Kathryn R. Biel's Blog, page 15

The Cinderella Myth

From the time I was a little girl, I heard the stories about princesses. While I liked them, I didn't buy into them a whole lot. Somehow, they all seemed too good to be true. But nonetheless, I was fascinated by the fancy dresses, and wanted nothing more than to attend that fancy ball. Somehow, that fancy ball never really came along, and I realized that life doesn't happen the way it does in the stories. Now that I'm (sort of) grown up, I can tell my daughter will all certainty that these princess tales are a load of hooey.

Here's how I know.

This past weekend, the hubs and I got all gussied up and went to a formal event. And there was sure-as-heck no Fairy Godmother bippidi-boppidi-booing in and making me look my best. Oh, no. There was work that went into it. Lots of work.

The dress was easy. After combing e-bay, my friend and I went to a local consignment shop. This shop gets dresses from a bridal shop, so there are a lot of new dresses that were floor models. They carry a lot by one of my favorite designers. I found one (ok, two) that I liked and got it (them). One fit a little better than the other, so rather than have to worry about dropping a few pounds around Thanksgiving, I went with the more comfortable one. It needed to be shortened, and I was even able to do it myself. It involved taking the dress apart, which was a bit nerve wracking, as it is a designer dress. I have to say, I felt pretty proud that I was able to do that kind of sewing work.

But that is where the similarities to Cinderella end. While I was getting my hair done, I decided on a D-I-Y facial a few days before. I did what all the women I know do--I consulted Pinterest. That was my first mistake. I read the blogs about how to do the facial, a pore cleansing one. People talked about the smell, so I was prepared for it. I was not prepared for the absolute pain and agony as I removed the mask. It was supposed to be pore cleansing, but I believed it ripped out all of the fine hair off my face. Also, because I'm entering a more "mature" phase of life, the skin on my face is not as tight as it used to be. As I tried to peel off the mask, my skin was going with it. Tears formed in my eyes, and I was worried that I would not be able to continue, and that I would be forced to live out my days with half of my face frozen in milk and gelatin.

Pinterest fail.

Then, there is the getting the hair done, the make-up process, the pedicure. Okay, that stuff is pretty enjoyable. I've gotten pretty good at false eyelashes. There was a minor moment when I grabbed the nail glue instead of the eyelash glue. (At least they would not have fallen off. EVER.) I caught myself and let out a big sigh of relief.

Then there are the nails. My job, plus my awful habit of nail biting, leads me to have to use false nails. There are ones that go on very quickly (like, in 5 minutes or less). Doing the first hand was fine. But I am not used to having long nails, so I had a lot more trouble putting the nails on the second hand. Which led me to, at one point, use my mouth to reposition the nail that I had just tried to glue on. Which led to getting nail glue on my lips. Luckily, I did not glue my lips together, but it was mighty close. How would you explain that one?

So the nails lead me to another issue that I bet Cinderella never had to deal with. Do you know how hard it is to pull up Spanx with fake nails on? On a good day, you can get a decent cardio work out just trying to get into Spanx. Pulling them up with nails on, damn near impossible.

Of course, it snowed the night of our event. It was sleeting as we got there, and downright snowing by the time we left. I was happy to have open-toed shoes and bare arms. My husband just looked at me shivering and said, "Well, you're the one who didn't wear a coat." He didn't get that my fur wrap looked so much better. Never mind its complete and utter uselessness in the elements.


I'd like to think all the efforts and near disasters were worth it. We had a lot of fun, so I guess that is what counts (as well as the fact that we were supporting a very worthy cause).

Next year, I just want to be able to say, "Bippidi-Boppidi-Boo!"

It's Beginning to Look a Little Like Christmas

Holy crap! It's December 1st. How did that happen?

Every year, at different points in the year, I have a dream that it is the week before Christmas or even Christmas Eve, and I haven't decorated or gotten presents for someone (like my parents) or something of the like. I wake up in a panic, only to realize that it is only May.

