Shelly Hickman's Blog, page 5

That Four Letter Word - Fear

Aside from letting you in on book promotions, I don’t often use my blog to talk specifically about the writing or marketing process. In general, I usually just ramble on about life stuff. However, today I’m going to talk about writing. Actually, I'm going to talk about emotional attachment to your writing.

I have written four books and recently realized I’ve made consistent efforts to gain new readers for my last three, but I’ve pretty much ignored my first baby, and had to ask myself why. I’ve always reasoned that its genre is just too difficult to pinpoint, so who exactly is the market for my lonely little novella? Whenever you submit your book to a promotional site, you must provide its genre.

Believe is a story that deals with grief, spirituality, loss of faith, and forgiveness. I would say the strongest element is the spiritual aspect, but spirituality is often associated with religion. How many times have we heard someone say, “I consider myself spiritual, but not necessarily religious,” or something of that nature? If there wasn’t a close association between the two, why would someone feel the need to make such a statement?

So spiritual fiction and religious fiction are often lumped together, and the problem with that is many readers expect their religious fiction to follow very strict guidelines. Well, I’m telling you right now Believe has a few naughty words in it, so readers of religious fiction generally don’t appreciate that. I know because one reader said she was permanently removing the book from her Kindle because of the potty mouth language. (Okay, I’m making an assumption that she was expecting religious fiction—I don’t know that for a fact.) In any case, she was certainly entitled to those feelings.

But going back to genre placement, let’s scratch religious fiction, or even spiritual fiction because of its close association with religious fiction.

Then there’s women’s fiction or plain ol’ contemporary fiction, which I have used in the past for promotional purposes for lack of something more appropriate. However, contemporary fiction is so vague. And women’s fiction? It’s an okay choice for the story, but still not great.

By now you’re probably thinking, “Alright, enough already about the genres! We get it. You can’t figure out what your book is. Can we move on?”

So here’s the real truth about my reluctance about promoting this book. It has very little to do with the proper label and everything to do with its content and what it means to me. Every author has a certain amount of emotional attachment to each of her works, for varying reasons, but because this book was my way of working through the death of my daughter, I get very nervous about how it’s received by readers.

I’ll admit the writing wasn’t as polished as it hopefully is now. After all, it was my first work and as writers we all hope to improve our craft with each book. Not long after it was published, I ran a free promotion that resulted in several unfavorable reviews on Goodreads. After that, I was afraid to put it out there again.

All authors need to learn how to deal with negative feedback, especially first time authors, but because this book was so painfully personal, any criticism against the writing felt like invalidation—not only of my experience, but more importantly, my daughter’s. It’s quite ridiculous, really. It sounds like I’m saying the topic in and of itself should have exempted the book from judgment.

Subconsciously, that may have been what I thought, because as I went on to write my other books, I pretty much gave up on trying to put Believe in front of readers with any amount of oomph. I wanted people to read it, but at the same time I kinda didn’t. Low ratings and/or meh reviews of my other works weren't exactly fun, but they didn’t feel as personal. Not only do those stories have lighter themes, but with each book comes the acceptance that you won't please everyone.

I’m nearing the end of a three-day free run of Believe in which the number of downloads at the time of this writing is just over two thousand. And no, that doesn’t mean a whole lot because there are lots of people who download free books and never read them. Expecting fifty reads out of two thousand is being extremely optimistic. In any case, I do have a little bit of a sick feeling in my stomach, anticipating reader response. In a writing group I belong to, I once asked if anyone else still gets a little anxious when discovering a new review. A fellow author described it best when she said she does a little cringe with a one-eyed peek. Yep. Perfect depiction.

However, my skin has become a bit thicker since I first released Believe. There will inevitably be readers who won't like it, or it won't speak to them in any way, and that's okay. At the same time, occasionally that review comes in when it’s clear your reader just “got it.” They got exactly what it was you were trying to accomplish. 

And that, my friend, makes all the fear and apprehension worthwhile. :)



Thanks for reading! To return to the FICTION WRITERS BLOG HOP on Julie Valerie’s Book Blog, click here: http://www.julievalerie.com/fiction-writers-blog-hopapril-2015/

TWIN PIQUES by Tracie Banister Release Week Blitz

It's my pleasure to feature Tracie Banister's newest book, Twin Piques , in today's post. Her first two books, In Need of Therapy and Blame It On the Fame , have received many positive reviews from readers so I expect this will be a great read as well. 

