Kimberly Wenzler's Blog, page 9

Facing Fear

Hello Friends,

I hope you all had a safe and happy fourth of July.

Summer is underway – barbecues, pool parties and lazy, sunny days at the beach will be enjoyed for the next couple of months. This is the time for us to re-charge our batteries, get some much needed Vitamin D, and wear light, airy clothing.

Summer is also a popular season to take trips – to enjoy the abundant vacation destinations along the East Coast, see the country, see other countries.

This brings me to the subject of this post: Facing fears.

I’m not talking about minor fears like wearing a bathing suit in public. (On that note, I’m still waiting for someone to develop a suit that begins at the neck, extends to the knees, and looks sexy. Until that time, I will continue to subject myself to the cruelty of the Miracle suit. They call it a miracle suit because it’s a miracle I get one on.)

No, I’m talking about debilitating fears like flying or emotional exposure – i.e. writing a book or blog.

I hate to fly. I am scared shi@#*ss of flying. There is nothing natural about propelling a ten-ton piece of metal, carrying hundreds of people, 35,000 feet above earth, at speeds faster than sound. Nothing.

My aversion to flight grew with age. I used to love traveling by plane, when I was younger and thought I would never die. Before kids. Before middle age. Before responsibility. Now, I especially fear flying without my children, believing I am the only person capable of raising them my way. I should be the one who screws them up and no one else.

But people do it everyday. And if I want to go anywhere outside of the Tri-State area, I have to overcome this phobia.

My husband said to me, “You might want to stop telling people you’re afraid. We’ve been to Europe twice within fifteen months. They’ll think you’re lying.”

I’m not lying. I’m also not going to stop living. I’m not going to prevent my husband or family from going anywhere because I’m afraid. When we went to Europe, Xanax got me there. I’m not ashamed to admit it. I was asleep in my seat before we even taxi’d to the runway – both times, both ways. The airline attendants had to physically wake me to ask if I understood that I was in the Emergency Row exit and was I capable of assisting the crew in the event of an emergency. I nodded, said “of course” and promptly fell back asleep.

What were they going to do to me if I didn’t help during an emergency. Move me?

For our most recent trip to Florida, I decided I was sick of being afraid, sick of the dread that held me for days prior to leaving, sick of thoughts while I packed, such as “Hmm, what do I want to wear as I plummet to my death?” Sick of it. If it’s my time, it’s my time. I’d leave it up to a higher power – my husband. He promised me we’d be okay.

I read an Erma Bombeck article several years ago that stuck with me. She listed life lessons she’d accrued and one of them was: You will not die in a plane crash.

Oh Erma, I do hope you’re right.

For this trip, I decided to replace Xanax with Michael Bublé. With his crooning voice, loud in my ears as my eyes stayed closed, I was able to tune out unfamiliar plane sounds and announcements. Ironically, I could still hear the attendant when she asked if I wanted chips or cookies (I took both). He serenaded me the entire flight and I did okay. Thank you, Michael.

Facing our fears is a constant battle. There are so many worrisome factors in life. But there is no better feeling when one is confronted and conquered.

I’d always wanted to write a book, but apprehension kept me from realizing this dream. Would it be too hard? Was I capable of finishing once I started? Would anyone read it? Well, I wrote it. I thought it was good. In fact, I loved it. I had no idea how it would be accepted. So, I held onto it for a while, trying to decide whether or not to put it out there and expose myself to the world. Fear kept me from moving to the next step.

Life is short. It’s unpredictable. So what if people don’t like it? There was only one way to find out.

Turns out, people are responding to it in ways I didn’t expect. And I’m happy beyond words. Now, I’m anxious that my second book will not be accepted the same way.

A constant personal battle I’ll have to face. But I’ll do it. What have I got to lose?

If you have a phobia, try to face it. Start with a small one. Put on that bathing suit. Go ahead. It will make you stronger. I promise. Except Arachnophobia – if you’re afraid of spiders, keep away from them. That’s a perfectly logical fear. And you’re not alone. I’m with you.

I’ll always be with you.