Except now, it really is December. I know that Thanksgiving is always the fourth Thursday in November, but it seemed late to me this year. Here it is December 1st, and I'm still gorging on turkey and stuffing (and trying not to think that my pants may not fit on Monday morning). I host Thanksgiving dinner, so for the past week or two, I have been tunnel-vision focused on that. I did start some shopping last week, but really only because there were some sales and coupons that would expire before Thanksgiving. I have a "No Christmas until after Thanksgiving policy" for the most part.

I was also doggedly determined to finish (or "win" as it is called) National Novel Writing Month. The goal is to write 50,000 words in 30 days. It did not seem so bad at the beginning. I was consistently a day or two ahead of schedule. Until last week, when I got totally engrossed in T-day preparations. I got to the point where I was on day 27 with 46,000 words and not sure if I'd be able to hit the 50 K mark. I hunkered down and hit 50,050 on Friday night, which was one day ahead of schedule. While I am pleased with completing that task, it added a pressure that I don't think I really needed. I write to relieve stress and make me feel better. If I had a contract and a deadline, it would be a different story. But for right now, it is recreation (although I wish it could be my full-time job).

So that brings me to December 1. The day was spent still visiting with family in town for the holidays. I did at some point realize that my children will want to wear pants to school tomorrow, so I had to squeeze in a bit of laundry as well. I had to clean up Thanksgiving so I could start Christmas. About two or three weeks ago, it was about 65 degrees on a Saturday. I considered putting up my lights (not plugging them in of course). Instead, I took a nap. So today, in the 30 degree weather, I put up my lights. Mental note to self: naps are overrated and can be done when it is cold out.

I started decorating in the house, but decided to do it one box at a time, rather than have the hubs bring all 600 boxes up and try to do it in one fell swoop. I got a little done and am pleased that the house is starting to look like Christmas-y. I am now allowing Christmas carols to be played as well (they were banned before this weekend).

Because of the presence of two annoying young felines, I have had to make the decision that some of my more valuable decorations will not go out this year. This includes the Manger set that was my grandmother's, and that I have been putting out for 15 years. However, when the kids were really little, we bought them the Fisher Price Little People Nativity Set so they could have that to play with (in hopes that they would leave mine alone--it worked). So today, in a stroke of brilliance (in my mind at least), I asked my daughter to set that up instead. This way, if the boys (the alias for the cats) get into it, it will be no big deal (the table where the Manger is set up is one that they like to sit on and look out the window. Putting something breakable/valuable there is just asking for it to be broken).

We looked at the calendar and have one free night this week. We will be putting the tree up then. I like to have my tree up for as long as possible. Ironically, as a child, my parents never put the tree up until a few days before Christmas, and it was all because of me. My birthday is December 18th. My parents did an excellent job of separating my birthday from the holiday, so the tree never went up until after my birthday (although the rest of the house was decorated). In my own house, I like the tree, so I put it up right after Thanksgiving.

Slowly but surely, it will get done. But I'm not concerned if it doesn't. Because the perfect lights or the wreath hung just so are not what matters. What matters is my son luring me under the mistletoe so I will kiss him. What matters is my daughter feeling so proud that she gets to set up the Manger and that she is contributing to the decorations. What matters is the night that we will all sit and watch 'A Charlie Brown Christmas' and laugh when Snoopy kisses Lucy. What matters is how my children will learn to give to others and that Christmas is about giving and doing, not receiving.

But bring on (a little) snow because in the Biel house, it's beginning to look a little like Christmas.

NaNo

Hey all-

I'm still here! I bet you thought I'd deserted my blog. I haven't, I've just been a bit tied up lately.

I started NaNo on November 1st. No, it is not some new high-tech thing. NaNo is short for "National Novel Writing Month." I don't know how NaNo came about, but the gist is that you write 50,000 words in 30 days. Why they picked November, I have no idea. With the holidays and all, it seems like pretty poor timing to me, but alas, here it is, and November is NaNo. In the genre under which I currently write (women's fiction, chick lit), a typical novel is 80,000 to 100,000 words. So, banging out 50,000 words in 30 days is quite the jump start. The math breaks down to 1,667 words per day. It doesn't seem like that much. When I sit down to write on the weekends, I can usually pump out around 2,000 to 3,000 words in a day. It is the weekdays that kill me.

