Crescendo — Cover Reveal!

It’s finally here! Crescendo, the spell-binding sequel to Forte, will launch December 1, 2017 — less than two weeks away! It’s been a whirlwind of a year. Lots of hours and lots of love poured into this project. I’m so proud to work with Xchyler Publishing once again to get this out into the world. And today, I’m thrilled to share the final cover design.

Crescendo YA fantasy to release Dec 1, 2017

Crescendo, Book 2 of the Forte series

What’s it about? 

Samantha McGovern sacrificed her magic to save her home town. Finally, after more than two years, stirrings within her whisper of a reawakening. However, nothing can offset the misery of parting with her boyfriend. How can she keep Jason when he’s moved on to college life, but she’s still trapped in high school for another year?

In Boston, Sami’s new friends help her rediscover her power, and, reunited with an old crush, he now seems into her. Sami struggles to ignore the intoxicating charms of Miles Eichen, but with Jason’s increasing distance, it feels like a losing battle.

When her strange visions begin to come true, Sami discovers a new purpose to her magic—magic stronger than she could ever imagine. Millions of lives are in danger, and only she has the power to foil a great evil. However, it will take a different kind of magic to repair the rift between her and Jason.

Crescendo YA fantasy to release Dec 1

Full spread Crescendo cover!

*New* Adult with Author Q & A

Today I visited with a rockin’ author and editor who also happens to be my good friend, Sandra Hume, who writes fiction under the pen name Sienna Cash. Her new book — Finding the Eddy, now available for preorder — is the sequel to the steamy page turner, Worst-Kept SecretBoth books follow the on-again, off-again relationship of onetime next-door-neighbors Charlie and Wade, who are seven years apart in age—but the twist is that he’s the younger one. Without further ado, let’s get acquainted with our *new* in new adult, Finding the Eddy.

What’s it about?

Rejecting Wade Hunter was the worst mistake Charlie Michaelsen ever made. But what good is knowing that now? Even if Charlie were brave enough to confess her true feelings, Wade’s gone—two thousand miles gone, in Colorado, while Charlie’s home in Massachusetts.

As for Wade, he’s moving on, done trying to shake the girl who wrecked him. It’s been six months. He’s finally inching towards normal.

Until Charlie shows up in Colorado—to stay.

FINDING THE EDDY, Sienna Cash’s long-awaited sequel to WORST-KEPT SECRET, picks up the sexy story of the once-doomed Charlie and Wade, childhood next-door neighbors who stumbled into love across a seven-year age gap. With fresh determination, Charlie’s ready to prove to Wade that she means it this time. Uprooting her life from the Atlantic to the Rockies is nothing compared to losing the best person she’s ever known. But is Wade ready, or even willing, to take that risk?

With piercing honesty and humor, FINDING THE EDDY follows Charlie and Wade’s uncertain journey of forgiveness and redemption towards a HOME that may have nothing to do with geography.

Coffee Talk with Sienna Cash


Who are your particular books written for?

These two books about Charlie and Wade—Worst-Kept Secret and Finding the Eddy—are for people who enjoy a realistic, often-funny love story. But the books are also about family and female friendship, and how we can both fail and succeed at both at times. I’m told both are page-turners for those who enjoy that kind of story.

What do you mean by “new adult”?

It’s nothing more than an age category for characters, really. In general “new adult” refers to books about characters from ages 18-28. New-adult books can be in any genre—fantasy, dystopian fiction, romance. The term was pioneered as a response to the books of Jamie McGuire, a hugely successful self-published author whose novels were about college students and people in their twenties. These books tend to read like YA but with more adult themes. My own personal shorthand for this is “YA + sex.”

What’s your approach to writing sex scenes?

Sex scenes are notoriously difficult to write, but I enjoy the challenge. I took a writing workshop not too long ago—it’s worth mentioning that it wasn’t a sex-writing workshop—and the instructor, a high-caliber author, happened to mention unrealistic or glossed-over sex scenes as one of her pet peeves. I agreed with her. Sex is an integral part of life and we should be able to treat it as such. Beyond that, sex is so much more than simply sexy—it’s funny and messy and poignant and can provide some of the most valuable character revelations. I didn’t want to shy away from the truth of that. Of course, if the sex scene can be both realistic and high on the heat-level scale, that’s a win-win.

How is Finding the Eddy different from its predecessor, Worst-Kept Secret?

Without being too spoilery, WKS takes place mostly in Massachusetts; more than half of FTE takes place in Colorado. Also, we get into Wade’s head in FTE, where WKS was entirely from Charlie’s point of view. The reader gets more of an idea of why he is the way he is.