Book Club Love

I love book clubs.

They are more than groups of women who gather together to discuss literary works every month. They are a bonded sorority who meet to support, cultivate friendships, vent, share beauty tips and yes, drink wine.

When I was still knee-deep in writing and editing Both Sides of Love last year, one group of women, who refer to themselves as Booked For Drinks, agreed to read my manuscript and offered thoughtful critiques that were extremely helpful. Then they invited me to join them at one of their meetings – my very first invitation to a book club as an author. I was and still am grateful.

This past month, I enjoyed the privilege of being invited as a guest author to two vastly different book club meetings.

The first comprised of six lovely women, who immediately put me at ease. We sat around a dining table and enjoyed an intimate discussion of the book where I learned, much to my glee, how each woman connected to the story, their thoughts on the relationships of the characters, and their responses to the conclusion. We then segued into comfortable conversation and I reluctantly left.

The second club had twenty members, the largest I’ve seen. We filled a large living room – chairs stacked behind one another – as I sat on the couch, slightly frazzled, and answered questions thrown at me from all angles. Not quite the intimate experience of the previous week, but it was wonderful. These women were kind, inquisitive, funny and they seemed to really enjoy the book, which is all I want. Then they presented me with a gift. For once, I was speechless.

Both Sides of Love, my first novel, was a labor of love. To think that people are reading it, enjoying it and welcoming me into their homes to talk about characters I created in my mind is a dream come true.

Thank you Anita, Fran, Christine, Lisa, Chris and Tina for opening your hearts to me. I still think you should have a name. How about Coco-Nuts for Books?

To Jill, Colleen, and the amazing group who welcomed me with enthusiasm, smiles and made me laugh (ever see three wine-filled, giddy women try to take a selfie?), my heart is full.

I’ve been invited to another book club event in July. I can’t wait.

Here’s a spoiler…I show up with Beth’s crumb cake. :-)

Happy Reading.

Year in Review

Hello Friends,

Guess what? On May 29th, this blog turned one! (Let’s try to look past the fact that I forgot to note this on the actual day). Yay! And thank you!

To celebrate my one year anniversary, here’s an update on the year in posts:

I still enjoy (read as “endure”) my visits to the wax salon regularly. (The In-Between)

I cannot walk through my garage without picturing that huge, monstrous spider I found on my son’s smelly hockey bag last August. It will only get worse for me now that we’re entering in to spider season. Can you feel my pain? (Spider!)

This is a shot of the dead guy. I couldn’t get a picture of him when he was alive due to the screaming (mine). Imagine this monster staring at you with his legs at full length. That’s right. Frightening!

 

 

 

 

I got another spray tan last week, in preparation for a wedding we attended in Georgia. My mole patrol visits continue – some better than others. (Mole Patrol Blues) Please, I beg you, wear your sunscreen. Trust me. And for great advice on what sunscreens to use, check out this site: FoodBabe

Speaking of weddings, we went to our second one in two months and my “old” status is confirmed. Once again, no dancing, and much eating. I am so far over that line, I can hardly see it. (Walking That Line)

I am most definitely going to try to do summer right this year. Most. Definitely.(Summer…I’m Doing it Wrong)

Still involved with my two book clubs: Lit Ladies and Wine Not Read. (Confessions of a Cheater). Read 24 books since the inception of this blog. Loved my time with Paullina Simons, JoJo Moyes, Colleen Hoover and Tana French. 

One month ago today I published Both Sides of Love on Amazon. I am so appreciative of the wonderful reviews I’ve received. I cannot wait to meet the two book clubs this month who are reading the book and have invited me to join them.

Last, but not least, regarding my Hula Hoop plan (Hashtag Muffin-Top) : Waist is still MIA. Beginning to wonder if some blame should be put on peanut butter/chocolate addiction. But not jumping to hasty conclusions just yet.

It’s been an eventful year. Thank you for sticking with me. I look forward to the next!

Happy Weekend!

My Writing Process- Pass the Baton Blog Hop

This week I’m thrilled to be part of the Writing Process Blog Hop where different authors connect and share information about their writing processes.

