Sarah Gerdes's Blog, page 3

The upside of the crowds

A few days after writing the last block about how our little town of Coeur d’Alene has become a place of refuge for those fleeing the cities, it occurred to me that the upside has been far better than the down. While you might be tempted to assign it to my positive nature, or my pragmatic streak that includes “what you gonna do about it?” philosophy, but it’s neither. The truth is: I AM happy we have become a place for others to weather out a storm which may not go away for a very long time.

The top reasons why CDA is (still) the best even with more people

The economy boomed. While the state of Washington and Oregon shut down, residents didn’t wait for Amazon. They just drove ten minutes to come into Idaho to visit the Costco, Target and pretty much every restaurant. (Yes, wait times went from zero to two hours, but…)

Restaurants went on a hiring spree. Sure, initially the employees took the money and stayed home, causing the restaurant owners to become desperate. The good news? Washington residents came over, filled in the spots of those stay-at-home-thanks-to-the-covid-relief-money, and now, most of them have remained a year later.

Everyone else did too. The outdoor stores, recreational stores from bikes to Kayaks and running…you name it, the retailers exploded because why? You had to stay home and the government encouraged you to socially distance, which residents did–outdoors. This means a custom-made Kayak has a three-year wait list, so consumers are spending that + more on items for things to do NOW.

Idaho budget surplus exploded. A year ago, the fiscally responsible folks in Boise had a surplus of over $50M. Before the end of the year, it was over $650M. The local hot tub place, 3rd generation–went from no wait list, to one year, now it’s about two years as well–all paid in advance. Which means more taxes to the government, resulting in…

Lower Taxes on the horizon. New York and California face budget crisis. Not Idaho. Pretty much across the board, taxes are set to decline. Now, to put this in context, when we moved here, our taxes in Maple Valley, Washington were @$19K for a five-acre property with home. Here, we have 10 acres and the taxes are running around $5K. Back in Seattle, private school was $12K per student. Here, they were $5.5K, but the public Charters school is top 50 in the country, and it’s….FREE. You add all this up and…silence. No ka-chings at all. The silence is wonderfully deafening.

I snapped this on the (short) drive 90 miles to the Canadian border. Just another swimming/fishing hole dotting the two-lane freeway.

Our orthodontist is still in business. Our ortho, who served as President of this specialty poured $100K’s of thousands of his own money into new ventilation systems, and used his personal savings to pay his employees during the bleakest of times. Sadly, straight teeth didn’t make anyone’s list of ‘critical’ services, so he was shut for months and going into the hole. As I made an appt for my daughter last week, a regular four-day wait is now six weeks, but I’m happy–nay–I’m thrilled to wait. That’s still five months shorter than it was in Seattle six years ago, and I want his coffers to get full again! This leads to…

More employment for the newcomers. The front desk gal (at the ortho) was all alone, down two people. One decided to get married/have babies, the other just decided to switch jobs. Now, with new clients overflowing, the office staff is hiring. Required skills? Happy personality, task oriented and can answer the phone. Pay? About $20 an hour.

The schools are bursting. With the two schools attended by our children, this is a great thing. Limits on classroom size exist, but to have thriving, diverse communities is good. Sharing the (financial) load is divine, but it’s more than that. It’s also the contribution and vitality ideas gifted by excited, enthusiastic parents.

This was taken on the way back from Whistler, British Columbia. It’s a longer drive (about 8 hours) but gorgeous as you can tell from this (no-filter) shot.

Retirees are getting a great payout. Okay, so home prices are still at an all-time-high, but guess who this serves? Aging people who have lived good lives and now are getting the payout of their dreams. Sure, they don’t have a (local) place to go to, but their bank account can carry them for years if they make the right choices. Four families have left my community in the last six month–two more just this month! In those two recent cases, one is moving down to be with children in another state (where they can now afford to live) while the other is setting down roots near a river in Eastern Idaho.

Newcomers are (mostly) like minded. If they are escaping someplace they don’t like, odds are they want what is offered here. Not all of course, but that adds to the diversity and discussion of life.

Best of all…the views don’t change. The meager lights of the city don’t impact the lights on the waterfront…those were developed long ago. And you know why lakefront property is at such a premium–and always has been? Vast swaths are unbuildable. No roads to the land or way to arrive save for the boat. It takes a deep-pocketed, strong-willed and determined person to use a parcel of land that’s mostly unhabitable. Furthermore, quite a bit of lakeside land has restrictions due to the grade of slope. What would make an Italian or Swiss person scoff makes the government here shudder. That’s a good thing. Keeps the light pollution down.

