Laura Chapman's Blog, page 26

the real marrying types with glynis astie & giveaway

When Elliot Lynch learns her family’s wedding planning business is in danger of bankruptcy, she’s willing to whatever it takes to save it—even participate in “The Marrying Type,” a reality TV show that takes viewers behind the scenes of wedding drama. Elliot’s reality show adventures—which include run-ins with a dramatic bridesmaid, rival wedding planner, and the one who got away—are told in my novel,  The Marrying Type . While Elliot’s wedding stories are fiction, there are plenty of wonderful real stories out there. In  The Real Marrying Types of Change the Word , real women are sharing their real wedding stories. One lucky reader will also receive a special prize!

In today’s new The Real Marrying Types of Change the Word, Glynis Astie shares how she married the man of her dreams not once but twice.

When I was asked by the lovely Laura Chapman to write about one of my real-life wedding memories, I jumped for joy. I actually jumped twice, because I had two weddings–to the same man–thereby giving me two memories to share. (Thank your lucky stars that we didn’t have the third one. This post would have been soooo much longer!)

My wonderful, charming, handsome, FRENCH husband, Sébastien, and I had a rather short courtship, finding ourselves engaged after five weeks of knowing each other. We had planned on a much longer engagement than, um, five months. (I still wince at this statement and it’s been nearly fourteen years…) However, when my then fiancé was laid off from his job and threatened with deportation, I did what any girl would do. Swallowed my fear and focused on the joy of the situation–like having two wedding dresses, two wedding cakes, two wedding rings, you get the point. It was going to be awesome!

We were living in California at the time, but elected to fly back east so my family and friends would be able to witness our wedding adventure (because planning a wedding in less than a week can’t really be categorized as anything less!), but the expedited nature of our nuptials didn’t allow for Sébastien’s family to attend. I felt a massive sense of guilt about marrying him without sharing anything other than a brief phone conversation with his parents. In my mind, I was robbing them of a sacred experience: the wedding of their only child. After all, the next wedding would just be for show.

Pushing my feelings aside, I did my best to focus on how much I loved my groom rather than the swirling pregnancy/green card/ you-name-it rumors resulting from our impromptu nuptials. The next few days flew by and I suddenly found myself at the threshold of the most hideous room I had ever seen, preparing to walk down that fateful aisle. Flanked on each side by my parents, I did my best not to gag at the wood paneling, plentiful pilgrim portraits and stained gold carpeting. In that moment, my world came crashing down around me. Everything was happening so quickly and I wondered if we were crazy to think such a hasty marriage could actually work.

With my heart racing, I looked up to find Sébastien gazing at me. I didn’t see my fear reflected in his eyes. I didn’t see confusion, anxiety or even an ounce of uncertainty. All I saw was the depth of his love for me. After beaming for all I was worth, I swiftly kicked my doubts to curb and sashayed down the aisle with glee. Best. Day. Ever.


The memory from our second wedding is a true gem. I can laugh about it now, but at the time I thought I would have to be committed to an insane asylum. The morning of my long-awaited, fairy tale-esque wedding (which was eight months after the civil ceremony), I discovered that my perfect wedding dress–you know, the one that makes you feel like the princess you always wanted to be–was missing. MISSING! My heart just stopped for a second. Perhaps it’s not funny quite yet.

My mother had been given the task of transporting my dress to the hotel, given that Sébastien and I had a minivan full of his relatives we were doing our best not to lose. She gave this prized possession to the hotel manager, eliciting the promise that the dress would be delivered to the bridal suite without delay. Imagine my surprise when I woke the next morning and found all four closets in our room devoid of my gorgeous gown?! I’m pretty sure I woke every single guest in the hotel with my pained screams.

In my deranged state, I hypothesized since I was already married (and therefore didn’t have to have the holy-crap-I’m-getting-married freak out), the universe HAD to give me another reason to break down on this auspicious occasion. What can I say? I had finally lost it. I was convinced I had angered the wedding gods by marrying my husband without meeting his family until just two days before our SECOND wedding.

Three extremely long hours later, the dress turned up and we got on with the show. I wish I could tell you things ran smoothly from there. Multiple power outages led to my walking down four flights of steep metal stairs in a rather poofy wedding dress, lit by nothing but glow sticks AND my letting out a stream of profanity which made several wedding guests blush when my grand entrance was paused midway due to the sudden absence of music. The ample supply of alcohol helped to eradicate those memories–if only for the evening. Either way, it was an unforgettable evening!


Sébastien and I had planned to have a third wedding in his hometown of Le Caylar, France, but it simply wasn’t in the cards. Although I was never able to experience it firsthand, I did write my version of what could have happened in French Toast, the second book in my French Twist series. It was quite the event, if I do say so myself!

We'll be back with more "The Real Marrying Types of CTW" tomorrow with a new story from Samantha March.