The baton was passed to me by wonderful author and editor, Gina Ardito, who writes lighthearted contemporary and sensual paranormal fantasy romance. Under pen name, Katherine Brandon, she writes sweeping historical romance. In her spare time, she also runs a freelance editing service, Excellence in Editing. Check out her website: http://ginaardito.blogspot.com. It’s chock full of entertaining anecdotes and informative advice on writing, as well as a complete list of her books. Thank you, Gina.

Now, here’s a little bit about me:

What am I currently working on?

I have just finished editing the first draft of my next novel, a contemporary romance tentatively titled Letting Go, about a man who struggles with his son to move on after his wife suddenly leaves them.

How does my work differ from others of Contemporary Women’s Fiction?

I think my stories differ from others who write contemporary fiction in that they are written through my point of view, my “lens”, influenced by my experiences. Everyone has their own perspective on life, love and friendship and that is what makes each person and therefore each story so unique.

Why do I write contemporary Women’s Fiction?

Currently, I am most comfortable writing a story that takes place now or in the recent past because I imagine my characters existing in a world I know and understand. I love stories about wanting and needing something that can’t be easily attained. I enjoy reading about friends and lovers, and that is what I want to write.  I am a hopeless romantic.

I do enjoy reading historical fiction and hope to one day, give that genre a try.

How does my writing process work?

I’m a relatively new author, having published my first book only last month (called Both Sides of Love), so I’m still ironing out my writing process. I’ve read countless writers’ blogs and ‘how-to’ books on what writing processes work, what to do and not to do, and I discovered over the past years that what works for others doesn’t necessarily work for me.

When possible, I write every day, finding precious snippets of time between my consulting job and driving two teenagers all over town after school. Evening is the most productive time for me – television takes a backseat to my laptop. I write a complete first draft and then go back to it a few weeks later to try to see it with “fresh” eyes. This is when I start to edit. So far, this works for me. I’m sure as I grow as an author, so will my writing process.

Next, I am supposed to pass the baton to another author, but outside of Gina, I don’t know any personally. So, in the words of  L. Frank Baum, of The Marvelous Land of Oz, “Everything has to come to an end, sometime.”

What writing process works for you? I’d love to know.

~Kim

 

Hashtag Muffin-Top

So, I was blow drying my hula hoop the other day when I hatched an idea. (No, this is not a metaphor for something else. I was literally soldering the ends of my new weighted hula hoop, made by Canyon Hoops, purchased through Amazon. It arrived in the mail coiled and required simple assembly.)

Like I said, I was blow drying my hula hoop when I hatched an idea: Why not share my new exercise interest with my friends?

I’m going to be 46 next month and it’s getting harder and harder (for me) to stay in shape. The winter was brutal here in New York, and while the snow fell in record amounts, I lost something I used to enjoy.  My waist.

My body is changing as I grow older. I think my boobs have developed an unnatural attachment to my knees, because they’re trying real hard to reach them. They used to be happy near my chin, but no more.

I walk the boardwalk three mornings a week and suffer through a yoga-fit class the other two days. It’s not enough. A few weeks ago, I saw Marisa Tomei interviewed on the View and she mentioned she enjoys hula hooping for exercise. I thought – Brilliant! I’m going to do that, too.

Fast forward two weeks: I have my new, two pound, exercise Hula Hoop, assembled and ready for action. Here it is:

 

 

Last Thursday night, we were in the den: my boys lounging on the couch, while I stood off to the side, watching American Idol. I was hooping as I watched the show, minding my own business, when my older son peeked up from his phone and muttered, “Um, hashtag muffin-top”. I looked down and saw that my shirt had risen slightly during my exercise. Sure enough, there it was. My younger son looked at the older guy and said “You’re an idiot.”

I punished son #1, promised son #2 a car when he turns 17, and decided my hula hoop habit would have to be done without an audience. I don’t make nearly enough money to support their future therapy needs.