What is your favorite music to listen to while writing?

This sounds like the antithesis of who I am, because second only to my roles as wife and mother, I am a music fan. But for the most part, I can’t write to music. I think about writing, and my characters, while music is playing—in my car, for example—and I have specific playlists earmarked for characters like Wade, who lives and dies by his music (as do I, or at least I used to when I was his age!). When I wrote scenes from his point of view and really wanted to get into his head, sometimes I did play that playlist. But most times I find music too distracting to really write.

Why do you self-publish?

I wrote a blog post on this when I first published Worst-Kept Secret, which is here. But the short answer is: I like control, and I’ve been wanting to do this for way too long and wasn’t willing to wait on a traditional publisher’s timeline.

Who is your favorite character of all time?

I assume you’re talking about other people’s characters, because I don’t have that many! (I will say that I rather enjoy the character of Tater in Finding the Eddy.) But overall, my favorites are probably a cross between the Walsh sisters from Marian Keyes’ books and Laura Ingalls from the Little House series.

How do you choose your character names?

It varies. Usually they just come to me. I try not to change character names mid-stream. I did that with one character in Worst-Kept Secret, and I stillmake mistakes when I write about that particular character. Mostly the characters arrive in my head already named. As I write more, though, I expect to broaden my horizons and turn to outside sources, because there are only so many names to go around, particularly for heroes. The name of the MC in my next novel, which will be young adult, showed up in a dream. Because a dream was the catalyst for Worst-Kept Secret, I believe it would be a mistake to not honor that.

Describe a scene that’s autobiographical-ish.

I did lose my father at a young age, which is about all I have directly in common with Charlie, the MC of both Worst-Kept Secret and Finding the Eddy. Several times I have had trouble, as she did, finding his grave in the cemetery, because, like her, I don’t enjoy visiting them. Her hometown of Danborn is based heavily on my own hometown in Massachusetts (with liberties taken as needed to serve the story), enough that natives of that town recognize it. So that’s certainly autobiographical. But I took a lesson from author Sarah Dessen, who had a negative experience when she first started writing about real places: readers will always call you on something they perceive as wrong. So no details of any place I write about—including Fort Collins, which is an actual city in Colorado—are entirely real.

What do you do when you’re not writing?

Officially, I run an editing business, line editing and copy editing fiction. If you need a fiction editor and you’re self-publishing, I’ve got your back. The business is under my own name; Sienna Cash is a pen name. (Here’s why I write under two names.) I also write nonfiction travel books about Laura Ingalls Wilder under my own name.

Insomnia

It hits me off and on. At least once a week. This morning, I awoke at 3 AM, thought about going back to sleep for about one minute, then bounded out of bed with a surge of adrenaline. Why? Because I’m approaching the finish line to launch my upcoming release CRESCENDO, the sequel to Forte. Up and at ’em to work on content edits to send to Xchyler Publishing by 6 AM. I rock.

But not every 3 AM bout of insomnia is that happy or productive. Most times, my mind plays cruel tricks on me and I’m sick with worry about anything and everything. Sometimes, I go completely Macbeth and feel like I’m losing my mind altogether. It happened this past summer and I wrote the following passage in my journal — bleary and exhausted, messy and scribbling in all directions. It’s raw and unedited and, hopefully, strikes a chord.


Can’t sleep
Worrying about cars and dogs
Regret tugs — losing my patience
I want to be happy
It should be easy
Why am I so anxious?
Lots to do, wasted Sunday
Summer’s too short. Why was I so eager to fill it?
Hopes smack against fears
Spider crawling down the wall
Haven’t written in awhile
Does this count?
Is it enough to be a mom?
and wife
Hope for yes tempered by guilt
Worry fears losing what we have
Do I love too much?
Why can’t I be kinder? Why do I get so irritated? Why is smiling hard?
Are we missing something?
Is it slipping away?
Am I trying hard enough?
Am I succeeding?
Where did my babies go?
Are the memories safe? Are the moments captured?
Big, fat black ants
too much stuff — for what?
Time slipping too fast
Too busy, not busy enough
my loves keep them safe please
vacuum broke again.
My hair gets everywhere.
My stomach sticks out.
I get angry easily.
I don’t know why he loves me so much.
I’m alive.
Every moment is precious. Why waste it with worry?
Can’t sleep.
Stopped trying.
Tomorrow is here.
I’m not ready.

A “Skene” Halloween!

One of my favorite passages in FORTE is the trick-or-treating scene at the “haunted” castle, Skene Manor. Appearing in chapter 17, it’s become a true fan favorite. As I’m working on polishing the sequel, here is a taste of spooky Halloween fun from FORTE. Enjoy!


