Amanda Usen's Blog, page 8

God Bless America (and these guys)

I’m afraid I didn’t put enough frosting on these cupcakes. But I always think about the person trying to get them out of the packaging without messing them up! Thoughts?

I have a confession to make. (Other than the fact, it’s early morning, everyone is asleep, and I was working on my WIP until !SQUIRREL! now I’m writing a blog post.)

I love the vocal band Home Free in a mostly pure way.

In fact…(here’s the confession) I support them on Patreon, which is like a GoFundMe for artists. Every time they make a video, I make a contribution, so they can keep making awesome videos that make me sigh and go, OMG, look at AUSTIN. Is it just me or does he look like Sam Heughan’s younger, more slightly-built brother? And look at Adam make his drum faces. I adore the beard-y guy, Rob, with his sweet, soulful tenor. And Tim? All about that bass. One of the founders, Chris, just left to pursue his soul-o projects, and the guy who replaced him is named Chance. He’s got that “Aw, shucks, just off the farm” vibe combined with steady confidence. If I were writing him, he’d be the bartender. He looks like a good listener.

I love them all.

Click here to get inspired while they sing GOD BLESS THE USA at Mount Rushmore. See what I mean? In this video, they are respectful and sincere, as well they should be. You should check them out in less circumspect videos, like their “Can’t Stop The Feeling!” cover, or, my personal fav, “Honey, I’m Good.” Maybe you should watch them while sitting on the bean bag in front of the big screen! Oh wait, that’s me.

I took my girls to their concert in February. I looked forward to it for months. Watching and listening to these cute boys (fine, men) sing is inspiring. They all have their place in the whole, and they own it. They’ve got a ton of talent, and I get the sense they are doing what makes them happy. Authenticity – they have it. And…they make my heart go pitter-pat in a not-unpleasant-even-if-I-am-a-cougar way. Actually…I’m not sure my husband knows I support them on Patreon, LOL. He does now. My heart raced when I made the decision. I think I grew three sizes younger that day…not really. But I’m all about seeking inspiration in this writer life, and they definitely INSPIRE. In fact (although I’m more spiritual than religious), it was their version of O Holy Night that made me fall in love with the band.

So God Bless America and God Bless Home Free!

If you live in the grand ole U.S.A., be safe and joyous as you celebrate our Independence Day. I’ve been celebrating with cupcakes and cake and my vocal band boyfriends. What are your plans? I love chatting with you! Blogging is a bit like walking down the street naked. You know people are probably there, but you don’t know for sure until they yell, “Nice butt!” All commenters will be entered in my next drawing, a gift card to The Ripped Bodice, Amazon, or B&N. (Drawing will be at the end of the summer…to celebrate the start of school.[image error] )

Our new creation for the top of the Sheridan Wegmans’ patisserie case!

Hot Greek Sausage Right Here!

* The winner of the Ripped Bodice Giveaway is Anita H.! Anita, you will hear from me soooon! Thanks to ALL for the comments!❤ *

EAT ME. Said every sausage ever.

Did you click because you have a dirty mind, and you saw the word sausage? You aren’t the only one! An e-mail from Wegmans appeared in my inbox with the subject heading, “4 ways to make your sausage sensational!” I couldn’t resist. I didn’t expect to see anything I hadn’t seen before *snerk*, but I was wrong. So wrong. Once I saw it, I had to have it. I did promise a forthcoming dinner party menu in my “Friends For Dinner” post…

I struggle with sausage. *giggle* What do you put on it? Onions and peppers? Okay, that’s good, but it needs some goo. Ketchup? Mustard? Both? Sriracha? I like spicy sausage. *that’s what s/he said* (I’m really sorry. I won’t be able to stop. You should know this now. But the recipe will be worth it.) Dijon? Also good, but it only works for me without the bun. The bun just gets in the way of the fatty sausage/astringent mustard battle for mouth domination. I also like sausage with tomato sauce and melted mozzarella, hoagy-style, but that isn’t exactly backyard barbecue, is it? Sausage is good plain, but I’ve always wanted an epic sausage condiment experience.

The first Wegmans sausage idea blew me away. Hot Italian sausage (actually theirs was chicken sausage with spinach and feta, but this is MY sausage fantasy) getting it on Greek-style with tzatziki, cucumbers, tomatoes, feta, and red onion. The other three were variations on sausage with onions, but this one? PURE GENIUS.

