Welcome to my world

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Jul 292010

There’s a certain writer who’s memoirs I used to devour. Each and every book made me feel like I was having a conversation with a really good girlfriend…with toe-nail painting and glasses of wine and the gab-fest spanning into the wee hours of the morning.

And when I found this writer on twitter, I went all fan-girl and followed. Fast. But I didn’t send a tweet right away. I didn’t want to seem desperate, you now.

Instead, I waited for one of her tweets to come across that seemed a natural for a response from a fan. I wasn’t too surprised when I didn’t get an immediate tweet back. I have 2 thousand followers. She has, um, way more than that. But I still had hope since I saw plenty of interaction with other fans. Maybe I just hadn’t said anything interesting yet.

So I tried again.

And again.

And again.

Still.

Nothing.

Coincidentally, I had just purchased one of this writer’s books. I had made it to the second chapter in the book right around the time I started talking to myself on twitter, and found myself wanting to pick up the book less and less with each ignored tweet.

Granted, the account may be manned by an assistant. Or maybe my stuff just isn’t being seen for some reason. God knows how many tweets this writer has coming in any given moment from adoring fans. But no matter how I rationalized not being acknowledged, I was still finding myself less and less interested in reading that book.

It took a conversation with TBFF Juliette for me to figure out why. I was rambling, like I usually do, about Stuff that Doesn’t Matter, including this very topic, when I suddenly had an epiphany. (That automatically made this a blog post because I don’t have those very often.)

“I know I’m not famous or anything, but I see her interact with other regular people.” I said. “But she writes memoir! That alone is like being allowed to peek inside her head. And not even getting a single “hi” or even a “thanks for the tweet!” makes me feel like she doesn’t want me there.”

“Makes sense,” Juliette said.

“It does?” I was stunned I said something that qualified. “Wait! It does! If she was writing fiction, I wouldn’t be nearly as annoyed. Fiction writers create worlds, but they don’t take you inside their own. And to me, it only makes sense to try and interact fully, if interacting at all, to make sure fans feel like that world is accessible. Instead of welcome, I feel like I’m eavesdropping on a private conversation with the rest of the world every time I try to open that book back up.”

On Birthdays and New Beginnings

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Jul 242010

It’s July 24.

It’s a big date for me.

For one, it’s the official start and end date of my year’s Baby F(Ph)at journey. I gave myself a year to lose 40 pounds and while I didn’t make that goal, I made huge strides in changing my outlook, my eating habits, and my understanding of the importance of never putting myself last on my to-do list again. My daughter, my husband, and the responsibilities I have to my family have and always will come first. Screw the bra-burning party. It’s just the way I’m wired. But I’m happy with second place.

I’d call that a success, which is also a big mental step for me. That alone shows me that I have realized my journey doesn’t stop when I type The End on the book.

There’s another reason that July 24 is important to me. My father would have turned 53 today. His number’s still in my cell phone. I used to call it, before my sister inherited his cell, just to hear his voice. But it’s been three years since he died unexpectedly. And I think it’s taken me this long to let go. There isn’t any more lingering guilt when I feel happiness or take a hard-earned moment’s peace to just be. I didn’t realize it until a few days ago, but this entire year has been more of a growing experience than I had ever planned for it to be. I settled into a new house thousands of miles away from my family and friends and brought my mother and one of my sisters with us. Made repeated trips back to the east coast for legal matters surrounding my father’s death, which led to a legal fight with certain (former) family members because my father had died without a will. And while I was gluing my heart back together, life kept moving forward. My dog died.  More pages were written. More steps taken to a happier and healthier me. My grandfather died. Buttercup turned three. And life kept moving on. More pages were written. And more steps taken to a happier and healthier me and in spite of the PCOS, the Insulin Resistance, the hypothyroid, I lost 16 pounds as of my last count. *throws confetti*

It’s been a hell of a year. But I survived. And I’m a better person for it, I think.

Did I realize the importance of this date when I decided to start writing chapter one 365 days ago? Yes and no. Of course I realized it was his birthday, but I didn’t start my book on July 24 intentionally. It just happened. And as the year progressed, I forgot about it…until I looked at the calendar again and realized what day my year’s journey would officially end.

I wrote a book for your birthday, Dad. How’s that for a new beginning?

Holding out

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Jul 142010

I recently read a BlogHer post by Renee J. Ross that got me thinking. She talks in depth about her public weight loss, the struggle, and the light at the end of the tunnel. She’s successfully lost quite a bit of weight and I applaud her.

She’s not the only one. There are countless women I could name, including Leah Segedie, Bookieboo.com founder and Mamavation Grand Mistress (that’s my title for her). The site and twitter hashtag are a source of support for moms trying to get fit and Leah is a great example. She’s lost a crazy amount of weight and uses her story to inspire others.

