life is crazy

Baby Steps

~ kimberly ~ Leave a comment

Once upon a time, right after I had Scout Son, I started working out. At first I hated it, but my knee and hips hurt and the YMCA had a weight machine that I thought would help. And it did. And after several months of working out several times a week, I loved it. I felt great, I looked great. I discovered fat feels different than muscle, and no, I never realized that. I was not a coordinated kid. But I could take you in a game of Space Invaders. Do not judge.

But at the tender age of 29, I slowly became coordinated. I could read or knit on an elliptical machine, and some of the folks I worked out with slowly talked me into racquetball. I dropped the last of the baby weight, toned everything and had a blast. I became one of those people who loved working out.

Then came ladder #1. I didn’t fall off of it, so much as it slid to the ground and I rode it there. I firmly believe that the only reason I didn’t get seriously hurt (broken bones) is because I was in good shape. But between giving birth to two kids and two ladder encounters, my body has changed.

I never used to hate my body. Even when I didn’t know that muscle felt different. I wasn’t embarrassed by it. This is me. I’m in reasonable shape, take it or leave it. But over the last few months as I’ve seriously considered putting myself back into the dating pool, I’ve paid more attention, and while I hate my back and hip, I’m just generally unhappy with the rest of it.

The problem is finding a workout that I can do. Right now I ride a bike in the living room because I can read, watch TV, edit a book, knit and talk to the kids while I ride. Remember, I have at best 3 hours a day that are mine, so I have to multitask. But it irritates my back. I love to dance, but anything like that makes it impossible to walk the next day.

I did light strength training and yoga last night and today I want to die. As an aside, downward dog is really hard to do and focus on your breathing when you have a Doberman trying to find your face so she can give you kisses. Not the dating pool I had in mind, Cassie.

That’s the problem with chronic pain. I gained the weight because I couldn’t work out. I couldn’t work out because I couldn’t get a diagnosis for the problem. For. Ten. Years. I try to work out, something gets inflamed, I keep trying to push it so I can lose some weight, get in better shape and protect my body. After all, hauling around less of me would be good for the joints that are toast. But working out only inflames things more and lands me on my ass. Hmm, seeing a cycle here?

But I keep trying to work out and feel better. I’m happy to announce that since New Year’s, I’ve lost 3 pounds It took ten years to put on 13 pounds and three weeks to lose 3 of them. I am going to work really hard at not finding them again. It would be so much easier if I could still play racquetball.

It was an awesome workout both mentally and physically. Mad? No problem. Go into a small room and beat the shit out of a ball. Need to think about the problem with your book? Same solution. Kids driving you nuts? They could have put a plaque on the door of that court; I lived in there three days a week. But even if I was delusional enough to think I could play, my chiropractor has said no way. Something about racquetball players being highly competitive and running into walls. I have no idea what he’s talking about.

So, it’s baby steps these days. There’s a goal. I’d like to be in better shape before I spend the weekend with my family in DC this March. Or before I have to take my clothes off in front of another human being. Or the next ice age.

Whichever comes first. How many calories do you burn with baby steps?

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I Will Survive

~ kimberly ~ Leave a comment

It’s normal for writers to hear voices. Usually they’re the voices of my characters. And I’ll admit those voices are always there. But I knew I needed to go to the beach when I not only couldn’t hear my characters’ voices, I couldn’t hear my own because the voices I care about were being drowned out by others.

Let’s see, there was Little Miss You Can’t Go Out to Dinner Alone or People Will Talk. Now I can ignore her for some places like Taco Bell and the local diner, but I was having a really hard time ignoring her to go to the Sea Captain’s House Restaurant. Which was really ticking me off because what the chef there can do to a filet is amazing. It took about five hours for me to decide that I really didn’t care what people would think.

I did go early, partly so that I wouldn’t take up a table on date night, but mostly because I skipped lunch and wanted to get back to the hotel and a bottle of wine. The chick who told me to stay and have dessert? She can stay. Dessert Chick force fed the bitchy voice who keeps telling me You’re Not Attractive and You Have Fat Thighs, and she seems a lot happier now. She’s wrong on the first point and right on the second and when she has some good suggestions for working out that my body will tolerate, she can raise her hand and I’m willing to call on her.

You’re a Hack, Go Get a Real Job. When she’s not suggesting I get a real job, she’s suggesting I write real books. Um, I have a day job to take care of my family. It’s not glamorous, so if a million of you want to go out and buy my book for $.99 over the next couple of months, I’ll be happy to quit it and write full time. But until then, the day job stays, thank you. And as for books, mine have words and tell a story. The have a beginning, a middle and an end. There are character arcs, plot points and snappy dialog. I think they are real, thanks. So they stay.

