Jennifer Irwin's Blog, page 2
December 29, 2017
Reflecting on the year
As I reflect on this past year, I am grateful and humbled. The outpouring of support from family, friends, and book lovers has been beyond my wildest dreams. The road to publishing was long and filled with highs and lows. I have moments in which I pray it will work out and terrified it won’t. Other days, I am hopeful. I believe I have written an important story. Many women have endured childhood trauma, sexual assault in some form, painful relationships, and the traumatizing effects of addiction. A Dress the Color of the Sky is the story of the human condition. We all want to be heard, to be loved, to have meaningful relationships. While writing this book, Kelly Oxford tweeted her sexual assault story asking others to share theirs. Over a million women tweeted in a matter of days. I perused the twitter feed until I couldn’t read anymore. I knew then, I must not give up. The story needs to be heard. The recent outpouring of women who bravely use the hashtag #MeToo to tell the world they have endured some form of sexual assault is astounding.
I am just a woman chasing a dream, one which could never come to fruition without all of you. I struggle with asking for help but have learned I can’t do this alone. Selling books, even if your book is amazing, is tough and unpredictable. During the A Dress the Color of the Skybook tour, I cried on every flight because I was overwhelmed with fear and humbled with gratitude. I have grown as a person throughout this dream chasing journey. I am better for it.
Wishing you all a blessed new year.
I am just a woman chasing a dream, one which could never come to fruition without all of you. I struggle with asking for help but have learned I can’t do this alone. Selling books, even if your book is amazing, is tough and unpredictable. During the A Dress the Color of the Skybook tour, I cried on every flight because I was overwhelmed with fear and humbled with gratitude. I have grown as a person throughout this dream chasing journey. I am better for it.
Wishing you all a blessed new year.
December 20, 2017
Amazon Giveaway!
I'm giving away 5 books on Amazon! Winner announced on 12/26/17.
https://giveaway.amazon.com/p/2cf3891...
https://giveaway.amazon.com/p/2cf3891...
November 20, 2017
Read and excerpt of my debut novel, A DRESS THE COLOR OF THE SKY
PROLOGUE
Dr. Sheryl O’Brien, PhD, was one of those women whose sexual orientation you couldn’t guess. No telling if she leaned bi, gay, or if she was into men. Sex consumed me—I pictured people doing it. To imagine Sheryl’s face contorting in orgasm proved impossible, and that bothered me.
No other option than to slump on the shrink sofa, wedge a throw pillow behind my back, and hunker down. The hem of my jeans hiked up. I tugged them and wished for one brand in size twenty-six, long enough for my legs while pretending too short was très chic. One more thing I was pretending.
“How are things going with Nick?” A dramatic press back in her chair. “Last time we spoke, you were considering a trial separation.”
“He moved to a swanky apartment. No idea where he’s coming up with the money.” A ringlet dangled over my eye. I studied its vibrant copper tone. “Not sure where I fall in the lineup between me and the other woman. I obsess over everything about them.” The neutral shade of my pedicure brought me momentary pleasure. I rubbed my earlobe and pondered the unfamiliar calm deep inside me since he left.
“Elaborate.”
“How she orgasms, moves, her preferred positions, the list never ends. He might be happier without me.” I yanked a tissue from the box and wound it around my fingers. “I want him back and need to get my shit together.”
“Do you think he needs to work on himself?”
“No, I deserve this.” The Kleenex hit the decorative wastebasket on the first throw. “In a strange way, he’s more communicative now.”
“Nick may appear as though he is trying to change, and he willa shade here, a shade there. The old behavior will return in times of stress. The concern is to find the source of what drives your compulsions.”
A pry into my soul like a storm about to rip through the landscape.
My shrink pulled a book from the shelf. “Read this. The similarities between a sociopath and your husband may upset you.”
“Do you think?” The eerie, hollow-eyed face on the cover creeped me out. A combination of Freddy Krueger and the Phantom of the Opera.
“He exhibits sociopathic characteristics.”
