Kathryn R. Biel's Blog, page 8

Dreaming...

All my life, I've had pretty vivid dreams. I remember a good chunk of them as well. I still remember a dream I had when I was very young, less than five. It was in black and white, and set at our old house (we moved before I was three). My mom put orange marmalade on my toast. The orange marmalade was in color, like something that was photoshopped, twenty-five years before photoshop existed. I woke up crying because I HATE orange marmalade, and I felt that, in my dream, my mom did it on purpose.

I also remember a nightmare I had when I was not that much older. I went into the basement at my aunt's house and it was lined with tanks of creatures, including an octopus that was coming out of the tank after me. For the record, my aunt had no tanks of any kind in her basement.

Sometimes, I get to visit with people in my dreams. I've had lots of pleasant visits with my grandparents. When I wake up, I have a moment where I'm not sure if they're still here or not, and then sadness washes over me as I realize that they are no longer here.

My dreams have been great in coming up with story ideas. Several of my books contain scenes that were directly inspired by dreams. The collision scene between Declan and Kaitlin in the beginning of Jump, Jive, and Wail is one. I will wake up and instantly know that that dream is meant to go in a book.

When I was in college, I noticed that if I had pepperoni pizza at night, I would have bizarre dreams. I referred to them as pepperoni dreams. Now, I occasionally take melatonin to help me sleep, and the dreams I have when I take it are so far out there,

Last night, I had neither pepperoni nor melatonin. My dreams throughout the night consisted of the following:

A tiger in a dense wooded area that was attacking its prey, only to burst through the trees onto a soccer field in the middle of the city and attack the players. I was a witness and ran to a nearby hospital to hide.Going backstage at a Weird Al Yankovic concert (except it wasn't backstage, more like an office building with lots of computers). I got to meet lots of people, but not Weird Al himself.My uncle was trying to steal items from my aunt (his sister) that he thought he should have been entitled to from my grandparents' estate. This included the corner of a silk painting (????) from Spain. For the record, there is no such painting.My aunt ignored her brother and instead gave me clothes from her wardrobe (which does not really exist), much to the dismay of her daughter. She gave me a long pashmina type dress which was much too long so I tried to give it to my cousin who is much taller (she was still mad though).I was preparing to go to England for a book event. I was set to leave in two weeks and just realized that I did not have my passport (true, I don't have a passport).Dreams 2-5 melted right into each other. I'm sort of bummed that there's nothing that is good story material. I wonder what the heck was going on in my brain last night.

Just tired

I'm just tired.

Last week was February break, which was great. Got a whole lot of nothing done. Well, that's not true, but I wasn't super active. With temperatures below 0 and windchills even lower, I wasn't motivated to leave the house much. My kids were happy for the down time as well, getting to play with toys that they don't have time for, binge watching HGTV, and enjoying the ever-elusive pajama day.

And now, it's caught up with me. Working full time (for the first time since my son--who's now 11--was born) is taking it's toll. Of course, it's annual review season, which means there simply aren't enough hours in the day. This week, was just one of those weeks. Late after-school meetings, Girl Scouts, Cub Scouts, Learning Fair, dance, doctor's appointment. The hubs and I have been playing tag team running here and there and we're now thinking that we're not allowed to spend more than 5 minutes in the same room before one of us has to rush off.

So, I'm tired. I tend not to sleep well. There's the 2 am pee. There's the stupid cats who like to torment me by chewing on electrical cords or systematically knocking items off my dresser until I get up. There's the night sweats (and no, I'm not making the change, I've had them for 8 years now). There's never enough sleep. And the bags under my eyes are showing it. They're so big, they're practically steamer trunks. I even edited them out of one of the picture's from my son's birthday party.

Today, a concerned co-worker said, "You look like you don't feel well. Are you sick?"

Yeah no, that's just my face.

So tonight, I'm already in my jammies (God bless the hubs for doing the Scouts run tonight). I did a "rejuvenating" cucumber peel-off face mask to help my apparently terrible looking face. We're just going to gloss over how I may have gotten the goop a little close on the under eyes and how I may have had a moment of panic that mask removal may result in the loss of my lower eye lashes.