About Glynis
Glynis never expected in her wildest dreams to be a writer. After thirteen years in the Human Resources Industry, she decided to stay at home with her two amazing sons. Ever in search of a project, she was inspired to write the story of how she met and married her wonderfully romantic French husband, Sebastien, in six short months. The end result became her first novel, French Twist . As this was just the beginning of their epic love story, Glynis continued to chronicle their adventures in the sequel, French Toast , and the final installment in the series, French Fry .

When Glynis is not writing, she is trying to keep the peace amongst the three men and two cats in her life, finding missing body parts (Lego pieces are small!), supervising a myriad of homework assignments and keeping a tenuous hold on her sanity by consuming whatever chocolate is in the vicinity.


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Prize: You can enter to win the Bridal Package inspired by The Marrying Type by completing the Rafflecopter. Note, this contest is only open to readers in the U.S. and Canada. No purchase necessary to participate.



a Rafflecopter giveaway


The Marrying Type is available on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, and Marching Ink.

Stay connected. "Like" Change the Word on Facebook. Follow my other adventures on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram. Receive news updates via my e-newsletter.

the real marrying types with celia kennedy & giveaway

When Elliot Lynch learns her family’s wedding planning business is in danger of bankruptcy, she’s willing to whatever it takes to save it—even participate in “The Marrying Type,” a reality TV show that takes viewers behind the scenes of wedding drama. Elliot’s reality show adventures—which include run-ins with a dramatic bridesmaid, rival wedding planner, and the one who got away—are told in my novel, The Marrying Type . While Elliot’s wedding stories are fiction, there are plenty of wonderful real stories out there. In The Real Marrying Types of Change the Word , real women are sharing their real wedding stories. One lucky reader will also receive a special prize!

In today’s new The Real Marrying Types of Change the Word, Celia Kennedy shares the story of how she met her husband.

In thinking about sharing our story for some reason it feels comparable to new mothers sharing their birthing stories … so here goes, I will birth the story of our relationship.

I was asked to make this short, and in some ways that is easy, because our “courtship” was quick. But, it was six years in the making. We’ll flash quickly through the actual meeting. I had been remodeling a kitchen on my own over the course of a week and once the work was complete (the day before out of town guests were due to arrive), I needed help moving the fridge back into the kitchen. My boyfriend wrangled a bunch of guys over to help. I was covered in floor adhesive, had greasy hair tucked under a baseball cap, and smelled to high heaven (between chemicals and perspiration). I opened the door and laid eyes on the love of my life. (This is a really hysterical story and ought to be longer.)

Now, I freely admit to having read a romance novel or two (and having written my own), so what I’m about to relate may seem a little over the top, but I swear every last word is true. I looked at MacGyver (my husband) and thought, “Oh Shit! Here’s my future.” I was completely and immediately smitten and I was living with someone else whose parents were about to come for a visit. Fortunately the rest of the help arrived to move the fridge and I was saved from myself and ‘his’ close scrutiny.

A week or so later my boyfriend invited a friend over for dinner. I knew who it was. Shamelessly I fluffed, spritzed, polished, and groomed every inch of me, knowing that my commitment to the current boyfriend was at an end. I was flustered, giddy, and euphoric and then I was crushed. MacGyver announced, after a spoonful of pumpkin soup, that he’d been married for a few months. My hand to God, one minute I was sitting at the table trying to figure out how to break up with what’s-his-name and the next I was watching my Cinderella story blow up inside my head. I spent the rest of the night feeling sad, resigned, and envious.

MacGyver’s wife was finishing her degree in another city, so when she was in town on a short visit my jealousy reared its ugly head over every last thing he said or did for her. He was in love and I was in hell.

When she wasn’t in town I would do the laundry at Mac’s place (we didn’t have a washer/dryer) and he and I spent hours chatting. It was a bit masochistic. The more I came to know him the more I loved him. When ‘she’ finally moved to town on a permanent basis, I made myself scarce.
Perhaps I’m not painting a very good picture of myself, so I need to interject here. I had been very committed to making my relationship with my boyfriend work. We had a house, traveled, and lived together for seven years. In none of that time did anything other than my eye stray. I convinced myself that what I felt for Mac was just a passing crush, a physical attraction, and that it would go away with time. So for almost one year I deliberately avoided seeing MacGyver.

Alas, I ran into ‘them’ at the grocery store. I had seen them from a distance and had deliberately pushed my cart in the opposite direction. Unfortunately we both needed cheese. So there I was, alone with my groceries, when I came face to face with the happy couple. They matched so well in looks, intelligence, and temperament. AND they were together, AND they had just purchased a house, AND he was willing to grocery shop just to be with her. A lot of salt was rubbed into a very big wound.
Another year or so passed, during which time I became loosely engaged to my boyfriend. I use the word loosely because it was more of a, “either you ask me or I’m leaving,” type of situation. No grand gestures of love, or any desire to share our engagement with family and friends, and we were in couple’s therapy. Does that sound like happily ever after? No, it doesn’t.

Moments after the sham proposal came the most amazing news, Mac was getting divorced. I kid you not. Another romance novel moment. What to do? By then I was so committed to making my relationship work that I stayed put and watched MacGyver date all kinds of women.

