Kimberly Wenzler's Blog, page 6

On The Radio

I did a radio interview a few weeks ago in NYC. What?

I was offered to do the show, a book-talk segment on an internet radio station called BreakThru Radio, and before I could get inside my own head and tell myself I shouldn’t, I agreed to do it.

Once committed, I then decided to find out a bit about the station, the show and the DJ, Kory French. I listened to a few interviews and read Kory’s bio. He’s young (well, younger than me), he’s hip, he’s into vinyl albums and not into the mundane. There is nothing commercial about this guy. He loves new artists, stuff I’ve never heard of, interviewed soldiers who’ve been to Afghanistan and an author who was a former heroin addict.

I listen to 70’s satellite radio and buy “Best of” CD’s. My worst addiction is chocolate.

This wasn’t going to work. I sent a (long-winded) panicked email to the coordinator, telling her we should cancel. Two days later, I received this response: “It’s all good.”

Oh-kay.

I went over talking points in my head. I listened to more of Kory’s interviews. Every week, he introduces a new author along with a new artist/band. Each interview is different. Each one tailored to the author and their work. Even the music he chooses compliments the subject. The more I heard him, the more I liked him. I was in good hands. I hoped.

That morning, I waited in the lobby, trying to hold myself together. Sipped my water bottle, while my flask sat in my pocketbook. The flask (a last-minute grab) was a metaphor for how nervous I was. I was hoping Kory would think it was funny, ease the tension. He didn’t have to know I bought it for my husband 2 years ago and it’s never been used.

He walked out to meet me with a friendly smile and guided me to his small studio where we’d talk, facing each other. The walls were covered with CD’s. I recognized nothing. I showed him the flask. He laughed. Later, my husband expressed concern that I brought one. You’ll look like an alcoholic, he said. I’m thinking I’d probably be more interesting if I was. Instead, I’m a tightly wound hockey mom who loves to write love stories. Sober.

Anyway.

Kory explained how the interview would go. He’d introduce an album and play some songs. Then we’d talk for ten minutes. He’d play some more music from the album. We’d talk ten more minutes and we were done. Cake. I was ready. I took a swig of water. That’s right. The flask was a metaphor.

When we finished, we talked a bit more off air. He’s personable, warm and friendly. Far from the intimidating voice I listened to earlier. I was happy to meet him.

At home, I admitted to my family that I was nervous and I wasn’t sure how it went. My 16- year-old said this:

“You just did a radio interview in NYC, with a cool DJ, about a book you published yourself. How bad could you have been?”

I know, right?

This is DJ Kory:

Yesterday Kory sent me the interview. Weeks of worrying and it was here. I just listened to it today. It’s not that bad. It was hard to listen to my own voice, but once I got past it, it was okay. In fact, it’s pretty good. Kory managed to tie in the theme of Both Sides of Love with the changes that are demanded, of women especially, as we grow, become parents, put others before ourselves and lose the identity of who we once were. Genius.

And he paired me up with a really good band called Sonny Knight and the Lakers.

Whew.

To listen to DJ Kory French’s Book Talk, go to http://www.breakthruradio.com I promise you’ll like it. You’ll hear some new, groovy music too.

To hear my interview, click here:

Book Talk Interview

Both Sides of Love by Kimberly Wenzler – Review

kimberlywenzler:

Hi! I hope everyone enjoyed their Fourth of July. Here is a really wonderful review of Both Sides of Love by Donna McBroom-Theriot, who’s blog, MyLifeOneStoryAtATime offers short stories, recipes, book reviews and more. Check out her site. You’ll be happy you did!

Originally posted on My Life. One Story at a Time.:

Twenty-one-year-old Lizzie Adler had everything a young woman could want: she was beautiful, bright, and had both a fun and faithful best friend and a handsome boyfriend with whom she was deeply in love. In one fell swoop, calamity strikes, stripping Lizzie of all that she holds dear. While driving with her best friend, Nan, en route to a party, Lizzie collides with another car.

The results are devastating: Nan doesn’t survive the accident, while Lizzie is forever crippled and disfigured. Lizzie undergoes scores of surgeries and endures ample physical therapy, which ultimately leave her with a face and body she can no longer recognize.