Tzatziki on my sausage makes me haaaaapppy!

Coincidentally, we were having family over this weekend. My husband grilled sausage, hot dogs, and burgers and I put out tzatziki, chopped tomatoes with diced cucumber and feta, red onion, bacon, pickles, banana peppers, jalapenos, ketchup, mustard, crunchy fungus (something my husband picked up at the Asian store), basically, everything in the fridge that could go on a grilled food. Plus three bags of chips.

Absolute sausage satisfaction. I tore through that thing so fast I didn’t even take a picture. The sausage you see in front of you is the leftovers I’m having for lunch. I might have another one for dinner. Yes, you should have sausage envy…and go buy the stuff to make your own. (I like red onion near my food but not actually on it which is probably why I forgot to put it on for the picture.)

Click here for the tzatziki recipe. Or click any pic for the recipe. I linked them all!

Grilled Grapefruit Margarita heaven is within your grasp.

During cocktail hour, we enjoyed a grilled grapefruit variation of my margaritas with some chips salsa and guacamole, and for dessert…

Red Velvet Oreo Brownies. OMG.

Head on over to Sally’s Baking Addiction for the recipe. I normally don’t go for red velvet. It just seems silly to add food coloring to something for no reason but to make it red. (Well, I guess that’s an excellent reason since the colors practically FORCED me to make the recipe. The visual impact cannot be denied.) I even made them again sans dye for a party because the combination of rich chocolate brownie, sweet creamy buttercream, and crunchy Oreo hit all my happy places.

Happy National Yoga Day everyone! And happy SUMMER! Do you have a favorite way to eat sausage? I’m all eyes and mouth…

 

 

Writer-in-Recovery

I am brave enough to continue.

This is my mantra. Because I commune with the daring trinity of Brené Brown, Elizabeth Gilbert, and Cheryl Strayed, I know vulnerability looks like courage in others and weakness in myself (Brown), expecting my art to support me was a bad idea all along (Gilbert), and the only option is to keep walking (Strayed.)

But this book I’m writing is straight-up kicking my ass. I’m worried not a single reader will remember my name by the time I publish it. I’m afraid that after all the effort I’ve put into it, it will suck. It’s been a lot of effort, thus the sucking will be worse because I tried harder. I’m overwhelmed by the process and expense of self-publishing. But really it all boils down to one thing: this is hard. And since I always end up deleting my first thought because it takes me two to get to the point:

I’m afraid of failure.

Yeah, who isn’t? I know. I jeer at myself, too, which makes it take longer to pull up my all-cotton Hanes bikini panties and get to the real work. I’m not just a writer anymore. I’m a writer-in-recovery which means I’ve rejected all the previous standards by which I judged my career. Most romance writers hold themselves to a daily word count and try to publish several books a year. It’s a good plan. I did it for five years. This is what happened.

I was single-minded and always on deadline. No one expected me at family events. I was perpetually exhausted, scrambling, and buried in work. And guess what? I didn’t make enough money or garner enough praise to justify the sacrifices. It is familiar and easy for me to focus on one thing to the exclusion of all others while claiming I want to live a balanced life. When the words are flowing, I skip yoga, don’t make dinner, don’t clean the house, and my business life is a mess. And when the words aren’t flowing, I do the same thing because if I just put my BUTT IN THE CHAIR for long enough, the words will pour from me in a bloody rush of THIS WAS WORTH MY LIFE.

I can’t speak for all writers in this. Some of them are perfectly well-adjusted, don’t seek approval like it’s vodka, and write like Niagara Falls.

I admire them. Of course, I also hate them. They are happy. They believe in themselves. They don’t doubt every word. They don’t second-guess every thought. They do not tie their self-worth to what they DO. Some of them aren’t faking it, either. (I don’t really hate them. I want to be them.)

High school BFF, the finder of good things, sent me The Getaway Car: A Practical Memoir About Writing and Life[image error] by Ann Patchett. After reading it, it got easier for me to spend a few hours on writing and then work on the other things that give my life meaning. Right now that’s mothering, cleaning, cooking, shopping, and remembering to call my mom. I lent it to my writer pal, Jessica Topper, and she read it and sighed, “Forgiveness.” If you are an introspective writer-sort trying to survive in the tumultuous publishing world right now, you might like it.