I don't know if it helped. I think I'm gonna quit while I'm ahead and call it a night. Maybe I won't look so bad in the morning.

Fairy Tale Fun Blog Hop (and a CHOCOLATE BROWNIE GIVEAWAY)

Your mission: read this blog post, comment on the question posed, and check out the other blogs that are part of this blog hop. Every blog post comment enters you to win a Sprites Gourmet Brownie Gift Box from Fairytale Brownies.

My mission, should I choose to accept it ... compare my heroine(s) to a fairy tale or real life princess. Uuuuhhh, no way can I do that. Or can I? You see, I'm sort of anti-fairy tale. Especially as being the mom to a young girl. I don't want her thinking that she can live her life as a damsel in distress and expect some man to come riding in on a white horse and save her. Or, that "and they all lived happily ever after" is how marriage goes (sometimes it does, but it comes with lots of hard work).

I pride myself on writing women who don't necessarily start out strong but end up that way. Sometimes, there is a man (handsome and dashing, of course) to help boost her up, but I want my characters to find their hero in themselves.

How, how, how am I going to write this blog post? I can compare Esther in I'm Still Here  to Merida in Brave, solely based on their hair.

 

Actually, now that you mention it, the physical resemblance is sort of uncanny. But I'm still not sold on the fact that I can say Esther's journey is a fairy tale. Tragic past, bad family, handsome doctor (well, 2 actually), more tragedy...oh wait, maybe it is.

Not that I'm a supreme feminist or anything, because I love a good love story. I do, I really do. But I also love butt-kicking women as well. Women who don't let evil step-mothers or ignorant townspeople or curses stop them.

And then I realized while watching the movie Elizabeth with Cate Blanchett for the hundredth time--Elizabeth! That's my princess! That's who I want to draw comparison to. This beautiful woman who doesn't let men push her around. Well, maybe she does at first, but then she wisens up. She is "no-man's Elizabeth."


Plus, Joseph Finnes is dream as Lord Robert. That is, until he turns out to be a weak, married turncoat. I prefer to think about him in the beginning of the movie. (sigh)

And I realized that this Elizabeth bears a striking resemblance to Elizabeth Zurlo, my protagonist in Hold Her Down . A family who has overwhelmed her identity, a man who has ulterior motives, being called a heretic (and harlot). The name thing is purely coincidental, but I'm glad to say that Elizabeth Zurlo shares her name with such a strong woman.

I think I've done it! By George, I've compared not one but two of my main characters to princesses! One Disney, and one real (although I do think the movie may technically be considered historical fiction).


And now, what do you need to do? (Sorry, this giveaway is open to US APPLICANTS ONLY)

Answer this question: Disney princess or real princess (flaws and all)? Who and why?

Leave a comment for your chance to win THIS brownie gift box from Fairytale Brownies. You will need to include your email in the comment so we know how to contact you if you win.



BUT WAIT, THERE'S MORE!!

Check out these blogs and leave a comment there too. Each comment enters you to win the brownies. That's 18 chances! (BTW, 18 is my lucky number)

Just click on the links below to visit the blogs and read how these lovely ladies size up their characters to fairy tales. Leave a comment (with your email address) and you will be entered to win.

April Aasheim S.E. Babin Brea Brown Geralyn Corcillo Patricia EddyErin EmersonJamie Farrell Hilary GrossmanRachel Lynn Hamm Gina Henning Celia Kennedy Tracy Krimmer Becky Monson Theresa Munroe Diane Rinella SK Wills 
Again, this giveaway is open to US Residents Only (sorry). I hope you chose to accept your mission. This post will self-destruct...oh wait, wrong genre. 
And they all lived happily ever after. Is that better?

What Can Happen When You're Snowed In...

