I'm Still Here

I went back to my home town to see all the lovely people who have supported me during the process of publishing the book. We laughed and joked and talked for hours. I felt warm and loved by those who so willingly gave of their time to be with me. It was a wonderful night.

I travelled through out eastern Ohio and over to Catawba Island during my trip home. I went to my family reunion and saw all the cousins I haven't seen in years. My one cousin, Cindy, owns property that literally looks like a state park. It even has a pavilion and camping area with outdoor restroom facilities, complete with a shower. The setting was stunning. Her land was lush and green, tree filled and pristine. The day of the reunion had perfect 76 degree weather, including a breeze. The trip, a huge success and delight has withered it's way to an unbelievable strike of fate. I am stuck in Ohio.

I fly on an airline that my husband works for and there has been no room on any flight out of town, now for several days. It is the way of it for airline families. The good news is we fly cheap, the bad news is we are stand-by folks who must fly by the seat of our pants. My pants are currently grounded. I am currently residing with my parents living as a retiree, while still in my prime. It's odd to eat at the early bird special time and do puzzle books containing AARP information while I wait for a spot to open up for me to go home. I watch their TV shows, which are not as bad as "Matlock" and "Murder She Wrote", still I miss the comfort of hogging my own remote.

My parents, bless their hearts, have put their own plans on hold as we wait day to day for news of when I need to rush to the airport in hopes of getting on a plane. My father said, "Stay as long as like. We love having you here." I see the sincere expression on his face and wonder how many days will it take before I get the "It's time you live on your own" speech. You know, the one you get when you are young and it's your time to fly. Luckily, for now, we still maintain common interest in conversation and ice cream.

It hadn't been my plan to put down roots back in my home town, but right now I feel myself becoming my old Barbertonian self. Living here would be easy for me. Some things have changed, but for the most part things are still as kind and generous as I remember. There are houses for sale in my parents neighborhood and I daydream about what it would be like to move permanently home. In my mind's eye I see myself walking to the store, wandering over to the folks for Sunday dinner and spending evenings with my friends. I have so much time on my hands right now I go into great detail about what it all would feel like to be close all the time to the ones I love so very much. It would be indeed a nice life. Suddenly my dreams are interrupted by my ringing cell phone and I here Mike on the other end telling me I have to wait one more day. I feel my heart ache inside my chest, longing to see and touch my beloved husband and best friend. The kids call asking when I am coming home. They miss me, a thought, I wasn't certain would appear for them. I feel such a strong gravitational pull to my family back in Texas and the friends down south I have left behind.

I will say a little prayer that will be on my way home very soon. Tomorrow, when I awake I 'll search for the answer of when I get to go back to where my heart now hangs it's hat. I am hopeful that sooner will come before later. For now I will turn off the computer and ask the folks to go out for ice cream with me. We'll go to the same stand I have gone to most of my life and tell stories of people and family long gone and still loved.

There's No Place Like Home...

I am packing up and getting to go back and see my parents and friends in my hometown. As much as I love living in Houston, I miss all things familiar. It is as much an emotional journey for me as it is a physical one. I left my hometown and moved to the "big city" of Cleveland in my 20's. I never really looked back after that.
After I had my children, I noticed how much I wanted to visit Barberton, and show them where I came from and all the things that are ingrained in me now. Growing up in a small town has it's drawbacks, to be sure. But I understand now, why it's so very important to appreciate all the folks who love and appreciate you from home. My friends, most of them I have known all my life. We went to grade school, junior high school and then high school together. They got to see all the times I was a real jackass and witness my coming of age into being a civilized human being. They got to see all of it because in a small town there is no place to hide. They are also the first ones to show up with food after a tragedy. They will help in any way they can when someone needs it. These are the people who are my soft place to fall. Even though I live in Houston, I will be theirs too, if they need me.
This time when I go home, I get to be living proof that dreams can come true. I finally, lived up to my potential. My high school teachers should be thrilled. Those cats have waited over 40 years! I always was a late bloomer. I plan to go everywhere I can, taking in the sights and smells, touching every hand I recognize and allowing myself to sink fully into it. I miss being able to just drive down the road an hour to visit. I had taken it all for granted. I have the unique opportunity to appreciate my hometown and the people who make it home to me, while I am young and vibrant enough to do it. I am grateful. especially today, as I pack to make my way back, that I learned one of life's most important lessons before it was too late. There's no place like home.

My Glamorous Life as a Writer

Pretty, aren't I? I know how I look, trust me. I wake up to it every morning. There I am in all my glorious, glamour as the writer. I spend about 10-12 hours a day working on my new fangled device attempting to continue to do what I love. I research, edit, outline, word map my way around all the projects I have going. I do it at the most unseemly hours of the morning because I do it when my house is it's most quiet.

I have a house full of college and high school kids, hardly the most quiet group.