Balance isn’t always comfortable. Yesterday, I cleaned up the morning school mess and called my mother. I wrote for two hours, went to yoga, stopped by Wegmans for a health screening (free lunch and uniform shirt – bonus!), shopped for glasses, cleaned ten years of cobwebs out of the kitchen windows, deleted a month’s worth of e-mails, and took my kid to pick up her new glasses. I was tired, but I felt like I hadn’t really accomplished anything. I was tempted to go back to work on the WIP. Against every instinct, I booted up the pilot episode of The Good Wife. While I admired Julianna Margulies’s stupendous eyebrows, all of my children showered. In other words, the heavens opened up and rained clean children, a sign I had chosen wisely.

I didn’t finish the book yesterday. Hell, I don’t even know how many words I wrote, but I kissed everyone goodnight. I exercised, ran errands, and battled inbox entropy. My kitchen windows look as good as fifty-three year-old windows can look. I put some time in on writing AND living. I feel spectacular.

Just kidding. Did I fool you? I feel like shit, which is why my husband – deeply suspicious of me watching television, of all things – kept giving me the fish-eye and saying, “Are you okay?”

Fuck no.

I want to finish this book, and it is taking so much longer than I think it should.

But I think this is what recovery feels like, so I’m going to keep doing it.[image error]

Happy Friday, everyone! If you struggle with writing, you should read The Getaway Car: A Practical Memoir About Writing and Life[image error]! All comments left on this blog, Mid-life Margaritas, and A Visit to the Ripped Bodice will enter you to win a book from the most romantic bookstore in Culver City, CA!

Mid-life Margaritas

I meant to write a post about the gorgeously pink prickly pear margaritas my neighborhood BFF Melissa introduced me to the other week (because how could I have worked in food service this long without knowing prickly pear syrup was so delightfully PINK?!), but it keeps turning introspective.

I have ages and stages on my mind. (Maybe it’s because my silver roots are showing, and maybe THIS time I’ll let them grow in. Maybe it’s because I’ve got PMS. Or maybe it’s that I’ve got one kid headed into middle school and one headed into high school. I don’t have small children anymore. I have medium-sized children.) But it’s probably/mostly that when my friend Melissa and I got together to tinker with the prickly pear margarita recipe for this blog, we talked about our lives, as we always do because Melissa is my daily/weekly/monthly minutiae friend. Her kids have been just enough older than mine for the last fifteen years that she’s given me great advice on breastfeeding, preschools, soccer schedules, and college admissions. She’s all that plus top-shelf liquor. #keeper

Our kids are growing and grown. Our parents are aging. Our marriages are mature. Here’s my question: does everyone get to this point in their lives and feel like they are standing in the middle of a see-saw with juicy youth under one foot and middle age under the other? Is that what a mid-life crisis is about? Dying those roots and seeing if you can lean into the action a little longer? Feeling like you better change/hustle/break out RIGHT NOW because this is your last chance to seize YOUR moment?

The Prickly Lady Cocktail recipe, by the way, is a keeper, too. I wanted to put my own spin on it and make it mine for the blog, so I bought Pavan, a liquer made from muscat grapes and redolent of orange blossoms, thinking I could swap it for the ginger liquer. I’d never seen Pavan, and I was captivated by the rainbow peacock on the bottle. As it turned out, I could not improve on the original recipe. There is something perfectly balanced in the combination of prickly pear, ginger liquer, tequila, and lime, so please go on over to loveandoliveoil.com for the recipe. I’m thinking a Pavan and grilled grapefruit margarita might be pretty spectacular, so I’ll keep trying with the Pavan. (Oh, don’t you worry!)

Ah, mid-life. I always thought I would age gracefully. Soften into it. Surrender youth for something equally desirable: wisdom. I didn’t think it would feel like giving up. I didn’t think I’d be sorry. I thought I’d be ready, but there’s some inner kicking and screaming going on. Please don’t misunderstand my despair. I’m WELL aware I’ve got it really good in many big life categories, and I’m deeply grateful. I’m just having a moment or twenty of introspection, and, like with that prickly pear margarita and your BFF’s troubles, sometimes you can’t make it better.