So, here in Upstate NY, we braced ourselves for Winter Storm Juno. This is what happened:

A whole lot of nothing. My kids were pissed this morning. I mean, pissed in a really pissed off way. What made the situation even more upsetting is that my school district (located East and South of my home) was closed. Yep, I got a snow day and they didn't. Except, it's been snowing all day. I can't even go pick them up because the roads are so bad, and the bus is a safer means of transportation in this kind of weather. Pretty messy out there now.

But that's not the point of this post. The point of this post is that being snowed in makes for interesting dynamics, at least when you're writing a story. In my second novel, Hold Her Down, Elizabeth finds her car off the road and stranded out in an ice storm. She is forced to walk to a nearby house for help, and it changes her life. Here's an excerpt of Hold Her Down:

Elizabeth buttoned and zipped up her flimsy windbreaker and pulled the unattractive hood up. She balled up her fists and shoved them into her pockets. And she had no other choice but to walk. Her clothing was no match for the first sign of winter in the mountains, and was doing little against the cold and wet that was seeping into her very bones. She tripped and fell hard to her knees, and then to her shoulder, when she wasn't able to extract her hands from her pockets quickly enough. Great. Just great. She was lying on the cold, wet ground, her knees stinging and her shoulder throbbing, her hands still stuck in her pockets, pinning her arms underneath her. At first, she was so mad that she could not even form coherent thoughts in her head. Her mind was just a swirl of red anger. She was angry with Peter for being a controlling bastard of a husband. She was angry with her mother for encouraging her to marry Peter in the first place, because she thought Elizabeth would need to be taken care of. Mostly, she was mad at herself for never standing up for herself, for letting herself be pushed around, for caring what others thought. And as hot as her anger burned, it was not enough to keep her warm. Her hands were burning with cold as were her feet. She wondered if she was developing frostbite. Vaguely, it occurred to her that people died outside in weather like this.The thought of death should've scared her, but it didn't. It infused a calm of blues and purples in the swirl of red in her mind. The pain her chest, which was her constant these days, abated. If she were dead, she would not have to deal with her useless husband and she would no longer have to worry that their marriage might be over. She would not be poor and destitute if Peter left. It would not matter that she had failed at marriage. It would not matter that she was unlovable. Elizabeth slowly unfolded herself and rolled to her back. A dusting of snow and ice now covered the ground. The cold bit through her body and made her wince. Her knees were now exposed and probably bleeding from the fall. She was shivering uncontrollably, her body struggling to keep warm. Her body was fighting, unaware that her spirit had given up. Elizabeth closed her eyes and relaxed into the snow. The snow was still falling, hitting her gently in the face. The snow fell quietly. Otherwise, there was no sound. Elizabeth was at peace.
Death. In her death, she would not have to worry about packing up her house and moving when Peter officially left her. She would not have to hear the whispers from the other mothers, from Nancy Beemer and the like, talking salaciously about her marriage that had fallen apart. She could just let go and slip away into the darkness and cold, and her mind would eventually stop racing with the thoughts of anxiety and worry. People would think that this was an accident, a terrible one, and no one would realize that she was a coward. There'd be hushed whispers certainly, but no one would speak ill of her. She had never before contemplated suicide. It seemed like such an easy solution. In the past, when she tried to picture the last moments of her life, they certainly had not looked like this. The few fleeting minutes she had considered it, she'd always pictured herself an elderly woman, dying peacefully, surrounded by multiple generations of her family. The graceful matriarch, accomplished, successful and beloved by all. She had not pictured her life ending at the age of thirty-four, alone and freezing to death. A total failure. But this way, she would not have to face her failure. People tended not to speak ill of the dead. Even the nasty mothers would talk about how hard she worked for her kids. And her worry would be gone. She would no longer lie awake worrying about what would happen to her children.Her children.

Elizabeth's eyes flew open. Her chest constricted. What would happen to her children? Who would raise them? 