One view of our backyard to the famed “Palouse Fields.” 20 min into town yet you still have this? Yeah. I’d move here too.

A city of refuge

It’s not easy being in a city of refuge, for that’s what us “locals” have begun calling Coeur d’Alene, Idaho. When I arrived six years ago, those who’d moved in twenty years prior were still newcomers. Now, if you’ve been here longer than twenty-four months, you practically homesteaded the area.

In case yourgrumbling about my grumbling, here’s a few sobering realities.

Finding healthcare is almost impossible. It took me over five months to find a provider for my mother, three months for myself, and when I did, my atheist-like husband literally proclaimed it was divine intervention. Name dropping and referrals from my close friends (surgeons to boot) were no good. The scheduling supervisor told me thirty people had called just that morning, and the previous month, 900 new families were trying to get primary care. (Of course the Kootenai healthcare center is close, robust and has a heli-pad, so that’s a bonus).

The hotels are at capacity. No, this isn’t because of the seasonal tourists. That doesn’t happen for another month. It’s because all the “locals” decided to sell high while city-dwellers were in a panic, fleeing unrest and uncertainty. The prices quadrupled in many cases, the sells pocketed the cash only to find everyone else had the same idea. No available apartments, condos or home rentals have pushed people who are flush with cash to the hotels. Those lucky enough to stay at the famed Coeur d’Alene Resort (with the floating green and host of American Idol where Katy Perry famously trashed the penthouse, and made it reek of pot), are complaining that they have to wait for room service–albeit with a nice view of the water).

Like the Hilton, the Marriott sits on the river

No contractors/builders available. Those lucky enough to have land are also in a pickle. In a town of 20K which swells to a whole 40K in the summer, only so many builders exist. Try six reputable ones. All the  others are former landscapers—including the guy who dug out the hole for our pool years ago—is suddenly “a high-end builder.” Yeah, right. Just last night (Thursday), a young couple informed us they were selling their 10 acre property because their builder poured the foundation, then bailed to take a higher-end home build across the lake.

Permits. When we arrived six years ago, permits took two weeks, and the office workers were apologetic. Two years ago, it was a three weeks, so not much change.  A year ago, an architect friend said it was up to six months. Last month? Try eight months to a year. Now, coming from Seattle, that’s normal, but this isn’t a million+ city with tons of overhead. It’s Coeur d’Alene, as I try to remind others.

Dirt made of gold. Two years ago, a ten acre plot right next to us with 360 views sold for $100k. You read that right. A 1/3 acre is now between $695-995. Where are we, Green Valley Ranch in Las Vegas, living by billionaires and Celine Dion?

Homes… Five years ago, we looked at properties for my parents for retirement. A few examples of this little slice of heaven. 2,000 square foot rambler on 3 acres was $125. Three years ago, that same property was up to $175K. We thought for sure it would go down. Enter Covid, and all the prices plummeted right back down. Enter BLM and the “exodus.” The prices skyrocketed, and we saw the same home(s) listed for $375K one day taken off the market and relisted for $600K and selling! All the quaint little homes that were moderately priced for moderate income or retired folks are selling like it’s San Francisco, owned by people who don’t even live here, but want the security blanket of a place of refuge. In another case, our engineer friend moved here four years ago from Sacramento California. The total cost for a three-acre plot and building a 3,200 square foot semi-custom home with a detached outbuilding for his toys was…wait for it…$410,000. He felt like he’d won the lottery. Mid-BLM, his neighbor sold his similar home for $1.8M. He’s in a hotel right now, and not in at the CDA Resort, but in a Best Western, out of his mind that he can’t afford to replace what he sold.

A few other tidbits: The area has one, count it—1- Costco. It serves about seven towns, because I’m just not sure little enclaves with 14K residents counts as a city. We have one—again 1, Target. Two natural grocery stores. A single drive-through car wash. The lone German food restaurant went out of business three years ago because business was so slow. Does this sound like a thriving metropolis. Now, when you go to one of the few marinas, the wait list is nearly three years according to the GM, who had too much to drink at his partners’ birthday part and was spilling the beans.