It was a painful and torturous year or two, but I supported his endeavors to find love. At this point my boyfriend/fiancé and I began what would become known as ‘the longest break-up of all time.’ It was messy and complicated. I didn’t tell MacGyver because that would have just complicated things.
Fleeing MacGyver’s love life and to drive the final nail into the death of my relationship I decided to participate in a Study Abroad program. A few days before leaving the country I invited a bunch of friends to have dinner. Mac was one of the invitees. I fluffed, spruced, shaved, and used my last few dollars to buy something girly and fun. After everyone was settled in at the tables at the restaurant I asked a friend where Mac was. He said, “Oh, he isn’t coming. He’s busy falling in love with someone.” Well, I was crushed. Again, another romance novel moment; our timing was impeccably off, and only I knew it.

So off I fled to Europe more confused than ever. I decided to do what any sane thirty year old would do who is participating in a student exchange program would do. I immersed myself in the experience; I traveled, studied, pub crawled, and had a fling with a twenty-two year old. In all the time I was gone I suppressed all urges to email or call Mac. I just couldn’t leave my euphoric world to be grounded in the agony of his love story.

Upon returning home I lasted all of two days before calling his office. He had quit! Where was he? Had he moved? Was he married? After some serious stalking, I learned he was single and on vacation. A few days later, out of the blue, Mac called me, inviting me to dinner.

“I thought you were out of town.”

“I was, but I got Tom’s message that you were back. I am driving home from the airport.”

“When do you want to have dinner?”

“Now?”

My brain overloaded … I wasn’t fluffed, spritzed, shaved, or mentally prepared. “Yes!”

To my delight I found out that Mac and what’s-her-name had split up (it turns out this happened just after I left for England, when he found out through my ex-boyfriend that we’d ended our relationship). After a few dinners, strictly as friends, I worked up the nerve to kiss him. He didn’t respond, didn’t say anything, just smiled and waved good-bye. My thoughts were all over the place. I berated myself for crossing that line! I had revealed myself and he wasn’t interested. Where are twenty-two year old boys when you need them?

The next few times we were together I tried to regain some dignity by saying things like, “I’m not interested in having a relationship yet.” My other brilliant idea was to tell him about my fling with the twenty-two year old (if you don’t want me, someone else does). All a bit confusing and juvenile, but critical to my self-esteem!

One night, Mac came over to hang out while I studied for a mid-term and fell asleep while I pondered the mysteries of soil science. I couldn’t focus and kept peeking at him. Finally I woke him up so he could sleep at home and I could study. He was standing outside the front door, and I was inside the house with the door open. In what had to be a moment of pure nerve, I grabbed his hand, pulled him towards me and kissed him. I deliberately left my eyes open to see what he would do. He left his open! Yikes. Pulling away from me, he said, “You’re taller than I thought you’d be.” Then he left. I walked around berating myself and wondered what that was supposed to mean.

Brace yourself, it gets goofier. Not long after, we were sitting in a very nice Italian restaurant having dinner discussing how you know whether you are ready to move on and fall in love again. (Has anyone besides me realized that he and I were spending a lot of time together?) I pushed back my empty plate while he and I discussed sharing a dessert. Just after the waiter took our order for Tiramisu, I looked him square in the eye and said, “I know whether or not I am ready. I love you.” He didn’t tell me he loved me, he just looked at me as if he didn’t hear me. I wanted to die. I honestly don’t know what happened at the restaurant. I’m assuming he paid the bill while I died the death of total embarrassment and berated myself for yet again putting myself out there and getting zero results. I was certain I had just lost a very important friendship.

Much to my surprise we ended up at his house. Knowing his seduction scene well from our many conversations, I gradually noted a fire was blazing in the hearth and music was playing in the background. The knots in my stomach unfurled just a touch. At last he spilled the beans. When he found out I was single, he had ended his relationship and waited many months for me to return. He hadn’t wanted to rush through any stage of the relationship because he understood all moments were to be savored. I then learned that while he wasn’t prepared to divorce his wife for me, he too had struggled with his feelings for me. Then the most wonderful thing happened, he told me he loved me!
Within a month we were engaged (I waited for him to ask me this time) and were married exactly one month later (at my insistence). Our story, unlike a romance novel, doesn’t end with the declaration of love and proposal. From the day I met him until the day I married him (almost six years) I saw aspects of him that still prove to me over and over that he is what I want and need. We had seen how each other handled relationships, watched each other struggle through the end of love, talked through what we needed and how to make changes, we talked politics and religion, we shared our dreams and hopes for the future, all without the misty cloud of a new romance enveloping us. We had been friends for a long, long time.

One of my favorite memories of our relationship is one day I was shopping at Costco, had a full cart, and was waiting in line to pay. I looked up and saw Mac walking towards me with a big smile on his face and in my giddiness I thought, “Wow! Mac’s here.” For the briefest moment I’d forgotten he was there with me. We had been married for about a year at that point.