“Well, I am the one who failed at the most important commitment of my life.” The inner demon flogged. Slut. Whore. “My financial struggles and the marriage beat me down.” A plethora of self-loathing doused the velour cushions. “I don’t deserve blessings. I’m quite adept at sabotaging.”
“This goes back to your life before age eighteen.” She dropped the bomb without pause. “Consider an inpatient program.”
“The problem is, I have a son and no time or money.” The velocity of my voice increased with the level of anxiety. “Which is why I bang the architect. He pays me.” Parched, I grabbed my water and took a swig.
Quiet, easygoing Sheryl. “This will not be resolved until you face the demons, your past. It’s time to immerse yourself in recovery and stop denying these self-destructive patterns. Your current survival mechanism doesn’t serve you now.”
Most women associated intimacy with love. Why couldn’t I be like other women? Careful. Dignified. Normal.
“Talk to Nick. Something tells me he will come up with the funds.”
“Fine.”
The mere thought of that conversation scared the bejesus out of me.
Dr. Sheryl O’Brien, PhD, was one of those women whose sexual orientation you couldn’t guess. No telling if she leaned bi, gay, or if she was into men. Sex consumed me—I pictured people doing it. To imagine Sheryl’s face contorting in orgasm proved impossible, and that bothered me.
No other option than to slump on the shrink sofa, wedge a throw pillow behind my back, and hunker down. The hem of my jeans hiked up. I tugged them and wished for one brand in size twenty-six, long enough for my legs while pretending too short was très chic. One more thing I was pretending.
“How are things going with Nick?” A dramatic press back in her chair. “Last time we spoke, you were considering a trial separation.”
“He moved to a swanky apartment. No idea where he’s coming up with the money.” A ringlet dangled over my eye. I studied its vibrant copper tone. “Not sure where I fall in the lineup between me and the other woman. I obsess over everything about them.” The neutral shade of my pedicure brought me momentary pleasure. I rubbed my earlobe and pondered the unfamiliar calm deep inside me since he left.
“Elaborate.”
“How she orgasms, moves, her preferred positions, the list never ends. He might be happier without me.” I yanked a tissue from the box and wound it around my fingers. “I want him back and need to get my shit together.”
“Do you think he needs to work on himself?”
“No, I deserve this.” The Kleenex hit the decorative wastebasket on the first throw. “In a strange way, he’s more communicative now.”
“Nick may appear as though he is trying to change, and he willa shade here, a shade there. The old behavior will return in times of stress. The concern is to find the source of what drives your compulsions.”
A pry into my soul like a storm about to rip through the landscape.
My shrink pulled a book from the shelf. “Read this. The similarities between a sociopath and your husband may upset you.”
“Do you think?” The eerie, hollow-eyed face on the cover creeped me out. A combination of Freddy Krueger and the Phantom of the Opera.
“He exhibits sociopathic characteristics.”
“Well, I am the one who failed at the most important commitment of my life.” The inner demon flogged. Slut. Whore. “My financial struggles and the marriage beat me down.” A plethora of self-loathing doused the velour cushions. “I don’t deserve blessings. I’m quite adept at sabotaging.”
“This goes back to your life before age eighteen.” She dropped the bomb without pause. “Consider an inpatient program.”
“The problem is, I have a son and no time or money.” The velocity of my voice increased with the level of anxiety. “Which is why I bang the architect. He pays me.” Parched, I grabbed my water and took a swig.
Quiet, easygoing Sheryl. “This will not be resolved until you face the demons, your past. It’s time to immerse yourself in recovery and stop denying these self-destructive patterns. Your current survival mechanism doesn’t serve you now.”
Most women associated intimacy with love. Why couldn’t I be like other women? Careful. Dignified. Normal.
“Talk to Nick. Something tells me he will come up with the funds.”
“Fine.”
The mere thought of that conversation scared the bejesus out of me.