Am I annoyed? I’mmore pragmatic than anything. Do I blame people for knee-jerk reactions? Nope,some of our dearest friends escaped Seattle to come here, (selling high ofcourse because people always want to live in Seattle, despite the crazy), andmy studio now has a wonderfully gifted yoga instructor from Portland who Iadore. Growth and moving are a part of life. What irks me is that those who areconsidered “normal, working people,” ergo, “those non-retired folks who own oremployed in shops, are cops or firefighters, game wardens or nurses, are so completelypriced out of the market forever more, they are being shunted to the middle ofnowhere.

Is that normal? Sure. Look at the gentrification that occurred in less desirable parts of San Francisco, but this is not California, it’s Coeur d’Alene, as I always say. And let’s be honest. This place is an outdoor paradise. Every sport heretofore invented is at your doorstep.

Lots more to do than hunting or golfing All waves must come crashing down

If you listen to the real estate agents (nearly 4,000 in a town of 20—yikes!) they’d love you to believe that you must buy now! But what’s to buy? The flood of properties on the market were snapped up at extraordinarily high prices. Today, twelve months later, it’s a different world. The homes are fewer, in less desirable areas and for those of us who watch the market, a definite downward trend of prices is evident. It’s as though the buy-and-hold mentality is being augmented with a realization that a) cities are not burning to the ground with Biden as President, b) a second home near the Canadian border isn’t really required and c) it’s darn cold and lots of snow here in the winter.

The rest of the community members (ergo, those not in real estate) are likening this to what happened in 2008/2009. That’s when so many homes in golf course communities like Blackrock sold at record highs—there they remained until just this last year, when a home listed for $1.9 sold for $3M in a week (cash deal), then sold again in another week for $6M. The general consensus is the panic-buying spree is over, everyone who purchased will never get their money back and in another decade, will sell underwater.

View from the course at Blackrock

We’ll see. But what about us, you ask? There is not a price that would entice us to sell . One can always create more homes (given money and time) but not views and mountains. Besides, where would we go? Hotels are booked up, as are condos and rental homes. We’d have more money in the bank and be homeless.

End note: As to finding a primary healthcare provider, I was told that me and Rog just happened to have small problems which apparently pay well but don’t take a lot of time (migraine RX and shoulder injury). In and out, otherwise we’d have been turned down. And yes, healthcare providers are now profiling potential patients, but that’s another blog.

The first official “author interview” is always a little ...

The first official “author interview” is always a little nerve-inducing, because like most creatives, I’m fearful what questions will remain in, be taken out, if my answers will be edited or I’ll just come across as a tired mom, which I sometimes am. Thankfully, this one wasn’t too bad. I must have had a decent nights sleep the night before.

The impetus behind the sit-down is Above Ground, my latest release in the thriller-romance genre.

A partial interview is below. The copmplete interview is here.

From BookView March 20, 2021

Welcome to BookView Interview, a conversation series where BookView talks to authors.

Recently, we talked to Sarah Gerdes, the award-winning author of twenty-two books (six reaching #1) that have been published in over 100 countries and three languages, about her writing and her upcoming title, Above Ground, a page-turning suspense thriller (read the review here).

Tell us more about your book. What inspired the premise?

Three things happened at once within a very short period of time. The first was a law in California that changed theft of under a thousand dollars to from a felony to a misdemeanor. The second was watching a documentary on the three-hundred miles of underground drainage systems in Las Vegas that were intended to be used for the seasonal monsoons but houses thousands of people from all walks of life. The last thing was a conversation with my brother, who’s an estate attorney for a number of celebrities and athletes in Las Vegas. I was joking about these subjects, and off the cuff, I said: I bet the stolen goods are coming from San Francisco to Las Vegas and he laughed and said: “Sure! It’s well know the Bulgarians fence the auto parts, the Russians the jewelry…” and as I listened to him, the entire story line clicked in.

How many rewrites did you do for this book:

17 (COVID was brutal!)

Which character was the most challenging to write?

The primary individual involved in actual trafficking of people. Someone who’s that amoral and soulless wasn’t easy.

What is a special standout element of Above Ground?

I take joy in writing about places I’ve been and sharing the locations with readers is a joy. For instance, a clubs like Taos is known around the world, but most people will never have the chance to enter, or a meal at Buddy V’s where you will sit be a legitimate business person and a well-known (but not convicted) dark element. Writing a scene is like opening the door and taking the hand of a reader, and we are entering/exploring together.

What characters (if any) based on real people?

The primary romantic interest, Trey Bridger, is a merger of a man I know with the body and fantasy I want! An attorney, the UNVL tennis player and boyfriend are loosely based on friend, a niece and her boyfriend. Lucas Weinstein, the Russian jeweler is also based on a wealthy, elegantly-slimy man I know in the pawn world. He takes it as a compliment, although he actually lives in Chicago.