Meanwhile, Daniel has just recently left Lizzie to stay with his ailing grandparents in England. He intended to return to her arms after just one summer. Little did he know that, after months of silence from his beloved, he would receive a…

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A Magic Summer

Summer is upon us ladies, and that can only mean one thing. Time for an overrated flick filled with half-naked, pretty boys and paper-thin plot. That’s right! Magic Mike XXL – the not-quite-expected-nor-needed-but-much-appreciated sequel to 2012’s movie (has it been that long?)- is here!

I’ll admit, the first movie was meh: weak plot about a misguided young guy with abs of steel, who gets caught up with a group of “dancers” with abs of steel, and gets in trouble with drugs, while his sister fights to pull him out of this horrific situation and set him back on the straight and narrow, because, deep down, he’s really a good kid, all while pushing Channing Tatum away (I know. Fiction).

So why a sequel? That’s like asking, why do we drink, throw up and drink more? Because before the realization that you’ve wasted some precious life hours hovering over a toilet bowl, you had a shit-load of fun. And Channing is so pretty, who wouldn’t pay $12 to see him half-dressed, strutting across a 30-foot screen for a couple of hours?

If you’re questioning whether or not to see it, have no fear (and check your pulse). I’ll be sure to provide feedback. I really hope there’s a deep plot with lots of meaning.

Just kidding.

Happy Summer!

The Student Becomes The Teacher

With all that we teach our children, I’m finding I learn a lot from them too.

Patience is one trait my sons try very hard to teach me. I admit I’m a slow learner, but I’m working on it.

Recently, my older son taught me a valuable lesson. He turned 16 this past winter and decided that he was going to get a job. His goal was to work at a specific sports store, so he asked for an application, took it home, filled it out (no experience, keep in mind, slightly illegible, cross-outs) and brought it back.

While he waited for a call, I suggested he fill out applications elsewhere, just in case. He did, but his heart was set on the sports store. When a full week passed without word, he went back to the store and requested an interview in person. You’re persistent, the manager told him.

After the 45-minute interview, he was told We’ll call you. Another silent week passed. My son called the store, was told the manager was busy and would call him right back. He didn’t. Two hours later my son picked up the phone again and finally spoke to the manager, who told him the Corp office must approve applicants. We’ll call you, he told my son.

I explained that sometimes people don’t know how to give bad news, so they string you along, hoping you’ll stop trying. My son listened to me, but my cynicism wouldn’t deter him. He still believed they’d call. I didn’t think they had any intention of hiring him.

The next evening, there was a message on our answering machine. It was a job offer.

He’s been working ever since, sometimes eight-hour days. He loves it.

If you want something, go get it. Don’t give up. Don’t take no for an answer. Persistence is the vehicle that will bring you where you want to go. This is something I already know, but sometimes I need to be reminded. I’m a proud mama.

What have you learned from your children? I’d love to know.

Letter To My Younger Self

Dear Fourteen-Year-Old:

I know you may not want to read a letter from a middle-aged woman. As a teenager, you think adults know less than you. I promise, you know so little. And no one knows you better than me. I am an older, wiser you.

Let me start by saying that you will make mistakes. Everyone does. Get over it, hold no regrets. Your decisions will eventually lead you to a wonderful marriage and children that will be a constant source of joy. But you will have one recurring issue to deal with that could have easily been prevented starting at your age.

I have one very important piece of advice to share with you. Do not leave the house – ever – without sunscreen on your face. When you go to the beach, lather it all over. You’ll never be tan like your friends. It’s not in your genetic makeup, so stop trying. And don’t let the comments about how white you are deter you from doing this.

When you go to Florida with your boyfriend, heed his advice and wear a wide-brimmed hat, even though you think you’ll look goofy. He suggested it because he thought you’d look cute. And he’s the one who will watch you go to the doctor every six months for the next twenty years, leaving pieces of yourself behind.

Nothing is cute about scars on your face.

As you walk out the door, remember, a little sunscreen will prevent you having to listen to your plastic surgeon snip the cartilage in your ear to try to make it symmetrical to the other one after a hefty Moh’s surgery. Your fourth one.

The sun is not your friend. Keep to the shade. Wear a hat and protective clothing. You’re beautiful just as you are. Appreciate what you have. Take care of yourself now and in thirty years, you won’t have to write this letter.