But you can be there. Acknowledge. Appreciate. Be prickly. Fill a glass with a Prickly Lady Cocktail and raise it to life’s pretty pink surprises. Of course, it’s easier with cocktails, when you can give the rainbow peacock a try without making any major life changes…especially when you realize you had it right the first time.

L’Chaim!

Are you prickly? Have you been prickly? Have wisdom to share? Please do! All comments left on this post and A Visit to the Ripped Bodice will enter you in a contest to win a book from Culver City’s most romantic bookstore.

To be the first to know when my next book comes out, sign up for my newsletter. Said book is currently killing me, but it will be done soon. Ish.[image error]

A Visit to The Ripped Bodice-a Romantic Bookstore in Los Angeles

The only picture we took of the two of us together the entire weekend. #classic

My high school BFF is a finder of good things. Since I live in Buffalo, NY, and she lives in Los Angeles, CA, we don’t get to see each other often. We’ve kept in touch (sometimes heroically) over the past 22 years (OMG. 22. Years.) via e-mail, epic phone conversations a few times a year, and FB, mostly. I often get a quick, “This made me think of you,” and then a link to something like this hilarious thing. When we both turned 40, I flew to CA (right before the RWA conference in Anaheim – double win!) and we spent an amazing weekend in Venice Beach. If you’ve followed my blog for that long, maybe you remember this post. Lord knows, I haven’t forgotten those berries. I still wish I’d purchased a flat and eaten the whole thing. Absolutely a #firstworldregret

Recently, she texted me a link to the website of the newly-opened The Ripped Bodice, a romantic bookstore in Culver City, CA, and I immediately wanted to go. Since I was going to be visiting her the next month, I could! High school BFF is an incredible planner, and she worked it into our itinerary. Mind you, this is a woman who texted me, “Windy beach or desert sun? Should I book a hotel in Santa Barbara or Palm Springs?” with distances in minutes and Google images of both locations. That was a no-brainer for this Buffalo chick. I’m always freezing. PALM SPRINGS, which is where we went right after we visited the bookstore!

Why, yes, they do have fun events like signings and romantic comedy nights. If you live in the area, check them out!

OMG.

The Ripped Bodice so far exceeded my expectation, I can’t even. It was adorable, well laid out, had an amazing selection of romances, many of which I’d read (good sign), and many more I WANTED to read. Bea, one of the two sister-owners, was working the desk, and she was as adorably distracted by the FREAKING BOOK COVER/HOT COVER MODEL PHOTO SHOOT going on at the front of the store as we were. I was all “be cool, be cool, let’s not bother the professionals.” But high school BFF, so much more self-possessed than I, was all “I’ll be so disappointed if we don’t get a picture with him.” Dude, she was right. Can you imagine missing that golden opportunity? We bought our books, talked authors and books with Bea. I may have embarrassed myself a little because I was so excited to talk romance industry since I’m off the conference circuit until I finish/publish another book. But Bea seemed the understanding type, and I’m giving myself a pass since I was in romance Mecca.

I waited for my moment (when they took a break)…and then I asked Mickael De Sinno if he would pose with high school BFF and I! And Jenn LeBlanc, author, photographer, and Studio Smexy maven took our picture! So much fun. We totally swooned. How often does THAT happen when you walk in a bookstore?

I was so delighted to visit the romantic bookstore that I’ve been hearing so much about lately. But even if you can’t swan out to LA like I did, guess what? You can shop online for books or schwag! Darn, it’s good schwag, too. I want that heroine tank top, even if it’s $30. And the romance categories are fantastic. Along with the usual “Paranormal” and “Inspirational,” they have “Bikes and Tats” and “Highlanders.” I will absolutely check The Ripped Bodice website the next time I need a book in print. I will also need to take a good browse through those categories. It’s like having a romance librarian on tap.[image error]

I love it when a good plan comes together!

Okay. I lied. We went here after The Ripped Bodice.

In-N-Out Burger, Animal Style! Twice. Then we went to Palm Springs.