Which scene changed the most from the first draft to the published book?

The final scene where a primary (antagonist) character dies. From inception, I always envisioned he’d float down the drainage systems in the monsoon, but with the plot curves, I thought that would be too pat. I also changed the dynamics of power between Shay Wilson and this man and wanted her empowerment to show through, but in a way that she, and the reader, would never expect. It made the book far more interesting for me to write and I hope for the reader.

What do you hope readers will take away from the book?

That very few people are truly unredeemable. Even the worst people will take care of their mothers or give to the needy, so we need to take or appreciate the good and without throwing away the entire human.

What makes this book important right now?

Like all my books in the suspense genre, fiction is built around fact.

How did you decide on this title.

Easy—there were a TON of books with the words ‘below,’ or ‘underground,’ so I switched it up, and talked about Above Ground, where the real criminals live and work side beside the rest of us, in broad daylight.

What inspired you for this genre?

I’ve don’t write in terms of genres, or at least I don’t think of it that way. I write books that inspire me and then it’s determined what category they best fit in. Page-turners without graphic details tend to be in the suspense genre, while thrillers can vary on a scale. My work is page turning while not graphic, and there’s a big difference.

How long does it take to write a book?

It completely varies based on what’s happening in my life and the world. During the last four years, I’ve averaged three books a year. But with COVID, Above Ground took nearly a year. My mother came to live with us, the kids—all of us were at home—and it was hard to maintain a single line of thought for more than twenty minutes!

Is writer’s block real?

Absolutely, and warrants an entire chapter in Author Straight Talk (AST), but the “block” is the symptom, the causes can be many. It just means a pause in writing. Fear can stop the writing process (will book 2 be as good as book 1?) Can I due to topic justice? Have I lost the touch? You can push through, walk around or over the fear and uncertainty, but eventually, the desire and courage will return.

Best money you spent as a writer?

Without a question, a good editor—but what most novice authors don’t know is that several types of editors exist, and they are stratified by genre and type. A great editor in the sci-fi genre won’t touch a romance book and vice versa. One of the biggest mistakes I make early on was thinking that an editor in one genre could cross to another. Once you have the right editor for the right genre, you need to the best ‘type’ editor. As I detail in AST, I’ve spent thousands of dollars on “strategic editing,” which focuses on plot, pacing, character development, reveals etc. It has been like getting a masters in each genre.

For the complete interview, click here.

A stranger’s smile

Ever wonder about a stranger smiling your way? Do I have mustard on my cheek? Is my hair all wrong? What’s the motivation behind the look? I’ll often ask myself.“None of the above” Rog said, during the most recent instance of being on the receiving end of a (in this case, male) stranger’s smile. Besides, he continued, “Who cares why he did it?” Rog asked. “It just happened. Smile back and move on.”

By that time, I felt bad I’d not smiled back. For most of my life, I’ve not smiled back. It’s part of my Swedish/Swiss, shy-and-look-down heritage, compounded by 18 years of ‘don’t talk, look or address’ strangers, followed by the early twenties bra-burning mantra of  “‘if you smile at them, you are ‘asking for it'” that every girl gets when she leaves college and goes out on her own. With that background, of course I’m going to be all screwed up when it comes to the do’s and don’ts of smiling at strangers. Suffice it to say that graceful and me is an oxymoron.

I’ll give you the other side of this sharp-edged sword of facial expressions. The spouse. Ever been with your boy/girlfriend, spouse etc when someone of the opposite sex gives a full-on smile? What does that mean…exactly…and how do you handle it with grace and security? I’ve known many a person of both genders to flip out when a stranger bestows a complimentary smile (or really, any type of smile) in their presence.

“It’s not like every smile is a come-on,” Rog told me not long after we were married. In addition to worrying about what kind of pasta I was going to make for dinner, I was wasting my time fretting over every Sally (and Joe) casting a sideways glance at my man. It took years (and mostly bigger relationship problems) to get me over the hump of another smiling at my legal and lawful partner. One day, I realized this: if someone else thinks Rog is cute enough to throw a smile his way, good for him. He works out. He eats much better than me, and it gee, if it made him a little happier on his way home, I thank that anonymous stranger from the bottom of my heart, for it’s me and my girls who ultimately benefit.