Skene Manor looms before us, looking spectacular yet haunting in the sparse streetlights, its spires piercing the stars. I gape, awestruck, being so near it. And then it all adjusts and it’s just another house, altogether different up close than at a distance. I notice the peeling paint along the foundation, the latticework beneath the front porch. It’s not remotely as intimidating as it is far away.

But then we pass it, crossing over to a grassy ledge facing the village.

“Guys, where are we going?” My whispers aren’t heard. I have no choice but to follow the group to a gazebo where Maddie takes a seat.

Just then a light comes on.

From inside Skene Manor.

We scamper into the woods like frightened squirrels. Jess leads us to another wooded trail, one that gets darker and narrower the farther we venture.

“Holy crap. Holy crap,” Maddie chants.

The moonlight is sparse in here. Thank goodness Shaunie is wearing a bright yellow shirt. It’s the only thing I can see. To my left I see a plaque of some sort—or shield—on the ground by the trail. Its red rust plays tricks with my eyes in the darkness; its white painted calligraphy jumps out at me. Not all the words are legible, but I do make out some of it: . . . the Lord God will cause Righteousness and Praise to Spring Forth . . .

A headstone? My sneakers seem stuck. Is it quicksand? I’m standing on a grave of quicksand! My mouth opens but nothing comes out. Black tree branches claw at me as I stagger back, thumping to the forest floor—my pillowcase thrown as if ripped from my hand. Something rattles nearby leaves. A snake? I scramble to my feet, grasping chunks of earth on my way, and hurry along the trail to the others.

“Guys! Omigod,” I screech, breathless. “Did you know there’s a grave along this trail?”

“A grave?” says Thalia.

“Oh, sure,” says Jess. “But it’s not a real grave. It’s for Katherine Skene, so people will forget she’s actually buried underneath Skene Manor.”

“But there’s nothing there, Sami.” Carolyn’s voice is like a warm hug.

Jess nudges me. “Yeah, so don’t get your panties in a bunch.”

Still, it takes a few minutes for my heart rate to return to normal. Jess has led us to a rocky cliff where we huddle together on its natural steps.

“Hey,” Maddie says, “we should look in the basement windows to try and see her. Katherine Skene.”

The thought horrifies me. “What? Look in the windows? Of Skene Manor?”

“Or we can try to break in,” Jess says.

“Jess,” Carolyn tempers. “Come on, let’s be polite.”

“What did we come all the way up here for, then, if we’re not going to do something?” Jess counters in her best bratty voice.

Bile bubbles up my esophagus. Seriously? We’re talking about breaking in to Skene Manor? As if painting our necks wasn’t risky enough, now we have to do something illegal?

“She’s got a point,” Thalia says.

“We’re not breaking in to Skene Manor.” My boldness surprises everyone—including me.

In the next few beats of silence, I feel Jess studying me, sizing me up. She takes a step closer, and I instinctively rear back.

“Sami’s right.” Jess’ tone is too controlled, too kind. “We won’t break in. But there’s no reason not to spy through the windows.”

“No reason not to?” I squeak.

Jess lectures us, pacing in a circle. “A light just went on in there. If the light is on inside, they won’t see outside. That’s, like, basic. It’s too dark out here and there are no streetlights.”

“No way,” Carolyn says, and I want to hug her. “Technically, we’re already trespassing. I’m not going any nearer. You shouldn’t either. None of us should. We should go—”

“Do you think she’s in there?” Thalia asks.

Jess wiggles her fingers above her head. “Katherine Ske-e-e-e-e-ene,” she says, goblin-style. My head feels fuzzy like I might faint. Jess grabs my arm like she did at Carolyn’s, and I’m too weak to protest. “Come on, Superstar. Show me what you got.”

Jess isn’t talking about the window. A Poland Spring bottle is placed in my hand and my birthmark is triggered, and it’s like an electric current shoots up my arm. I’m alert now, jolted to attention. I avoid Jess’ eyes as I shake the bottle near my ear. It’s got that familiar, thick consistency. Even though it’s too dark to see, I know it’s Aquamarine. My salivary glands pop, forcing me to swallow a few times. Jess has an unending stash. It’s heavy in my hand as I wait for the other bottles to be doled out. But no more appear.

“I only brought one,” says Jess. “We’ll just share that. You first, Superstar.”

All eyes are on me now, the whites practically glowing, waiting for me to take my sip. A nervous laugh escapes me.

I won’t drink any more Aquamarine.

What am I supposed to do? I can’t refuse to snoop and refuse to drink. I’d be completely written off. And this is my team.

