CT Fiction Fest

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I flew back east this weekend for a very short trip to attend a writing conference to which I’d previously signed up on a whim. The conference, at the time I signed up long before we knew we’d be moving, would have been a cheap, simple day trip from NY to CT. But since my family and I relocated to Iowa a week ago, suddenly I was faced with having to buy a round trip ticket, rent a car, stay in a hotel (in addition to the one I’m currently living in with my family). It went from a $100 investment to more than we could afford quite quickly. I almost canceled. But I’m so glad I didn’t.
Something was telling me to do it. I can’t explain it, but for some reason I decided to put my body, mind and bank account through the unnecessary torture of planning a last-minute solo weekend trip right in the middle of our crazy move. So just 5 days after driving from New York to Iowa with my husband and our toddler and while still living out of suitcases and duffel bags, I packed another small duffel and traveled solo to Connecticut for the conference not knowing what to expect.
To save money (and to sneak in a few hours with family), I flew into Philadelphia, borrowed my dad’s car (ah, to be 16 again) and drove the 4 hours through NJ, NY and CT to the conference which was being held in North Haven, CT in (of all places) another Holiday Inn (maybe that was a sign!). To save more, I opted to stay at a cheap (and somewhat sleazy) motel 4 miles away, (after checking for bed bugs) slept a total of 4 hours, woke up and consumed enough coffee to caffeinate a volcano and then attended the all day conference.
It was wonderful.
Not only did I get the AMAZING opportunity to pitch 2 of my novels face-to-face with agents and editors (By the way, every single one requested to read my manuscripts!!!!! 3 agents and 1 editor!! I couldn’t believe it myself until it happened to me. Seriously, I’m walking on sunshine – – Whoa-Oh!), but I also met and became friends with dozens of other writers and aspiring novelists. Like me, they know they have found their calling in life and are doing whatever it takes to make their dreams come true. There were also many highly successful published authors in attendance, all willing to chat about their struggles and successes, offer words of wisdom and advice and help in any way possible. At several points during the day, I cried from all the inspiration. It may have also been partially due to the sleep deprivation, but still. I cried real tears of joy and I’m (obviously) not afraid to admit it.
There were breakout sessions and workshops held throughout the day covering too may topics to list here. I learned so much about so many aspects of the publishing industry and the road I’ve chosen to take. The information and wisdom shared was worth far more than the price of admission! I’d highly recommend the conference to anyone.
Above all else, I was reminded time and time again that I’m doing exactly what I’m meant to be doing and that nothing and no one can stop me from achieving this dream. The only person who can stop me is me. And, well, I’m sure as hell not going to get in my way!!! It’s far too important. Of course, we all doubt ourselves. I was going through a period of self-doubt leading into this weekend. I was feeling down and allowing myself to go to that place we should never ever go. You know the place, right? The sad, dark, depressing, spider-ridden, whoa is me place? The one that makes us forget our accomplishments, successes and talents. The one that makes us think our butt looks too big in these jeans and that our hair is too big for this decade?? The one that makes us set aside how far we’ve come and forget all the good stuff. We’ve all been there. That place sucks but somehow we keep going there. Can we all agree to boycott that place from here on out?
One of the speakers at the conference said, “If you came all this way to attend this conference, then you are a writer. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.” Although she was speaking to everyone and speaking quite literally about each person’s individual travels, I felt her words profoundly and received them more figuratively.
If I came all this way… Wow, I truly have come a long way. Not only had I flown from Iowa and driven from Philly, but I’ve written and rewritten 2 novels endless times over the course of almost 4 years. I have 2 complete manuscripts to show for it, which I’m constantly revising so, in fact, they are never truly complete. But with all the drafts and revisions, if I have 2 novels I have 500. Plus, I have 3 more which I’m working on now. I’ve fully immersed myself in being a writer and becoming a novelist. I’ve grown so much in this passion and as a person. This is not my hobby. This is my life. It is who I am and who I will always be.
If I came all this way… It can be fun and fulfilling to take a moment and briefly look back and acknowledge how far we’ve come. But don’t look back too long. We must stay focused and continue looking and moving forward. Reaching for a dream is a journey. It’s a journey of self discovery, commitment, hard work, perseverance. It’s the struggle to overcome our own fears and self-worth issues, as well as the fears and doubts which others impose on us.
Someone at the conference said, “If you simply write a page a day you will have a novel in a year.” So true. But I say, why stop at one page? If you write 4 pages per day, you’ll have a novel in a season. Then you can spend the other 3 seasons revising and tweaking it and end up in a better place come Christmas.
The writing is the easy part. It’s believing in myself, even when it seems that all hope is lost, that is so much harder. It’s hanging in there – NO MATTER WHAT. It’s saying “Fuck You” to the naysayers because you know what? They talk shit and creep into your head and make you doubt the one thing you were certain about, when in fact they have absolutely no power over you or your ability to accomplish your dreams. They should spend more time concentrating on their own dreams than in trying to sabotage yours. But that’s their problem. Not yours and not mine. So fuck ’em if they want to waste their energy and time trying to rain on your parade instead of marching and twirling a baton in their own.
When I finally made it back home (my home is wherever Jason and Lyla are), I got off the plane and walked faster than I’d ever walked before toward the area of the airport where I knew my family would be standing, waiting for me. My husband Jason had the biggest happy-to-see-me smile on his face and our daughter Lyla ran to me, yelling, “mommy! mommy!” I couldn’t wait to see them, hold, hug and kiss them and tell them all about the conference. It would all have been nothing without them. As I got into the car, my husband told me how proud he was of me without having to say a single word. He said all he needed to say and all I needed to hear by placing one silly little item on the car seat so I’d see it the moment I opened the door. Not flowers. Not a Hallmark card. Nope. It was a black beer can koozie he had made while I was away. In simple white writing, it read “My Wife Is a Novelist.”
I have learned so much about myself throughout this journey. But perhaps the most important thing I’ve learned (so far) is that I can do whatever I put my mind, body and soul to. I already knew that (my mom and dad told me so time and time again growing up). But, suddenly, I know that it’s true. It sometimes takes a while to truly absorb some of the best advice we are given and the truths we are told.
If I came all this way… I wonder, how far I will go?
How far have you come? I bet you have a dream too. What is it and how far are you willing to go to make it come true?
Whatever it says on your beer can koozie, let’s support each other’s dreams. Let’s not let anyone or anything stand in our way. Let’s believe together that we can accomplish anything and everything we set out to do. I believe it’s true. Do you?