The upside-downside smile perspective

I’ve spent many years dwelling on the downside of a smile instead of focusing on the upside. That would include a person seeing I look down/having a bad day, and smiling to cheer me up. It may also be that I did in fact, look decent and a smile was an acknowledgement of properly put on make-up. When with children, a smile is often a compliment to my children, or my parenting skills (usually outside Target when the real fun has subsided). Just last Friday, I emerged from the local public library and a nineteen-ish young woman with piercings in all the wrong places made a comment on my skirt (she approved) and smiled wide. It was the last thing I expected (I figure I’m invisible to people three decades younger, so I generally  have no expectations). The smile was out of the blue and wonderful, and the compliment didn’t hurt my ego. I at least have a remnant of style remaining!

The flipside of receiving a smile is giving one. An interesting topic all on it’s own. When I ceased being ‘small’ (as in, emotionally), I was able to give of myself without insecurity or paranoia about an act that uses more muscles than any other in the body. (As an aside, did you know, smiling also increases the release of endorphins and reduces stress and is reputed to help one live a longer life of better quality than non-smilers?)

For several years, I’ve been practicing the fine art of smiling at strangers, and let me tell you, it works wonders. Today for instance, I accosted two perfectly nice people (a young, married couple) who’d I’d seen before, but always have scowls on their faces so I tend to avoid them. I figured they may be Swiss and frown naturally, as so many of my relatives do. I started with a smile at both of them, and to be honest, she looked like she swallowed her tongue and he jolted, putting his arm around her shoulders.

It was rather funny in a twisted kind of a way. But then again, I’ve noticed something else: those smile-affronted are either newly married (as I was), and well as young (see previous). An hour later, I had the opportunity to actually talk to the couple. I walked right up, ignored the startled, stalker-looks they gave me and started chatting. I soon found out they were a) married <1 year, b) expecting a child and c) living in her grandmother’s home. No wonder they were a little shy to outsiders and creeped out by my smile. By the end of the conversation, they were as lively as my own relatives, chatting up about the personal aspects of their life normally reserved for family reunions.

Another group that seriously benefits from a smile are women and old people. Women adore smiles from other women. Why? Because so few women actually smile at other women! It’s a latent insecure-threatened type of attitude. A smile to another woman means you are looking beyond yourself to that individual. I’ve found a beautiful woman with a scowl on her face will completely defy my expectations when I smile and follow it up with a compliment (great shoes), to which the woman will show complete shock then be profusely grateful, as though I’ve made her day. It takes such little effort to lift the spirits of another person. And lets face it. You never know what another is going through–death, divorce, home foreclosure, unruly child, unemployment. It’s the littlest thing that takes no effort and can make all the difference in the world.

So tomorrow is Saturday. Greet the day, and complete strangers, with a smile.

When dreams die

Ever since I was a teenager, I’d wanted to learn to fly, not as a vocation, but for the fun of it. I was a natural according to my dad. He’d let me fly for hours, turning in accordance with the maps and flight plan, even descending until he was ready to land the plane. By the time I graduated high school, becoming a private pilot was a forgone conclusion—a dream I was excited to achieve when I had the time and money.

Throughout my twenties, I held onto this dream. About five years into our marriage, me and my husband (Rog) made a deal: he’d take over my business for a year so I could finish my first book (another life-long dream) then we’d swap roles as he earned his pilot’s license. The deal worked; my book was published, he became a private pilot and I was ready to become one myself. I was on my way…until I wasn’t.

You see, I was great at the task(s) of flying, but terrible at the details part. I know this sounds ridiculous and inconceivable, but it’s true. Suffice it to say that weights and balance, the outside checks of the aircraft, measurements and calculations for distances etc.—all the manual must-do’s for a pilot—well, I was terrible. Now, I can hear you saying: but that’s what checklists are for. True, but there’s a little thing called acumen. It’s the difference between “something comes naturally” vs “I have to make/remind myself” to do it. One can get away with using sub-par running shoes without dying. The same cannot be said for scrimping on the details associated with flying. So it was that at 31, I gave up my dream of flying.

Dreams die daily

We live in ice hockey country. Here, dwellers use convert old hockey sticks into windshield scrapers for the snow and ice. It also means that youth players are frequently tapped for juniors, the precursor leagues before going pro here or abroad. Over the last four years, we have seen many dreams fade before ultimately dying (with few exceptions). Just today, we had a talented young man (19) who played several seasons in Europe call my husband. When I heard the advice Roger was giving, I thought to myself, “another dream just died.”

