Day in the Life of...

What I'm Thankful for, in no particular order

2011-11-23T14:12:00.000-08:00

11/23/11

Here's a little list of things that just popped into my head. Of course, I'm grateful for my husband and child, but these are other things that I'm grateful for. I hope you all have a wonderful Thanksgiving! And think about your own list...

What I’m Thankful for, in no particular order.

Fresh out of the oven chocolate chip cookies.

All the new babies born this year, especially, Helen, Alexandra, Julia and soon to be baby girl Brock! Lots of girls in Astoria this yearJ

Open hearts and open minds

That awe you have at a live concert when the music feels like it’s just for you.

When things that could be difficult really are easy.

When Noah says, “I love you, mom,” without prompting then gives me a big hug.

When Johnny says, “I just fell in love with you again,” and I can see it in his eyes.

When I’m afraid, but manage to go forward anyway.

Friends who are like family to share the Thanksgiving feast!

Family who are spread everywhere, but I can still feel close in my heart.

Skype!

Fresh baked apple pie.

Books that are so good you read them extra slow to savor.

Movie previews in the movie theater

My mom.

My Family!

My healthy body so that I can dance, run, bend and twist

Imagination and dreams.

What do we really need?

2011-11-05T12:52:00.001-07:00

November 5, 2011

What do we really need? It’s a question that we rarely stop to ask ourselves. We live in a society so caught up in consumerism that we tend to think in terms of want. But what do we really need? Shelter. In the form of a two bedroom, 800 square feet apartment or a four-bedroom two-bath 1700 square feet home with a yard, washer/dryer, and beautifully spacious kitchen, don’t forget the fireplace. If I want to have another child then really three bedrooms would suffice. Even then many have two children in a two-bedroom home. So what do I want versus what I need. I just spent the last week house hunting not in New York City. So the idea of space suddenly seems imperative. If I can have a little more, why not a lot more? But what is truly necessary? A baby wouldn’t know the difference. However, my son would like a yard. His input on the whole thing.

Of course, once you get a house then you need to fill it. Right now I think I have more things than I need, yet if I moved to a big house I’d simply need the right furniture and the right accessories. So there are more “things” that I would surround myself with that I may or may not need. Admittedly a washer/dryer would be a wonderful necessity. But the espresso machine my husband wants would not be a necessity. Especially, since he drinks espresso about once a month.

Walk in to a Target, Macy’s, Bloomies, anywhere really and you are surrounded by things you must have. Aside from the grocery store, really, how much of what we purchase is a “must?” Don’t get me wrong we work hard to buy these “things” to live in pretty places, to surround ourselves with what makes us happy. I often fall into the trap of retail therapy too. But how much of what we buy really makes us happy? How much could we do without? How much better off would we be spending time instead of money?

These are questions I’ve been asking myself because New York is an expensive place to live. The basics for most people may be extras to us. I live here because I like the lifestyle. And shopping for a house outside of this city is not just a change of location, but really a complete change of lifestyle. So why I may be able to afford more, I will no longer be able to walk out my front door and stroll to the corner for groceries, amazing fruit and veggie stands, drug stores, restaurants galore, and a train to take me anywhere in the city. What I will get instead is more space for less money. Which in turn will allow me to spend more money on things to fill that space. Not that that doesn’t sound like fun, but it’s overwhelming too.

Lucky for me I don’t have to choose right now. We have no intention to move for at least a couple of years, if at all. The house will belong to our renters once we buy it. Would it be enough to own a house even if we never live in it? Let that house help pay for our lifestyle here.

So I come back to the question, What do we really need and is that enough? After the basics shelter, food, etc. there is love. And after that what? What makes us truly happy? Perhaps it is each other. So, why are we so driven by things? The attainment of objects seems to be a bigger driving force than the attainment of personal fulfillment. Achievement comes in many forms, but it seems monetary is the most notable in our society. I succumb to this as well. The want of money, the want of things, but really once in-a-while I think it’s important to step back and really ask what will make you happy. Yes, it may be a Mercedes. But if I look deeper there’s usually something more to it. There’s instant happiness in things, there’s long term joy in finding what you really need for you. It’s a longer journey, and why not take it in nice clothes, but when it comes down to finding your real smile I’m betting it’s something that cannot be bought, but rather earned or experienced.

What I learned from falling leaves.

2011-10-11T12:58:00.000-07:00

October 11, 2011

Yesterday, I had a glorious day. Drove two hours out of the city and found myself in rolling hills full of changing leaves. The drive North along the Hudson was stunning. We ended up at Apple Wood orchard in Chester, NY. We picked apples, ate home made apple cider doughnuts, tasted New York State wines, picked a pumpkin for carving, and stumbled upon a harvest festival in an artist colony. Basically, had a dream of a day with my family. As we drove home through the gorgeous views of what I think were the foothills of the Catskills I began to question my usual begrudging of fall.

Every year as the leaves begin to change color and the temperature drops I threaten to get out my staple gun and staple the leaves back onto their branches. It always seems that summer is too short, as a Florida girl I love summer. Summer dresses, swimming in the ocean, picnics, long days spent outdoors in the sunshine. To soon it seems the days grow shorter and cooler. Fall is beautiful, but it's a harbinger of winter. Which for me means freezing cold for too long. Hands like ice, feet numb, artificial drying heat, chapped lips, and pale skin. But what I'm learning from my son, believe it or not, is to appreciate each season as it comes.

Once a child comes into your life it's up to you to create wonder out of every time of the year. So each season does truly bring something new and beautiful. We must have done a good job last year because some how a Florida girl and an Arizona boy gave birth to a child whose favorite season is winter. He can't wait for the snow. And yes, with him, we had a great time last year. He loved playing in the snow. He even said he loved being cold. Where did he come from?