Tracie loves her dogs and has often wondered what goes on in their furry little heads, which is what prompted her to create the character Willa, the pet psychic. I'm a dog person as well and have found myself wondering the same thing. In fact, my family and I make a habit of creating mini dialogues for our pups as they interact, or when they give us a certain look.
We recently got a 5-month-old pit bull puppy (Junebug) to keep our 4-year-old pit/greyhound (Frankie) company. At first, Frankie was excited about the new addition, but after a few days, the novelty wore off, and she went through a period of mourning the loss of being the center of attention. In this shot, I imagine her asking me, "Are you sure you really got this demon for me? I mean, look at her. She's a beast!" (Yes, Frankie is a priss. Junebug... is not.)

Frankie has since adjusted. I guess she finally realized little Junebug isn't going anywhere. (I use the term "little" lightly. Junebug's quite the chunk.)

Anyway, on to Twin Piques! I absolutely love the cover image. Congratulations on the new release, Tracie! Forensic accountant Sloane Tobin and kooky pet psychic Willa may have the same face, but that’s the only thing these identical twins have in common.

How she can read the hearts and minds of animals has always been a mystery to Willa, and her rotten luck with men is equally baffling. Although she’s been looking for “The One” for what feels like forever (A teenage marriage to a French mime and dating a guy named Spider seemed like good ideas at the time!), optimistic Willa refuses to give up on love. When she meets Brody, the handsome rose expert hired to save her grandmother’s garden, she’s instantly smitten, but why does he keep sending her mixed signals? Does he return her feelings, or is their attraction all in her fanciful head?

Unlike her twin, Sloane has zero interest in romance. Her passion is her job, where she uses her gift for numbers to take down slimy embezzlers and asset-hiding spouses. When she’s assigned two high profile cases, Sloane feels confident the promotion she’s been angling for is within her grasp. But will her plan to climb the corporate ladder be thwarted by difficult clients, her co-worker-with-benefits, or – most surprisingly of all – her own sister? And how’s she supposed to stay focused on the drama at work when her childhood friend, Gav, moves in next door and the spark between them becomes impossible to ignore?

To get what they both want, can Willa and Sloane band together and rely on each other’s strengths? Or will their differences drive them apart once and for all? An avid reader and writer, Tracie Banister has been scribbling stories since she was a child, most of them featuring feisty heroines with complicated love lives like her favorite fictional protagonist Scarlett O'Hara. Her work was first seen on the stage of her elementary school, where her 4th grade class performed an original holiday play that she penned. (Like all good divas-in-the-making, she also starred in and tried to direct the production.)

Tracie’s dreams of authorial success were put on the backburner when she reached adulthood and discovered that she needed a "real" job in order to pay her bills. Her career as personal assistant to a local entrepreneur lasted for 12 years. When it ended, she decided to follow her bliss and dedicate herself to writing full-time. Twin Piques is her third Chick Lit release. The pet psychic character in this novel was inspired by Tracie’s rascally rescue dogs. She’d love to know what goes on in their heads! Purchase on Amazon
Add to your reading list on Goodreads.


Social Networking Links

Blog:  http://traciebanister.blogspot.com/

Facebook:  https://www.facebook.com/tracie.banister

Twitter:  https://twitter.com/traciebanister

Pinterest:  https://www.pinterest.com/tlbani

Goodreads:  https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5448518.Tracie_Banister

Letting Go of a Dream

We all have dreams for our children, don’t we? Many of them we take for granted, until they sometimes dissolve.

These past several months have prompted some huge adjustments for me. You see, my son finished high school in June, ending a very successful run in which he completed four years of NJROTC and graduated with High Honors and a GPA of 4.4. He was even awarded a couple of scholarships.

Needless to say, I am extremely proud of him and had always assumed he would go on to earn his college degree. I never seriously considered that he wouldn’t. My son had often expressed that he wanted to join the military after he finished college, which I was totally fine with. He’d most likely enter as an officer, and would be less in harm’s way. Just get that degree first! That’s all I really cared about. Of course I didn’t want him to major in basket weaving, but so long as he studied something he was interested in that gave him a pretty good chance of earning a decent living, I was happy.

However, during his first couple of months of college, I was getting the warning signs. Signs that I pushed aside. The following comments often fell from my son’s mouth:

“College sucks.”

“Why am I doing the same exact thing I did in high school?”