Not-so-Super 8

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The ride from New York to Iowa was a breeze. Lyla slept the first 14 (YES, 14!!) hours so we decided to make a go for it and drive straight through. I’d like to give a special shout out to Huggies Overnites! Thanks to them and some marital teamwork, we made it in about 20 hours, counting a dozen or so pee and coffee breaks.
We arrived a day earlier than originally expected, got to surprise a few people and stay the weekend with family. That was fun. Then, late yesterday afternoon, we drove the rest of the way and checked into the hotel. We are staying at a Super 8. But I have to be honest. So far, it hasn’t been so super.

It’s located about an hour from Jason’s job, and a bit further from our family. We could have stayed closer but all the nearby hotels had no pool. I was fine either way, but knowing that I really wanted a pool, Jason insisted on driving the longer distance to and from work each day so that Lyla and I could be happy. If you know him, this will not surprise you. He is a very thoughtful and generous person, especially with his family. And if you know me, you know I wasn’t about to argue.

Today’s Jason’s first day at the new job. I’m very excited for him and I can’t wait to hear all about it. I wonder if this is how it will feel when Lyla goes to Kindergarten? Hmm, probably not considering I was sound asleep when he left this morning. To be fair, I’d been up all night. Unfortunately, we all were. Lyla had a tummy ache (too much Iowa corn too soon perhaps) and because of it, none of us got much sleep. I hope Jason doesn’t nod off during training.

Then this morning, I realized – after he’d already driven away – that I left my cell phone in the car. Now I have no way of reaching him at his new job, nor would I ever think of calling on Day 1. I don’t want to do anything to hinder his first impression (or mine – I don’t want to be perceived as the crazy wife who calls and has him paged on his first day!). Besides, I’m fine and I’m certain he’ll try to call me on his lunch break to check in. Hopefully he’ll do so from inside the car so he’ll at least hear my phone ring before he gets too worried about why I’m not answering. He probably won’t jump to the same serial killer or Children of the Corn conclusion I would, but I still don’t want him to worry.