His easy acceptance of each new season, of each new thing that comes into his life got me thinking about change in general and of accepting change as it comes. Often times I resist change. Even simple changes like the new face of Yahoo. For weeks I pressed the NOT NOW button to keep my email the same knowing it would have to change over by the end of the month. Is this because I never really had seasons when I was growing up? We celebrated the changes without really having the weather to back it up. Probably not why I resist change. But I am learning to be more accepting of the weather and to actually enjoy the seasons as they come because of my son. The fall treats and foods that are new to the farmers market. The cooler days, the beautiful falling leaves. Yes, I have to say good-bye to summer and pack away my bathing suit, but there's so much that comes with each new season. Fall gives a feeling of starting over, the beginning of school and a fresh start to the year.

On the grander scale I'm trying to accept the changes in my life with hope. It is inevitable that things change, my son grows each day, the world around us shifts, we are continually witnessing new things and this is good. The changes that come to us known or unknown are a chance for us to experience something new and to challenge ourselves. It's good to get out of our comfort zone whether we're forced out or find our own way into something new. The seasons remind us of this. Just as we are settling into one, another comes along. Nature is anything but stagnant. Perhaps we should grow in spring, thrive in summer, prepare in fall, and rest in winter. Our lives and ideas may not always follow the seasons, but if we follow Mother Nature's guidance we might find ourselves more willing to accept the unexpected and see the beauty in change.

You Failed Yoga

2011-09-30T06:49:00.000-07:00

September 30, 2011

A few weeks ago I was at yoga and in my usual way was working hard to find the right position. It was a standing-balancing pose where you hold your leg out in front of you with your hand and then try and keep your standing leg straight. As an ex-ballerina I love these poses because I still have some flexibility and it feels good to see your leg rise above where it should logically go. Of course, none of this is what you’re supposed to be doing or thinking about when you’re practicing yoga. And don’t get me wrong I struggle with these poses too, but I like the challenge. So there I am balancing, breathing, stretching, focusing and the instructor walks by and says “wrong arm,” and he must have seen the embarrassed look on my face as I quickly tried to grab my foot with the other hand, because then he said, “You failed yoga.” He was joking, of course, but the idea got me thinking and has stuck with me.

“You failed yoga.” Is that possible? If it were, would I? Yoga is a journey. It’s not a pass/fail kind of thing, a lot like life isn’t a pass/fail kind of thing. And yoga is something that can vary every day. Some days you are much stronger than others. Some days you are ready to reach into every pose and expand. Other days your body needs nurturing, there is something achy or off and those days you’re better off listening and moving gently. This is the ideal, but usually when I get on the mat I push everything as far as I can go. It’s always been the way I exercised, from kickboxing to ballet. I wanted to reach the “right” pose, the right stamina; if there was a goal I wanted to reach it. Yoga is somewhat the same way. For years I could not do a headstand, it was as much a mental block as a physical, but it was a goal that I tried to reach every time I got on the mat. I’ve hurt myself trying to force my body when it wasn’t ready to do something. So you think I would learn.

Yet, I still struggle with that concept. Of taking my time to achieve whatever it is I’m trying to achieve. Life is not a straight line. And as much as I hate to go back to go forward I’ve had to accept the path. If you can’t fail yoga perhaps you cannot fail life. There are failings. However, there are lessons to be learned from these failings and as long as you use those lessons, eventually, you’ve turned that failing into something else. The best lessons come from failures. It’s true. They stick with us because they hurt.

So what’s the lesson here? I can’t change my personality, but I can accept that some days it’s ok to fail. Life is a journey not a test. There are days I feel that I’m being tested, but if I do the wrong thing chances are the next time that same issue comes up (and it will, especially in motherhood) I can try a different approach. Life is not about getting it “right” but finding what’s right for you along the way. That’s what is so great about this journey. We each can choose our own adventure, and if one doesn’t work out there’s another to try. The greatest opportunities come from the hurtles we face and failures we overcome. In life and yoga it is more important how we approach each challenge rather than if we succeed because as long as we keep trying we have not failed. And though it shouldn’t matter, I can now do a headstand.

Where were you on 9/11?

2011-09-09T05:45:00.000-07:00

September 9, 2011

“Where were you on 9/11?” I’m preparing to answer that question because inevitably it’s asked this time of year and I’ll be working so I’ll be asked by strangers to recount my day. Great. I’d rather not, but if you insist. I was shacking up in someone else’s bed. Probably would have slept through the entire thing if his roommate hadn’t woken us up. I’ve never been a 9-5 girl and at that point I was single in the city and late nights were the norm. His roommate said, “One of the World Trade Center Towers just fell.” My response from the crumpled sheets, “You’re lying.”

Ten years ago I had to admit this to my parents when I finally got through to them on someone else’s cell phone. “No, Dad, I’m not at home (my apartment was on the Soho-Chinatown border at the time) I’m safe. I’m, um, I’m in Queens.” I think he was just happy to hear my voice because back then we had answering machines and landlines and I was nowhere near my landline.

The day as I look back on it was surreal in many ways. The first, of course, is rushing outside and seeing your city wounded as black smoke streams from the one remaining tower. Watching, praying that people are getting out. We watched the tower fall. Shocked, scared, unsure of what to do next. We got dressed and came up with the plan of donating blood. It was all we could think of to do to help. And for some reason it was imperative for us to be helping or trying to do so. We walked to the nearest hospital and offered. But they were already stocked. We were turned away. There were injuries, but not nearly as many as they’d thought there would be. When the towers finally fell you were either in or out.

The next thing we did was walk to Geoff and Amy’s apartment to check on them. Again, I was with a guy I’d been dating for a few months and his roommate. I couldn’t get home because all subway service had been halted. Not that I wanted to rush into the city or away from said guy, as it was a very emotional day. However, I had never met Geoff and Amy, but they were both wonderfully welcoming and full of stories. They both had walked home from the city and had made it safely. They were all friends from college and I was a bit of an outsider, however, I was never made to feel that way and somehow being in Geoff and Amy’s apartment was comforting, being in a group was comforting. Just having people around was better than witnessing this alone. There was talk of other friends and making sure everyone was all right. By then I’d gotten in touch with my own roommate, Michele, and knew she was among friends in the city.