“When am I ever going to use this stuff?”

“Why did I bother taking all those Honors and AP courses, just to be starting all over again?”

I understood his frustrations because I remember feeling the same way, and I tried to tell him those feelings were normal. And though I was also a high achiever in school and experienced a sense of academic burnout, his experience was still quite different than my own. He took far more rigorous courses than I did. I was in Honors classes throughout high school and graduated salutatorian, but I never took Anatomy, Honors Trig, AP Calculus, etc., like my son. My courses had more of a liberal arts emphasis, and by my senior year I’d met all my requirements so that I could basically enjoy a final year of fluff.

My extracurricular activities consisted of Yearbook and Theater, while my son’s spare time was spent taking part in NJROTC commitments such as community service, lengthy daily practices on the Armed Drill team, parades, competitions and the like, in addition to challenging coursework.

If I’m being completely honest, I shouldn’t have been at all surprised when my son informed me that he was quitting college and planned to enlist.  But oh! What a shot to the heart! Was my son, my high-achieving, made-for-college son, really quitting school? This could not be! No, no, no! My kids go to college!

I knew it was coming, as much as I wanted to deny it. And my son even admitted that the comments he’d been making over the prior months were meant to prepare me for his decision, but I still wasn’t prepared. In a world that’s gone crazy with major unrest ever since 9/11, my son has informed me he’s joining the military. After already having lost one child, my mind takes me to places I don’t want to go.

Yet, his unmistakable unhappiness since he started college was no good either. In the end, I would much rather he pursue his own dreams and be happy, than continue in a direction that's not for him, simply because it’s what his dad and I want.

Right around the time all of this came out, and I was mourning the loss of my dreams for my son, a parent who’s part of a Facebook group I belong to was mourning the loss of her young adult daughter to cancer.

It brought me back to when I lost my own daughter to the disease. She was only eight, but I remember for a long while pretending that she wasn’t really gone—just living somewhere else—happy. Living her life in another part of the world, but not gone.  

It made me realize how blessed I am that my son is still here. No, he may not be choosing the path that I had chosen for him. No, I won’t see him nearly as much as I do now, and after this holiday season, who knows when the next time will be that we’ll have another Christmas with him. But he’s still here, healthy and free to live his own dreams. I won’t have to pretend that he’s happy somewhere else. He really will be—God willing.

Given that he could be leaving as early as February, this Christmas is most precious to me, and I’m going to spoil that little brat as much as I can. I usually make a ham for Christmas because I’ve only made a turkey once in my entire life, but when my son asked if we could have turkey this year, of course I couldn’t say no. Send a few prayers my way that it won’t be gross.

I guess my message in all this is that, even when we think the hard part of parenting is over, it never truly is. These guys will continue to throw us for a loop, no matter how old. The best we can hope for is that we’ve prepared them to be successful no matter which path they choose. I’m confident my son has what it takes to succeed on whatever road he travels.

And with that, I wish you all a very happy and healthy holiday season with your loved ones. Peace!
Update: The boy got me this hoodie for Christmas, which has the cover image of my first book, Believe. It's one of the most thoughtful gifts I've ever received. Little poop had to go and make me cry!

Elke Feuer's Deadly Race

If you're into mystery, crime and/or romantic suspense, then read on. Elke Feuer's new release, Deadly Race , is now available for pre-order!


Race car driver Remy Borden likes fast things: bikes, cars, and men. Her plans to become the first woman from the Cayman Islands to race internationally gets sidetracked when she’s injured and pulled from the final race because of a fiery confrontation with another driver.

Life goes from bad to worse when the racetrack owner is killed and she’s suspect number one because his death puts her back in the race. But racing again proves difficult when Dr. Jackson Wilson insists she stop racing until she heals, making her wonder if his ‘doctor’s orders’ don’t have ulterior motives-the racetrack owner was his friend.  

She and Jackson search for the truth behind the murder when accidents start happening at the racetrack, and an adoring fan gets too close. Soon the simmering attraction between her and Jackson boils over, forcing her to admit Jackson makes her think of a life beyond racing.
About the Author:

Elke was born and raised on Grand Cayman and lives there with her husband and two kids who keep her on her toes.

She’s a cof­fee­holic, check­list fanatic, and future space explorer. She has a sarcastic/quirky sense of humor and loves meet­ing new people. When not writing, she's helping other writers in Cayman through her organization CayWriters.