Rog empathized, he himself having experienced three successive dream-deaths as I call them. First, it was failing the eye exam required by the Air Force while still in high school (he wanted to be a fighter pilot). He was crushed, but according to his mother, rebounded by focusing on sports. Only 6’2, he was a standout basketball player in his region, receiving scholarships but not to the top school of his choice. When that (second) dream died, he pivoted to football, walking on to the University team his freshman year as a tight end. This dream continued until he was injured his sophomore year. Bah-bum.

Reframing the dream

As I listened to Rog provide feedback to this youth, he empathized with the young man devastated by the notion of future without professional hockey. Then the problem solving began.

“What do you want
to do? Where does your passion lie? Does standard of living matter to you?”

They were kind of
pragmatic, rational questions a high school counselor or parent/mentor asks.
Over the next forty minutes, all sorts of options were discussed, as well as
areas of the country to live, the pros and cons of each and ultimately, what
needed to happen to get from here to there.

Rog concluded with
an admonition to pivot towards a dream you can control. It’s what I call positive
pragmatism. Reality has gotten in the way of your dreams, and the facts are
that sine that reality won’t change you have to. You don’t stop dreaming, you
create new ones.

With Rog, he pivoted his energies towards what he could control, and that was academics. He finished his masters in eighteen months while working full-time. He could control his efforts and realize a new dream of succeeding in the business world.

A dream with a deadline

I’ve often said: “A
dream is an objective with a deadline.” When it comes to creating a new dream,
commit to it with all the vigor your younger, more enthusiastic and excited
self had. The fact you are now older, wiser and more capable increases the
possibility that your dream will be realized.

When it came to
writing, Stephen King advocated to “Write ten pages a day and in a year, you
have a novel.” I couldn’t be a basketball player because no amount of perfect
free-throws were going to change my height, but I could learn the craft of
writing and become a novelist.

I know 2020 has been a dark year for a lot of people, but among the scorched Earth of the pandemic and election, many new dream seeds have been planted. A new business idea, a new passion, hobby or even the dream of love.

As we approach the years’ end, look around and find those seeds which have been planted in your life. Nourish them. Help them grow. And if your land is barren, a personal scorched Earth, then get out of your zone find some seeds. Take action. Create your own dreams because guess what? The only person who can create and realize your dream is you.

Cyber Week Deals

Monday 11/30, 4 free books across ebook platforms!
Amazon Cyber Week deals = .99-1.99 books for 7 days!

Global DeadlineGenre: romantic SuspenseApple, B & N, Hoopla, Vivlio, Kobo, 245, ScribdMade for Me (book 1, Danielle Grant Series)Genre: Romance (American goes to Switzerland) Apple, B & N, Hoopla, Kobo, 245, Scribd, VivlioIncarnation (book 1, Incarnation series)Genre: Romantic suspense/thrillerApple, B & N, Hoopla, Kobo, 245, Scribd, VivlioChambers 2Genre: Action-adventure/time travelApple, B & N, Hoopla, Kobo, 245, Scribd, Vivlio

On Amazon, all (active) books .99 with the exception of 2 (because Amazon puts a limit on the price due to the size of the book).

Global DeadlineA Convenient DateDanielle Grant SeriesMade for me (book 1)Destined for you (book 2)Meant to be (book 3)In a MomentIncarnation seriesIncarnation (book 1)Incarnation: The Cube Master (book 2)Chambers SeriesChambers (book 1)Chambers: The Spirit WarriorNon-FictionThe Overlooked Expert: 10th Anniversary EditionAuthor Straight TalkSue Kim: the Authorized Biography

Convert your knowledge to money today

The Overlooked Expert: A terrific guide for anyone looking to build a successful consulting business… (Prairie Book Review)

In a highly readable work that makes a convincing case to develop a client service business, Gerdes leads the overlooked experts together through a proven approach to realize their future. Drawing from her own experience and featuring several highly successful real-life consultants, Gerdes outlines why all overlooked experts, especially middle managers should consider the idea of freelance consulting a viable option. Gerdes began her own consulting firm, Business Marketing Group (BMG), in San Francisco after realizing she was stuck in the same position for quite a time and went on to consult not only for start-ups and Fortune 500 clients but also for the governments of Britain and Ireland.

