My name is ___________.

For the first time yesterday, I called myself Cheryl Chen instead of my maiden name, Cheryl Wong.  We were talking about voting over dinner and how I thought I could simply change my voter registration information when I changed the information on my driver's license, but then I learned you had to go to the voter registration people in addition and tell them, "Hey, I moved and changed my name."

The verbal mistake was probably understandable.  I said, "So, I had to go tell the voter registration people, 'My name is Cheryl Chen and I moved and I need to change my name.'"  Then, I quickly corrected myself.  "I mean, Cheryl Wong."

My natural response to the statement, "My name is..." ended with "Cheryl Chen."

I've spent approximately 96% of my life as a Wong.  It's taken me about 3.5% of my life getting used to changing my last name.  I didn't change my name just because it was the "normal" thing for a woman to do when she gets married; I liked the symbolism of a name change.

How many times we pass over these little moments that reveal so much.  It may sound melodramatic to some, but in lives of transition (which defines most of our's), these pivotal instances make the biggest of differences.

When Family Is More Than Blood

Photography by Kenneth J. Wong Photography

 A few weeks ago, we took our first family portrait that included the newest additions to my family. It was a big deal to my family.  My family of six has always been loving but also tight-knit and exclusive, putting up a protective wall of sarcasm and an armor of cold shoulders to defend from invaders.  The family unit resisted when I first tried to invite my then boyfriend (now husband) to the sacred Christmas tree decorating tradition.  How dare I invite an outsider to something just for family members?

For my birthday, my sister-in-law gave me a necklace she purchased while in Africa on missions.  It was a small pearl heart on a delicate gold chain.  She bought one for me, herself, her sister, and my mother-in-law.  To be included in the gift meant the world to me.  I was one of the Chen women.

I am strong advocate of family, but I have to admit, though I might not have verbalized it, prior to my marriage, family was blood only.  People could get close, but family was a non-negotiable.

However, as time goes on, my concept of family is changing.  I am beginning to find that the family unit in America is too broken and fragile to only let blood-related people to pass as family.  The steadfast, unconditional loyalty and love that comes with being family needs to extend past the walls of our home. 

As one of my friends recently posted: "I will always believe that families are not born, they're made."

For those who have family, we must cling to them.  Such a thing is precious and something worthy of protection.  However, we must also allow for inclusion so that all may know of the unconditional love that a family can give. 

The Test for Every Writer

As a writer, I am constantly in one of these three states:

1) Insatiable: I have to write. I need to write. There is this longing that every time I sit in front of a computer or I have a pen in my hand, that I must put something creative. One word: Passion.

2) Determined: There's no burning desire or anything, but because I've committed myself to finish that wretched novel, no matter how much it drips of cliche, I'm going to finish it.  At least to be able to tell myself that I did.  There may be varying levels of joy in the process, but the determination is really what pushes me along.

3) Exhausted: There are too many other things to do.  I don't know why I'm wasting my time on this thing.  I know I should do it, I know that I need to work on my writing, but somehow I can't muster up anything (drive, courage, will-power) to get anything out.  I am so discouraged on multiple levels that I often wonder where that insatiable desire went.

Isn't that how it is with anything you love?  Whether it be a person (your husband, your sister, your best friend), any other hobbies or even your work.  Life fluctuates, as does your resolve and your emotions.  Understandable.

The trick is in the "exhausted" stage, one that I often refer to as "burn out", somehow one must find the hidden, often inexplicable energy to continue on.  Whether in writing or in marriage, it's all the same.  It is in those times, when you really don't want to have anything to do with it, that you really prove your love.  As they say, its not real unless its been tested and still stands. 

First Day of School

There was always something magical about the first day.  Even though it would get warm by the afternoon, fall was creeping into the morning.  It wasn't so humid; there was a crispness to the air.  It was cool enough to put on a sweater.

I would wake up at 6:30 a.m., sometimes before my alarm, a mixture of excitement and anxiety.  Even though I hadn't been awake before 9:00 a.m. for the past three months, I didn't feel tired. I would pull myself to the bathroom.  It was necessary to turn on the yellow lights in the dimness; the sun wasn't quite full strength yet.  The morning would feel foreign but familiar, like visiting a place you hadn't been to since you were young. 

After dressing and rechecking my neatly organized backpack with new pencils, new binders, and neatly printed tab dividers, I would walk downstairs with my new sneakers in my hand, put them near the door, and go to the kitchen.  My mom would be cooking breakfast, something hearty like eggs and sausage or pancakes with chocolate chips in them.  I would get first dibs because my sisters were never morning people.

When everyone was ready, my mom would force us to take a first day of school picture in front of the house.  We would stand in formation, ordering our German Shepherd to sit at our feet so he could be in the picture too, and force an enthusiastic smile.  After two or three takes (Mom always had to make sure she got a good one), we would walk up the street to the bus stop and wait for the yellow vehicle that had its own set of social rules.

By the end of the year, the routine would get old and tired.  I would hit my snooze button, miss breakfast, and wear old clothes.  But every year, that first Tuesday after Labor Day, it would all start again and somehow still exude the feeling of a fresh new beginning. 