I have been exercising this way morning and night for several days. Outside of slight bruises around my middle and mildly sore internal organs, I think it’s working out well. I figure if I can uncover the secret to a smaller waist for a mere $30, why not share it with the world? Or, my friends.

I’ll keep you posted on the results. If not, I’m open to Plan B.

It’s Official!

I’m happy to announce that Both Sides of Love is now available on Amazon!

If you’re looking for a moving story of friendship and lost love; if you want to laugh and cry, then click here: Both Sides of Love

Here’s an overview:

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 cold, curt break-up letter, devoid of explanation.

Unable to bear the pain brought on by memories of who she used to be, Lizzie casts her former identity aside and decides to go by the name of Beth.

Fast forward twelve years, and Beth is now an almost-happily-married stay-at-home mom with a five-year-old daughter, Stacy. Boredom and pressure from her husband, Alan prompt Beth to join Stacy’s school’s PTA. There, she meets Noreen: the first woman she is able to connect with since Nan’s death so many years ago. Beth is delighted to have finally found someone with whom to face the travails of womanhood.

Unfortunately, friendship with Noreen comes at an unexpected-and painfully high- price.

I’ve also started a new Facebook page. Please drop by and say hi: My Facebook Page  I’d love to hear from you.

Thanks so much!!!

xoxo Kim

 

Both Sides Of Love

Hello Friends,

I know. I’ve been MIA these past weeks (okay, month). I’ve been spending the bulk of my time getting ready for the release of my debut novel, Both Sides Of Love, and I wanted to take a break and say hi.

Hi!

I decided to self-publish, so after doing my homework, after many re-writes, feedback from beta readers, and edits, I hired a professional editor. Now, my graphic designer and I finally decided on a cover.

In the meantime, my To-Be-Read list is growing because I haven’t been reading – something I do so much, it’s a part of who I am. And I miss it!

This is what’s on my TBR list:

Covet by Tracey Garvis-Graves, who wrote the amazing On The Island (also a self-pubbed book!)

Bellagrand by Paullina Simons – I have to read the love story of Alexander’s parents. And…I’m just a tad fanatical.

The Art of Hearing Heartbeats by Jan-Phillip Sendker. I’ve heard so many great things about this book.

One Plus One by JoJo Moyes. Because it’s by JoJo Moyes. I don’t need another reason.

There are more, but those are my top titles. And I look forward to taking a break and diving into one. Reading is a great source of inspiration and a necessary hobby for a writer. Maybe next week I’ll offer my opinion on the books I’ve read since I last posted my reviews. There have been a few. But for now…

I’m really excited about the upcoming release of Both Sides Of Love – a story about friendship and lost love.

Here is the cover:

 

Isn’t it beautiful? I  have my graphic designer, Suzanne Fyrhie Parrott, to thank!   I wish you all a wonderful week. I hope the weather is beautiful where you are. Here in NY, Spring has finally arrived.

Speak to you soon!

Meeting Paullina Simons

Thanks to personal hygiene and a little luck, I met my favorite author, Paullina Simons, last Friday.

I just happened to pass the Book Revue – a wonderful gem of a place in Huntington, NY, where every major author stops on their book tour – on my way home from my waxing appointment (see ‘The In-Between’ for details). Stuck at a traffic light, I happened to glance over to see a huge sign in the window, PAULLINA SIMONS, APRIL 11th. The light turned green and I accelerated  thinking, HOLY S—! My favorite author is going to be right here in Huntington, ten minutes from my house, on April 11th! When is April 11?

Oh God. It’s today. Without thought, I dialed my childhood bestie, who also loves Paullina.

We were the first ones to arrive at the bookstore that evening and decided to sit strategically at the back, right near the desk where Paullina would be signing her latest release, Bellagrand. We bought the book and sat, chatting, excited, catching up. Gradually the seats filled, but to my surprise, there wasn’t a large crowd – no one had to stand around the room. There were just the fifty or so of us. I couldn’t understand it. How was this store not packed wall to wall with her readers? How could I be so lucky to be here, one of only a few, privileged to meet this woman?