Summary review

Separated into ten sections, Gerdes covers everything from the initial discovery of an overlook skillset, determining if the skill had a value in open market, starting a business for little or no cost and realizing immediate income to expanding one’s business. Gerdes has an engaging, uplifting viewpoint and infectious spirit that should be appealing to middle managers stuck in uninspired jobs for too long or consultants burdened with uncertainty of today’s job market. She includes strategic insights, business rules to follow, compelling facts (a list of over 100 consulting vocations) and helpful tactics (how to pitch and negotiate fair deals with clients, how to recognize downturns patterns and prepare your firm) to make this book a master-class in how one can transform their skills into revenue. This is a fun, easy to read, and well worth the time invested.

Review published PBR Nov. 8, 2020

The Overlooked Expert

By Sarah Gerdes

Buy now

Barnes & Noble

Price $7.95 (USD) Paperback, $2.99 ebook edition

What do you title a blog about encountering a person who ...

What do you title a blog about encountering a person who lacks a nose? It’s hard. To wit, you notice I just avoided it altogether, and as my 81-tomorrow mother says “you’re life isn’t one to believe.” Now that she’s lived with us for three months, perhaps that has a modicum of truth.

There I am, standing in line at Kohl’s, one of the few shopping experiences around here where one can go in, grab and go without the hassle of a line. Let’s not get pissy about stores okay? Kohl’s became a fav when my butt expanded with my time here in Idaho and I discovered Jennifer Lopez’ line of curve-hugging-yet-flattering pants, perfect for those of us with small waists and ahem-gracious derrieres’. Kohl’s also has fantastic (and I do mean fantastic) deals on appliances (Euro brands + Kitchenaids etc) and Xmas items at prices so far less than Macy’s it’s really wrong (as if Macy’s weren’t struggling enough.

But I digress. The buzzer rings, I step off my personal round space known used for distancing, say hello to the register worker and answer the basic questions. Yes, I found everything, yes, I’m having a good day. Because I’m old school and believe in making eye-contact, I don’t immediately notice the missing section between her eyes and her mouth. You see, normally, a point lifts the mask off the nose. Furthermore, here in Idaho, the mask mandate has been eliminated, although many wear a mask but pull it down just below the nose.

This woman, I realized, had no nose. It was gone.

We are talking about the essentials of life; the upcoming holiday season, the best deals and delight that waiting lines no longer exist because consumers are shopping on line. I ask if she’s worried about her job and she just scoffs.

“I’d been through a divorce, and my house burned down because of an electrical issue,” she tells me, all the while scanning my items. “My own smoking caused this,” she says, pointing to her nose, then shrugs.

“You think I even care about COVID? It’s the flu. Try having your life wiped out by a fire and your nose being sliced off. Then come talk to me.”

Whew. What do you say to that? (I know you’re wondering what I said. It was “no kidding,” reinforced with a head nod.

Walking out the door, I remove my own mask and take a long inhale of 10 degree air through the nose, a sensation I’d always taken for granted and never thought about twice. I do now.

Stories from the waiting line…

Once upon a time, my public outings were free of clutter and pollution, a well of mental purity, unsullied by the unsolicited comments from strangers. Not so anymore. Nowadays, stepping outdoors means being on the receiving end of a one-way flow of information, the kind a stranger on a plane will give because he (or she) knows you will never again run in to one another, so you are perfectly safe place to dump all sorts of burdensome information. Let me give you an example.Last Thursday, I’m sitting in a public place, waiting for my name to be called after I have dutifully taken a number. To my left is a large man studiously reading the local paper. To my right is an empty chair that remains vacant for about thirty seconds until a well-dressed woman takes a seat. She’s thin, early sixties, short, blond hair in a v-cut, fashionably touching her brown and gold leopard print shirt. Her left hand is void of a wedding ring, but adorned with the nice, thick metal watch. Her leather shoes are polished and appropriately narrow for the 2019-2020 fashion season. I’m tapping away on my phone, virtually conversing with my friends who are equally happy to spend their time getting thumb callouses when she begins to speak to me.

“I’ve never been in here,” she half-whispers, embracing me as a temporary confidant. My first time as well, I say, looking up long enough to notice her face is tan, smooth save for a few age-given lines. Divorced mother of two or three grown children, maybe a first time grandma I hypothesize. I continue typing. “My oldest son is getting married soon,” she continues (I inwardly preen), “and I gave him my wedding ring for his second wife.” I have two thoughts. The first is that the woman is determined to tell me her life story. The second is that I might as well listen. People’s lives are far more interesting than my own, and what the heck. I’m an author. I like to listen.