Friends For Dinner

If you are a parent, and your kids went through a “Land Before Time” phase, I apologize for the ear worm. For those of you who thought this post would include a dinner party menu, I apologize for disappointing you. (It’s a good idea, though. I’ll throw a dinner party this summer and write about it, I promise.) But today, I’m talking about writing book reviews, which is why I keep humming “Friends For Dinner,” a song that has something to do with a young Tyrannosaurus Rex successfully making friends with herbivorous dinosaurs.

As an author, I love when readers review my books. I’ve heard 50 reviews on Amazon is a magic number, and when you get that many, Amazon gives you the promotional equivalent of a magical pony. (Hasn’t happened for me yet. SEDUCING THE PLAYBOY has hovered at 49 for ages. Not that I noticed! LOL.) But I write very few book reviews. This sad fact has been making me feel like an asshole for years. YEARS. Because I know a lot of authors, and I want to support them. I know how hard it is to write, edit, proof, publish, and promote a book. It’s an enormous accomplishment just to type THE END on a first draft, FFS! Why don’t I write more reviews?

I know one reason: I don’t love all the books I read. Sometimes I love the author…and hate the book. If I can’t give it 5 damn stars, I keep my mouth shut because I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings. My editor brain can tear a book apart, but I’m not going to do that to my friends. I’m not going to eat them for dinner. The romance community is a tiny little world. To me, 5 stars means I’ll read a book more than once, make notes, it changed my life, I’ll never forget it, or I want to sleep with one of the characters as much as I want to finish my work-in-progress. (Which is a LOT.) I can’t give every book I read five stars without lying, which Amazon knows, which is probably why they keep monkeying with their review policy. I know I can give a book 4 stars and not say horrid things about it, I just haven’t felt right about it…until now. Because this year is all about identifying the things that make me happy and making them so.

I’m a reader first and foremost. I don’t always get everything on my to-do list done. My house isn’t white-glove clean. (HA!) I don’t always get to the gym. But I read every day. I always have. So why don’t I review more of the books I read when I KNOW it would help my friends and colleagues?! I mean c’mon, I walked into The Ripped Bodice bookstore in CA last week, and knew or had met, seen, read, or tweeted almost EVERY AUTHOR ON THE FREAKING SHELVES. Straight-up, I was a name-dropping fool. (Such a neat place! More on that later in the week. I’m going to write a Fangirl Friday post.)

So…why? WHY?! I know why. I’m sensitive. (I’ve always hated to be teased. Ask my mother.) I want people to like me. I don’t want anyone to feel bad. I don’t want to feel bad. (I hate conflict. Ask my editor.) OMG, I’m 44 years old, and I feel like I’m just beginning to figure myself out. It seems crazy, but I have the same issues I’ve always had. But now I’ve decided I to change for the better, to change for the happy. This probably would have been easier when I was younger, but it’s all part of my journey, and I’m not going to beat myself up about it. (Even though being hard on myself is where I excel. I’m trying to change that, too.)

I believe posting more reviews on Amazon and Goodreads will make me happy. Or at least remove one of the ways I’ve been feeling bad. For me, that amounts to the same thing. It will also help other readers discover new books, and, on the flip-side, help my author colleagues with that tricky magical pony business of discoverability. As for any hurt feelings should any of my author friends uncover my newly-cloaked reader identity and find I didn’t give their book 5 stars? I sincerely hope the royalties they earn from me buying the book will help them forgive me.

What about you? Do you review books? Do you have any issues with it? Do you use your real name? What about other issues? Got those? Identifying them? Working on them?[image error]

May I suggest making a change for the happy? It’s what’s for dinner!

 

 

 

Harness Your Nightmares and Ride

Little wonder I’m anxious if this is what the main character in my passion project believes.

I woke this morning with tears in my eyes. Literal tears. Every muscle was clenched. My subconscious knows just how to freak me out.