Of course, the NaNo site has all sorts of fancy graphs to measure your progress and tell you your averages, and, at your current rate, when you are going to finish. I geek out over that sort of information.

So, at this point, NaNo is a big focus.

I'm also continuing to edit my second novel, Hold Her Down to get it ready for publication. Still trying to work out cover art, so if anyone wants to volunteer services, I'd happily accept.

In addition, because I don't have enough going on, I'm beta reading a novel for a fellow author. That involves reading and critiquing the story before she sends it on to her editor.

Oh, and then there are the trivial things, like work, home, the kids, the hubs, PTA, dance, etc., etc., etc. Just kidding. Those are my first priorities and all the other stuff comes second.

Other brief exciting news, and then I have to get back to NaNo'ing before the day starts ... Good Intentions will be available for purchase in a brick and mortar book store! As of today, Good Intentions will be on the shelf in Northshire Bookstore in Saratoga Springs, NY. I also had professional head shots done for a small magazine feature, so hopefully I'll have those soon. Good things are happening.

But if I'm off the radar for a little while, just assume I'm NaNo'ing. Or eating turkey.

The Story Rope

My daughter is hard at work. Reading, analyzing, diagramming her story. She is trying hard to gather her materials, to be precise, to be accurate. She is working all weekend on this project. It is not homework, just what was her "take home" lesson from school. Monday morning, she cannot wait to show her teacher what she has done. She is proud of her work. She should be. She did a good job. She read the book. She made a story rope with her custom illustrated version of the story, in detail right down to the colors she used. She identified the title and author, the setting, the characters, the problem and the solution. And I hate it. Because she is six, and the story is "The Three Little Kittens." She should be working on reading, and decoding her words. She should be absorbing the language, appreciating the verse and cadence of the words. Letting the phrases roll off her tongue in a melodious way, savoring the rhymes. Looking at the pictures, seeing how the illustrations support the words. But no, instead, she is breaking the story into little tiny bits, analyzing the setting (a house), the characters (the three little kittens), the problem (they lost their mittens) and the solution (they found them). She has had a wonderful time breaking apart her story into little tiny bits and drawing her pictures. She cut each one out and mounted it on tape so that it hangs like a mobile or wind chime. Ironically, she cannot read the story by herself, because it is too hard. She relies on the pictures to help her. It is not necessarily developmentally inappropriate (children become fluent readers between the ages of 7 and 9, regardless of what the curriculum says). She should be working on the basic skills, like vowel sounds and letter combinations (digraphs? dipthongs? when two vowels go walking, the first one does the talking?). She should be building her tolerance for the written word. She should be listening to stories, letting the language flow around her and nourish her brain. But no, she is asking me how to spell the word "solution." But when she is doing her math homework and has a word problem (insert "WTF?" right here, because she is six, can barely read and has math word problems), she will tell me that she doesn't want to read because it is math and she shouldn't have to. She never wants to sit down and read. She gives a half-ass effort when she does have to read, on her scheduled 20 nights per month. She tells me that reading is boring and she hates it. This slices through my heart. I cannot remember a time when I didn't read. I was that child, reading in Kindergarten. I was abnormal. I always have a book with me. I like to read so much that I started writing my own books. And now my daughter does not like to read. Do we even wonder why? These Common Core Standards, so developmentally inappropriate and so poorly implemented by New York State, have sucked all of the fun out of learning. My daughter is a typically developing child. She can handle the rigor of the work that New York feels she should be doing, but she does not want to be doing it. Because she wants to be a child. She is six. Her brain is not yet fully developed. She is still a sensory motor learner. And we know this because she is telling us. Instead of sitting down with a book, she is drawing and cutting and taping. She is standing while she does this, and she is up and down, moving all about while she works on her project. She is talking, narrating what she does. She is mimicking her teacher, teaching us as she has been taught. The two-dimensional aspect of reading is not appealing to her. She has to make it tactile and the project itself has the movement which her body so needs. She does not have ADHD. She is simply six, and she is a motor leaner. Like all five and six year-olds should be. My daughter has a wonderful teacher, and is in a wonderfully supportive public school. But her skills are already splintering. She can dissect a story, but cannot read it. She writes stories, but cannot properly form her letters. She has a robust vocabulary, but cannot sound out the words to attempt to spell them. Without a solid foundation, her skills will remain splintered and I fear she will struggle for the rest of her life to build a house on sand rather than on a firm foundation. This is as a direct result of the Common Core Standards. She is six. It really should be as simple as, "Three little kittens have lost their mittens."