The author of For the Love of Jazz and Deadly Bloodlines, book one in her Deadly Series. She stumbled into writing romantic suspense because of her fascination with serial killers, but writes other genres because characters keep telling her their stories and she's a sucker for a crazy story.

What people say about Elke

“Elke knows how to create a page turner and will leave you begging for more”

“Elke is an up and coming author to watch”

 

Connect with Elke:

Website |Twitter|Facebook|Amazon |Goodreads

Contact: hotcaymanmama@yahoo.com

Buy Links:

Amazon: http://myBook.to/DeadlyRace (universal link to all Amazon sites)  

B&N: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/deadly-race-elke-feuer/1120829111?ean=2940046424195

Smashswords:  https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/497029 Excerpt:



“I didn’t really have a relationship with her. She was someone I wanted, but she didn’t know how I felt until an hour ago.” Would she decide to kick him out of her apartment for either leading her on or being a complete ass?

She gripped the couch tightly and it collapsed beneath her hands. Her eyes narrowed to slits and her mouth twisted in anger. Here comes her emotional eruption. He braced himself.

“You put me through all of that for nothing?” She said it with so much control he wondered where she got it.

“It wasn’t nothing to me,” he reasoned.

“Wasn’t nothing? Do you know how many times I felt guilty because you had a girlfriend, or know how many nights I lay awake imagining I’d go to hell for the dirty thoughts I had about you in this apartment, inside and outside your car, even the examination table in your office?” She paced before him.

Jackson was speechless, and turned on, as he thought about everything she’d just mentioned. He remembered the night she kissed him in the car and wondered what would’ve happened if they hadn’t been interrupted, or if they’d been in a secluded area instead of outside her apartment.

“Hey!” she shouted, pulling him from his erotic thoughts of her spread out over the roof of his car.

“Stop that! You don’t get to have a fantasy in the middle of my rant. Got it?” Her index finger pointed at him.

He wanted to smile, but knew she’d probably knock his lights out if he did. “Please continue,” he said as politely and seriously as he could.

“Why couldn’t you be honest with me?” She ran a hand through her hair.

Honest about that? She couldn’t be serious? “Honest about wanting someone I hadn’t even told how I felt? I hardly knew you, Remy, and you wanted me to share something I’d kept secret for nearly two years?”

“Two years?” Her voice echoed in disbelief.

It sounded ridiculous to hear it out loud.

She must’ve thought so, too, because she laughed. It started as a light chuckle, but then escalated to full, out loud, boisterous laughter until it was so extreme she fell to the floor behind the couch.

He walked over to where she lay. “It’s not that funny,” he insisted.

She looked up at him with tears in her eyes and laughed harder.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying this at my expense.” He extended a hand to help her up, but she waved it away as another fit of laughter overtook her. “You might not believe this, but I’m incredibly shy.”

She roared louder and gestured with her hand for him to stop talking.

He couldn’t blame her for laughing. He’d been anything but shy around her. She had a knack for bringing out emotions in him that were less than passive, with her audaciousness and that unfiltered mouth of hers. Services:

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Menopause to Matrimony Release

Well, it’s release day for my latest novel, Menopause to Matrimony , and I have no idea what to talk about. Isn’t that sad? So pardon me while I simply ramble.

When I finished Vegas to Varanasi , I had no plans to write a sequel. However, I did miss the characters quite a bit. Not long after publishing V to V, I started feeling kinda crappy—physically. I had already acknowledged other signs of getting older, such as my son finishing high school and no more trick or treating or Easter egg hunts with the kids.

But now the body begins to complain in small ways.  As someone who used to relish in sleeping in, good sleep is frequently elusive or often interrupted with trips to the bathroom to pee. Okay, so I’ve always had to get up in the middle of the night to pee—but usually once—not two or three times. And when I did get up, I could easily fall back to sleep. These days it’s a crap shoot, due to being too hot, too cold, etc.

Then there’s the fatigue. I’ve upped my coffee in the mornings from one cup to two, and that seems to have helped, but by 1:30 in the afternoon, I could easily be cast on The Walking Dead, which is not good when your days are spent in the company of middle schoolers. I’ve heard it more than once: “Mrs. Hickman, you look tired.”

I’m sorry. That’s one thing a woman does not want to hear on a regular basis. You look tired. About every other time I see my mom, she gets this look of pity on her face. “You doin’ okay? You look so tired!” Ughhhh! I’ve been seriously considering going back to bangs just to camouflage the tired eyes.