June 26, 2017
Author Inspiration
What began as writing a book to personally heal from a toxic, traumatizing marriage, turned into a story that resonates with women whom I never imagined would like it much less, have it speak to them. Throughout the writing process, I have sought out a variety of sample readers to critique my book in order to learn and improve the story. Some, I felt confident, would relate to the book and especially the main character but I was pleasantly surprised to find even women whom I imagined would find the story to be upsetting, or even offensive, turned out to find commonalities between themselves and the main character.
As I pondered this, I went back to my roots of teaching Pilates. Asking myself, what commonalities can I find within my different clients? The women I teach range from high school students, athletes, strippers, housewives, Playboy bunnies, freshly divorced, newly engaged, stay at home moms, career women, some fly private, some have multiple homes and some struggle to pay for lessons. What I found was this: all women, even ones with seemingly perfect bodies and lives, feel sad, insecure and ugly. The very same women a week later could feel confident, hopeful and beautiful. Women are complex but universally, they seek intimacy with other women through sharing the stories of their lives. I don’t claim to know all of their problems and secrets, but I see that most women want to be heard, to listen and to give and receive advice. This sharing is how women grow, learn and feel better about themselves and their place in society. Teaching Pilates has been a fulfilling career because I can change lives one woman at a time. As I began to receive feedback from sample readers about how they related to my book and especially, the main character, I realize that I can have a greater impact on women through my writing than I could have ever imagined and this has been the most rewarding motivation to get my book published.
A Dress the Color of the SkyAnother important subject covered in my book is that of addiction. Addiction is something that most people have encountered through a variety of ways whether it be a family member, friend or themselves. Recently, an addiction specialist who read my book told me that he felt it would diminish people’s fear of rehab. My book could “help people overcome the fear of seeking help by providing insight into the experience from a very raw and honest perspective.” As the child of an alcoholic, drug addict, I spent a lot of time covering up the pain and overcompensating for the fact that I felt fatherless, but I had to choose not to have it ruin my life. I wanted to convey this message in my book through the main character so that other people can see that it is possible to rise up from bad things and lead a fulfilling, healthy life. I did a lot of research to write this book, attended AA, SAA and NAA meetings and interviewed many people. My hope is that this book can help people see that rehab isn’t a scary, degrading place but rather a place to grow, change and dig into self-discovery.
As I pondered this, I went back to my roots of teaching Pilates. Asking myself, what commonalities can I find within my different clients? The women I teach range from high school students, athletes, strippers, housewives, Playboy bunnies, freshly divorced, newly engaged, stay at home moms, career women, some fly private, some have multiple homes and some struggle to pay for lessons. What I found was this: all women, even ones with seemingly perfect bodies and lives, feel sad, insecure and ugly. The very same women a week later could feel confident, hopeful and beautiful. Women are complex but universally, they seek intimacy with other women through sharing the stories of their lives. I don’t claim to know all of their problems and secrets, but I see that most women want to be heard, to listen and to give and receive advice. This sharing is how women grow, learn and feel better about themselves and their place in society. Teaching Pilates has been a fulfilling career because I can change lives one woman at a time. As I began to receive feedback from sample readers about how they related to my book and especially, the main character, I realize that I can have a greater impact on women through my writing than I could have ever imagined and this has been the most rewarding motivation to get my book published.
A Dress the Color of the SkyAnother important subject covered in my book is that of addiction. Addiction is something that most people have encountered through a variety of ways whether it be a family member, friend or themselves. Recently, an addiction specialist who read my book told me that he felt it would diminish people’s fear of rehab. My book could “help people overcome the fear of seeking help by providing insight into the experience from a very raw and honest perspective.” As the child of an alcoholic, drug addict, I spent a lot of time covering up the pain and overcompensating for the fact that I felt fatherless, but I had to choose not to have it ruin my life. I wanted to convey this message in my book through the main character so that other people can see that it is possible to rise up from bad things and lead a fulfilling, healthy life. I did a lot of research to write this book, attended AA, SAA and NAA meetings and interviewed many people. My hope is that this book can help people see that rehab isn’t a scary, degrading place but rather a place to grow, change and dig into self-discovery.