But let’s get back to the not-so-Super 8.

The bad signs started the moment we checked in. First, they messed up our reservation. We were planning to stay here a full 30 days. But somehow, they have us checking out and back in 3 times during that time. We didn’t find that out until we were standing at the front desk with all our stuff… our 30 days worth of stuff! While I love surprises, some things are nice to know before you arrive.
It might not have been too awful if it wasn’t for the fact that the checking out parts were rather lengthy. For example, the first time we’re scheduled to check out is on the 14th and then they don’t want us back until the 20th. So… uh… where do they expect us to go for 6 days?? Rather than repack and reload the car weekly and live in and out of our car for 6 day spurts, we’ll make other arrangements. So much for my blog about 30 days at a Super 8! Oh well. I’ll happily get over it!
I’m writing this blog while my toddler destroys the room behind me. When it comes to destruction, Lyla’s worse than a hair band.
She’s already broken one of two phones in the room, ransacked the towels, unrolled the toilet paper, unplugged the lamps, somehow locked the safe, and tried to eat the complimentary soap. Not bad, considering we’ve been here less than 24 hours. By the time she’s done, I’m sure I won’t miss the place. There’s no such thing as childproofing here. She can get into everything. Whoever designed this place couldn’t possibly have had children. Everything is the perfect height for her little hands to reach. She can open the front door (luckily not the deadbolt). Right now, she is opening and closing the fridge like she’s suddenly come down with a nasty case of toddler OCD. She can even reset the thermostat because it’s at eye level. I feel like I’m having hot and cold flashes, but at least she’s having fun.
She’s prank called the front desk so many times that I decided to unplug the phones. Now the hotel phones are her play phones. She has been on a very important conference call with the puppy, kitty and mouse all morning. Rather than interrupt, I’m blogging.
This morning, we made it downstairs in time for free breakfast (it ends at 9am – what the??). I thought free breakfast was a great feature until Lyla dumped free Fruit Loops all over the lobby. Tomorrow, we’ll eat bananas and cereal bars in the room. There’s a little coffee pot and that works for me.
The indoor pool is great. It’s the saving grace of the not-so-Super 8. We’ve spent more time there so far than in our room. On the drive here, we stopped and bought Lyla a little inflatable floating toy. She loves it. Floating in it makes her laugh and smile nonstop. My plan is to spend most of our time in the pool. It’s the easiest way to keep a baby happy. And if she’s happy, then I’m happy. That (and coffee) is all I need.

This is not goodbye…

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Today is my last day with my computer before the movers come and take it away. It will be in storage for 30 days, give or take until we close on our new house. This will be the longest I’ve gone without it.

I’m feeling sentimental so I wrote this brief verse…

Farewell Friend:

I might not get to see you as often as I’d like.

I may not get to touch you each and every night.

But deep down in my heart I know that it’s true.

No matter what happens on the moving truck or in storage…

I will always love you

We’re moving this week! Can you believe it?

Even though I’ll be without my computer and will probably go through the type of withdraw that crystal meth addicts can only dream about, I’m still excited about the move. My fingers will get a break from typing they haven’t had in over a decade. Meanwhile, I’ll write pen to paper in an actual notebook (as in born from an actual tree, but not necessarily Apple). Considering I didn’t even have my own computer until my 20s, it could potentially make me feel like a kid again. Deep into my 30s, that sensation is always welcome.

Sure! It’s bound to be challenging at times, but it will also be nostalgic and nostalgia always breeds inspiration.

I’m also (secretly) excited about writing a future blog I’ve already started drafting in my mind. It will be about living in a Super 8 motel. Yep, that’s where my husband, daughter and I will be staying for a month or so until we settle in Iowa. Can you imagine?? Well, you won’t have to because I plan to tell you ALL about it as soon as I have the opportunity. I know you’re probably thinking what I’m thinking! It will be like being sent on a freelance reporting assignment to another country! I’ve always wanted to know what that would feel like and now I’ll finally have my chance! If nothing else, it’s bound to be an adventure.

Wish me luck! Farewell for now…

What’s That Smell?