So anyway, I won’t go on about all the other physical and emotional changes I’ve experienced as of late, but since my main character Anna is my age, this became the focus of Menopause to Matrimony. We have to find humor in all of these changes. We must. And it needs to be talked about so women don’t feel so alone and crazy. The poor fellas? They go through it, too—just in different ways. No one will convince me otherwise.

Sometimes I feel like I complain too much, especially since I do believe our thought patterns affect our bodies. But honestly, it’s fun to joke about getting older because there’s a camaraderie about it. My husband had a heart attack almost three years ago. I had a hip replacement four years ago, and we give each other shit about it all the time.

“At least I haven’t had a heart attack.”

“Yeah, well at least I still have both my hips!”

See? Isn’t that fun?

My hope is that readers will find Menopause to Matrimony fun, especially middle-aged readers. There’s no doubt that one of today’s popular genres is New Adult—which is cool—but let’s not forget about us not-so-new-adults. (wink)
Buy Menopause to Matrimony on Amazon.

Playlist for Menopause to Matrimony

I love to mention songs in my stories, and would love it even more if I could actually quote lyrics, more than just a couple of words, without getting into deep doo doo. There are so many amazing songs out there, but I understand the restrictions. Anyway, I did this for Vegas to Varanasi when Laura Chapman was kind enough to host me on her blog and it was so much fun. You can see it here if you're interested. And now for the Menopause to Matrimony playlist.

At first, I was going to include a brief explanation about why each song appears, but then thought it might be better to leave a little mystery. Maybe the selections will intrigue you to pick up the book and find out for yourself. :) And don't worry--if you haven't read the first book, this one can be read as a stand alone. I Put a Spell On You - Bryan Ferry You Should Be Dancing - Bee Gees Na Na - Trey Songz Gold Digger - Kanye West ft. Jamie Foxx Never Can Say Goodbye - Jackson Five Follow You Follow Me - Genesis Signed Sealed Delivered - Stevie Wonder Adore You - Miley Cyrus Our Love Is Here to Stay - Frank Sinatra Come to Me - Goo Goo Dolls The sequel to Vegas to Varanasi catches up with Anna and Kiran a couple of years after the event that brought the once “ugly duckling” high school acquaintances together. But will their romance continue to flourish in the face of a whole new set of insecurities brought on by middle age? 

First, there’s Kiran, who has an unexpected health scare. While his doctors assure no permanent damage has been done, there seems to have been some damage to his personality, as the normally respectful and reserved Kiran begins behaving erratically and overtly. Anna wants to hope that this is temporary, sparked by the visit of Kiran’s womanizing, free-spirited cousin, Seth. But is this just the midlife Kiran surfacing? 

Anna has midlife issues of her own. Now forty-eight, she’s navigating the onset of perimenopause and all the delights that come with it, from facial hair to mood swings to body temperature issues. On top of that, her two-year-old granddaughter is starting to show signs of a behavior disorder, bringing with it a whole other level of stress and worry. 

Will Anna and Kiran finally find their happily ever after? Or end up stuck in a midlife mess in this romantic comedy of accepting change, and “the change.” Like to party? Hop along the Hump Day Blog Hop on Julie Valerie’s Book Blog. Click here to return to the Hump Day Blog Hop.

Menopause to Matrimony Coming November 1st

The sequel to Vegas to Varanasi is now complete. Woo hoo! Advanced Reader Copies have been sent out, and it will be in the hands of proofreader extraordinaire, Wendy Janes, by the end of this month. If you would be interested in reading an advanced copy in exchange for sharing an honest review on Amazon once the book releases, please contact me at sydneyhickman91@gmail.com. It's okay if you didn't read Vegas. I've received feedback from a couple of readers already who didn't read the first one, and they didn't complain of any trouble following the plot line. 

When I finished Vegas to Varanasi, I never had any intention of writing a sequel, but found I missed the characters. Unfortunately, I wasn't sure what I wanted to do with them. Well, in real life I'm now creeping into the world of perimenopause, experiencing all sorts of fun things like weight gain, bloating, hot hands and feet that often interfere with my sleep, thinning hair, occasional hot flashes, and the dreaded moodiness. I don't think the bitchiness has set in just yet. It's been more like increased spells of feeling blue and being weepy. (My husband might tell you otherwise.) That's not the end of the list, but I'd rather not go into some of the other symptoms here. ;)

So I thought, hey, why not tell this story through Anna's eyes, and try to have some fun with it? Because if a girl can't laugh at all this craziness, she will surely lose her mind. (Oh. Losing my mind. That's another symptom. As in, I can't remember squat anymore.) And don't worry. Kiran doesn't get off so easy. He has his own set of midlife difficulties as well, so the two of them are trying to find their way through this stage together as a relatively new couple.

