When I was thirteen years old, my father was president of the Optimist International Club. Yes, optimists have a club and yes, they’ve really gone international. To this day, I have no idea how Daddy dearest became a part of this organization, though I think it’s kind of adorable that he was. But I digress.

At the age of thirteen, I came home with a mountain of homework to do and I plowed into it (this is because I was ugly and unpopular and didn’t really have anything else to do in my life EXCEPT homework). Halfway through the mountain, my dad called.

“I need you to write up a speech and be prepared to give that speech out loud in front of a panel of judges and several hundred other people who are part of my club. I’ll be picking you up in a little less than two hours. Oh, and Julie? You have to wear a dress.” (okay, fine, he didn’t actually mention the hundreds of people. He left that part as a surprise.)

It seems many of my life altering moments involve being rushed into something before I could think it through well enough to protest, and me wearing a dress. So I wrote a five minute speech on this topic: “I think the best; I expect the best.”

I was thirteen (as I’ve already pointed out). Five minutes of positive thinking for any teenager is quite a stretch. It turns out, this little shin-dig Dad had me go to was a public speaking contest. Lots of kids were entered and most of them were tutored by drama and public speaking coaches. The only public speaking I’d ever done was yelling at my brother at the grocery store. Why my father felt compelled to throw me in the mix at the last minute, I couldn’t really say. Standing in front of all those adults scared me to knee-knocking death.

Of course, I didn’t win. And I actually had the gall to feel badly about not winning. I went with two hours preparation and a dress that didn’t fit (because I never wore dresses back then; my parents were hard pressed to get me to wear shoes), and I had the nerve to feel I should have placed higher  than the people who went prepared. I did get an honorable mention and a little medal. And as an adult looking back, I’m shocked at this little undeserved victory.

And what might this little trip down memory lane mean?

It means that so often we go into something less than prepared and then get ticked off when it doesn’t turn out the way we think it should.

I meet writers who finish their first novels and immediately begin submitting. And while I congratulate them for the fact that they actually finished a novel, and further congratulate them for having the fortitude it takes to submit, I wonder if they aren’t going into a contest less prepared than their competition.

Did those writers send their manuscripts out to critique groups? Did they receive the right coaching? Did they study up on how to make themselves stand out in the slushpile? Do they know the mechanics of writing? Are they passionate about their manuscript? What are their credentials? Did they even run a spell check before sending in the manuscript?

And worse, those writers (me inlcuded back before I knew better) whine when they don’t walk home with a contract in hand. The speech I wrote back then still resonates with me.

I think the best; I expect the best. And something more to take away the prize: I gave my best.

Thanks, Dad.

I spent the weekend in California–took the kids to the beach, had a booksigning at the Disneyland Hotel for a fundraiser for the Ettie Lee Youth and Family Services Foundation.

I had no intentions of getting political on my blog, not that I don’t have opinions (I Have tons of opinions and most of them are loud), but that politics seem to be a breeding ground for unrest. I hate contention.

But what an amazing thing I discovered while in California. People are getting violent. If you put a vote yes on prop 8 sign on your lawn, you are now a target for crime–some minor crime, some horribly violent. I’m baffled by such a thing.  Women at the fundraiser told me of how they’d had  signs stolen from their lawns or destroyed on their lawns, where their property has been vandalized with little notes left on their doors telling them the damage will be worse if they put another sign up. Of where cars in their driveway had been keyed, etc.

What country are we living in? In these enlightened days of “tolerance” people are threatening other people of differing opinion and belief? Intimidation tactics are being used?

One woman told me someone had thrown a rock at her car because of the “yes on Prop 8″ bumper sticker on it. Are you kidding me? Are we cave dwelling animals?

What stupid people. Far better to spend your time explaining your reasons for wanting no on prop 8 than to violate someone else’s rights to free speech. And I know that not every no voter is out doing damage, but you all might want to have a talking to with those few who are. It’s making all of you look bad. Be decent. Be appropriate. Respect each other. Let’s keep election time civil and leave the mudslinging to the candidates shall we?