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For an entire afternoon, I searched for a very bad smell that seemed to be following me everywhere. It wasn’t until later when I realized…

Yep, it was me.

Isn’t that the worst? Deny if you must, but I’m sure we’ve all been there. Or been “it” for that matter.

Nobody wants to admit being the source of the bad smell. But it happens. So I feel obligated to admit it when it happens to me. I’m occasionally the bad smell. I might as well fess up. There have been times when I’ve skipped a shower, forgotten to apply deodorant or when I’ve passed the point of being able to deny a passing of gas or blame the person next to me – with a straight face anyway. So what? Bad smells happens to everyone!

And since becoming a mom, the smells are far worse than they used to be. I’ve smelled of sour milk, formula, strained peas, vomit, urine, day-old apple juice. Show me a mom who hasn’t?

But this time was worse. It was poop. Gross, I know! Let me explain…

My daughter is going through a pre-potty training phase where she often feels the urgency to rip her diaper off and run around. Ordinarily, this is adorable and funny. If watching a toddler run bear-butted and free, giggling in joy, doesn’t bring a smile to your face then you’re simply not human, or you’re probably not the child’s mommy anyway! Toddler tushies are priceless and, yes, I’ve taken photos and even video of my own toddler’s tush. I hold myself back from posting the pictures in any public forum, on FaceBook or showing them off to friends and strangers. But I have them and I plan to keep them. Someday I vow to embarrass her with them.

But this particular time wasn’t quite so adorable. This time, the diaper was full of poop when she tore it off and before I had a chance to stop it from happening it was already all over her, me, our clothes and everything else!

Of course we removed the soiled clothing, soaked, showered and scrubbed the poop off. Then while she napped (pooped from all the pooping, I guess), I scrubbed the floors and walls. Then I showered again.

It wasn’t until later – much, much later, when I realized I must have missed a spot. And, for the record, there’s no such thing as missing just a spot when the topic is poop because that “spot” followed us around all day. It was everywhere. To be honest, I did not think for a second that it was me. But it was.

While Lyla slept, I continued to clean and disinfect and even lit a candle and opened the windows to air out the place. When she woke up, we went for a long walk on the beach and every now and then I swore I still smelled it – when the wind was just right. I didn’t think much of it, thought it was my imagination rather than a real lingering smell. Later, we ran a few errands together and made a trip for groceries. I’d put the moment and the smell behind us. Or at least that’s what I thought. But in the supermarket, I smelled it again. And others smelled it too. I saw them scrunching their noses in the classic ‘what’s that smell?’ fashion. I scrunched mine back as if to say I smelled it too. Still not wanting to go back home post-poop-episode, we decided to grab a smoothie and a Happy Meal (Lyla loves fries, but who doesn’t?). I swore I smelled it in line, but ignorantly assumed it was someone else. Finally, after enough time had passed for the coast to clear, we went back home.

Then the doorbell rang. It was UPS ironically dropping off a shipment from diapers dot com.

I answered and I could tell immediately the UPS guy smelled it too. He didn’t even try to hide his expression as he literally turned his nose up at me. The smell must have smacked him right in the face when I opened the door. Or maybe he saw the actual spot. He didn’t say one way or the other so I still can’t be sure. Although unlikely, it’s entirely possible because as it turns out he came face to face with it. In fact, his face was almost as close to “it” as mine.

After signing for the package and shutting the door, I noticed the smell was still there. I must have missed a spot, I thought to myself. But where? It seemed to have been following me around all day. That could only mean one thing. It had to be on me.

That’s when I realized a teensy tiny speck of my child’s feces was on my glasses. It had been there the whole time. I’m not entirely sure how it got there or how I failed to notice it. It must have either splattered up onto the wire frame of my glasses (better there than in my eye!) or perhaps my daughter touched my glasses (better them than my face!) with her poopy hands while I focused on cleaning her up. I’d obviously removed them from my face prior to showering but didn’t even think about checking before putting them back on my face. Why would I? To my knowledge, I’ve never before had poop on my own glasses. But there’s a first time for everything, I guess.

So the spot I’d missed was literally right before (or beside) my eyes the entire time.

Next time I smell a bad smell, I’ll know to check there first!