Calgon, Take Me Away

I am the victim of a war.

It is a war between my brain and my body.  Right now, my body is winning.

First of all, I'm not getting any younger here, although I refuse to accept that.  However, while I am not getting any younger, it means I am getting older.  As such, I have older-person (i.e. adult) responsibilities.   I have two kids who depend on me.  I need to be there for them, to be their mom.  To provide unconditional love and support, guidance and reassurance.  To give them a moral and ethical foundation that will make them decent human beings some day.  Kids these days are busy.  We don't even do that many activities in the grand scheme, but there is so much running.  I am out of the house every single day doing something or other that pertains to the kids.  It is tiring, but I know these times will be gone before I know it.  I am trying to find the joy and satisfaction in running Mom's Taxi Service.

I have a husband that needs me to support him in various ways.  Sometimes he realizes it, but sometimes he doesn't.

I have a job that is very draining on me right now.  It is emotionally depleting my reserves.  It is also physically demanding, with more work than I can physically, mentally and logistically handle.  I am defeated.

I am trying to begin a second career as a writer.  This takes so much energy and focus.  I want this to succeed.  I don't seem to have the time or energy to focus how I would like to.

In other words, I'm completely and totally burnt out.

And my body is going on strike.

About four years ago, I got the flu.  It was the typical flu, with the exception of the fact that it was in June.  After that, every time I got run down and a little sick, I end up getting very sick.  So, the little cold that I've been fighting turns into something so much more.  I get terrible, excruciating joint pain.  My ankles, knees, hips, elbows and hands are most affected.  Then, I spike a fever.  Like 103 fever.  The fatigue is crushing.  I get really, really sick and miserable.  I can barely get out of bed.  After my flu bout, I had about six episodes like that in a little over a year. I went to the doctor.  He listened, and we discussed possible options.  He felt it was most likely Epstein-Barr, and there is no way to treat it.  That test came back negative.  As did the one for Lyme Disease.

Blood test after blood test.  When I was sick, my blood work was very off.  I got sent to Rheumatologist.  I had, of course, researched what this could possibly be.  I felt certain that it was something auto-immune, as it always occurred with being sick and run down.  I was prepared for her to tell me it was Rheumatoid arthritis, or even Stills Disease (Adult-onset Juvenile Rheumatoid Arthritis).  I was not prepared for the Rheumatologist to tell me that she thought I had a malignancy (either lymphoma or multiple myeloma) or a severe form of vasculitis.  I was sent to an Oncologist. Based on my blood work, he ruled out cancer, but everyone has been left scratching their heads.

My primary and I have come to the conclusion that I do have some sort of auto-immune disease.  When my immune system is actively fighting an infection, whether it be a cold, a sinus infection or a bladder infection, if I am run down and do not have enough reserves, my body goes into hyperdrive and begins attacking everything, even my own joints.

Since figuring this out, I have avoided an episode by listening to my body.  I've had to at times leave work undone, and decline activities.  And this is what is going on right now.  I have a cold.  I have a terrible amount of stress from work.  And we're crazy busy.  This morning, I was supposed to take Jake to perform community service on the farm for the Northeast Regional Food Bank.  He didn't really want to go, but I feel it is important for him to help others who are not nearly as fortunate as we are.  But after being in pain all day yesterday, I just knew that 90 minutes of manual labor in the cold was probably not the best idea.

Thankfully, my husband stepped in and took Jake.  While I still need to go grocery shopping and work on Halloween costumes, I was able to come home from church (did I mention that we had to get up early to go to 7:30 mass to be able to do the Scouting project?) and rest.  Even with coffee at breakfast, I still came home and went back to sleep for a little while.  I had to force myself to rest, even though I know I have tons of stuff to do.

There is where the war is.  My brain won't slow down.  It wants to keep going and going and going.  Any my body is saying STOP!!!  I don't want to stop.  My life won't let me stop.