Paullina walked in and started to speak. She was gracious, humble, funny and endearing. I enjoyed her stories about her father, how he learned to speak English in the Gulag, so he could get his family out of Russia and to America. She spoke of Bellagrand, why she wrote the story about Alexander’s parents, Gina and Harry, how she related to Gina, an immigrant from Italy, and how Bellagrand is really, at it’s heart, a love story.

I regret now that I didn’t record her speaking so I can listen to her again and explain in more detail her entertaining, enlightening anecdotes. But at the time, I didn’t want to. I wanted to enjoy the experience first hand, fully present.

Paullina had the room under her spell until she stopped and opened her forum up to questions. Most of the people there wanted to know more about The Bronze Horseman, about Tatiana and Alexander, was there a movie in the works (Answer: trying, but need money). Not me. I wanted to know about her writing and asked her if she always knew she wanted to write.

To paraphrase her answer: Yes. After the company she worked for went under, “through no fault of her own,” she found herself unemployed and since she always thought she would write, decided to do it. Tully was her first book. She was 23.

I was the first one on line- my friend, Monica, behind me- clutching my book, waiting for Paullina to make her way to the table and sit. With a warm, welcoming smile, she looked at me and asked my name. This is what I said:

MynameisKimandIloveyouIloveyourworkIblogaboutyouallthetimeandItellallofmyfriendstoread

yourbooksandyou’reaninspirationandI’mpublishingmyownfirstnovelnextmonthandIcanonlyhopeto

onedaywriteaswellasyou.

I’m sure I didn’t scare her. Well, almost sure.

Paullina seemed genuinely flattered and appreciative. In fact, she thanked the group more than once for coming out on a Friday night to see her (as if we had a choice!) She signed my book, wished me luck with my own book and I was on my way.

 

This is me spewing my fanatical one-word answer.

On the ride home, my friend held her copy and said: It was fate. What were the chances that we just read her books, written 10 years ago? That you happened to get your Brazilian on the 11th, happened to pass the Book Revue instead of going your normal route home (which is to not pass the Book Revue) and that we both happened to be available?

Yes, I agreed. Fate.

Then Monica verbalized my thoughts (as she usually does) : I want to have a cup of coffee with her. Again, I agreed.  I want to talk with Paullina, hear her stories, discuss our writing, share a laugh. Because I truly believe that if we were to have met at any other time, in any other place, she would have been a friend.

Walking that line

My husband and I went to a family wedding last weekend and it was lovely. I haven’t been to a wedding in a while. My friends have all been married for decades and our children are too young to have their own.  Along with my chocolate favors, I left the reception with one thought: weddings are the ultimate age divider.

You’re old  OR You’re not old.

And I’m walking that dividing line, teetering dangerously to the left.  Upon recollection of our evening, I realized some subtle and not so subtle differences in the guests, and in myself.

Here are a few:

NOT OLD:  Cocktail hour, best part of the night, is when you really get your drink on.

OLD:     Cocktail hour has awesome pass-around food. You keep looking for the server walking around with the lamb chops.  Of course, you won’t get up to try to find her. She’ll be back.

NOT OLD: You watch the bride and groom’s first dance, impatiently waiting to get your ass on that floor and move.

OLD: You watch the bride and groom dance their first dance and reminisce about your own (from what you can remember).

NOT OLD: When they call the rest of the guests onto the dance floor, you rush out with your date with the intent to stay on it for the rest of the night.

OLD: You are called out to the dance floor and know it will be your first and only dance. Unless the DJ plays Build Me Up, Buttercup or The Electric Slide (which he won’t).

NOT OLD: You begrudgingly return to your table for dinner, which you don’t want because it interferes with your drunken high.

OLD: You ask for an extra twice-baked potato because no matter how hard you try at home, you just don’t make them as good.

NOT OLD: You completely miss dessert because you’re shaking your groove thing on the dance floor.

OLD: You enjoy the cake for three reasons. 1) It tastes yummy and 2) you like to have something sweet with your coffee and 3) you’re sober. You also know what “Shake your groove thing” is because you were through puberty when that term was invented.