“It’s worth $25,000,” she tells me. “It has six diamonds scattered in gold metal chunks…” yadee yedee yadaa. She’s not worried I’m going to stalk and rob her. As she continues, I’m visualizing a ring fit for Liberace. I’m far more interested in whether or not her soon-to-be daughter in law thought it was as ugly as it sounded.

“Did your son like the idea or get offended?” I boldly ask. She enthusiastically tells me that she floated the idea to him. He apparently responded something to the effect “Mom, that’s pure love.”

Sounded more like Son got pragmatic. Second marriage. 30+ yr old fiance. 50-50. When the son gave it to his fiance, she loved it, having it resized.

I turn back to my phone, slightly disappointed the story ended at that point. I shouldn’t have worried. She started in again on the next thing. Her recent job offer (to another division of a local company) was a promotion from one executive position to another. This woman wasn’t hurting, at least not financially.

“In the middle of it all,” she continues, “I feel this lump in my belly—this big,” holding up her clenched fist in the air. I put down my iphone, giving her the full attention she clearly needs. Her OB tells her its nothing, but that she needed a hysterectomy.

“Everything falls you know,” she says in a matter-of-fact voice. No, I tell her, I don’t know, trying to hold back the revolting feeling that graduates up my inerds. “Yeah, it all sort of drops since nothing is there to hold it in.” I’m wondering, ‘what drops, exactly?’ but I my raised eyebrows must say it all. “Your kidneys, sometimes your live,” she goes on. “Your vagina.” My eyes pop, but I just nod and ask, if any of that hurt. With her hand still raised in the air, she triumphantly announces that she got to the bottom of it.

“It was my rectum!” she says proudly, “this big!” pointing to her closed fist with her other hand. “It was at the bottom of my vagina.” Did—wait–did she just say that, in the middle of a public place?

At that point, my name was called, which was a good thing. I had no words. I had no air. I had to leave without hearing the rest of the story, the visual of a guts and stuff dropping out a strangers nether regions in my brain. By the time I get to my car, my appetite is completely left me, but I do have visions of the next random story I’m going to get while waiting in line.

Frankenstein Makes a Sandwich

Isn’t that a great title for a book? I took a flyer on the purchase, glancing through the imagery and immediately liking whimsical pictures. Well, that and the sub-title “and other stores you’re sure to like, because they’re all about monsters and some of them are also about food.” What foodie can’t appreciate that?

Now readers of this blog know I never write reviews of other books but this defies my logic. Why bother, think I? So many already exist that my humble opinion isn’t going to sway a person’s purchasing choices. Furthermore, aside from the errant reporter who recently provided me his own book after an interview was over, I’m not solicited for a review or opinion. Frankenstien Makes a Sandwich is so good, I’m taking the time to tell all my readers– buy it. Buy it now. It’s awesomely funny.

Age group begone. This isn’t just for my kids. As I’m reading,  my husband is piping up in the background “what’s that?” and “that’s crazy!” he continues, before busting up. Some stories mirror a contemporary story mixed with a rhyme, like Phantom of the Opera. Another makes fun of Dracula’s son that has a lame tooth. One of my favorites is “an open letter from Wolfman’s best friend,” about the saga of wolfman’s roommate who is sick and tired of cleaning up after him:

Please just know, and I’ll happily open the door.

And if I’m not home please don’t howl anymore.

‘Cause each time you do it, the neighbors complain.

And since we’re complaining, perhaps you’d explain

how you manage to leave

SO MUCH hair in the tub.

I constantly clean it. I scour, I scrub,

and I think I should mention it’s REALLY a pain.

Today I removed a big clog from the drain,

and I tell you, this hair-clog was of SUCH A SIZE,

it could go to a CAT SHOW

AND TAKE HOME FIRST PRIZE.

So…anyway, that’s all I wanted to write.

Please take out the garbage. It’s your turn tonight.

Another favorite is Godzilla Pooped on My Honda, The Phantom of the Opera Can’t Get “It’s a Small World” out of his Head and The Middlewich With-Watchers Club. In between each of the poems are the most amazing drawings of fun types of witches like the Frazzled Warthog and the Speckled Crone or the Long Beaked Harpy.

Every now and then, I come across a book that is so fun, so well written and engaging, I get depressed. “I wish I’d written that,” I say, a whistful sigh that instills in me an overpowering desire to get back to writing something a bit more meaningful. This is one of those books.

Adam Rex, you are my idol.