I just wish it could slow down.

Okay, rest and whining time over.  Time for some ibuprofen and then I'll get back to sewing.  I'll do the groceries later on in the day.  Thanks for listening.

Bulleted Points

It is a gorgeous fall weekend, and I cannot get my head together to come up with a cohesive blog post.  So here is a non-cohesive one.  This is pretty much what my brain is like 90% of the time....

I'm even gonna make it a bulleted list, well, just because I'm being lazy about the whole thing.


Halloween costumes are underway.  We're going as a family of ninjas.  I'm going as a ninja disguised as a Geisha, so I'm even more stealth than the rest.  Sophia will be a hybrid ninja/geisha.  All is well and good, with the exception of my fabric choice.  I brought some beautiful brocade and costume satin to make the costumes out of.  I knew the satin might be difficult to work with, but I did not anticipate that the fabrics (both kinds) would immediately start to unravel and fall apart once cut.  I was quite resourceful, however, and discovered that running all cut ends through a flame will essentially melt the material, forming a seal.  The kids are fascinated by this process, although I think it distresses Sophia to have an open flame in the house.  I stopped burning candles a long time ago, and they are just not used to it.  
I had a mini-crisis this week, as my vacuum cleaner broke.  It was not sucking stuff up, the light was on and there was this burning smell.  The vacuum is over 9 years old, but still, I was pissed at having to replace it already.  With having cats and allergies, vacuuming is a must on a frequent basis.  So, I remembered a Facebook conversation someone had about getting a vacuum cleaner/carpet steamer, and thought that would be a really good idea.  I looked at the conversation and went and bought it.  It wasn't until I got the stupid thing home (and assembled) that I realized it was a steamer only, and that I was still in need of a vacuum.  Of, and they recommend that you vacuum before steaming, so I couldn't even take the steamer out for a test drive.
I was still in need of a vacuum.  About to go to Sears to purchase a newer model of exactly what I have, my husband (the engineer) decided to take a look.  Extensive diagnostics and the use of a wire hanger revealed the problem to be a sock wedged in the hose.  No need for a new vacuum cleaner at the moment.  Pat Biel saves the day.
Last week I hit the 100 mark for copies sold of Good Intentions.  In celebration, I lowered the price on e-copies (through Kobo, Nook, and Kindle) to $1.00.  The price is going back up tonight, so get yours now, if you haven't already.
Red Sox are in the playoffs.  I cannot believe they lost last night.  I wish the games were on a bit earlier, as I had trouble staying awake.  Ok, I did actually fall asleep.  But I really, really need them to win this year.  Why?  Read this to understand why I need the Red Sox to win the World Series to prove that I am not responsible for all the losses.The Common Core Curriculum continues to get me down.  It is so wrong on so many levels, the least of which is how developmentally inappropriate it is.  State Ed really needs to be held accountable.  And fast.  Read this article and take the time to watch the video to understand what is going on behind the scenes.  I refuse to accept that this is acceptable education.  I am thankful everyday that my children have quality teachers who continue to educate in spite of the Common Core.
Sophia unloaded and reloaded the dishwasher for my yesterday.  She was beaming with pride.  How can I keep her motivated to keep doing it with a smile on her face?
Jake is growing up way too fast.  It kind of breaks my heart when I think back to when he was a little kid.  Of course, he did pretty much give me a heart attack the other night.  I was in a sound sleep (which is not that common for me), when I hear Jake say "Mom."  I open my eyes, and his face was about 2 inches from mine.  I think he may have taken a year or two off then.  I told him from now on, what ever he needs, just do it.  I don't care.  Don't scare me like that again!
I know this is totally not PC, but I'm so happy for Columbus Day.  I don't care why we have the day off, I just know we all need one right about now.  Except for Pat.  He doesn't get the day off.  But if the government can't get its crap together, he's going to be furloughed, so that's lots of days off for him. For now, I'll leave you with this.  This is me.  All the time...

The Two Things Every Woman Needs

Every woman needs a best friend like the one I have.  Throughout my life, I have had many friends.  A few were very close friends that I have given the term "best" to.  As my life has changed and evolved, my relationships have as well.  Never in a million years would I ever have imagined that I would have the privilege of having a best friend like Michele.