I have friends who tease me about "having people", now that I have a published book. Oh, if it were only that easy and fast. I have no people per say, I have: me and a group of very savvy teens/young adults who help me navigate my way around the computer and the Internet. Dan and Chaz are my hardware geek boys. Betty is my apps. girl. Amanda is my web master. Christy is my artistic eye for all things design and verbiage related. There are a host of others out there who have a hand or two in my being able to stay afloat, but if they require payment in any form other than a hot meal and good advice, I am afraid I am out.

The writing part, before an editor sees it is just me, my pink fuzzy robe, my bifocals, and the coffee maker. Sometimes I have a wiener asleep on my feet, snoring loudly. I can honestly say I look like this most mornings when Mike gets up to go to work. I am distractedly tippy tapping away on the key board, taking sips of coffee along the way to manage the level of my alertness.

Mike slips into the room quietly, taking my attention for only the time it takes for us to wish each other a good day and kiss me goodbye. The second he turns to walk away I am staring back at the screen, intent on getting my work done, so when I see him return I can focus on the family again.

Working from home is something I love. I can take care of what I need to and catch up on the work when I want. Admittedly, right now I am a workaholic. I put in the long hours now, so that when our vacation comes up, I can sit back and enjoy my time with Michael and the friends and family we plan to visit. I am excited about the opportunity to get away and celebrate the others in my life. Mike and I have waited a year to go back home. We haven't been home together in 4 years.

I am a Fergie fan. The Duchess cd is one of my favorites. She did a song called "Glamorous" about not changing due to fame or money. My favorite line is, "I'm glad my daddy told me so, (if you ain't got no money take your broke *ss home), he let his daughter know..." My parents let me know a long time ago that being grounded and accountable to the people in your life was job #1.

I sit in my robe, knowing full well I look like something the cat drug in, laughing at my glamorous life now that I am a published author. When the kids make fun of me, I dance around them with my hair in my face sing Fergie. I may not live a glamorous life, but I live a rich one full of love and laughter and humility. My family gets that I am a writer, but what they really want to know is...when's dinner?

There are no words...But there are dreams

I received my author's copy of the book in the mail yesterday. I watched my title go up on three different web sites for sale. Today I watched my book trailer go up on YouTube to promote my book. And then it hit me. My book is online for sale on one of the largest book sellers in the world. I stared at the cover. I actually couldn't take my eyes off of it. I was blown away that my dream came true. There just aren't words to describe the feeling of getting something you have waited a life time for. I wrote in my robe, with my bifocals on my face, scribbling on spiral notebooks left over from the kids school year. My hieroglyphics of ink blotted, scratched up messes were my reference to being a writer.
I had read that to be a writer only means that you need to write, you need it like breathing or eating. To be a writer merely means that you write. For years I said I "want to be a writer". For years I saw myself in the distance writing a book with my name on the front cover, gleaming under the glossy laminate. I dreamed of this moment for as long as I can remember. To write a book for me, was the equivalent of winning the lottery, Academy Award and Nobel Peace Prize all wrapped into one.

But life got in the way and I started to let go of the idea that one day I would finish all the numerous writing projects shoved into cupboards. I continued to write as if magically just by doing it my dreams would come true. I wrote because I have always written. I wrote as if my life depended on it and in some ways I think it did. My book has many stories of how I survived a near death experience, an ovarian tumor with the potential to kill me and the death of Danny my ex-husband. Would I have survived if I hadn't written all the volumes of thoughts and feelings into all those notebooks? I am not sure...

It's all just now sinking in that my dream came true. It's sinking in very slowly, one small moment at a time. I feel no need to hurry through this and get on to the next thing. I want it to saturate my skin like a warm bath. I want to wallow in this time of knowing for certain that if you dream something for yourself that it can come true. I want to pay homage to the time when I had no money, the kids and I were terrified of what big disaster would come next that might do us completely in. I want to respect the notebooks I have kept out of sentimentality, that house my raw thoughts.
Tomorrow I will not work on any book because my body is telling me it's time to rest and absorb. I have spent 10-12 hour days on my computer or with a notebook writing. I have spent countless hours doing research for the different and sundry projects that go with publishing a book. For the last year I have sweated and toiled over the work wondering if I was dreaming too big. Tomorrow, I will wake up when my body says to. I will savor my coffee and gaze at my husband who has also been working so very hard to support his wife's writing habit. Tomorrow, I will think about all the days when I dreamed for this moment and thank each and every one of them for keeping me going.

That's what dreams really are. They are fuel for our bodies and minds to hang on to, so that we keep going. Come Monday, I will have room for for my next big dream. I will allow the inspiration to fill me up and move me forward. But for now I just want to be happy and grateful for the dream that got me here.

The book trailer is currently on YouTube at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jdpGqqvIo7k .
Watch the trailer and then try and go to bed early. You never know what you might dream.

I am truly Advancing Backward

I looked on line and much to my surprise and delight the book is now for sale!!! I had one of those wonderfully childlike moments when it felt like Christmas day to me and I was running around the house to find the phone to call my dearest friend from back home to tell her the book was for sale! After I called Michael, of course. I went on http://www.amazon.com/ typed in my name and the title of the book and there it was. My eyes welled up with tears and the last year of my life was proudly displayed with a description of the book and my bio. I felt it right to my bones, as if I were the small child I put the picture of on the back cover.