After we left Geoff and Amy’s apartment we went to the grocery store and bought the makings of comfort food. I can’t even remember what it was we made, but there was definitely some binging. As the day wore on and subway service was restored I felt the need to go home. I wanted to see my apartment, and check on my city. I could have stayed another night in the comforting arms of that guy, but there was something inside me making me return to the city as unstable as it was.

It took me quite a while to get home. I remember the sun just beginning to set as I left Queens and not reaching my door until it was very dark. I took a train to 42^nd street where all train service stopped. Then took a bus to 23^rd Street where all bus service stopped. The bus ride was eerie because there were stations of Army Reserves. Army vehicles far out numbered regular cars. It looked like a scene from a movie I’d never want to see. When I got out on 23^rd I was alone on the streets. New York City and I was pretty much alone. The streets were all blocked off and occasionally a police car or rescue vehicle would blow by me on the empty road. Speeding without obstruction faster than I bet anyone’s ever gone on those streets before. I hoped they were able to help whoever they were speeding towards.

When I got to 14^th Street the entire road was blocked off. Nobody could go past without showing ID. Again, something I’d never imagined in my life a police line across the entire island of Manhattan. I showed my ID and was let through. I walked down those quiet streets and began to smell the smoke. The acrid, chemically, foreign smell that would become my constant companion for the next 6-8 months. It was a beautiful night, would almost have been a romantic stroll through the city if it weren’t for the smell and the pit in my stomach mimicking the hole in my city.

I made it to Houston Street and another roadblock across the island of Manhattan. This time my ID was even more intensely scrutinized. Though, clearly, I was just a girl trying to get home. They were kind, the policemen, they were a little lost too. Unsure of what they were suppose to be looking for. Keeping out those that were just curious, guarding the place from any more attacks, protecting citizens from the dangers of smoldering buildings. I trudged on, my downtown address a key to unlocking this crazy nightmare. Why did I want to keep going south? My roommate was not going to be there. She was staying with a girlfriend. Why did I want to be there? I still don’t understand it myself, but I wanted to be home, even if it smelt bad, even if it wasn’t entirely safe. I wanted to be in my own bed among my own things. There was a comfort in that.

I had walked about a mile and a half, maybe two to get home. Not a big deal normally, but once I got home I was exhausted. I remember listening to my messages play from the answering machine and crying. I had so many calls from people checking up on me. Some from people I hadn’t heard from in a long time, many from family all over the country. I was grateful and embarrassed that I hadn’t been home to receive their calls. But then I was grateful again that I was not home to receive their calls because then I would have been home alone and far too close to the action. My apartment at the time was about a mile and a half east and a little north of the World Trade Center. It was perfectly fine, but I would have been a wreck.

I will never forget that day or the weeks and months that followed. I will never forget crossing police lines to get home, the unnerving silence of the streets below 14^th. I will never forget the thousands of MISSING posters that covered every inch of open space. The reality sinking in that most of those missing were never going to be found. I will never forget the guilt I felt at not having known someone personally that was lost. My roommate, who works in finance, had lost several close friends and I someone I’d met once or twice through her. Her grief seemed so real and substantial. She had funerals to attend. I was in the arts most of my friends weren’t even awake when it happened. It didn’t seem right for me to grieve. What had I lost really? Mine was this intangible poser grief. I didn’t have a face to mourn, but I had lost, something. I felt this incomprehensible sorrow. Sorrow for the heroes that had fallen, for the innocent people who had lost their lives, and for their families. I was surrounded by this sorrow for months, saturated in the smell of a smoldering city. I was grieving for universal losses. Grieving for my innocence. It was difficult to bury. What I remember most is what beautiful weather we had that autumn. As if God knew we needed sunlight to begin healing.

The tenth anniversary is Sunday. What I’d like to remember is the time in-between. I married the man I woke up with that morning, Johnny. I’ve been to grad-school and wrote the non-fiction part of my thesis on “A Writer’s Role in Tragedy.” I read about every fiction book on 9/11 written by 2008 and must say I’m still trying to make my peace with the topic. I’ve written a novel or two. And have an amazing little boy. I’m still living in New York and truly consider it my city.

Geoff and Amy are married and have two beautiful little girls. They’ve moved from NY to Phoenix and then to Philadelphia. They will be visiting us this weekend and somehow that just makes sense.

My roommate is still in New York and is happily married. She and her husband travel often, but always seem to find their way back here.

So when someone asks me, “Where I was on 9/11?” It’s difficult to give a simple answer. So if I tell you, “I was here,” understand that that is answer enough.

Once a week for half a day

2011-09-02T12:16:00.000-07:00

September 2, 2011

Must get this out so I can get some work done. Just dropped Noah off for his first day of school. Admittedly, it’s one day a week for a half day, but he gave me the biggest hug and then said, “Ok, bye.” So he was just fine. I however, was in tears walking away because I heard him explaining to the teacher that he was an express train and I’m not sure she got the “Noah speak” and it just made me realize that no one will ever love that little guy as much as me. And you trust strangers, almost strangers, with these amazing little creatures that you spend so much time with. Whose every nuance you pretty much understand and hope that these strangers are kind and don’t crush this amazing little creature that you love so much. It’s a leap. And I think the longer you stay at home with your children perhaps the harder it is to let go. Then again, I think dropping off a tiny baby is probably even harder than what I did today. Either way the first time you leave that little child in the hands of someone else it’s difficult.

Then I get to Starbucks where I hope to get some real grown up work done and I get my tea. Set up the computer and low and behold “The Rainbow Song” comes on. The song Noah and I sang together last night before I tucked him in. Our song, “The Rainbow song,” so I lose it in the middle of Starbucks. And I’m trying to blame my PMS even though it’s not that time and I’m trying to think about my new book and how much I just wanted time to work on it. But the rainbow song got me. So I had to write this all down before I could move on to my grown-up day.