Without even realizing I was doing it, a winter storm again surfaces in Jump, Jive, and Wail, stranding the two main characters at the airport. Here's a teeny-tiny sneak peek of that one:

I tell him my flight number and he smiles again. Those dimples are damn engaging, if you ask me. I want to run my finger over them. "We're on the same flight. Or, we were supposed to be. I doubt if we're getting out of here tonight."

His comment rudely yanks me out of my ogling of his adorableness. "Wait—why do you say that? We're just delayed." 

"Yeah, but based on the forecast, I doubt we're going to get out of here." 

"What forecast?"

"There's, like, a massive winter storm moving up the East Coast. That's why there are so many delays." He whips out his phone and swipes a few times. "New York is supposed to get at least twelve inches." 

"Seriously?" I look at my boots. They are boots in name only. They are really sweaters with a rubber bottom. They will be no match for snow and cold. "I'm so not prepared for winter weather." 

"It's only March." He looks at me like I'm an idiot who didn't even think to check the weather of my destination. Perhaps that is just my interpretation of how he is looking at me, because that is how I feel. 

"But spring started this week. It needs to start warming up soon. I can't stand winter." I protest. As if my whining is going to change the weather pattern. 

"Last I checked Mother Nature doesn't take personal requests." He chided me, jokingly. "Plus, you live in Detroit. How can you not like winter? Isn't it automatically in Michiganders DNA?" 

"I'm not from Michigan originally. In fact, I've only been here about six months. I don't really love it, truth be told." 

"No? Where are you from then?" 

"Originally, way Upstate New York, near Lake Placid. I lived in Park City, Utah, for a while as well." 

"For a girl who doesn't like winter, you've lived in some pretty wintery places."

I make a face. I don't need to be reminded. "I used to love winter, but I'm over it now. I think I want to move to Florida or Arizona or someplace warm and tropical." 

I'm pretty sure my next book will not involve a winter storm, but with Mother Nature's unpredictability, who knows what will inspire me?

Hold Her Down is currently on sale for $0.99 and Jump, Jive, and Wail releases in less than 2 days (37 hours, but who's counting?). Links can be found in the Book tab at the top of the blog.

Stay warm and drive safe my friends!

Preparing to Take Flight

Things are really ramping up here for the release of my next book, Jump, Jive, and Wail. I've made it through the editing process, with one last pass through to go. The full cover is done and has far surpassed any expectations. The paperback has been formatted and is en route to me as we speak. A Release Day Blitz is scheduled. Guest blog spots are in the works. Reviewers have been lined up, ARC's sent out.

Yikes.

Now the panic sets in.

Obviously, with no publishing house behind me, I'm on my own for promotion and publicity. So, you might see me on here a lot, or on other social media outlets. Bear with me, I won't always be hocking my own goods.

I'm really excited about this book. I think it's my best yet. It's different from the other three, but I hope my readers will still appreciate my voice.

So, to get you as excited about the book as I am, here's what I'm gonna do: I'm gonna share the beautiful full cover:


Then, I'm gonna share my video teaser:


Then, I'm gonna give you this still teaser:


And finally, I'm gonna tell you that on 1/19/15, the next edition of my newsletter is going out. It will have the first chapter of Jump, Jive, and Wail in it. You get to read it a full 10 days before anyone else! (Sign up is at the top of the page under the tab that says BIEL BULLETIN)

I really hope you like it!

My Life Was Changed By A Standard Comma

Last night I was having a conversation with a friend about those missed opportunities in a Sliding Doors (if you've never seen the Gwenyth Paltrow movie, you really need to check it out) sort of way. You know, one small interaction can drastically change the outcome of a situation. Then, I posted a funny meme on my author page about commas.


Way back in the day, I was taught to use the standard comma, as illustrated above. Only recently, when trying to name my book, Jump, Jive, and Wail, did I, at the advice of my author posse, start using the Oxford comma.