Here's the blurb, written by the brilliant Francine LaSala. Thank you, Francine!

The sequel to Vegas to Varanasi catches up with Anna and Kiran a couple of years after the event that brought the once “ugly duckling” high school acquaintances together. But will their romance continue to flourish in the face of a whole new set of insecurities brought on by middle age?

First, there’s Kiran, who has an unexpected health scare. While his doctors assure no permanent damage has been done, there seems to have been some damage to his personality, as the normally respectful and reserved Kiran begins behaving erratically and overtly. Anna wants to hope that this is temporary, sparked by the visit of Kiran’s womanizing, free-spirited cousin, Seth. But is this just the midlife Kiran surfacing?

Anna has midlife issues of her own. Now forty-eight, she’s navigating the onset of perimenopause and all the delights that come with it, from facial hair to mood swings to body temperature issues. On top of that, her two-year-old granddaughter is starting to show signs of a behavior disorder, bringing with it a whole other level of stress and worry. 

Will Anna and Kiran finally find their happily ever after? Or end up stuck in a midlife mess in this romantic comedy of accepting change, and “the change.”



And here's a little excerpt:

“You look like you didn’t have such a good day. I got something for you that may cheer you up.” He rises and picks up a gift bag I hadn’t noticed from the dresser and sits on the edge of the bed.

“That’s so sweet!”

Pulling out a clear plastic package that has some bulky looking slippers inside, I purse my lips. “What kind of slippers are these?” And why would he get me slippers in the middle of summer, when my feet have already been burning up?

“They’re cold therapy booties.” He unzips the package and takes them out. Then he removes a gel pack from one of them. “You put the gel in the freezer, and when your feet are hot, just put the packs into the booties and wear them to cool your feet. I thought you could sleep in them and you wouldn’t have to keep kicking the covers off.”

What a great idea! However, they’re far from attractive, almost resembling some kind of orthopedic wraps, and suddenly I burst into tears. “Thank you! It was so thoughtful of you to find something like this for me.”

Kiran ducks his head to look into my face and smiles awkwardly. “You’re welcome. I wasn’t expecting such a dramatic reaction to a pair of slippers.” He lightly places his hand on my arm. “Did your appointment not go the way you wanted today?”

“I don’t know,” I say, throwing up my hands. “I have to get a couple more tests to make sure it’s safe for me to have ablation. I’m just going to be so disappointed if I have to keep dealing with these awful periods. I mean, what if I can’t have this done and I get my period on our honeymoon? It’ll ruin everything… I’m sorry for being so pathetic.”

He goes back to his side of the bed and leans against the headboard. Then he holds out his arm for me sit beside him. Sniffling to keep my nose from dripping, I accept his invitation. “What else? I can tell there’s more,” he says.

“Like you said…” I sigh. “It just wasn’t a good day. When I asked her about my hot hands and feet, she said it’s probably from the B vitamins I’ve been taking for my hair loss. So I need to stop taking them and see. She asked me if I’ve considered Rogaine. Rogaine!” My voice squeaks. “I’m not balding. My hair just comes out in clumps. You’ve seen it all over the bathroom. I told her how my friend tried it, but it dripped onto her face while she slept, giving her facial hair!”

Kiran silently reaches across me for my cider and hands it to me.

“Thank you.” I take a swig. “And then I came across this God awful magazine ad in the waiting room about this ABL affecting one in five women over forty.”

“ABL?”

“Accidental… bowel… leakage!” I say, emphasizing each word.

“Oh no…” He tries to keep from smiling.

“I wouldn’t be so quick to find it funny. It said just as many men your age are affected. It actually made me angry!”

He simply draws in his lips and closes his eyes, making every effort to remain neutral.

“I’m worried about Claire, your parents are leaving and I’m gonna miss them,” I croak. “And now I have to wear those damn ugly slippers just so I can sleep!”

Kiran pulls me into him as I start bawling all over again.

“No offense. It really was a sweet gift and I’m sure I’ll love them.”