I feel not so much proud, as I do eternally grateful to be able to do what I love and be with a family who loves me enough to allow me to be me. I realize to my core, especially now, how lucky I am to have my husband/best friend believe in me so much that I felt fearless enough to try something so big. I am more proud of him than I am of me. His decision to take a chance on me and my writing has led me here, and here is wonderful!!!!

I lovingly refer to the times in my life when I can see the world with child eyes and sit back awestruck as advancing backward. Today as I dance wildly around the house with my author's copy in hand, I impatiently wait for Michael to come home and dance with me (he will if it's a slow song). Today, with tears of joy streaming down my face, and dripping off the end of my nose on to the key board, I hang on to the words of my beloved husband the first time he wildly suggested we climb out on this limb together, so I could write. He said to me, in a moment of pure love, "You can do this. You should do this."

And so I did!

Some say I am cheap, I say I am reasonably priced!

Back to the book. Of course we have to go back to the book. Remember I am anally retentive with mere breaks in my compulsive need to work. Above is a sample of what will be on the book trailer when it grows up!

O.K., here's the latest scoop:

The book will be available in paperback form from several Internet book stores no later than 6/15/2009. They are:

http://www.booksurge.com/, http://www.amazon.com/, http://www.abebooks.com/, http://www.alibris.com/.

My book is in process to becoming Kindle compatible. For those of you who have Kindles, it will be available through http://www.amazon.com/ in about 2 1/2 weeks around June 15-20.

I am in the process of getting a book trailer ready for Yahoo, Google and YouTube. I will announce the link as soon as it is up. The trailer will best show what the book is about.

My official website will be up in another week or so. I will have contact info for anyone wishing to have a book party. If you have a book club or group of friends interested in a reading, presentation with a Q&A and signing, let me know. I will be focusing on smaller book signings first, since I am a people person. I like to connect with those I am with. I will be doing some larger signings in the fall and I will be preparing a presentation as a speaker for future engagements, as well.

I would like to extend a special "Thank You" to my dear friend Randy. His friendship and support has been invaluable for me. To experience him is to surround yourself in pure joy!!!

Without my dear friends, who feel so very much like family, I could not have accomplished what I have.

Be the Dork

Admittedly, I am a dork. I trip into the room, fall down the two steps and smack into the lamp, with toilet paper hanging from my shoe, and my dress tucked into my pantyhose. It's as much a part of who I am as the nose on my face. I had great distaste for my dorkiness. I laughed too loud, talked too fast and wore my heart on my sleeve. I am childlike and awestruck by simple, yet meaningful things that others seemed not to notice.
My dorkiness originally caused me great embarrassment. I wanted to be cool, and distant, maintaining my dignity at all times with no hint of the ridiculous. I had wanted to be tall, dark, and mysterious. Much to my dismay, I grew up to be short, fair, and obvious. Knowing I had no control over my genetics I started to appreciate that which was distinctively me. I was not mysterious, I was funny, whether it was intentional or not I made people laugh. No one looked at me as a riddle to be figured out. I was blatant in every way. It takes approximately 30 seconds for people to figure out that I am a complete and utter goofball. While other will sweep into a room, with their grace and style, I on the other hand fall over myself and end up face first in the dip. It is what it is.
I now embrace my dorky demeanor and encourage others to do the same. Perfection takes so much effort. I had spent or in my case, wasted hours of my life trying to be something that I couldn't maintain. I watch other people, especially women who work so hard at hiding their dorky side in order to maintain their grace and fluidity. It is a practiced art form that I am seemingly unable to master.
I have tried to teach my kids to embrace their innately dorky side, and yes, they inherited it from their mother. I wanted them to never feel bogged down by all the work it takes to avoid embarrassment when it is so much easier to accept and appreciate it. Better to laugh than cry in any circumstance. Once I had let go of the notion that imperfection and even dorkiness as something to be ashamed of, I was able to find the joy in it and use it as something to revel in, I became a much happier person. Instead of berating myself for falling on my face in public and trying to count heads as to who saw what, I now openly tell the stories of my embarrassment. I hate waste and think it's ultimately better to get it all out there than wait for someone else to bring it up as a way to use it against me. I use it as way of being inclusive. Most people do not relate to perfection, even when they have had moments of it, but dorkiness everyone can relate to and laugh at/with.
I took ballet when I was in high school. I practiced everyday and went to class with a good friend of mine who also suffered from the dorky gene. He eventually became a dancer in a ballet company while I, on the other hand, gave it up to be in the marching band in college, because that's what us dorks do. It was there in the college marching band I made and have since kept many of my life long friends, including my husband. He, too, is a little dorky, but nothing in comparison to his wife.
I could pretend to be more graceful and pray that I am not found out by others around me, carefully guarding every step, or I could just be me and know that at some point in the evening I will put my foot in my mouth, trip over the food table and leave the bathroom stringing streamers to my pant leg. I opt for the latter, if for no other reason, than it makes me more entertaining.