525,949 Minutes of Marriage

Photograph by Kenneth J. Wong Photography

A year ago today, my husband, Jon, and I got married.  I could say many cliche things about getting through the first year of marriage, but I thought I would cut to the nitty gritty. 

Jon summed it best in a letter he wrote to me and left on my desk one day: "I didn't realize how difficult it was going to be to love you." 

Some people might take offense to that, but I know I'm not an easy person to love.  I test people's patience, I'm bossy, I'm nosy, and I am Type A to the max.  What I loved about his statement was what was understood: there was no question that he would figure out how he would love me.  I knew I had confidence in his love and his commitment.  He loved me, no matter how difficult it would get. 

I'm slowly learning to take every minute of marriage one at a time and appreciate that I have a husband who will love me no matter what.  That sort of love is only learned from one source: Our Heavenly Father.  

So, my dear husband, happy anniversary.  I love you, for better or worse, for richer or poorer, no matter what.

Book Trailers

What do you think?  Video advertisements for books? 

I first saw a book trailer for Stephen Lawhead's book The Skin Map.  Check it out here.  I was confused for a moment because I thought they were making it into a cheesy movie.  Then I realized it was a trailer for the book.  And my first thought at that moment was: "Boy, I'm glad I've read the book already." 

There are lots of trailers for books out now.  Book Trailers for Readers and Book Trailers.Net are website that have arisen to showcase these new forms of advertisement.

Trailers have immense power for only being around 60 seconds.  They have the power to create a first impression and give you a mental picture for characters.  They can create a mood.  As with any art form, trailers are an interpretation of a book put into movie format.  Someone else's interpretation.

But I see the value of book trailers in this increasingly visual society.  But are trailers accepting the diminishing imagination of our society for the hope of increased sales?  Part of me wants to encourage publishers to market books how they normally are: by word of mouth.  Someone reads a book and says, "Whoa! This was good!" and passes it on.  However, I know that in the book industry, one that is struggling to stay relevant with the digital times, there exists a pressure to bring in the cash and advertising is one of the avenues.  Trailers may just encourage more people to read. 

Guest Blog Post

I was honored to have the opportunity to write a guest blog post on my buddy Tom's blog for his Wandering Wednesday post.  The prompt consisted of writing about a time in which you were literally or figuratively/spiritually wandering in your life.

Check out the post at http://thomasmarkzuniga.com/2012/07/in-his-hands-a-wandering-wednesday-by-cheryl-chen/

This blog post was very intimate for me. Even though I've told the story quite a few times to girls struggling with self-worth or dating, putting it in written form rather than oral form was a heartfelt experience for me.  The biggest reason was because I found myself making God a vital character to the story, whereas when I told the story orally, He was mainly a player but not a central element.  God's voice came to me so easily; I almost heard the gentle tone as I typed out the words.

I hope that you are touched by the story.  I know that God gave it to me in order to show His love for us and to remind us to trust Him with our insecurities.

So that was......suspenseful

sus`pense [suh-spens]
noun.
a state or condition of mental uncertainty or excitement, as in awaiting a decision or outcome, usually accompanied by a degree of apprehension or anxiety.

Hollywood is very good at the dictionary definition of suspense.  They figure all they have to do is withhold information, and by definition, they have created suspense for their audience.

But suspense is much more complicated than that.  In fact, I feel like good suspense is difficult, even though it seems like building suspense in a novel or a movie should be one of the simpler things to accomplish.

Let's take the movie Snow White and the Huntsman.  (Note, when I go to the movies, I tend to see the film in the eyes of a critic.  So, if you liked this movie, please take no offense.)  While the movie was entertaining, it failed to be suspenseful for me.  Why?


No character development.  In order for us as the audience to care about the "awaiting decision or outcome", we must care about who is going to be the recipients of such an outcome.

When Kirsten Steward is running around in the Dark Forest, we have a hard time conjuring up deep concern for her.  Yes, her mother died, her father was murdered, and she was locked in a castle for half of her life.  But that doesn't create genuine sympathy for the character.  What does?  Back story.  Understanding who she is and what drives her.  If we understand her goals, then we have something to root for.

Why should I worry about the nameless Huntsman when, not only does he not have a name, but we also don't understand why he cares about the Princess or why he's decided to ultimately fight for her in the first place.  After she takes a bite of the poison apple, he stands there emotionally yelling at the dwarfs in his grief, and the audience has nothing to understand why he cares for her.  Last emotion he expressed about her was that she was a liability to him.  Even though he spills out his heart to her before he kisses her (a little late, thank you very much), the information is not there early enough (or shown rather than told) to earn anything.

William, the duke's son, is obviously passionate enough about Snow White to disobey his father, ally with the evil queen's brother, and risk his life to kiss her after he presumes her dead.  But what do we know about their relationship?  Nothing.  All we know is that they grew up together and he playfully stole an apple from her once as a child.

Because we do not care for the characters, do we care if they live or die?  Maybe a little.  They are people, and most people don't like seeing people die.  But in the world of theatrics, a fictional death doesn't mean anything, really.  As a storyteller, whether on screen or written, one must develop character first before the suspense can mean anything.