Michele and I went to high school together.  We were aquantiences, but our school was pretty small.  We traveled in smaller circles that were part of a larger circle.  I didn't really know her, but didn't have a favorable opinion of her.  She felt similarly about me.  A few years back, a mutual friend "reunited" us.  I wasn't thrilled about seeing her again.  But the years had changed us, and we found ourselves talking frequently, with a lot in common.  We have similar views on parenting and marriage.  We have similar likes.  Our husbands get along well.  Our children are remarkably similar.

She was the first person (other than my husband) who I told about writing a book.  She actually read it as it was being finished, and did the first edits on it.  On July 19, 2011, Michele came to my house when I was having a family party.  Not only did she take fabulous pictures of my family (which would be our last, since my grandmother passed away three months later), but she brought a printed copy of Good Intentions.  It sat in my room in the binder from Michele for almost two years.  She listened to me agonize over it.  She read it again (and again) to help with edits.

And Michele has been my number one PR agent.  She talks up the book to everyone (and I mean EVERYONE) she knows.  I know she is personally responsible for not only buying my very first book when it was released on Nook, but was also responsible for a good percentage of the sales.  She even had a t-shirt made up for Good Intentions.

We joke that she is my agent/publicist/manager.  I tell her that she is going to get 10% of my royalties.  Of course, that currently adds up to a whopping sum of about $1.75 for her at the moment.  I keep telling her she can almost buy a cup of coffee.  She's holding out for a Starbucks though, and I'm not sure that will ever happen (but I can dream).  We joke (but secretly wish) about the day that I will go on a book tour and make public appearances, and she will travel with me to keep me in line.

I am humbled and honored to have a friend who does so much for me, just out of the goodness of her heart.  She does insist that I name a character 'Michele' in every book, and is currently displeased about the minimal and negative role 'Michele' plays in my second novel.  As I type this right now, she's reading (or at least supposed to be!) the very first version of my second novel.  I consider her my Alpha reader.  These books are like my children, and she is one of the few people I trust with my baby.

If you're lucky, you'll get a Michele in your life.  If I ever make it big, I know that I will owe a large part of it to Michele.





















(We will need to come up with new poses for the publicity tour)



*****************************************************
Oh, the second thing every woman needs is Spanx.

Is it only Monday?

You know you're in for it when your alarm doesn't go off first thing Monday morning and you oversleep.  Then, when you get to work, you promptly get a phone call because you were supposed to be at a meeting somewhere else.  Yep, one of those days...

I was very scattered this morning, which is not really like me.  But I have good reason to be scattered.  In the midst of a crazy busy weekend, I decided to sit down and try to finish reading what I have on my second book.  Since retrieving my hard drive, I've been re-reading my writing, trying to figure out where to go with the story.  I knew I was about to wrap it up, but wasn't sure exactly how I was going to do that.  I had gone into writing this story with a preconceived notion about where it was going.  But once I got there, I changed my mind.  Anyway, after I got the kiddos in bed last night, I decided to read what I had written.  I got to the end, and it was literally in the middle of the scene.  An idea jumped into my head and I just started writing.  And as I wrote the scene, I realized that this was it.  I was able to wrap up the story.  I was done.

I had finished my second novel.

I'm not sure about this one.  It's totally different than Good Intentions.  This one is told from the third person, rather than the first.  There is no humor in this one-- it is darker and heavier.  I felt like I was trying to expand my writing chops so to speak while working on this one.  Some of it is definitely stepping outside my comfort zone.

I learned that in this process, the people who read your book prior to release are called Beta readers.  Right now, my book is with my Alpha reader.  She is the first person to read anything I write, and if I ever make it big someday, she's going to be the person who keeps me in line and keeps me from missing meetings.  (Obviously, she slacked off this morning.)  Because this novel is so different from the last, I'm more nervous about the story line.  But now that it's done, I can revise and tweak and edit (and correct and correct and correct).  But that is all I want to do.  I want to get this one moving.