I’m a mom first and foremost, then a writer. I wife first, true, but mom has more responsibilities than anything else I’ve ever done. A life time of responsibilities and even when you finally get your child off to nursery school, mind you it’s one day a week for a half day, you still think about that little guy. Now don’t get me wrong the eyes are drying up and I’m excited to begin doing some real work. But it’s nice to reflect on the most amazing creature in my life while he’s not here. I love him so much and have to trust that even if his teacher doesn’t get everything he says, she’ll try.

To Be Organic Or Not To Be Organic?

2011-03-06T12:34:00.000-08:00

March 6, 2011

Um sorry for the delay. I seem to have gotten caught up in all the small stuff. Like what should I write about? Fifty topics a day swim through my head, but seem to shuttle off before I get to the computer.

Recently, I've been involved in researching organic products. To be specific yoga mat wash. But the same rule applies for every certified organic product in the U. S. from wine to waffles to cleaning products. Which is if you can afford to pay the fees to the powers that be you too can be certified organic. There is no product testing. It is basically an honor system. Which is unfortunate for those smaller businesses that are starting out and are doing everything organically, but cannot claim it on their labels because they cannot afford the fees. Or for companies that are making many different products and have to pay fees to certify each individual product even if the components are all basically the same.

I'm sure there are many products that circumvent this with creative verbiage on their labels, but how many of us buy products because they are certified organic? And how many of us would buy products that we knew were organic even if the label didn't tell us? How would we have any way of knowing?

At the restaurant where I work this conversation came up recently. Many wine makers have been growing grapes organically and using biodynamic processes (literally harvesting grapes by the light of a full moon and such) for years, but still can't claim to be organic until they pay the fees. Many winemakers could care less if the world knows they do what is best for the grapes, but would it effect their sales? Not sure, but certain food products and even cleaning products most likely would increase sales if their earth friendly ways were more well known.

Not that I want to decrease regulations where food or our health is concerned, but perhaps make it easier for companies that are making several organic cleaning supplies to certify their ingredients or perhaps their facilities.

I'm just beginning to learn about this process. And as a consumer to keep an open mind. However, the question comes then if two products where side by side and one said all natural and the other was certified organic (same price) which would you put in your grocery tote?

Keep Thinking and Reading!

XO,

Don't Forget Yourself

2011-01-25T19:02:00.000-08:00

   January 25, 2011

   Last Sunday I had the good fortune to sneak away for a ladies brunch. We were celebrating a friend of mine's birthday. AND it was wonderful! A few unencumbered hours of girl talk, great food, and lots of vino! Now for those of you who are single this does not seem like a big deal, in fact you may do this every week. For those of you in a new relationship there's no way you'd sneak out of a warm bed on a freezing January morning if someone isn't paying you to. Those in longer relationships or married a few years may be back to your former brunch status, but the hubby/or boyfriend will probably be tagging along (and in truth you want him there!) And for those of you who have young children the art of brunch, and I mean a good two-three hours at least, is a very rare occasion.
   However, after having reacquainted myself with this lost art I wondered why I don't insist upon this luxury every week. Well, perhaps it wouldn't be as special if it happened every week. Maybe the conversation wouldn't have been as lively if we'd seen each other frequently. It was a wonderful mix of ladies. Three of us were moms, one pregnant, two single girls, a few actresses, a P.H.D., personal trainer, some old friends and some I'd met for the first time. I was grateful to my friend Shannon for bringing us all together on that frigid Sunday morning.
   So why were these three hours so special? Why did it feel like I was getting a glimpse of my former self. I see my mommy friends at least once a week if not more. The difference, of course, is we always have our children in tow. It was lovely to be free to speak our minds, laugh, and hear about the single girls' issues. Something we haven't dealt with in a while. The dating, the men, the boys, the craziness of being single in NYC. Not that I want that life again, I just like hearing about it once in a while rather than stressing about why I haven't signed my son up for pre-school already. If I don't act fast all the good ones will be full by September. Enough. It was great to hear about my mommy friends outside lives. The projects they are doing, the books they've been reading. Not once did we talk about toddler beds, or potty training. We actually are interesting people too! Did you know the French Horn has a thumb key? I did not until Sunday.
   I'd love to say we vowed to do it again next Sunday, but that would be too soon. Like going to Vegas two weekends in a row. What I did learn is that it's important to take time to remember and enjoy yourself outside of being a mom, or wife, or (enter your job description here) it's good to just laugh, and listen, and let the girl in you shine through! Alas, we did decide that we should start a book club...Is that an excuse to get together and chat? Yes. Will we discuss the book? I believe so. Will there be wine? Absolutely!

Buy the Book...

I Don't Know Jack

First Run of the Year!

2011-01-06T18:26:00.000-08:00

January 5, 20011

There's something about taking a little break from your exercise routine and then returning to a healed, energized, raring to-go body! The last few weeks I've been under the weather, that combined with the holiday rush, travel, and family time left me practically exercise free for three weeks. Those few sunny strolls along the beach don't count.

You might say that if you took that much time off it would be impossible to start back up. Your body may revolt or those hard earned muscles may begin to atrophy. Perhaps. I'm not a workout expert, but if you've had some form of exercise routine for a few years letting it go for a week or two will not wreck all the work you've done. Your body will rest and heal. Don't get me wrong there were moments when all I wanted to do was jump on the nearest treadmill, but the cold kept me in bed. Grant it my body was telling me to rest. This time I was able to let it. Normally, I'd still have to get up with my son. But at my mom's house she was there to do that for me. I didn't have to clean, or plan meals, or do any of the things that keep me from napping at nap time. I slept in for almost a week!