Love,

Your Forty-Seven-Year Old Self

Book Tag: Would you Rather

kimberlywenzler:

How nice is this? Romance4thebeach talks about her preference for stand-alone books over trilogies. Both Sides of Love got a cameo! If you’re not following her blog, you should. She gives humorous, detailed reviews of romance books.

Originally posted on Romance Novels for the Beach:

I found this little ditty on lifeofafemalebibliophile, and although our answers differ greatly, I was rather inspired by the tag. Enjoy!

Would you rather only read trilogies or only read stand-alones?

I’m gonna have to go with stand-alones on this one. I’ve found that so many trilogies follow a very distinct pattern. Well, romance trilogies anyway. Our lovebirds meet in book one, but have some kind of kerfuffle which causes them to break up at the end. They reignite their passions in book 2, which usually ends with our female lead getting pregnant. Book 3 has the happily ever after with a wedding and lots of babies. I feel like stand-alones are more likely to have some surprises here and there.

Would you rather only read male or female authors?

Female. I haven’t come across many male romance novel authors. I also find that female authors are more likely…

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Happy Mother’s Day

“I’ll love you forever,

I’ll like you for always,

as long as I’m living

my baby you’ll be.”

When I first read Love You Forever, written by Robert Munsch, I was not married, not a mother, and found the story sweet, though slightly disturbing. The mother sneaks into her grown son’s window in the middle of the night to cradle him in her arms and sing to him? A tad “stalkish”, no?

I received the book years later, as a gift after my son was born, and I read it from a new perspective, as a mother.

Love You Forever is a simple, beautiful story about the cycle of life. A mother sings a song to her infant son every night. As a child wreaking havoc during the day, she is exasperated, but at night, as he sleeps, she cradles him and sings her song. Throughout his adolescence, she doesn’t always understand him, but she still performs the same loving ritual while he sleeps, telling him she loves him unconditionally and will never stop. When he’s grown and out of the house, she climbs a ladder, slips through his window in the night and sings her message. She continues to do so until she is finally too old and frail and can no longer go to him. She tells him to come see her because she is old and sick. When he arrives, she tries to sing her song, but is too weak and can’t, so he cradles her in his arms and finishes it for her, singing his version one last time.

I’ll love you forever,

I’ll like you for always,

As long as I’m living

my Mommy you’ll be.

Then he returns home, lifts his baby daughter into his arms and sings her the same words his mother sang to him, showing the cycle will continue.

My children will both be in high school next year. My oldest is driving and has a job. Time is fleeting.

I can’t read this book without breaking down. Each phase I experience as a mother makes me understand and appreciate, and love this story more. If I could, I would do the same. I would hold my children every night, all of their lives, whisper songs of love so they know. So they never forget.

Blessings to all who are privileged to be called “Mom” and to all of you who have a mother who you can hug, kiss, say I love you.

And to those who’s mother lives on in your hearts…

Happy Mother’s Day.

Random House Open House – A Day for A Reader

Twice a year, the Random House offices in NYC host an Open House, where for one glorious day, readers meet some of the biggest names in publishing, listen to authors speak and get their books signed. I went to my first Open House on Friday, a recommendation by a friend who knew I would love it. And I certainly did.

The beginning of the day starts with breakfast and a tote bag full of free stuff. I missed the breakfast, of course, because I couldn’t make the earlier train (which is one good reason I don’t work in NYC). When I arrived, Tom Brokaw, the first speaker, was already in a closed session, talking about his new book, A Lucky Life Interrupted. I walked into the empty reception room where I was warmly greeted and handed my tote bag.

While I stared, well, ogled really, at the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves of all of the books published by Random House, I snuck a peek into my bag and found four books and a gorgeous scarf from Talbots. What?! I could have gone home happy at that point alone.

A very nice employee found me and snuck me into Mr. Brokaw’s session so I caught the last several minutes. He was quite interesting, as expected, having lived the life he did, and I learned that he was recently diagnosed with cancer, which is what his book is about. His book is not even out yet.