Our story began twenty-five ago, and he still makes me feel giddy.

We'll be back with more "The Real Marrying Types of CTW" tomorrow with a new story from Glynis Astie.


About Celia
Celia Kennedy was born in Wurzburg, Germany on a military base. Her parent's penchant for traveling has stuck with her, she's lived in and traveled through several countries.

The imagined world has always fascinated Celia. She has studied Art History, Interior Design, Landscape Architecture, and Architecture. Her thirteen year career at UW in Seattle ended in 1996. Not wanting to be homeless, she left the academic world and worked as a Landscape Architect, married the love of her life, became a mom, has been PTA President, and both Boy and Girl Scout Leader.

The unimaginable wealth in her life is the most fascinating thing to her.

Her love of travel, the designed and natural world, friendship, self-discovery, wine, chocolate, AND love are the foundation of her life and books.

Celia is the author of Charlotte's Restrained, The Accidental Stalker; Kathleen's Undressed, The Accidental Enigma; Venus Rising; Cupid on the Loose Anthology (Sugar, It's Cold Outside), Fools Rush In Anthology (April's Fool), May The Fourth Anthology (Tears In The Rain). She is currently writing book three in The Accidental Series - Marian's Misdirected, The Accidental Roadie and Moonbow.

Currently she lives in Washington State with the loves of her life.


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Buy the Books
Charlotte’s Restrained, The Accidental Stalker
Kathleen’s Undressed, The Accidental Enigma
Venus Rising
Cupid On The Loose
Fools Rush In
May The Fourth


Prize: You can enter to win the Bridal Package inspired by The Marrying Type by completing the Rafflecopter. Note, this contest is only open to readers in the U.S. and Canada. No purchase necessary to participate.



a Rafflecopter giveaway


The Marrying Type is available on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, and Marching Ink.

Stay connected. "Like" Change the Word on Facebook. Follow my other adventures on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram. Receive news updates via my e-newsletter.

the real marrying types of change the word

Weddings offer plenty of fodder for storytelling. I realized this quickly when I set out to write The Marrying Type . I actually had to remind myself a few times that the story was about Elliot's personal journey and not about the myriad of crazy scenarios she inevitably encountered as a wedding planner.

It makes sense, really. Weddings throw an eclectic mix of people together during a highly emotional time, and booze frequently plays a factor, either because it's overflowing or not flowing enough. Most of us undoubtedly have a memorable moment (or five) from a wedding that stands out. I want to highlight some of these moments throughout the month of June during The Real Marrying Types of Change the Word. To keep it interesting, I have invited some friends to share their own favorite wedding moments. We'll have a new post each Tuesday and Thursday all month.

To make this even more fun, I'll be giving away my final The Marrying Type-themed prize package at the end. Be sure to read through to the end of the post of instructions on how to enter.

I'm kicking off the series today with a few of my own most memorable real life wedding moments. (I've already shared some of my favorites from books, movies, and TV.) I hope you enjoy!


My Top 5 Real Wedding Moments
1. I have been an usher in two weddings. (Suck it glass ceiling.) That said, I don't believe I brought luck to either, so I have retired from this gender role-challenging pursuit indefinitely. Trust me, it's for the best.


Source
2. In England, my classmates and I watched a wedding party and stream of guests leave a church in London. It looked just like a scene from a Hugh Grant movie. I desperately wish my camera's battery hadn't died before I could capture this visual forever.

3. While editor-in-chief of my college's summer newspaper, I coordinated a wedding-themed photo shoot featuring my deputy editor and copy chief locked in a pose that could rival any romance novel's cover image. This is still one of the proudest, most ridiculous achievements in my brief journalism career.


4. I attended a wedding at a castle, and my date chastised me after I thanked the shuttle bus driver for our ride. "Laura," he said, pulling me aside by the arm, "we do not speak to the help. We're at a castle. Act accordingly." This was all in good fun, of course, and the "castle" was in Iowa, not England, but I did have a moment of "oh sh*t" Downton Abbey-inspired panic. Incidentally, this was the same wedding during which plans to send lanterns flying off into the sky had to be shut down, because one of the lanterns got caught in a tree. Remember, only you can prevent forest fires.

5. The first time I served as a bridesmaid, my date to the wedding ended up making a connection with one of the ushers and they went out dancing at the clubs after they dropped my Royal Drunkness off at my parents' house. This sounds way more dramatic and nefarious than it was in real life. The three of us had a great time partying together at the wedding. And they technically invited me to join them for the after hours festivities. I was just too tired after a day of primping and posing to make it happen. Still, wouldn't that be a great premise for a chick lit novel?

We'll be back with more "The Real Marrying Types of CTW" tomorrow with a new story from Celia Kennedy.