Not to mention it was over the holidays, so there was plenty to eat. Add to that the idea of guilt-free vacation eating and I was in heaven. Luckily, my cold did not warrant a chicken noodle soup only diet. Plus, I still managed to enjoy some wine and margaritas (not on the same night) which may be why the cold lingered longer than it should. To that end it was a marvelous holiday. I still played and indulged, but was able to rest enough in-between to keep going.

So it was not until I returned to New York after three extra days in Florida (thank you blizzard) that I began feeling up to exercise. Mind you I knew it was time. My body ached to run, leap, headstand, whatever. I could not spend another day in inertia. The weather was in the thirties so I went to the gym. I flirted with the idea of a yoga class, but really wanted some hard core cardio to jump start my metabolism. (Again not a workout expert, just felt that was what the body was craving.) My favorite elliptical machine by the window was available, however, I walked right past it to the treadmill. I haven't run in quite a while I really prefer to do it outside and once it dips below 50 degrees I'm done until spring. But on this particular day I really wanted to run.

I stepped up. Set my time. Blasted my ipod, and let my body take over. I was shocked at how good it felt! All that rest and relaxation meant that not one inch of my body felt kinked or tight. My muscles felt oiled and happy to be in use. I panted a little, but that was only when I did the incline sprints. (Yeah I went for it!) Everything was just as I had left it. Almost. That day I left the gym after my stretching and ab work feeling invigorated and ready to tackle the New Year. It was amazing.

If you've given yourself some time off from your workouts don't fear the return. Your body will remember, eventually, and when it does it will thank you... I won't mention the day-after soreness.

Happy Running:)

Ringing in the New Year Alone - The Highlights

2010-12-31T20:04:00.000-08:00

December 31, 2010

Here I am 10:15pm New Year's Eve all alone...sort of. My son sleeps soundly in the next room and my hubby is at work, but I won't be kissing anyone come midnight so for all celebrating purposes I'm alone at this moment. The year creeping to a close around me, the dirty New York snow piled up outside, I could be on the brink of tears. I mean just because I'm a mom does not mean I don't want to be out on a night like this or even snuggled on the couch with my man and a bottle of bubbly.

Alas, I am here doing something else. Tentative, not wanting to bring in the New Year on a bad note, but here, writing and it's making me feel a bit better. Listening to music of my own choice...a mix...a little depressing, but lovely and contemplative too. So it's quiet and that means I get to think about my past year. The successes and the failures. We all do this at the beginning of the year. Usually, about the 3rd of January after the hangover has worn off and the time for resolutions has begun. New Year's Eve is usually spent in revelry. We made it through the past year and we toast the endless possibilities of the year to come. It's exciting to think of what the future will bring. To say good-bye to the mistakes of our past. We bask in the best of us, "Here's to all that we can be!"

But tonight I'm not drinking due to a lingering cough and rather than look too far forward I can't help, but think about 2010. Because seriously, it feels like just last week I was making my resolutions for 2010. Where did it go? I mean I was supposed to have accomplished so much. Perhaps even have a new job... so much for that. Blogger does not count. I was supposed to have taught my son the alphabet. He knows a few letters, but can count to 20. OK that's his accomplishment not mine. I was supposed to have finished editing my husbands screenplay. He's the most forgiving boss I've ever had. I could go on and on, but that's my tedium not yours. Suffice it to say that I've much to do in 2011.

Of course, 2010 wasn't a waste. No year ever is. I've learned a great deal more about the publishing business. I taught a successful class of one student, but damn if she did not become a little bit better writer because of me. I published a novel. Had some amazing times traveling to see family and friends. Laughed a lot with my love. Cried less than in past years. Spent many a happy day in the park with Noah. Shared a few bottles of wine and great conversations with my mommy friends, and my non mommy friends. Felt like a writer. Had a few stolen moments in the sun. Read some really great books.

I guess it wasn't a bad year at all. Just a bit meandering. So for 2011 I resolve to focus on my writing career. Manage my time better. So that I can keep my mommy 'day' job, but support it better with some night time words. It sounds so simple. But it takes discipline. Perhaps, I should up the yoga in 2011 too. Just for good measure. Let's see, I always add a cook more interesting meals resolution as well. That sounds about right.

Now it's your turn. What do you resolve for 2011? Whatever it is I wish you success. I also wish you good humor for any failures. Be kind to yourself, gentle with your soul.

Happy New Year!!!
XOXO
PS I wish you all a kiss at the stroke of midnight!

Best Last Minute Gift

2010-12-24T05:26:00.000-08:00

                                                                                   Decemeber 24, 2010

You're panicing. It's the day before Christmas and you've still got a few loose ends on your 'nice' list. I've got the perfect gift for you. It doesn't cost much and comes in thousands of varieties so you can find one for anyone you love or are only mildly aquainted. It can be as intimate as lingerie or as platonic as Christmas socks. One stop shopping for the entire family leaving you with plenty of time for Christmas cheer.

Curious?

Head on into your local bookstore and you will find something for everyone on your list. Children are probably the easiest to buy for in this catagory because the children/tween section is loaded with amazing, imagination-building books. For really little ones the "If You Give a Moose a Muffin" series by Laura Numeroff is always a hit. For the tweeners I hear "The Red Pyramid" by Rick Riordan is the way to go. But then there's always the latest in teenage angst vampire novels. No shortage of those any time soon.

But what about my dad? Husband? New-sort of dating, but not quite sure, guy in my life? Well, there's plenty of non-fiction out there that I'd recommend for men. A book on one of their favorite hobbies from beer-making to boating. Sports books abound if they're into golf or baseball. Then there are the mountains of history books that men seem charmed by. There's always the latest biography of Benjamin Franklin a Renaissance man, to say the least. Travel books are great if you want to hint at a certain future vacation destination.

Then there are the more intimate purchases. The more expensive coffee table books. These are beautifully made books, with pictures and articles about subjects like Man Ray to picturesque mountain scapes. These kinds of books are a "wow" gift if you give a little thought as to what the person you're buying for is really into.