You Can’t/Shouldn’t/Nice Girls Don’t…I could go on, but let’s be real. You know these voices. It took two days, but I kicked each one of them into the ocean. And slowly, as I got rid of each voice, I’d hear a little bit more of my own. You’d think as I got rid of all the opinions of others, that really don’t matter anyway, my voice would have gotten louder, but it hasn’t. She’s not screaming out for attention.

I think maybe she’s enjoying the peace. I was worried for a while I’d kicked her into the ocean too, but she’s made her presence known over the last few days. Oddly enough, she isn’t sharing her thoughts or feelings. Besides writing and spending time with some close friends and family, I can’t tell you what I like to do. That voice and I are going to have to try some new things and figure it out.

And I will. Because since I kicked all the other girls out, I’ve heard Gloria Gaynor singing…

At first I was afraid.

I was petrified.

Kept thinking I could never live without by my side.

But then I spent so many nights thinking how you did me wrong.

And I grew strong

I learned how to get along…

It’s quiet here now that all those opinionated voices aren’t living with me. Except for the singing. Hopefully the characters will start talking soon. Until then, I suppose there are worse theme songs…

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A Blog a Day

~ kimberly ~ Leave a comment

This weekend I went to the beach to write. It was supposed to be a weekend filled with lots of plotting and writing and a little bit of personal introspection. (Is there any other kind of introspection?) What I got was a ton of introspection and a little bit of writing. On the upside, all the walking and introspection meant I didn’t gain any weight, and given what I was eating and drinking, that’s a miracle in itself.

In the middle of all the fun emotional stuff I put myself through, I realized the blog isn’t working. Now, for the three of you who read this regularly, that’s not news. A quick look at post dates will tell you that I’m not doing this on any regular schedule. The problem has been I didn’t have a theme for this thing.

Do I write about writing? Hmm, probably not. Writers read writing blogs, but we don’t usually support the blog authors by buying their books. There are lots of reasons for that which I’m not going to get into. So while readers do enjoy learning some of how we get the words on the page (lots of banging head against walls and drinking tequila), you don’t want to read about it every day.

And there’s a limit to how many bits of trivia I can concoct about a fictional town and the people who live there. Do you really want to know the name of the puppy Matt and Jess get six months after The Heiress and Her Fake Fiancé ends? Not really, which is good, because until I typed that sentence, I didn’t know they had one.

I liked the daily journal idea. I know I’m supposed to be writing in one, but let’s be real. Write words that pay or write in a journal. Which one would you choose? But writing some form of a journal here, that talks about the adventures of motherhood, writing, finding myself and maybe falling in love? Well, who wouldn’t want to read that?

OK, so two men popped into my head immediately, and to them I say, you probably don’t want to read my blog. Like I said, there was a lot of personal growth at the beach and the one thing I figured out is this: I don’t know who I am.

I’ve spent most of my life trying to please my mother, my ex-husband, my kids, my community… The list goes on. Nowhere on that list was me. That changes today. With this blog.

I’d like to say that I’m going to write here every day (we’ll see what happens). Lucy March did it after she got divorced on her A Year and Change blog. I discovered it recently while cruising the new blog she’s doing with Jenny Crusie and Anne Stewart, who are also taking this year to reFab themselves.

And now, so am I. So fasten your seatbelts folks, it’s going to be a bumpy ride.

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Christmas Reviews or The Evil Empire? Which Would You Face?

~ kimberly ~ Leave a comment

Christmas at my house means Star Wars. This year we had Star Wars coffee mugs, t-shirts from Vader and more video games than I can count. We even had Star Wars hot chocolate. Scout Son sagely informed me that there are only three Star Wars games that we do not currently own. He wasn’t asking for them, mind you, he’s analytical. He knows these things and feels the need to share.

Christmas came for me when my daughter got an Amazon gift card. After all the gifts were open, she went to the computer to carefully consider her purchases. Funny how when it’s their money the kids have to think about what they’re buying. When it’s my money, it’s how fast can we get the stuff into the cart.

So, she’s carefully shopping. Except for one thing. When she opened up our Amazon account, she looked at me and said, “Mom, can I buy your book?”

Merry Christmas to me! My kid wants to buy my book! Umm…hmm… My daughter wants to read my book?

Don’t get me wrong. I know she reads romance novels, and I’m fine with it. But now she’s going to read the one I wrote. That just seems like it’s skating on the line of Too Much Information. But it was so sweet, I couldn’t say no.