After a short break, where most of us shuffled back into the main area to grab a cup of coffee, tea, or water (available the entire day), we all returned to the main session room where Jodi Piccoult, her daughter, Samantha Van Leer, and their editor, spoke to us about their second collaborative YA book called Off The Page and answered questions.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I happened to be first in line for their book signing, thanks to my allergies and an uncontrollable dry, hacking cough, which forced me walk out of the assembly minutes before they finished speaking. I’ve been to other Jodi P speaking engagements. She’s always genuinely happy to meet her readers and her daughter seems great, too. Guess what? They’re both lefties. Like me. I pointed this out, thinking it could be the start of a bonding point for us should we ever find ourselves together on some book tour (dream big). I’d say something like, Hey, remember me? The other lefty from Random House?

Lunch followed. We had a few choices of food, provided by Dean & DeLuca. I had the ham and gruyere cheese on pretzel bread. It came with salad and a blondie. Win! I was pleasantly surprised to see a high school classmate and we caught up very briefly during lunch because she’s the coordinator of these events and couldn’t chat long. Talk about an amazing job. Well done, Susan!

Late into lunch, I learned I was missing two breakout sessions. One was about tidying up your life, in which I had no interest. The other was to speak with the publishing team of Outlander.

Yes, you read that right. I snuck in to catch the last several minutes of a conversation about working with Diana. In short, Diana Gabaldon is a genius.

After lunch, Adam Rosante promoted his book The 30-Second Body, by having the audience (mostly comprised of women – about 150 of us, if I estimated correctly) do some “quick, easy workouts near our seats”. My least favorite part of the day. I had just eaten. Moving was the last thing I wanted to do.

We met two authors next. NYT bestseller Annie Barrows, who was promoting her new book, The Truth According to Us and a new author, Julia Pierpont with her title, Among The Ten Thousand Things. They were both there with their editors and, as with the earlier sessions, I enjoyed learning about their writing processes and their editor’s point of views.

The last author to speak was Emily Giffin, who is so popular and has a bunch of commercially successful books out. Did you see Something Borrowed with Kate Hudson? Emily wrote that book. The One & Only is her latest. I found Emily to be very personable, outgoing and funny. She was a pleasure to listen to, went over her writing practices, and I learned she had no formal training to write. Unfortunately, her book wasn’t included in the freebie bag, but was available to buy. I didn’t, for the simple reason my tote was already too heavy.

This turned out to be a good decision because during cocktail hour (I know, it doesn’t stop!), there were piles of another free book, All The Bright Places, right in the middle of the apps table. I took one along with a piece of zucchini bread. Check out the cupcakes below. I had three.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When I finally left the building at nearly five o’clock, I was laden with my heavy tote, filled with new treasures and the memory of a wonderful day. All for $60. A dream day for a reader. If you get a chance, get to one of these Open Houses.

I’ll see you there.

Spring Skiing?

Easter. A sure sign of Spring. The boys’ school break falls during the second week in April. It’s the end of a very long, cold, snowy winter. We can see our grass. The driveway is safe again. Hockey is on a brief hiatus. Time to head to the lacrosse fields. It’ll be nice to sit in the sun, get some much-needed Vitamin D.

However, regardless of the calendar, there is still snow on the mountains. There is still skiing to be done. And Spring skiing is my favorite way to go. So, before we toss our ski apparel into storage, we make one last trek up to Mt. Snow, VT.

We arrive at the Grand Summit Resort on April 7th. West Dover is a ghost town. All but one restaurant is closed. Clearance sale signs adorn the shop windows. Do we care? No.

We unpack our gear and settle in for the night, looking forward to some warm, spring skiing: without heavy layers, neck mufflers, hand and toe warmers. It’s going to be awesome.

We’re dressed and on the lift by nine am the following morning. It’s a chilly 32 degrees and conditions on the runs are icy and granular. I have to sing myself down every run to keep my rhythm. The boys are thrilled. They have no fear. They’re stronger than I am. More capable. I’m proud to ski with them, even though it’s a struggle to keep up.

There are a dozen people on the mountain. We’re four of them. Lift lines? Ha! Not anymore. Much cooler than expected, but overall, a great day. Nothing broken, nothing bruised. Time spent uninterrupted with our children.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

See? Empty.

 

 

 

Day two. There’s a delay. The lifts aren’t running. We find out it’s because of the ice storm last night. Inches of hail fell while we slept. The cables need to be ‘de-iced’. On April 9th. Spring skiing?