You could also go the 'couple' cookbook route which can be very sexy. Buy the ingredients for one of the desserts so you can dive in as soon as the relatives fly out.

While we're in the cook book section you could pick-up one for your sister (if she's into that) or your young mom friend who's trying to find kid friendly recipes that her kids will actually eat. Cook books for the right person can be a wonderful Christmas present.

Lastly, we come to my favorite section. Fiction. These are the books you buy for people you know a little bit better. There are so many to choose from it's difficult to narrow down if you don't know someone that well. But take a chance! Buy what you'd like to read.  "The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo" series are very popular. And I know, they are everywhere. Honestly, though, they are a good read. One I'm dying to read myself is "Great House" by Nicole Krauss. Take your time, take a deep breath, and judge those books by thier covers.

When you stroll out of your favorite book store you'll feel the weight of your Christmas stress fade away. Now all you have to do is wrap!

Merry Christmas!

XO

A Grammar Rebel

2010-12-14T18:44:00.000-08:00

December 14

I'm going to admit a dirty little secret. One that as a writer is really quite embarrassing, but here it goes. I have terrible grammar. It sticks out when I first begin writing something, however, once I find the flow of the story it settles down and I discover the natural tone of our language. I have a fabulous editor and many grammars that save my skin, but it's still there lurking. I've never put too much thought into where or when these grammar rules began. Was it an ancient Queen who decided as she sat about at tea that took was simple better sounding than taked? Was it further back when English was formed from a mesh of Germanic derivations? And why am I thinking about this now?

I have a son who is just beginning to put this confusing unexacting language together. He's doing quite well. Sentences flow out of his little mouth that were impossible only a few months ago. He's also making connections in the language, creating the past tense of words on his own. For example, he'll say "I saved you." Which works. Yet, he'll also say, "I catched you," which doesn't. He's making these
language leaps which is very exciting, but I still feel the need to correct him. I don't say he's doing it wrong. I simply say the correct phrase so he can hear it. "I caught you." I assume this is a natural way of learning our language because I know I've never said, "I maked dinner." And sometimes he'll say things with spot on accuracy.

It's interesting to me as a lover of words how our mind grasps and builds our speech patterns. Really, it's beyond the diagraming of sentences because before we ever get to school so much of these rules are already in use, if not completely understood. We're processing the natural pacing of conversations, speaking with a decent vocabulary, and communicating rather clearly before we ever learn to read. So why is it that what seems natural to a child, and perhaps within the language itself, is wrong? What's wrong with shaked rather than shook? Who decided? Why is it i before e except after c? Why is c so special?

I realize that language is a living thing. That these changes and grammar rules did not all come about at once. And being part of a civilized society we agree to these rules as we do to the constitution. But I can relate to those school children who question just why our language is so quirky. It's not like that in the romance languages, most of their rules are absolute. Exceptions are a rarity. Not the norm.

It's funny that I never thought about grammar as having an origin before my son brought this to my attention. I've always tried so hard to squeeze my creative mind into the uniformity of English grammar. Hated myself for the abundance of red on my diagramed sentences. Wanted so badly to conform that I did not question. Alas, it is time. For out of the mouth of babes I've seen that our language does have a natural pattern that we have imposed our uppity rules upon. Could I let my son be the rebel that I myself cannot be? Allow him to lead a grammar revolution. (Text language not withstanding.) Try as I might I cannot, for I must correct him, I can't help myself.

First Novel Reading

2010-12-09T18:25:00.000-08:00

   December 9, 2010

   So Friday night was my first big reading! I was psyched to get out there and let the world hear a little "I Don't Know Jack." I dressed up. Wore the nice jeans not the mommy ones and believe me there is a difference. Put on my makeup like I used to do for nights out clubbing. And loaded my bag with BOOKS to sell! Then headed down to Tribeca for the reading. Now I'll give you this it was a small start. A reading that a fellow grad student was putting on in support of her budding theater company. But by start time the small room was packed! A wonderful sign. Plus, the first few readers were fantastic. They spanned the arc of fiction, memoir and monologue. What a treat these writers were to hear, and they'd brought with them an excellent group of literary aficionados.
   I was the first reader after the break. I'd finished my one glass of wine, enough to take the edge off, but not enough to cause slurring, a fine line on an empty stomach. Listened to my introduction and then walked up to the podium. My BOOKS stacked neatly on the table next to me. I couldn't believe I was reading next to a pile of my own BOOKS. It was a little surreal. I smiled, gave a brief summary of where I was reading from in the novel, opened the book in my hand (saw my own name on the cover, and got giddy) then began.
   Now an important note to myself when reading from a book where the main character is a man... make sure the audience gets it. For the first few lines, as I described my ex girlfriend seductively sprawled out on the couch, I could see the audience trying to place me in the scene. But it wasn't my scene it was Jack's. So I tried to make it clear when I read the standing up pissing part that I was, indeed, reading as a man. By that point, I'm pretty sure they were with me. Or else they just thought I was a very strange girl.
   As I continued on they were definitely riding my wave and it felt great. I wasn't a let down after the other readers, but an addition to help round out a night of excellent storytelling. I even got a few laughs, even better, they were at the right places! As I read my last line, "I'm finding in paranoia there is clarity," the room filled with applause and I left the podium feeling certain my words had rested on a few hearts that night.
   Now for the most amazing part. I did not sell a single BOOK. Here I was surrounded by a room full of kindred spirits. Artists, writers, actors and creative types that find themselves at readings on Friday nights... of course that explains it right there. We're all broke!
   So I took with me some really great compliments, left a few cards in hopes people will go to the website, and walked out into the cool city air. It was a beautiful night for a stroll, just me and my bag of Books!!!