Luckily, Snarky Daughter reads about five books at a time, so there’s a really good chance I’ll never hear about this again. And it helps my sales numbers. Heaven help me if she decides to review it. Worse, what if it doesn’t hold up? What if she doesn’t like it?

Have I mentioned that writers are neurotic? Yes, it takes guts to put our books out there for people to read. But the reality is, once it’s out there, we can sort of ignore its existence and just accept the checks when they come in. If we don’t think about the fact that people are reading the books, we can get through the day.

On Christmas Eve, I got the email from Amazon that someone had reviewed The Heiress and Her Fake Fiancé. Remember that feeling you got in school when your teacher handed back the big assignment, but you hadn’t looked at the grade yet? Multiply that by 1,000 and you’ve got what a writer feels when they get a review.

I got the email in the middle of canceling a credit card, baking cookies, and last-minute wrapping. In the middle of all the holiday hoopla, I was not prepared to face a review. Who am I kidding? In the middle of winning the lottery I wouldn’t be prepared to face a review.

Please have it be someone I know. Please have it be someone I know…

Armed with a Hot Buttered Rum, I clicked on the link. Paranormal romance author, Regan Black, reviewed my book. I looked at the stars. Woo-hoo! A five-star review! And with that, I closed the computer and went back to making cookies. No, I didn’t read it right then. I couldn’t. Seriously, I had about a million more packages to wrap, and fingers to burn making pralines (another story) before I could go to bed and hope the reindeer dancing on the roof didn’t wake me up.

I did finally face the review, which is lovely, by the way. Even knowing it was going to be good, I still had pralines in hand. You never know when you’re going to need them! Because facing Darth Vader is easier than facing a review.

I should know. We face him daily, thanks to Santa.

Happy Holidays!

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Matchmakers Abound in My World

~ kimberly ~ 1 Comment

Matchmakers abound in my world these days, whether it’s Grandma “Gran” Violet in my upcoming release, The Heiress and Her Fake Fiancé, Amy in Regan Black’s The Matchmaker’s Mark, or Snarky Daughter’s friends. Or mine, for that matter. They’re everywhere!

“I know this guy. He’d be perfect.”

Sound familiar?

The all mean well. Even the bumbling 14 year-olds “helping” love along. Now truly, Regan and I are both happy these people exist in the world as they give us central characters in our books.

Writing about Gran was the most fun I’ve had in ages. Probably because I wasn’t her latest victim. Yes, Gran has a history. But Jess and Matt are definitely her toughest match to date. The problem with a matchmaker with a history is her victims know her tricks and will do anything to avoid them.

Like all matchmakers, Gran thinks she can force a man to move along before he’s ready. As an impatient woman, I understand the urge. Poor Jessica’s been waiting for Matt to get it together and notice her as something other than a 12 year-old for ten years. Luckily, when Gran drops her on his doorstep, Matt finally notices.

One of the best parts about being a romance writer is that I get to be a matchmaker all the time. No one gets hurt because I’m playing with the lives of characters, and I get to have all the fun. Although my characters are about as happy with the meddling as I am when it’s done to me. I like to pretend that I control everything in my books, but characters are just like real people. If you start taking them down a road they don’t want to go, they’re going to dig their feet in. Usually you can work with that. I mean, their reactions are honest. Who wants someone else making decisions for you?

But characters like Gran and Regan Black’s Amy are what bring layers to our stories. They make the stories believable. Because we’ve all been there. Even Snarky Daughter was recently a victim when over-zealous friends couldn’t wait for a young man to act on his feelings.

Unfortunately, 14 year-olds don’t know how to handle these situations as gracefully as 40 year-old men do. As we get older, we learn how to ignore matchmakers, laugh at their antics, or divert their attention to other victims. Whatever works. (Hey, I’m not noble. I freely admit to pointing a matchmaker toward another victim.)

Jess and Matt don’t have those choices since Gran is playing multiple games at once. Add in Jessica’s meddling father and you’ve got a whole lot of trouble for Jessica and Matt to juggle while Matt tries to find a wife who wants to stay in Blakely, their home town, and Jessica tries to figure out how far away she has to run to escape her family.

Grandma Violet is the reason Jess’ parents got together. Now she’s working on Matt and Jessica. If she’s successful, with them or her own love life, will she retire as Blakely’s matchmaker?

I doubt it. Let’s just hope she doesn’t bother Snarky Daughter. She’s got her hands full with two real-life matchmakers already.

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