Prize: You can enter to win the Bridal Package inspired by The Marrying Type by completing the Rafflecopter. Note, this contest is only open to readers in the U.S. and Canada. No purchase necessary to participate.



a Rafflecopter giveaway


About The Marrying Type
When Elliot Lynch's family business is on the brink of bankruptcy, Elliot will do whatever it takes to save the family business. When asked to appear on “The Marrying Type,” a reality TV show about the people behind the scenes as couples exchange I dos, she says yes to the invasion of privacy (and the hefty paycheck that comes with it). With a camera crew capturing every detail of her life, Elliot faces her most challenging contract yet: planning a wedding where her ex is involved in every part of the process. Forced to confront her past, Elliot must live out her troubled present on national TV if she has any hope of saving her future.

Available on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, and Marching Ink

Stay connected. "Like" Change the Word on Facebook. Follow my other adventures on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram. Receive news updates via my e-newsletter.

twenty-nine

All hail the birthday queen.I'm turning twenty-nine on Sunday. Give me a moment to process that. While I keep referring to this as my first twenty-ninth birthday (as a joke--but like all wannabe and real-life comedians, my jokes don't always land), I'm in no way mourning my advanced age.

Still... It's weird. I only have one more year of my twenties, and I wonder where they've gone. It seems like I was celebrating my twenty-first birthday five minutes ago. It seems like even less time since I was twenty-three and packing my bags to move to Houston. It seems like no time since I started at the museum shortly after I turned twenty-six.

I'm turning twenty-nine on Sunday, and I have so much more to learn about life.

But even while I reflect on what I have yet to discover, today I wanted to take a few moments to celebrate what I have learned during the past twenty-nine years. While I'm by no means an expert, and I don't always follow my own advice, I at least hold these to be true in my own life.

Twenty-Nine Lessons Learned as I Turn Twenty-Nine
1. Think before you speak. Not doing this is how you frequently ending up saying things that hurt others or embarrass yourself (like announcing that you'd "love to catch crabs" when someone tells you about crabbing).

2. Relationships change. Some last forever, but some are only supposed to last a short time. Some are strong and intense, others quiet and easy. Some of the best friends I've known were only actively part of my life for a few months. Others have been around most of my life. All of them have been important and shaped who I am. While I miss some of the people who have come and gone, it's more important to celebrate that they ever happened at all than mourn that they're gone.

3. Say I love you. I don't think you can ever tell your friends and family you love them enough. You never know how many more chances you'll have to say it, so why not let them know how you feel?

4. Be passionate about something. Whether it's reading historical fiction, watching documentaries, going for runs, or developing a craft, find something you enjoy and pursue it. Better still, be passionate about lots of things.


5. Reading is one of the greatest pleasures. I will forever thank my parents for giving me a love of books when I was young. Transporting into other worlds through words has always been and continues to be the constant joy of my life.

6. Try something new. Change is scary, but it's also wonderful. And sometimes you may discover a new love or passion, because you did something new. Which means you must...

7. Be brave. It took me years to realize that bravery isn't the same thing as being fearless. Bravery means acting even when you are faced with fear.

8. Sometimes you have to say no. If someone approaches you with something that goes against what you believe, or is something you know you can't commit to full-heartedly, it's okay to say "no." You also have to make sure you don't become involved in too many tasks that you don't have time to accomplish them or enjoy life.

9. Sometimes you have to say yes. This is particularly important when it's paired with something that will help you fulfill your dreams. Tina Fey wrote about this in her memoir in how it relates to going with the flow.


10. Travel is important. The more I see of the world, the more I want to see, and the more I realize I won't ever experience all of the places I would love to visit. And some of my favorite experiences have involved going places I never knew I wanted to go, like small towns or non-famed natural spots.

11. Don't overpack when you travel. It's only natural to want to give yourself lots of options, but the truth is you probably don't need three or four wardrobe changes a day. This isn't Downton Abbey, it's real life. My dad offered me this advice when I was beginning my business travel days. "Take only what you'll need to wear. And maybe an extra pair of underwear in case you fall into a lake or something." That reminds me of another piece of Dad advice...

12. Sometimes you have to play hurt. There are going to be any number of days when you wake up and just aren't feeling it. That doesn't mean you have to give into the urge to lay in bed all day. At some point, you have to get up and start your day. But...

13. Stay home when you are sick. Seriously, people. This is how germs get spread. Even staying home one day, when you're most contagious, can spare other people illness. Also...

14. It's okay to take time to relax. You can only operate all of your cylinders for so long before you burn out. I used to feel guilty when I would spend a Saturday binge-watching Netflix. Now, I give myself permission to do this on occasion--usually while giving myself a pedicure and facemask. I come out of that time better for it.


15. Experience art in all its forms. Some of my greatest memories are linked to performing and listening to music. Others include seeing a painting, watching a play, reading a story, and so on. Even if you are not knowledgeable on the subject, your interaction with art is just as important and valid.

16. Treat others with respect. Even if you disagree with them or find them impossible, you should still treat each person well. In the railroad, they used to say, "Treat others the way you would want the people you most care about to be treated." It is one of the hardest things to do, but think of how much better our world would be with more respect? That leads to the next point...