“None taken,” he says gently.

Straightening, I wipe my face with the sleeves of my robe. “I am so, so sorry for wacking out on you like this. You must be scared shitless right now, thinking, Here we go. On the road to crazy town.” Honestly, I’m thinking the same thing.

International Authors' Day

Recently, I was invited by Debdatta Dasgupta Sahay to participate in a blog hop which focuses on our appreciation of authors, otherwise known as International Authors' Day. Thank you, Debdatta! Unfortunately, the info she sent me is somewhere lost in cyberspace, so I'm unable to post links to all the participants. Hopefully I'll receive it at some point and I can add it later. But hey, I'm gonna share this post whether it's included in the hop or not. LOL.

I started thinking back to the first author who had an impact on me as a child, and that was Judy Blume. If you were a girl in the '70s or '80s, it's probably safe to say that her books touched you in some way. I didn't read all of her works, but Are You There God? It's Me Margaret was such an important book for me. The way Blume approached the topic of puberty with honesty and humor made it one of my favorite stories, and a timeless one at that. I introduced the book to my own daughter three or so years ago, and she became a fan as well.

Fast forward a couple more years when I read Blume's Forever. That was some steamy stuff, all right! The story of a teenage girl's first love and sexual experience had my rapt attention, and there was nothing left to the imagination in the telling of this story. Even the dudes knew exactly which pages to turn to. I was in the eighth grade when I had the book sitting on my desk in class. Without asking, the boy in front of me took it from my desk, turned to a certain section, read a few pages, and promptly returned it. I guess he'd gotten his jollies off for the day. By the way, the cover images to the right are the editions that belonged to me.

The first book I remember making me severely depressed was The Outsiders by S.E. Hinton. It was recommended to me by a friend, and when I finished reading it I called her up to chew her ass. "Why in the world did you tell me to read that thing?" Yes, it was a great book, but it succeeded in making me bawl my eyes out, and left me down in the dumps for a week. Just so you know, this is one of the reasons I don't do sad books or movies. They have a lingering effect on me.

By high school I had become a V.C. Andrews addict. My Sweet Audrina was my introduction to the author, and I was hooked on her strange, and often icky plot lines. Among others, I went on to read the Flowers in the Attic series and quickly became obsessed with the massive dysfunction that was the Dollanganger family. They were the '80s equivalent of the Gallaghers on Showtime's Shameless, only upper crust.

Somewhere along the way, I lost interest in fiction and reading in general. When it really picked up again was when my oldest daughter was diagnosed with cancer at the age of four. It was then that I threw myself into non-fiction, religious, and philosophical texts. They were my lifeline and I devoured anything that might convince me my own outlook on things had the power to impact my daughter's fate. The New Testament, A Course in Miracles, Science of Mind, Bhagavad Gita, Conversations with God, Wayne Dyer, Deepak Chopra, Richard Bach... Okay, so Richard Bach writes fiction, but you get the picture. And though reading those texts didn't end in the result I was seeking, I have no doubt they got me through the absolute worst time of my life.

Although I am a huge fan of Harry Potter and have seen every movie, I had never read any of the books before seeing Order of the Phoenix. Because I couldn't wait to see how it all ended, I then read the last two books in the series. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows turned out to be one of my all-time favorite books, despite the fact it left me a little blue because it meant saying good-bye to the characters I'd grown to love.

These days I'm into the light stuff--funny ladies are my thing. Nora Ephron is one of my faves and I thoroughly enjoyed Heartburn and I Feel Bad About My Neck. I also adored Erma Bombeck back in the day. Tina Fey is a riot, and I'm currently reading Mindy Kaling's Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me? And of course there are all the hugely talented authors I have befriended over the past couple of years. I am working my way through a long list of their books on my Kindle, and seldom am I disappointed. My most recent read was funny lady Bonnie Trachtenberg's Neurotically Yours, which I highly recommend.

So it is with much love and gratitude that I acknowledge a few of the many authors who have touched my life and continue to do so. Thanks for taking this little journey down memory lane with me.

Who are some of the authors who have touched you?