NOT OLD: You don’t leave the wedding until the DJ tells you to.

OLD: You have to search for the bride and groom on the dance floor because you’re tired from all the eating and want to go home, peel off your control-top hose, and watch the news.

NOT OLD: On your way to the bathroom to pee and wipe the sweat from your  skinny, barely-covered body, you hardly notice the “sitting” table.

OLD: You’re at that “sitting” table.

NOT OLD:  You take a myriad of pictures with your smartphone throughout the night.

OLD: You remember when disposable cameras were the only way to take pictures at weddings.

So, I ate my way through cocktail hour (first time), had cake and coffee, danced once and then sat and chatted with Aunt Virginia, who’s 93, agreeing to meet at her house on Tues for lunch.

Oh, God, I don’t even think I’m on that line anymore.

Then I got to thinking about how my behavior is changing as I get older, outside of weddings,  and it further impresses upon me my age. For example, I know I’m getting old when:

I can’t go out two nights in a row anymore. I miss my couch and my flannels too much.
I hear the Beatles’ When I’m 64 and realize I’m not that far from it.
I get carded at the supermarket buying beer and post it on Facebook because it’s so funny.
I have to wear reading glasses to polish my nails.
I was in College when the World Wide Web was first introduced. It just turned 25.
I’ve lived through 4 wars.

Maybe I had an off night. We have another wedding in May. I’m going to fight against old age: drink during cocktail hour and dance my ass off. I’ve got to redeem myself.

I hope they don’t serve those tasty little lamb chops…

 

 

 

 

How Important Is A Name?

When writing a new story, I choose the characters’ names without serious consideration. I pour my energy and focus into the plot and story development instead. When I read books, I don’t dwell on names either. They are what they are, and I accept them without thought.

Lately, I’ve been wondering if perhaps I should devote more energy into what my characters call themselves. Every so often, I come across a story, a television show, or a movie and I see the impact a name can have on a character. Or does the character embody the name?

How important is a name?

Let’s take my favorite series, Mad Men, soon to start its seventh and last season (April 13th – Woot!). The lead, Don Draper (for those of you who haven’t had the luxury), is a suave, gorgeous, advertiser extraordinaire. Sure, he’s a heavy smoker, drinker and total philanderer. Yeah, he’s a shitty husband. But he’s ultra cool. And I root for him every week.

Why? Because he’s Don Draper.

Early in the series, we found out his real name is Dick Whitman and that he stole the identity of a fallen soldier during the Korean War. I’ll be honest, when I thought of Don Draper as Dick Whitman, I was crushing on him a tiny bit less. Flashbacks as Dick even showed his demeanor as not quite so suave, or confident. When he became Don Draper, he adopted the personality to match his calling.

Let’s leave Mad Men for a moment and consider Edward and Bella (of Twilight fame). Would we have rooted for the couple if Stephanie Meyers called them Otis and Helga? Hmm. Perhaps not.

How about Christian Grey and Anastasia? I wonder if half of the women in America would have pined for the ultra rich, BDSM-addict if EL James called him Sheldon or if he seduced young Mary.

“Alexander the Great.” Strong, powerful, intimidating. Okay, now roll “Harold the Great” on the tongue. For me, not the same impact. I picture Harold with a purple crayon, wearing a onesie.

Rocky is a hell of a strong name. Put the same muscled guy in a boxing ring. Call him Gilbert. Gil-bert! Gil-bert! What do you think? Gilbert Grape is the perfect name for a troubled boy, but a fighter? Er, no.

Can anyone but Don Vito Corleone make an offer not to be refused?

What about Harry Potter? Totally can’t picture a Maximus or a Hannibal with round eyeglasses and a broom. But I can see Maximus fighting lions or Hannibal eating people. Dirk Diggler from Boogie Nights? Okay, let’s not touch that one.

Back to my favorite advertising executive. It’s his name. Don Draper. It’s strong, he’s cool, and okay, he’s gorgeous. But I’ll tell you, no amount of hair gel in the world would help the man if he called himself Dick Whitman. I’m just sayin…