After looking at this meme, I realized that the standard comma changed my life. Way back in 1997, when I was still in college, Congress passed this thing called the Balanced Budget Act of 1997. A lot of people probably don't remember it. I do, because it hit along with a major reform in insurance reimbursment. As a result of the BBA, there was a spending cap put on, amongst other things, outpatient therapy services that Medicare paid for. This was a big thing in the Physical Therapy world. It meant that people who have Medicare for their insurance (you know, people over 65 who tend to have a lot of health problems, joint replacements, injuries, etc. and need therapy) now had a limit on how much therapy they could receive. Here's where the comma comes in. In the BBA, it listed a $1760 cap on outpatient therapy services: OT, PT and Speech. How that played out was there was a $1760 cap on OT services and a $1760 cap on PT and Speech services combined. This was especially impactful in people who had strokes, where motor and speech skills can be affected.

How did this change my life? Easy. Insurance stopped paying for endless therapy, which meant the money stopped coming in. PT places were laying off PT's and forget about getting a job as a brand-new graduate in 1999-2000. My best friend got laid off and I was unemployed. I interviewed and sent out resumes, but to no avail. We ended up moving to Ohio, where we both found employment. It was then that I met my husband and the rest, as they say, is history.

Now, I don't know why or when people decided to stop using the Oxford comma. I distinctly remember learning not to use it when I was growing up.


I can't say I'm sorry that a comma changed my life. I'm pretty happy with where I am now. It's just a little odd to think about something so small, that could have made such a big difference.

But I'm doing my darndest to use the Oxford comma. I think I've conquered the whole two spaces after a period thing.

Face Lift

No, I didn't have one. Maybe someday.

Then again, maybe not.

No, you may have noticed this blog has gotten a facelift. I'm transitioning from a simple blog to an upgraded website. If you notice the tabs along the top, they'll take you to different pages, including purchase links for my books, my bio, where to sign up for my newsletter, and how to connect with me. When I have author events and signings, I'll post them in the appropriate place.

With a new book coming out, my blog was getting crowded and cluttered. I hope you all find this facelift pleasing and easy to navigate. Please let me know if you have any questions or comments.

While you're checking it out, make sure to sign up for the newsletter.

Oh, and T-25 days until Jump, Jive, and Wail is released. Don't forget to pre-order your copy on Amazon today!

Jump, Jive, and Wail Cover Reveal!!!

I've been hard at work (which is why the blog has been suffering) on getting my fourth novel ready to go. Jump, Jive, and Wail is going to the editor this week, which means I can finally tell the world about it.

I was first inspired to write this story almost a year ago, while watching the Winter Olympics. I love watching the ski jumpers and thought that somehow, it would be cool to write a story about it. I happened to mention it to the lovely and talented Aven Ellis, and she encouraged me to go for it.

I had to do a lot of research for this book, which is something that I usually don't have the patience for. Since I knew nothing about ski jumping, I had to really look into it. One of the things I found out was that women were not allowed to compete in ski jumping before the Sochi Olympics in 2014. Women from several countries worked together and lobbied (and sued) to get Women's Ski Jumping allowed in. Staff from Women's Ski Jumping USA (http://www.wsjusa.com/) really helped me out, including the three-time US National Champion, Sarah Hendrickson.

Okay, enough about the background. Here's the blurb:

Kaitlin Reynolds is used to fearlessly flying off mountains. But nearly two years after a devastating injury has ended her ski jumping career, Kaitlin is still struggling to put one foot in front of the other and find her new life. A chance meeting with a handsome stranger begins to put life into perspective. Dashing figure skater, Declan McLoughlin has just returned from the Olympics amid a swirl of publicity and fan fare. Just as Kaitlin begins to have hope again, her charming savior turns out to represent everything she has lost. If Kaitlin can just let go of the past and take a leap of faith, will she find herself soaring into Declan's arms?

And I know what you really want to see is the cover, so here it is!!!!!


Once again, my cover was designed by cover designer, author, and all around amazeballs lady, Becky Monson.

Jump, Jive, and Wail is now available for pre-order on Amazon!

(It will be available on Nook, Kobo, iBooks, and Smashwords, as well as in paperback as well).

I can't wait to release my newest book and can't wait to hear what you all think!