This usually happens when I fall back to sleep when I meant to get up early. My mind decides to play Friday the 13th until I run screaming down the stairs to the kitchen to make coffee. It started off tame, Kimberly Kincaid, Robin Covington, and Avery Flynn were sleeping over, and I went to bed without making sure they had pillows and adequate blankets. Oh the horror of being a bad hostess! Then I was in a shopping mall and I didn’t know it was closing. They started turning off the lights and locking the doors, and I was miles from my car. A strange man wanted to help me. Stranger danger! Then I was at a party, and I was inappropriately dressed in a hand-knit sweater, an 80s miniskirt, black tights, and…gladiator sandals? The guest of honor was someone I had wronged half my life ago, and there was no forgiveness in her gaze. Shame is the worst. But I was still locked in sleep, so my subconscious pulled out the big guns: no idea where I was in the world, phone dead, snow and ice everywhere, forced to trust strange men. I was also talking with pizza in my mouth because the men had a food truck. I was a stranger in a strange land, lost to everyone and everything I’d ever known…

I’m up! I’m up! I’m up!

God save me from myself. I know just which buttons to push. Trust, safety, shame, and making bad choices that lead to ruin. I know where all the seeds of those odd anxieties came from. That friend I betrayed so long ago just got an amazing online write-up. Even my yoga pants have holes in them. I need to find a freelance editor for my passion project. I sneaked up to the bedroom to eat an ice cream bar last night because I didn’t want the kids to know and want one too. GUILTY! (Although I went to bed reading BIG MAGIC by Elizabeth Gilbert, so you’d think my brain would be full of positivity, not shame, guilt, and doubt!)

Sadly, my brain doesn’t really run toward positivity. But I’ve been so much better lately.

Still…it’s interesting to know what lies under my surface, even if I woke up terrified. I got a good look at the things I’m hiding. Some of that stuff needs to go. Obviously if I haven’t forgiven myself for the stupid things I did twenty years ago, even though it’s likely I’m the only one still hurting, I need to LET IT GO.

The rest of it though? Right ON. I need new pants. I need to get moving on not just writing my passion project but figuring out how to bring it into the world. I need to upgrade my phone because it goes dead all the time, and that’s not safe. And hell yes, I’m afraid of getting lost. In the world. In my work. In my emotions. Not knowing which way to go is the WORST. But I’m not asleep and powerless. I’m in charge of the route, and I know my fears. They aren’t new. But I’m not going to let them keep me down. Nope, I’m going to harness them and ride. Giddy. Up. Ride, rainbow pegasus unicorn, riiiiiiiide!

OH! Another thing in the “right on” category? Kimberly, Robin, Avery…PAJAMA PARTY???? I PROMISE I’ll supply the pillows and blankets!

What lies under your surface? Do your nightmares offer you insight into the fears you hide? What’s the last thing that woke YOU up in a cold sweat?

Click for all buy links!

 

Men of the Zodiac Easter Egg Hunt!

Click for all buy links!

The Men of the Zodiac authors are having a little Easter fun with the release of the Zodiac boxed set. We’re having an Easter Egg Hunt! Please join us for the chance to win a $25 gift card to Amazon or Barnes & Noble. Gather all twelve different colored eggs on participating authors’ sites and enter them in the Rafflecopter. Winner will be announced at the Men of the Zodiac Author Chat on Facebook, Easter Monday, March 28th, 8-10 pm EST. Stop by the party to see if you won, chat with the authors, AND for the chance to win great books and prizes!

Aries (my hero!) and Taurus are right here on my site, ready and willing to jump in your Easter basket! Sonya Weiss is keeping an eye on the Gemini and Cancer heroes…Robin Covington is hiding Libra and Scorpio…Sarah Ballance is keeping Sagittarius and Capricorn out of trouble…Theresa Meyers is in the pool with Aquarius and Pisces…and Leo and Virgo are Entangled in Romance at the moment…but they are all waiting for you! 12 months…12 men…12 fantasies come true…12 eggs for you to put in your basket for the chance to win!

Here’s the Rafflecopter Basket… Click to start gathering eggs!

We hope to see you at the Easter after-party, aka the Men of the Zodiac Author Chat, on Monday when we announce the winner.