17. Be kind. Sometimes this is even harder than being respectful, and you won't always succeed at it (I know I don't), but you have to try. Sadly, cruelty is often louder than kindness, but that's no excuse to fan the fire.

18. Live for today. This is a tough one for a planner and dreamer like me, but I constantly remind myself that I need to make the most of each day, even if that equates reading a book I love or snuggling with my cats.


19. "It's never too late to be what you might have been." That's a quote from George Eliot, and it's something I've tried to practice in my life ever since. Whether your five or ninety-five, there is always a chance for you to be the best version of yourself as you can. Being a human is a never-ending quest.

20. Giving up isn't the same as failure.  While you might never fulfill your dream of becoming an Oscar winner or unicorn, you are not a failure for abandoning that dream. Especially not when you replace it with another. And as I just mentioned, it's never too late to try something else.

21. Your actions and beliefs are the only ones you can control. While it might be tempting to try to make others do what you want or have the same opinion as you, it's an impossible quest. Debate can be fun and even beneficial, but it stops that when you set out to try to force others to change. For this reason you should...

22. Be open-minded. Just because you don't understand something doesn't mean it is wrong or bad. Practice empathy, because you never know another person's full story. Even your closest friends could have more going on than meets the eye.

23. Laughter is wonderful. I don't know if it's always the best medicine, but I have found I enjoy the times in life when I am laughing and smiling more than the ones in which I'm crying or frowning.

24. Be your own biggest cheerleader. Even if you are blessed with a great group of supporters, no one can cheer louder or help you achieve success better than yourself.

25. Be informed. I'm always amazed when I hear of people who read multiple newspapers every day of their life. I'll never be that disciplined, but I've learned that the better informed I am, the more I understand. (Sometimes I also discover the more I know, the less I understand, but it's worth trying.)

26. Leave the world better than you found it. Whether it's a short-term job, a relationship, or the world at large, the best thing any of us can do is to try our best to make it better.

27. Recognize, and appreciate, that there's no such thing as "having everything figured out." Even if it seems like others do, this isn't the case. We're all works in progress from the moment we're born.

28. Share your life with people (and critters) who make it better. I was lucky to be born into a family I both love and like, and I've known some great people in my life. They've made this ride all the better.


29. Wash your face before bed. I always resented being told to do this when I was younger, but I've since changed my tune. Taking the time to do this (and brush your teeth twice a day and wear sunscreen) will pay off in the long run.


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swoonable lines of summer

I don't know all about you, but with summer heating up, I'm in serious need of some swooning. And who better to swoon with than some seriously swoon-worthy men?

(How many more times can I possibly and realistically use the word "swoon" in this post? If you have a bottle of vodka/beer/wine handy, there's no time like the present to turn this into a fun-filled--but responsible--drinking game.)

So in honor of the hot, hot summer days we're feeling here in Nebraska and the hunky, crushable men I've been reading and writing about lately, let's take a look at a few of my favorite, most swoon-able lines from my favorite swoon-inducing men of fiction these days.

And I suppose I should throw out a quick SPOILER ALERT if you aren't on the up and up with Austen or Bronte. But... you've had 150 to 200 years to read these books. If you read this and are shocked by any of these epic lines, well, I'm going to say this one's on you. ;)

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1. "If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more." - Mr. Knightley (Emma by Jane Austen)

Oh, Mr. Knightley. You've been slaying my poor heart since I was a 12 year-old viewing the previews on her parents' copy of Evita. (Yeah, I didn't fast-forward, because I loved the trailer to Emma, and I knew I would one day watch the movie and read the book to discover if Emma loved John, Frank, or Trouble.) And then I did finally watch the movie and read the book, and I loved it. And then I saw/read this one line, and I swooned. Oh how I swoooned. (That's two back-to-back drinks if you're playing along at home.)


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2. "My bride is here," he said, again drawing me to him, "because my equal is here, and my likeness. Jane, will you marry me?" - Mr. Rochester (Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte)

After leaving this book on my shelf for about three years, I finally put a ring on it this month and committed to reading it. I'm still partially through (and finally getting to the good stuff where Jane and Mr. Rochester are all kinds of broody and tense and everything) and this line is definitely swoonable. I may be a little biased (because, Fassy), but I love this line even more in the 2011 screen adaptation.


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3. “In vain have I struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.” - Mr. Darcy (Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen)

Yeah, I know Mr. Darcy was being more of a "d is for dick" rather than "d is for delish" sort of man at this part of the tale, but I'm too busy having palpitations to get too caught up with the particulars. I mean... I'm not particularly punishment equating pleasure, but it's kind of hot that Darcy is pained, because he's so into Elizabeth, right? And he's not some rando dude. This is like a legit, swoon-inducing man. Considering that Darcy is someone I had to read about for school, he sure has a knack for bringing out this pretty silly side of me.