For Eric

Forgive me if you've heard this story before. I need to tell it again.

When I was in high school, I had a little bit of a hard time deciding what I wanted to be when I grew up. For a few minutes, I considered majoring in Communications. But I knew I wanted to be in the medical field. But the commitment to schooling and student loans that went along with medical school intimidated me. I was considering physical therapy and respiratory therapy.

Somewhere along this time, my next door neighbor was in a terrible car accident. He was thrown through the window of his truck and broke his neck. He was paralyzed. This was a hard thing to accept. He had been in my brother's class and I remember waiting at the bus stop with him.

As one can imagine, becoming paralyzed in your early 20's can be devastating. It certainly was for this young man. His step-mother, a nurse, used to give me my allergy shots, so we'd talk about things every week when I was over there. I knew that he was downstairs recovering, and I only went upstairs in the house. I didn't know whether to bring Eric up or not. I was a scared teenager and wasn't sure what to say in this sort of situation. One day, I asked how he was doing. His step-mother said, "He's had a really hard time. He didn't want to go on, but his physical therapist has been so great and gotten him moving again. She's taught him so much and I think she gave him his life back."

I left the house last night with the decision made. I wanted to be a physical therapist because I wanted to have that impact. I wanted to help people like Eric was helped.

And so a physical therapist I became. I've worked in rehab with people with spinal cord injuries, but I found my true calling in pediatrics. But still, it's all because of Eric.

A few years back, Eric's step-brother died. At the wake, I was able to tell him that story. I was also able to tell him, to his face, that every person I help through physical therapy, is a direct result of him. That he has helped those people. That made us both cry.

Tonight, I'm crying again, as I've learned of Eric's passing. He was too young to be paralyzed in his early 20's and too young to die in his early 40's.

Thank you for giving me direction. And for all the patients I've had in the last fifteen years, and will have in the next fifteen years, thank you. I hope that I can make a difference in their lives in your honor.

Rest in peace, Eric.

Don't Drive Like My Brother

Ok, in defense of both of my brothers, they probably drive just fine. I know one is a back seat driver, so I prefer to let him drive so he doesn't criticize me, but that's besides the point. This isn't about my literal brother but my figurative ones. Sisters too.

I live in New York. Even though I'm upstate, we're sort of known for our aggression and the speed with which we do things. I lived for a time in Massachusetts, and it's even worse there. It's fine with me. I'm a Northeastern girl. I like to go-go-go.

When I moved to Ohio, I was immediately and intensely frustrated by the slowness with which mid-Westerners move. They are never in a hurry for anything. Drove me crazy. Of course, I married a mid-Westerner. I don't know what I thought would happen. After 14 years together, he's still as slow and I'm still chomping at the bit. But for all the slowness in Ohio, I noticed something that we in NY tend to lack--friendliness. The first time I was in Kroger in Cincinnati and someone started talking to me, I had a death grip on my purse, sure someone was going to steal my wallet. Turns out, people are just warm and friendly. Moving more slowly through life allows that opportunity.

Same thing with driving. In Ohio, if you're trying to merge, people let you right in. In NY, cutting people off is an art form. But with the holiday season approaching, you just know traffic is going to be bad. It's the day before Thanksgiving and we're getting snow. I have to go out in a little while, and I am hoping that, at least in the spirit of the season, people take it slow. They let that car merge in front of them (guess what? Doing that actually helps the flow of traffic). They don't race for that parking spot, cutting people off the the process. They let that harried mom with the three kids in tow cross the street in front of them.

Unless you're travelling a long distance, speeding up doesn't actually save you any appreciable time. Slow it down and let someone turn in front of you. You'd be surprised at how good it can make you feel.

Happy Bird-day to those in the US!

*************
This post is dedicated to Tom Magiolzzi, who passed away recently. I listened to Car Talk on NPR more Saturdays (and Mondays when they played the re-runs) than I  can even count. The Tappet brothers were great for car advice, puzzlers, and many laughs. And they closed every show with the line, "Don't drive like my brother!"