So where’s that leave me? Not on the winning side of the scale, but that’s a different blog post. Or maybe a chapter in my book.

And therein lies the dilema.

I started the blog the same day I started my book. I’ve wanted to write a book for an insanely long time and have had plenty of time to research the ins and outs of going about the business that comes with getting that dream off the ground. And I went in knowing that traditional publishers aren’t exactly going to do the happy dance when/if they get to reading your manuscript and find the entire thing plastered all over your blog.

So the plan from the beginning was to make the book the story of my weight loss attempt journey and the blog my mama-writer journey. I put a few snippets up here and there—little bits of the book—to give you an idea of what isn’t going on the blog, but for the most part I am doing my damnedest to make sure I don’t make my life harder whenever I get to the agent/editor/publisher portion of this little pipe dream.

Now, if this had gone another way and I had just started a blog first, gotten the attention of an agent, and had the Great Oz make all the rest of my dreams come true, too, this all may have gone a bit differently. I might be sharing more on Bookieboo. I might have gotten past the “Should I or Shouldn’t I?” and tried to win a spot in her Mamavation campaign. I may have vlogged more about my results for more accountability. I may have reached out for more support.

I maybe should have lost the weight first. And then written the book.

But then I remind myself that my goal from the beginning wasn’t to flash a number at The End and call it a day. It was to reach out, connect, and show anyone who picks up the finished product that success on the scale isn’t the only prize to be sought. Yes, it is an important goal. And one that we should continue to strive for. But the continuing to try part? Despite the craziness and obligations of motherhood? The getting up every morning after a hellacious day before and a hellacious day to come? I want moms to read my book and know that trying is a reason enough to feel good about themselves.

I know I could share more. But I really shouldn’t. And it’s not that I’m holding out. I’m just saving the juicy bits for the book.

And I can say that on my blog without blurring too many lines.

So I will.

A Comparison to Young Love

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Jul 112010

I’ve got a list of agents to query, a letter almost 100-percent ready to go, a pretty and polished proposal, 27 completed chapters, and that special combination of Ego and Angst us Creative Types are known for making the nerves just a little jumpier with every day that goes by.

What if the agents point and laugh when they see my ideas and my words? What if (worse) you point and laugh if when the book is actually published?

I’m sitting here as anxious as I was as I waited for my first date to pick me up, wondering if he’ll say I look pretty after all the time I spent on my make-up and the 14 outfit changes I went through before deciding on Just The Right One.

I know it’s human nature. Part of the process. And I know it’s going to become more pronounced as I get closer to Hitting Send on the email queries and sticking the stamps on the hard copies before slipping them into the mail box.(And I’m pretty close…so it’s getting pretty pronounced.)

But then I remind myself to hold on to the moments when Ego beats out Angst and remember that half-smile I saw in the mirror when as I finished getting ready on that date long so long ago…

It doesn’t matter when he says…

I already think I look pretty.

And if he doesn’t think so, that’s okay, too…because he’s not the only boy in the world.

What writing a book has taught me: Part 1

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Jul 082010

I’m not done yet. But I’m almost there. And I’ve learned a thing or 10 since I sat down with The Great Plan to write A Memoir.

1) What I planned and what I have are two different things.

2) But that’s not necessarily a bad thing.

3) Honesty doesn’t have to be camoflauged in humor.

4) Honesty makes the humor that much more relatable.

5) I write like I speak.

6) Which means the book wouldn’t ring true if I didn’t use the word “fuck” every now and then.

7) Sharing with strangers is easier than sharing with people I Actually Know because…

8 ) A stranger’s judgment comes without consequence and…

9) I may change my name and move to Bali when (and yes, I said when) gets published because…

10) I’m really not looking forward to the size of my ass becoming the topic of conversation at the next family gathering.

11) But I’m ready for my Manic Mommies interview. Oprah is so last year. Unless she decides to keep her show on the air and calls my future agent begging for me to take a seat on that famous couch of hers. Then I’m all about Oprah. Oh yes. My public awaits.

12) There is a story to be told in every moment.

13) Sometimes those moments move faster than the words can flow.

14) Related: Twitter is a great substitute for post-it note reminders. Tweet, favorite, refer to later.

15) It’s easy to compare myself to other writers and think I’m crazy for writing my book. I’m not them! I didn’t say that like they did! But that’s okay because…

16) That’s because I’m telling my story. In my voice.

17) Sleep is over-rated.

18) Typos are the bane of my existence.

19) Proposals and queries are not the root of all evil. Cellulite is. And that friction that comes from my inner thighs rubbing together when I forget to tug on the Spanx when I’m wearing a dress?

20) Mama can put herself first. The dishes will patiently wait till morning. So will the laundry. The child? Yeah…she needs to eat.

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