I Don't Know Jack

I Get the Hype

2010-12-04T18:30:00.001-08:00

September 10, 2010

I figured I better put my money were my mouth is and actually see what the e-reader phenomenon is all about. Yesterday I downloaded the ibooks app to my iphone. Guess what book comes with the download? Winnnie-The-Pooh by A. A. Milne! So I began scrolling through the pages and to add to the wonder I discovered the book comes with full illustrations (or decorations as they are called in the book) by Ernest H. Shepard. My iphone suddenly seemed less like a technological device and more like a magic carpet. Every bit of the book was there in its original form. Not that I suspected it would be different, but I thought the small screen would mess with the formatting, or the printing would be uniform, Times New Roman. I had an idea what e-reading would be like, after all I’ve been writing on computers forever. Yet, seeing an actual book reproduced so perfectly filled me with hope!

I even liked the way the app opens up to a virtual bookshelf. Such a simple idea, but one an avid book collector (or as avid as one can be in a small New York apartment) can feel comfortable browsing through, a home away from home like the stacks in the library. Don’t get me wrong as cool as the app is it is not a tactile experience. Hence, the virtual aspect of the e-book, it’s like fingering through a novel, but not quite.

It seems the designers have thought of everything. They have ways to highlight passages, and even choose your own color…pink for me. You can leave yourself notes on the text and bookmark your spot. It’s very user friendly I must say, even me a low-tech girl was able to figure it all out. However, I still see myself taking notes on a piece of paper and scribbling down page numbers of memorable paragraphs. For me it would be faster to reference later. Admittedly, I am a bit old fashion. Perhaps, I’ll eventually, embrace the e-reader completely.

What is wonderful about this is that I’m one step closer to having my own book available. I also realize that I have choices to make as far as font and book jacket design. It’s rather fantastic. The text, the story is important, but then so is the cover. After all we all judge books by their covers. And though we can’t see what people are reading on the subway when they use e-readers, (and secretly judge their book taste) it’s still important to welcome the reader into the book. Urge them onward with a gentle title page. Subtly express what the story is about with a poem or phrase. Let them linger on the names of the dedication and wonder at who they are or once were. All of this before the reader ever gets to the first chapter. I’ve lots of decisions to make.

I’m off to go font-shopping…opinions are welcome.

Author to Bookmaker

2010-12-04T18:26:00.000-08:00

September 23, 2010

Seriously, there has to be a programming guy out there who can make one e-book readable for all e-readers. I spent way too long last night formatting and reformatting and reformatting my novel in order to get it into a language that works for several different media. I realize that that’s why ‘publishers’ get the big bucks because they are the ones stuck with all the tedious work. However, being as I managed even with my low-tech knowledge it makes you wonder how necessary the publishers are? With less money being spent on marketing new authors and more going to already established, sure thing authors like Mr. Dan Brown. Really, he needs more press? You wonder if perhaps this self-publishing is a smart way to go?

Now don’t get me wrong I had about a million questions last night that I had to go and find answers to myself. So what would probably take a publisher tech guy two minutes to do kept me searching for hours. It’s a learning experience, and by the end it really will be my book alone. Aside from the cover art which a fantastic artist, friend (Tony Parker) did I will have created the entire thing. It may cost me a ridiculous amount of time that could have been spent writing a new book. However, in the end it very well may be worth it.

I now know the difference between a .doc and a .pdf file. I know the standard template measurements for an industry paperback. I learned that my novel could be 326 pages, 478 pages, or 218 pages depending on how it’s formatted. Really. For those of you interested the final edition will be around 218 pages, which is cost effective for the reader. I learned that chapters begin on odd numbered pages. So they’ll always start on the right. How many books have I read and never really paid attention to something so simple. I’m not sure if the technical aspect of books is something that will enhance my joy. I’ve always loved them for the stories inside and never had to think about how they were actually put together. Though, maybe I will appreciate them even more for the time that someone took to develop the cover, format the copyright pages, and the title page before the author’s words are ever read. Perhaps, once this is all finished I’ll be able to don two hats author and bookmaker. Not that I’ll be opening up a bookmaking shop anytime soon. I’ve got another novel in mind that’s just waiting to be written!

Book Trailers? I think not.

2010-12-04T18:24:00.000-08:00

September 18, 2010

Getting closer to the publishing date! Finished rereading and reediting the novel last night and, of course toasted myself with some wine. What I felt was that this is a good story. I’ve been away from it for a while and found some gems in the writing as well. There was some overwriting too, as to be expected from a first novel, but nothing that wasn’t easily toned down. Overall, I was pleasantly surprised and hope you are too!

Now I have to move on to the technical aspect of all of this. I begin putting this novel out there in the world very soon. I’ve got to e-publish and then figure out how to create a pod cast. Yup, that’s me super high –tech over here. Working the on-line marketing angels as best I can. Any other suggestions are, of course, welcome. I’ve found they have these things now called book trailers. Like movie trailers, but for books. Honestly, they’re kind of hilarious. I mean some are actually mini movies for the books. A lot of them are in the sci-fi, suspense, or mystery genre. They kind of lend themselves to that kind of marketing. But there are a lot of these out there and just like there’s low-budget movie trailers there’s low-budget and high-budget book trailers too. I got sucked into spending way too much time watching these. Thought for a brief moment about making one, but then changed my mind.

I’m not sure they sell books. I wasn’t sold on them anyway. Plus, it’s not like movies that actually show trailers for other movies in movie theaters. Book trailers have to be sought out on the web or the book’s web page. And there is a cheese factor to the book trailer. It can’t be denied. I’m a little bit of a book snob, and to market a book the way you would a horror film seems a bit silly. (Watch me eat these words some day.) However, book ads look better and more dignified scrawled across The New York Times or along the side of a page in The New Yorker. Now, I know that those ads don’t have the impact on sales that they once did. But what does? We are diversifying as an audience. Television has begun to adapt to this new age of niche marketing. People have so much to choose from that it takes less viewers to consider a show a success. It’s led to some much better programming, and to much worse. The same is now true for books, to be considered a best-seller you only have to sell about 30,000 books, which is much less than in the past.