Happy Hunting and Happy Easter! :-)

 

 

It’s Okay To Want

Before I tell you how new bookshelves inspired me to organize my life, I feel compelled to shriek SPRING STEAL ALERT! For a limited time, you can pre-order the ENTIRE Men of the Zodiac Series boxed bundle for .99. I wrote IMPULSE CONTROL, the first book in the series. Russ is an Aries, impulsive, energetic, hot-headed, and dynamite in the sack. Just like the author! :-) Each story in the series has an alpha hero who is a different zodiac sign. All the stories are connected by a secret detail, but they are complete on their own and don’t have to be read in order. If this sounds like your jam, grab it now. If not, read on…

My mother used to always say, “It’s okay to want,” when I was being particularly demanding. In my childish mind, all of my “wants,” were “needs,” of course. The maturing brain is a funny thing. I don’t remember myself as being obnoxious or irritating, but my mother frequently told my sister and I to go outside and run around the house ten times. Now that I have three kids, I know there must have been a darn good reason for that suggestion, and that changes the whole landscape of my childhood. Perhaps my father was justified when he knocked our heads together and called us “flaming assholes” at Arby’s that time? I do vaguely remember stealing cherry tomatoes off the salad bar and hiding them in my cheek so my sister could pop them by slapping me…seemed perfectly reasonable at the time!

But that’s neither here nor there.

For my whole life I’ve WANTED great bookshelves. One of my Facebook friends posts pictures of amazing libraries and cool ways to store books, and those pictures inspire lust and longing in me. One day I fell down a rabbit hole of such pictures and found a wall of books, floor to peaked ceiling, surrounding a door. It was so cool! I wanted it for my family room, but purchases like that are hard to justify when I scramble twice a year to pay the property taxes and look forward to that tax refund like it’s sex with Ryan Reynolds.

But after a year or so (or a lifetime) of wanting, I decided to HAVE that wall of books.

And Mom is right. It IS okay to want, but books have never been a want for me. I need to read. It’s the way I recharge. I get lost in another world for a while, and then I come back to ours, ready to keep chugging. There’s a lot of chugging to do in life…and a lot of books laying around my house. A lot of clutter. Things in need of homes. Especially books.

Books that now live here:

Corey Kertzie, craftsman and drummer, had the passion, creativity, and skill to build these amazing shelves after looking at one picture and having a conversation with me that went something like this: “I want shelves like this, but they don’t have to look exactly like this picture. I don’t know how to build anything except cake, so I don’t know what is possible and not possible. What do you think?” *I* think he’s a genius, and I owe a lifetime of salted caramels to Jessica Topper for recommending him.

All the worlds I’ve loved since childhood have taken their place on a shelf. The kids proudly display their Harry Potters and Riordans. My husband has a shelf for his beloved comic books. There’s a shelf for library books. Books-in-progress. Books-to-be-read. Cookbooks (lots of cookbooks). *happy sigh*

And now that all my basement books have come upstairs, I’m moving collected clutter to the shelves downstairs. I’m boxing up the things I don’t need. I’ve ordered storage thingies for file folders. Hanging shoe storage. I bought a paper shredder for fifteen years of documents in my closet. I’m getting rid of the things that don’t “spark joy” even though I haven’t read that KonMari book my neighborhood BFF Melissa keeps recommending. Maybe it’s my glorious new shelves, maybe it’s spring, maybe it’s my impending birthday, or my renewed joy in my work, but I feel a positive change in the wind.

Old friends.

New friends.

Best friends.

So yes, it’s okay to want. But sometimes granting yourself permission to have something you’ve wanted for a long time, large or small, simple or complex, can inspire change. (As long as it doesn’t put you in the poorhouse, of course. My shelves were financed by royalties earned from work I did over a year ago and my Wegmans job, which as you might know felt like the death of my dream at the time). So much joy now! I have a wall of bookshelves, and somehow that means I can organize my life.

As my middle kid would say: “Don’t question it.”

Just be grateful.

Are you grateful for something? Inspired? Changing? Has something brought you joy lately? I’d love to hear about it. Joy is contagious. I hope you’ll spread yours in the comments or somewhere else in your world.

Lastly, I’m building up my New Release Newsletter in anticipation of my new series. I’m going to do a sneak peak at the end of March for all subscribers. If you’d like to see what I’m working on and be the first to hear about new releases, please subscribe (to my tribe) (couldn’t resist the rhyme) (a poetry major, beyond her time).

Click this link to subscribe to my Awesome Sauce New Release Newsletter! :-)

 

 

Vulnerability Equals Connection: On Joy, Pastries, Passion, and Not Being a Spirit Crusher

Hi! I want to share something with you.

I wish I could share our Apple Crumb Pies with you, too. They turned out well!