Now comes some big decisions...do I try to get an agent and publishing deal, or do I stick with the Indie route?  What about a cover?  My last cover was one that I designed (using the CreateSpace program) with a photograph that I took.  In a perfect world, I would hire a photographer and model for this one.  I know what I would like the cover to look like, but I'm not sure I can make that happen.  I have a tentative working title, but I'm holding on to it for right now.

So, this is where my mind has been today.  Good thing I got dinner in the crock pot this morning and hopefully won't have to think too much for the rest of the day.  I can't believe it's only Monday.

Promotion, Promotion, Promotion

Hey, anyone wanna guess what this blog post is about?

This week, Yvonne at Fiction Books is featuring Good Intentions for Mailbox Monday.  What's pretty exciting about this is Yvonne is in the U.K., so this could be an international break for me.  Bloggers like Yvonne (and Naida at ...the bookworm..., Marlene at Book Mama Blog, Charlotte at A Novel Review and the gals at Chick Lit Central) are such a huge force in the literary world, especially for indie authors like myself.  These ladies have taken the time to read my work or promote it in someway to get the word out to more and more people.  I'm fairly certain that, if (when), I hit it big, it will be because of bloggers like this awesome group.

[That being said, there are a few more bloggers who have Good Intentions in their TBR piles.  Anxiously awaiting those reviews!]

Also, at the suggestion of my PR manager (a.k.a., my BFF who is working for free at this job), I've created a Facebook page.  This is a public page, so please invite everyone you know to check it out.  I've done this in order to separate my personal, private page from the word I'm trying to spread to the public.  Also, this way, I can stop bombarding friends and family who really don't care about my endeavors.  While I may still update occasionally about book stuff on my private FB page, all book related stuff will definitely be shared on the Kathryn R. Biel:  Author page.

Thanks for bearing with me on another shameless plug for Good Intentions.  If you haven't read it yet, please check it out!  If you have read it (and thank you so much!), please write a review for it.  You can write one review and post it on Amazon, Barnes and Noble, as well as Goodreads.  The more reviews, the more people will talk and the more likely people will take notice.

Scripted Play

My son is on the autism spectrum.  He's not the typical "autistic" kid, although that is the diagnosis that seems to fit closest (although not best).  One of the interesting things about him has always been his scripted play.  From a very early age (about two years old), Jake could recite things, and that is how he played.  We would find him with his toys, narrating an episode of Blue's Clues, but changing the names to "Jake" and "Mom," or something like that.  Not even really understanding what it was at the time, we all thought it was really neat.  He was never one for spontaneous play, where he set up elaborate scenes.  Even to this day, his play is not very verbal.

When Jake started school, we used to laugh at his play.  He would come home and play school.  We would overhear him, even if he was in his room by himself, talking.  Reciting, verbatim, scenes from the school day.  We could tell exactly what went on in the classroom, or the library, or on the bus.  Thanks to his excellent memory, and despite the fact that he did not often tell us about his day, we had good insight as to how he was being treated in school.

Now, Jake's sister is the total opposite.  She disappears into her room or the playroom, and sets up elaborate scenes.  Her toys act out complex dynamic relationships, complete with sound effects.  She loves animals, and has a whole set of animal "action figures."  The noises they "make" are hysterical.  She very verbal.  Excessively so.  What Jake struggles with pragmatically, she has in spades.

Sophia is in first grade.  She is the reluctant student.  Although curious by nature, she has bucked against learning to read.  She could careless about how she forms her letters, and doesn't take the time to sound out her words to attempt to spell them correctly.  She has trouble with how she holds her pencil (and crayons and markers).  Although bright, she only seems invested in school for the social aspect.  However, her teacher (who is the same one who had Jake) must be working wonders.  Sophia is getting praised for her effort and hard work.

Tonight, Sophia brought me her supplies (paper, pencil with grip, crayons and markers) and said, "I want to write a book.  Will you help me check my words for spelling?" So, she's sitting here next to me, writing and illustrating her book (which will be a gift for her teacher).  We're working on the grip.  She's attempting to spell the words first, and writing carefully.  Her first page was about art class.  She drew a detailed picture.  While drawing the picture, I realize that she is explaining to me how art class works, just as it had been explained to her.  Tonight, she's engaging in scripted play.

I feel like we've come full circle.