The question is how to reach 30,000 people that would find this book interesting? A small feat if you’re Coca Cola quite a challenge if you’re Vicki Nicholson. Alas, I will forge ahead and for now hold off on the book trailer. But keep your eyes open for the youtube readings!!!

PS A few places you can check out book trailers for yourself…

bookscreening.com

www.book-trailers.net

Revisiting your First

2010-12-04T18:20:00.001-08:00

September 8, 2010

Revisiting your first novel is like having a conversation with your first love. It’s awkward, a little embarrassing, but filled with happy surprises. Of course, there’s lots of ‘if I knew then what I know now’ kinds of thoughts too. But we never would have grown into the person or writer we are today without those sophomoric beginnings. Making mistakes, in retrospect, can be a lot of fun. And as I look back on my first novel I realize that I’m not going to change too much, because even though some of those metaphors make me cringe now, they are part of the character I created then.

Though I’m nervous to reveal this book. I’m also thrilled. There are moments that I thought of deleting, like the part in Chapter 12, believe me you’ll know it when you read it, but again it is important to the book, for my main character Jack to have that experience. (And no I never did….) Aren’t you curious now? You won’t have to wait long because the book is almost ready!

There are moments in the book that I’m most proud. A scene or two that I think pushed me forward as an artist and a person. I had to dig deeper than I normally would to express certain feelings and allow my characters to really become unglued. Relinquishing an emotional safety net of sorts. I think going there in this book made it easier to find the true spirit of my characters in the next book. I didn’t have to push for something, rather I was able to open myself up and listen to my characters to find out what they were really experiencing.

Growth in any direction personal, artistic, professional is a process and though we might shrink from our early efforts there is merit. Without them we would never learn about our true abilities. I’m proud of the novel. We went through a lot of love and hate Jack and I. With him I discovered how to write a novel so no matter what happens with the rest of my books, Jack will always be my first.

Embracing Ebooks, kind of

2010-12-04T18:19:00.000-08:00

September 2, 2010

I just found out that they’re closing the Barnes & Noble across from Lincoln Center. Normally, news of a bookstore closing, any bookstore, even a mega bookstore, would give me pause. I would storm around the house ranting to my husband that this is an outrage! My heart would break a little because people are reading less and those of us who are writing for those people have lost some of our audience. Even more it means that books are being underappreciated. Admittedly, I am a tactile person. I love books. The intimate physicality of holding one in your hand, turning the pages, dog-earring a favorite passage, this is reading!

However, like the CD, books are adapting to this new technological age. The Barnes & Noble is closing because of less books being sold, yes, and a rent increase too. Yet, it’s also closing because people are buying more books on-line. The good news is they are still reading, simply reading differently. So though I am sad for the loss of another big bookstore in the city, the first being the Barnes & Noble on 6^th Ave. I can understand the need to work with a different kind of consumer. Therefore, it bodes well for one, such as myself, who is going the route of e-publication. Which admittedly has me emotionally torn.

On the one side I love old-fashioned books. Snuggling up on the couch with a glass of wine and a good book is an ideal evening. Turning the page or lingering over a phrase, feeling the worn paper in my hands draws me further into the story. My mind knows this can’t be true, but it’s what I feel. I know I’m not alone in this, but it’s also how most of us were taught to read. Not from screens, but from books. Yet, those who are converts to the e-readers love them! Intellectually, it makes perfect sense, rather than carrying around one book you can have your entire library with you. Environmentally, it’s a very green approach. No trees are cut to print cyber books. Plus, the entire e-book phenomenon has given many of us the opportunity to skip the big publishers and go for it! So little old-fashioned me has become an advocate for the e-book. However, if you want to pick up a new hard back book seek out your local bookstore. The treasures you’ll find are worth the trip!

A Cyber Adventure

2010-12-04T18:16:00.000-08:00

August 30, 2010

So I’m embarking on a cyber adventure. Here it goes…publishing an e-book. How very exciting. Yet there’s so much to do when marketing oneself. Our mothers taught us to be demure and polite, but in the day and age of Twitter, Facebook and the like it’s all about shamelessly promoting yourself even if you’ve nothing to promote but your daily routine. If you’re Brittany Spears people care that you stopped by McDonald’s for a fry and chocolate shake if you’re Vicki Nicholson not so much.

Product doesn’t seem to matter at all. It’s just about celebrity. However, in this endeavor, my endeavor to get I Don’t Know Jack out there into the world of e-book buyers there is a goal. A product, if you will, that is worth all the promotion. So I’m going to keep this little blog to let you know how it’s going. Use it as a forum for those of you who might want to try e-publishing yourself. To gain advice from those who have already done this kind of thing and to hopefully amuse the rest of you along the way.

So far I’ve met with a web designer who is going to get me going with a fabulous web page for you all to peruse. I’ve begun to revisit the book, ok that’s a lie I’ve dug the hard copy out from a drawer and set it on my nightstand where it haunts me. But it will be ready to go because I’ve set myself a deadline of October 1^st. That’s when I told my web man I’d have the info for him. So I’ll have to have it ready by then! And by actually writing this down it only enforces the deadline right? There are people anxiously awaiting the e-publication so I must not keep them waiting!

Which leads to the fear side of going it alone in cyber-land. How do I know anyone is out there reading? How do I know I’m not just writing this for myself? Blogging innately is writing for oneself. The readers are secondary. But a blog is a posted journal, which you are putting out there for the cyber world to read and hopefully respond to. I suppose it’s to stir up others thoughts while stirring up your own. Sharing fears to ease them. I’m not a shameless promoter, but I certainly don’t want an unread blog floating out there in cyber land. That might be a little embarrassing. So, I invite you to come along on the journey of a non-tech girl embracing the virtues of the e-book world.