When I was growing up, there was someone for whom my efforts were never good enough. The super-high standards in my family made me try harder, but they also made me languish in the perpetual failure of never enjoying accomplishment.

Yes, I know I’m nearly 44, but I’m not over it.

While I was writing under deadline, I didn’t enjoy the book releases because there was always another deadline, another disappointing number I could find somewhere to kill my joy. Being critical of myself is familiar. Dare I say it’s my comfort zone? Damn right old habits are hard to break.

I teach pastry arts at a local community college. Usually I teach Intermediate, but this semester, I’m also teaching Intro. Intro is the students’ first taste of the program and sometimes their first experience in a professional kitchen. For a few, this class is the first time they have baked ANYTHING from scratch. Since I am as driven in the kitchen as I am in writing, I wrote a marvelous production schedule. And we got behind (always happens). I was frustrated, mostly with myself. A very familiar feeling when I teach any class because I inherited high standards. High expectations. Many of my students grow to appreciate that and come back to thank me…but it’s frequently rough for all of us DURING the class.

When it’s really rough, linzer tart helps. Hazelnuts, raspberries and cinnamon. A classic delight!

One night, I dismissed class on a frustrated low note, but I came in the next night armed with a game plan for that night and a better game plan for the night before, explaining how I made the wrong choice early in class by assigning them the wrong recipe to do first. I laid out what would have been a better way to approach the night’s work. See, I do love teaching. And I really love baking. And most of all I love eating pastries. The biggest thing I share with my students is my passion, but somehow that gets lost in my gotta-get-the-work-done-so-we-can-talk-about-how-we-could-have-done-it-better attitude. It’s never good enough. Never a triumph. Even I can’t fail to see the pattern.

While I was sharing my ideas for how we could do it better, two things happened;

I exposed my vulnerability, the fact that I KNOW I don’t know everything, and that I don’t always get it right the first time, either. (Brené Brown, the vulnerability badass, would be so proud!)
Someone asked about chocolate cheesecake.

And we connected.

I put my website on the projector screen so I could share my chocolate cheesecake recipe with them. I’m passionate about the recipes I put in my books. They are usually recipes I’ve been using for years and years. In fact, I’ve been making that particular cheesecake (featured in SCRUMPTIOUS) since I discovered it in 1996!  I ended up showing them several of the dessert recipes on my website. They also got a good look at Russ Donovan’s bare chest on the cover of IMPULSE CONTROL, and, boy, we really connected over that, lol! In those moments, I stopped being the PITA driving them through recipe after recipe and pointing out faults in the name of learning and became a passionate person. We had a great night in the kitchen that night, and I realized I could teach them more by taking things a little slower. If we all enjoyed the process, then I would be doing my job well. Because, yes, I’m supposed to teach them how to bake, but I also want to inspire them to love what we do. If you aren’t enjoying the process, the actual time you spend doing what you do, then what’s the point? Some people have good answers for that question. Like: I make a shit ton of money. Or: I’m saving the world. But I don’t have a good answer for why I make myself miserable. I have a choice. Neighborhood BFF Melissa shared a meme on FB the other day: Happiness is an inside job. I LOVE THAT!

I bring home cookies to my kids when I’m teaching, but they don’t get a whole one! Product evaluation is important, so I HAVE to take a bite of each one…

So I’m taking things slower on the writing front. I don’t have much time to devote to writing when I’m teaching. I always have the thought, “If I’m teaching at night, I have all day to write,” and it never works out. Because if I’m teaching every night, I have a lot of other things to get done during the day, too! It’s OK. I’m writing a book. That’s good enough. I’m also taking things slower in the kitchen, and everyone seems to be enjoying the process a bit more. I’m telling that insistent little voice that drives me to assign another recipe the second someone’s hand are idle…to fuck off. They are becoming better bakers. Good! Enough!

I’m good enough. You are good enough. We get to decide that for ourselves. We get to define our happiness and success. We are “good enough” simply because we ARE. It’s that easy. And really difficult at the same time. But in those moments when I feel the most weighted down by my own expectations, and I shrug them off and recognize the work I have done is GOOD and ENOUGH?

Transcendence.

Multiple times a day because that shit takes practice. :-)

Happy March, everyone! XOXO