Vegas to Varanasi Cover Revamp

A few weeks ago I began writing the sequel to Vegas to Varanasi, which started me thinking about the cover image. I loved my first cover, despite the fact that as a reader, I typically turn away from those with photos of people on them, or I guess I should say, people's faces. I have always preferred graphically designed images, which is pretty ironic considering my second and third books don't fall into that category. I think one of the big turnoffs readers have with photos is that they want to imagine the characters the way they see them, not the way the author sees them, which is a valid argument. Though I thought the fella on the original V to V cover was a hottie, and very much fit the description of him in the book, even I have to admit he isn't what I envisioned as I was writing. One reader who left an otherwise kind review, shared that her only issue with the book was that she didn't care for the image of the man on the cover because he wasn't how she pictured him. Sure, that doesn't have anything to do with the story itself, but it's something we all think about as we read, and something authors must consider when selecting a cover.

Saying that, I was thinking about how I will need the cover for this sequel to aesthetically gel with the first book, and the best way to do that is to go with my natural preference for graphically designed covers. One of the things I did not like about my old cover is that it gave off a traditional romance feel, when V to V isn't that kind of story. It's definitely more "chick lit". Like my first book Believe, I decided to tackle the design myself and was soon reminded how frustrating the task is because I'm so indecisive. I can agonize over a color or font choice ad nauseam, so I thank my sister author friends at Chick Lit Goddesses for all the helpful suggestions they offered about layout, color, and overall feel of the new cover. I even consulted hubby for his input as well, and tried to address all the points that came up. So without further ado, here is the newly designed cover for Vegas to Varanasi.

Just for the sake of discussion, what draws you to a book cover and what turns you off?

How Do We Develop Thick Skin?

It’s often said, if you want to be a writer, you must have thick skin. I suppose that applies to many professions, especially if you’re in a creative field, but I read an article recently that made the same statement about teaching, which is my “bread and butter” profession. I have never had thick skin, and probably never will. If I’m feeling attacked, my feelings are inevitably hurt. Yet, at the same time, I’m also empathetic. I’m quite capable of putting myself in another person’s shoes to help myself understand unsavory behavior.

Teaching is just as much about relationships with your students as it is about imparting knowledge. Over the years, I have come to not only learn this, but embrace it. Things I used to stress over in the classroom don’t have the grip on me that they used to. I now understand I don’t have control over every situation and every behavior, which for a self-admitted control freak, has been a difficult reality to face. However, I do my best to treat my students with kindness and respect, so when a situation arises when a student cannot return that courtesy to me, it hurts, because maintaining such a relationship sometimes feels as if it’s the most important thing you have to offer, given all the challenges young people face today.

Recently, I had been having some fairly minor behavior problems (relatively speaking) with two of my students, both of whom I sincerely like and care about. On one particular day, out of nowhere, an exchange between me and one of these students quickly escalated into a scene the entire class witnessed, where this student turned on me so abruptly, so harshly, I was unprepared. Although I tried to maintain a calm and professional façade, on the inside, I was raging. But more so, I was hurt. How dare he speak to me like that? I thought. When all I have ever done is treat him with kindness?

I had a conversation with a fellow teacher in which we shared the need to escape the classroom at times such as these, because we aren’t given the luxury of a breakdown in front of our students. I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, because trying to maintain that sense of detachment, in many ways, perpetuates students’ impressions that teachers aren’t people with feelings. At any rate, I did have to slip into the hallway to shed a few tears and regain my composure.

I was mortified when the other student came into the hallway to ask me a question, and caught me. It was an awful wrap-up to an awful scenario, which left me in a foul mood the rest of the day. A couple of cocktails were most definitely required once I got home.

However, the following day was its polar opposite. The girl, who had witnessed me in a most vulnerable moment the day before, handed me a beautiful apology note. She wasn’t directly involved with the blowup that had occurred, but she had the maturity and sensitivity to recognize that she, too, had been disagreeable for reasons that didn’t involve me. I was so touched, and so very proud of her. It may not have seemed like a big deal to her, but it was to me, and I will keep that note as a reminder that we never really know another person’s thoughts or intentions. And though I didn’t receive a formal acknowledgment of what happened from the boy, he expressed what, I believe, was an apology in his own unique way. I think we’re good with each other again.

We hear it often, how a person’s negative behavior toward us isn’t about us at all. Not all the time, but sometimes. We all do and say things we regret. We all have bad days and lash out when we shouldn’t. That’s where the thick skin comes in handy. Yes, it’s easier said than done, and I’m not sure I’ll ever fully develop that thick skin. Yet, this experience was an important reminder to me that, despite how well he or she hides it, there exists a reflective, empathetic side in this person we call a teenager. :)