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4. "You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone for ever. I offer myself to you again with a heart even more your own than when you almost broke it, eight years and a half ago." - Captain Wentworth (Persuasion by Jane Austen)

Thump. Each sentence, each part of a sentence, of this famed letter from Persuasion is spectacularly swoon-worthy on its own. Combined, it's enough to set my pulse racing at the highest speed. I'm too busy trying not to faint like the dainty little flower that I am to offer any more comment. Except for this: I clearly have a type this summer, you swoon-able men of BritLit days past. You're setting the bar awfully high for me.

Guys, I can't even. I've clearly had too much heat. I swear I'll be back later this week with something more insightful and less "fictional men are piece of meat for me to lust after while I drink beer/wine in front of the air conditioning to cool down" to share. And bless me Father, or whoever gets involved in these sort of situations, for I have clearly forfeited my "I'm a strong, independent woman" card for the day. I blame the damn heat.


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the next adventure

I'm in scheming/dreaming mode, which incidentally conflicts with my need to be in a productive mode.— Laura Chapman (@lmchap) June 4, 2015

I'm a dreamer and a plotter by nature. It's what I'm best at--creating visions and imagining ways to execute them. (The follow-through is where I tend to find myself lacking.) In another life, I'd probably make an adequate TV writer. I'd be great at throwing out ideas and having a quick deadline for producing and revising a script before seeing it filmed and played out on TV.

It's sometimes exciting to have my brain spinning with so many ideas. I'm never bored. But other times it's a challenge. Like when I need to commit to one idea and develop it into a story.

It's also problematic when I agree to do something that I haven't considered fully. (You should see the list of blogs and urls I've snapped up only to let them go away.) I suppose you could call me wishy-washy (which isn't very nice of you! ;) ), but I like to think of it as being free-spirited.

Last week I mentioned that I wasn't sure what my next writing project would be. After taking off the week from writing (and instead focusing most of my mental power toward my day job, which had some pretty exciting happenings going on), I returned to it on Saturday. I should say officially returned to it. I was making notes throughout the week as ideas popped into my head.

I won't say much about this current writing project, because I'm not far enough in to be totally committed. One thing I will say is that this current story, if it pans out, will incorporate many of the characters and story ideas I've been tinkering with for the past few years. Hopefully I can stay the course with them, because I'd really like to get their stories told and shared.



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the caught-up itch

It's nice to feel caught up. Or at least close to it as I'll probably ever be.

For the first time in a long time, all of my projects at the day job are on schedule. My third novel and novella are with the publisher (and I met both of my personal deadlines by the hair of my chinny chin chin).

My apartment is a bit of a disaster, and I really need to get back on my healthy eating kick before I outgrow all of my clothing, but I'm willing to give myself those concessions, because I'm feeling pretty happy with my careers.

I'm happy and pleased, but I'm now in a sort of "what now" mode. I have a limitless pile of future projects, and I even have a historical romance in the works for my pen name. But I feel this need to tackle one of those to-do stories first, and I'm not absolutely sure which one is best. One is calling me name a little louder than the others, but it's still tough to choose. For the first time in a couple of years, I feel like I get to choose what I work on next. It's both thrilling and terrifying.

I suppose I should stop procrastinating with this blog post and commit to something. Commitment is scary too, but that's another topic.

I admire authors who jump from one project to the next, seemingly taking only a couple of hours to clear their desk (and probably do their dishes). I want to be one of those writers, and I think this is my moment to become one. As long as I pick a project and start it pronto.

Anyone else ever struggle with this?


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in the end

I've been thinking about endings a lot lately. It probably has everything to do with Parks and Recreation and Mad Men airing their series finales. I'd imagine The Mindy Project 's cliffhanger of a season finale also has something to do with it (and the fact that I would have had sleepless nights if Hulu hadn't stepped up to air Season 4).

Watching these final episodes stirred something in me, which naturally led to my considering endings as a reader and writer. I definitely have a set of standards for what I like best in endings.
I like to be surprised.I like the characters to end up in a better place (even if it's only a little better or optimistic) than where they began.I like it to move quickly and not drag out.I only like epilogues if they're quick and not too spoilery, because...I like to be left with room to interpret what else could have happened next beyond what occurred on the page and screen.Okay, so maybe that isn't as brief of a list at seemed in my head, but there it is. And it's funny that I haven't given this a ton of thought until recently, because I realize this has always been the case. Maybe it's because I have an overactive imagination. Like in The Velveteen Rabbit , once I love characters they become real to me. And I like to imagine their stories for myself.


This is likely the reason I'm not a big fan of sequels coming out years after the previous installments. Even though the author/filmmaker probably knows best for their story, in my mind I've already told it. And I don't want to be wrong. (Which is why I won't watch The Little Mermaid 2: Return to the Sea or read Mad About the Boy .)

This is also why when you read one of my stories, the ending isn't long and leaves room for you to keep imagining what else could happen. Brevity is beautiful, but more importantly, I think a story is like a party. You should arrive late enough that the fun is already in progress and leave before you're asked to go (or worse, clean up). If there is enough of a story to tell after the story, well, you can always throw another party, right?

Anyway, this is just my rambling take. I'm curious about your thoughts, though. What do you like best in an ending as a reader/viewer/creator?


