerned about censorship, but it isn't just selfish vanity or me wanting to sell more books. It is about the teens and issues they deal with.

Today, more than ever, teens are bombarded with serious issues. It is imperative they realize they are not alone and know the dangers that are out there. Yes, a book about a drug addict, such as Ellen Hopkins' Crank and Glass, may give teens the idea of drugs. Yes reading a book about a teen suicide, such as the one I am writing, may put the thought in their mind. Reading about homosexual or bisexual teens may lead to experimentation. All these are a possibility, but let's get honest for a moment. Isn't it a possibility even if teens aren't reading about it?

Go to a Middle or High School and sit with the kids at lunch. Listen to their conversations. Or better yet, check out teens' social network sites such as Twitter and Facebook. Many of my children's friends are Facebook friends of mine and I keep up with their status updates regularly. It is rare to go more than twenty four hours without hearing about underage drinking, per-marital sex or teens ranting they hate their lives and wish they were dead. It's out there already. This is the sad reality our children are living in.

Fighting against censorship isn't all about Freedom of Speech. It goes much deeper than our basic right. It is about telling our kids what is out there, helping them learn the dangers, watch out for those dangers, and making the right decisions. It is about showing them consequences of severe situations, such as teen parenting or drug rehab or even death.

When our children were toddlers and in Elementary School we all taught them not to get in a car with a stranger offering candy. We alerted them to the danger in order to protect them. Why should the issues they face as they grow into young adults be any different? Shouldn't we alert them of the dangers of drugs and show them what can happen instead of just saying “Don't do it?”

I remember when I was young and my parents said, “No.” I asked, “Why?” They resorted to the ever loved, “Because I said so.” Well, I don't 'know about you, but that didn't work for me. I needed a good, solid reason, a reason that was valid and made sense, or I was going to go ahead and do it. My kids are the same way. If I explain why they can't go out or get something they want, they may not like it but they understand and respect my decision. If I just say “No” they learn nothing and resent me for and more than likely will go behind my back and do it.

Teens need a reason to avoid drugs, casual sex, and even suicide. Instead of being glamorized in the media, many authors, including Sarah Ockler, Ellen Hopkins, Sarah Dessen, myself and others, are showing these issues in a realistic light. These issues are not glamorous. They are hurtful and many times fatal. Instead of banning these books or censoring them the public and parents should be embracing them and being thankful we care about our kids and want to raise a healthy, aware generation. I love it. [:

Twitter and Writing

When I signed up for a Twitter account it was only to keep up with my kids and their friends. I started out with four followers and followed six (three of my kids and three of their friends). It was fun and I learned things about them I wouldn't have otherwise, like my son's fondness of the "F" word!, but that's all it was, pure silliness.

Fast forward nine months:
I am up to 120 followers and follow 245, only a handful are kids! I still have lots of fun on Twitter and just last week my son and I got into the silliest, weirdest, most fun conversation ever. It meant a lot to me to just be goofy but it meant the most to me when I read on Eric's Facebook page "My mom and I are so silly!" For the most part, though, my tweets and friends are a little more serious now.

Sure, I tweet things like, "Thank God for my morning cup of coffee," or "Time for kids to come home," but most of my tweets regard my writing, others writings, books I have read, authors I love, and so on.

I am also big on using Twitter as a learning tool. I follow many writer's, both highly successful authors and those just starting out. Some of my very favorites are: @TheBookDoctors; @thebookmaven; @EllenhopkinsYA and @jw_collier. There are so many more who provide a wealth of information and/or support, but I won't bore you with the entire list. For my silly side, I enjoy following @SteveMartinToGo.

Many of those I follow post useful links to Blogs or websites. Most of the time I can't read them right then so I book mark them and read it all when I am on "research and learning" time. I have learned about properly formatted manuscripts, word usage, sentence structure, info to put in queries, how long it takes to get published, chances of getting published and much more.

Today I jumped into my first Twitter Chat at @novelpitch. I wasn't sure what to expect and didn't think someone insignificant and unpublished such as myself would receive a lot of feedback, but I was wrong. The information provided was invaluable and there were some great questions asked. Not only was it a learning experiences, but I made more friends who are writer's and have the same interests as me. One I am most looking forward to is a writer who is a Stay at Home Mom. It's easy to feel alone and deserted when friends don't understand the quest for success in writing, nor can they understand how difficult it is to balance writing with family needs. Through Twitter, I have found people similar to me to share daily writing life with.

Social networks are what you make of them, at least that's my opinion. My Facebook is mostly person and for fun, although I  do some networking. Twitter is mostly work, with a little frivolous fun thrown in here and there. I hope to learn more and utilize Twitter and maybe Facebook in my quest for writing success, but will fight to keep it lighthearted and fun as well.

If you have Twitter, you can find me at www.twitter.com/tinatoler. Look forward to sharing writing stories, trials and success with you there.