The lifts start moving. With the memory of close calls still on my mind, I can’t sing anymore. We send the boys up on their own today. Their friends arrived last night – in the storm – and they’re happy. So, we drive to Wilmington while snow falls (no kidding), shop, have lunch, discover a bookstore, Bartleby’s – a gem. I touch and open book after book (pure heaven) and speak with the owner, who recommends one: A Man Called Ove. I buy it, of course. So happy.

On our ride back to the resort, we enjoy the quiet beauty of the Vermont mountains one last time, knowing the boys are in their glory.

 

Our final morning, we pack up and say goodbye to the snow, the mountains, the fireplaces, hot chocolate, cold air. The boys do this with regret in their hearts. I admit, so do I. We didn’t get the spring conditions we’d hoped for, but as long and harsh as it’s been, it’s been a great winter.

March Madness

My husband and I recently got the Fitbit, that $100 watch I wear to remind me to park further away from the entrance at Taco Bell.

The Fitbit, for those who might not be familiar, is an activity tracker, wireless-enabled wearable device that measures data such as the number of steps walked, quality of sleep and other personal metrics. In other words, it’s a tiny machine that tells you how lazy you’ve been.

This is it:

With Spring fast approaching and the long, cold, lonely winter almost behind us, I thought I’d set some goals. I put on my new bracelet, set my daily aspirations for 10,000 steps, synced it with my iPhone and I was on my way!

I recorded my first week and thought I’d share my results with you:

Day 1: Up and down the stairs five times before 7:30am. Who would have thought my forgetful nature would work in my favor, physically? By noon, I’d hit 4k steps, all without leaving the house. Hit the gym and I ended the day well over my goal.

14,000 steps. Boo Ya!

Day 2: The thing about starting off so strong is there is no place to go but down. I forgot nothing today, and as a result, climbed the steps only once before the kids left for school. And truth be told, I hate the gym. It’s why I got a Fitbit for Pete’s sake. If I enjoyed going to that hellish place where the appropriate attire includes form-fitting spandex, I wouldn’t have had to spend the money on this ugly watch.

6,540 steps. Whatever.

Day 3: Well, on the upside, I’m beating my husband, who claims he can’t reach his daily goal because of “work”. I told him there’s got to be a way to take steps in the car on his way to New Jersey. He does have 2.5 hours in the car to kill (traffic). He’s just not putting enough thought into this. I went to the mailbox three times today. Nearly reached my goal.

8,413 steps

Day 4: The snow is finally melting! I enjoyed the spectacle from my kitchen window. Do you know how many steps I take back and forth to the fridge? A lot. Husband, who worked from home today, managed to take only 700 steps by six pm. I didn’t think it was possible to walk that little. “I’m a veal.” he said.

8,020 steps

Day 5: Major discovery today! Hula hooping adds steps to the Fitbit! Problem solved.

10,963 steps! Woot!

Day 6: Starting to get sick of the highs and lows that accompany this tiny torturous machine. One day I’m up, the next, I’m down. It’s like my own personal manic-depressive bracelet. Still, I continue to out-step the husband, who claims it’s cheaper to buy this device than to pay someone to stand behind him and knock food off his plate.

7,522 steps (forgot to hula)

Day 7: One full week wearing this slightly uncomfortable and not very attractive piece of rubber. Overall, I think I did okay. I may not have surpassed my goal every day, but I am more cognizant of where I park when shopping. That’s a plus.

10,003 steps. Yeah!

So, after one week, do I think this thing is working? Probably not. But it’s not the fault of the manufacturer. It’s definitely user-error. I don’t monitor my food intake and I don’t wear it to bed, where the watch actually tells you how many times you wake up during the night. I’m not sure why this is necessary. My body pretty much keeps me apprised of how little I sleep. The yawning is a dead giveaway.

However, I’ll keep on truckin’ and now that the weather is warming up and the snow is finally melting, I’ll be able to move a bit more. Get outside. Get some fresh air. Take some steps to a newer, fitter me.

If nothing else, the hula hoop is back in rotation.

Happy (almost) Spring!

~Kim

I’d love to hear from you. What are your thoughts on the Fitbit?