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interview with the author of 'the truth about ellen'

I'm delighted to welcome Sarah Louise Smith back to the blog, this time to talk about her new novel, The Truth About Ellen, which is now available. Congratulations, Sarah, on the new release. It sounds like a great one.

Change the Word: Can you tell us a little about your book?
Sarah Louise Smith: The Truth About Ellen is about a girl who meets Tom, a guy from a band she used to be a huge fan of in her teen years. She doesn’t mention she was a fan, or that she once spent an evening with Jasper, Tom’s ex-bandmate – or that Jasper is her long-term celebrity crush. Things get complicated when Jasper tries to get back in touch with Tom…

CTW: What inspired you to tell this story?
SLS: It’s been swirling in my mind for a long, long time. I used to get obsessive about bands when I was a teen, and I guess a lot of the inspiration comes from there – my imagination getting carried away!

CTW: Where do you find your ideas to write?
SLS: I’m always writing down little ideas that come to me during every day life, often just a conversation or a ‘what if’ question that lingers in my mind for a while will then turn into a whole story.

CTW: How do you come up with your book titles?
SLS: I guess I started a theme with my books to include the protagonist’s name, so I was always going to include ‘Ellen’ in there. In this case, there’s actually a line in the book where someone says it’s time to learn “the truth about Ellen” so this seemed to bit nicely.

CTW: How has your writing process evolved since writing your debut novel?
SLS: I’m much more dedicated and determined. I guess having got on board with a publisher and received nice feedback from readers has made me feel it’s worthwhile and given me a confidence boost. Having said that, I’ve still got those pre-launch nerves; I hope everyone likes book 4!

CTW: How do you stay motivated to keep writing?
SLS: I just keep reminding myself how much I want to put stories out there. But it doesn’t take much motivation; I enjoy writing and have always done it for pleasure most of all. I don’t put pressure on myself to write on a regular basis.

CTW: If you were holding a dinner party and could invite three writers (living or deceased) who would be on your guest list and why?
SLS: Ooh nice question! Jane Austen (I adore her books, she’s like the original rom com author). Marian Keyes (I enjoy her books but I also find her hilarious, follow her on Twitter and you’ll see why… she’d be fun at a dinner table). And Paige Toon – my fave modern chick-lit author.

CTW: What is the best book you have read recently?
SLS: Zanna’s MacKenzie’s Amber Reed stories, they’re fun romantic stories but with a murder mystery twist – highly recommend them!

CTW: What is the best piece of advice you have ever received about your writing career?
SLS: To never give up. Even when you get a rejection or a bad review; if you love writing then you gotta keep writing.

CTW: What's up next for you?
SLS: I’ve got a bunch of ideas for book 5, but I haven’t sat down and actually started writing it yet. Watch this space! Thanks so much for having me, Laura! :)

About The Truth About Ellen

It’s every girl’s dream to date a pop star...  

When Ellen starts dating Tom, a member of the band she adored as a teenager, she can’t believe how lucky she is.  

She neglects to mention that she's a huge fan because that just wouldn’t be cool, would it?  

Ellen also keeps quiet about how she once spent an evening with Tom’s ex-bandmate/ex-best friend Jasper, her long-term celebrity crush. Tom doesn’t need to know about that, it’s all in the past.  

That is until Tom and Jasper get back in touch… and the truth threatens to ruin everything Ellen has ever dreamed of...

Buy the Book
Amazon UK
Amazon US

About Sarah Louise Smith
Sarah Louise Smith lives in Milton Keynes, England with her husband, step-daughter, loopy golden retriever and cheeky tortie cat.

Sarah has been writing stories since she can remember and has so far completed four chick-lit novels, all published by Crooked Cat: Amy & Zach, Izzy’s Cold Feet, Independent Jenny, and The Truth About Ellen.

Connect with Sarah
Website
Twitter
Facebook


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times are a-changin'

I had a funny thought occur to me over the weekend. While I was flying to a conference in Minneapolis, I remembered the last time I'd flown somewhere. I realized it had been almost exactly two years. (Which is a long time when you consider how often I used to fly for my first post-college job.)

Two years ago, when I flew to and from California, I finished the first draft of my novelette "Twelve Drummers Drumming." I also worked on the last draft of Hard Hats and Doormats , my debut novel.

Now both of those stories (along with another short and a novel) have been published. And during this series of flights, I worked on edits for a third novel and novella. There are other little differences from then and now.

But going from aspiring to published author in that time is a strange, lovely mix of insanity and amazement.

Isn't it amazing how much a person's world changes over time? It reminds me of a favorite line from Nora Roberts' Genuine Lies , "Don't you think it would be deadly boring to wake up every morning of your life as exactly the same person?"

I wonder who I'll wake up as tomorrow.

A couple of photos to share from my business trip for the day job...

Me with this adorable cat quilt on display at Spring Market. Look at the bespectacled kitten!

The Kittens, pattern by Elizabeth Hartman
Meet my new favorite food: lobster guacamole.

At Smack Shack

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