I unscrew the bottle and bring it to my lips, my hand shaking, my birthmark pulsing.

Don’t drink. Just pretend.

The smell reaches me first. That acidic tang activates my salivary glands. Tipping the bottle, I inadvertently coat my lips with the blue stuff. My tongue licks them clean. That does it. There’s no turning back now. My body wants it. Craves it. Whatever. Somehow it goes down. I close my eyes and hear myself swallow three times. My body clenches with the familiar swallowing-thistles feeling I’ve grown to adore, eager for what’s next.

It’s clear to me now: Mom was dead wrong. Jason too. There’s no way this stuff could be that bad for you. Toxic? No way. Nothing that can make me so strong and so capable could possibly rip years off my life. Besides, no one would do it if it were true. It’s all a myth. They weren’t lying; they were just wrong. An innocent mistake.

We all drink, we’re all feeling invincible. Somehow it’s just me and Jess approaching the lighted window.

 

#Janowrimo Report

It’s time to officially report on my first ever JaNoWriMo challenge! My goal was to write 1000 words (approx 2-3 pgs in Word) every day for month of January. So, how’d I do?

Break it down: On December 31, I had 19k words for my WIP (Forte‘s sequel). It was good to have this head start. The story was already progressing and it didn’t feel like I had to create something from nothing. My average daily log turned out to be 1200 words — a good length for a solid scene or even a chapter. Lowest day = 600s. Highest was over 1800. I wrote *every day* except one toward the end, and even on that day I was plotting out my next scene in my mind. I logged my progress on Twitter, which helped me stay honest and focused. And being able to post my daily success felt like a small reward.

Although I’d recruited some writer friends to join me in JaNoWriMo, I didn’t hear from many throughout the month. With one exception: fellow Xchyler Publishing author R.A. Smith of the Grenshall Manor Chronicles. Russell and I connected via Twitter almost daily, and I believe we inspired each other to keep writing every January day. Thank you, Russell!

So, now it’s February. And my WIP is at . . . drum roll please . . . 53922! Already a legit length for a YA novel, I have at least two or three more chapters to pen before it’s done. It’s so close, I’ve been trying to keep up my daily writing routine until the draft is complete.

There’s one problem with that routine: I’m kind of boring when I’m writing.

Seriously. The days are cold and I’m hibernating with my computer. Even if the writing part only takes an hour or two, the rest of my day is consumed by thinking about it. Momentum is so important, which requires consistency and focus. It’s like an obsession. On a rare lunch out with my bestie, when she wanted to catch up, I had little to offer.

“I’m, like, hyper-focused on my writing. That’s all. I’m doing the mom thing and I’m writing.”

“So, tell me about your writing!”

“No! I’m too superstitious. I have to get the draft done first.”

You can imagine how riveting the rest of our lunch conversation was. My poor husband. I’m sure he’s eager to have me back.

But here’s the thing — the story I’m working on? It’s exciting! But I’m the only one who’s experiencing it. I can’t wait to get the draft out to my beta readers so I can finally talk about it!

Want to know what it’s about? Here’s a draft blurb of Forte’s sequel:

It’s been two years since Sami neutralized toxic Aquamarine on Skene Mountain, the scar on the hill now a stark reminder of what she’d destroyed. Hoping to make amends, she vows to use her magic to rebuild earthly devastation — to heal the world with her music. Problem is, her magic is lost. Her boyfriend Jason is lost too, as he’s left for college. When Sami attends a summer music program in hopes of finding her magic, she finds her childhood crush Miles is also in the program. Caught in a love triangle, Sami begins to have visions of tragic natural disasters close to home. When these visions turn into reality, it seems the superstorms are not random but caused by someone with specific powers — and an evil agenda. It’s up to Sami to figure out how to use her new magic to halt the next superstorm before everyone she loves is destroyed.

writing journal

My brainstorming journal. (Gift from Mom) My loyal writing companion. Its pages would make no sense to anyone but me.

Reclaiming Twitter

Twitter is getting a bad rap. Every news station is splashing Donald Trump’s latest tweets and using it as fodder for news. No one would be surprised to hear that Trump’s tweeting is not exemplary in any way shape or form. He’s not doing himself any favors by creating all this social media noise. Even his wife has said she’s tried to talk him out of tweeting late at night but . . . (fill in the blank on that.)

Twitter does not have to be a channel for wannabe politicians to bully others or spew their offensive propaganda. It can be useful. I’d like to help rebrand it a little. Here are the ways I’ve been able to make it work for me:

1.Find your lane.
For me, it’s writing and publishing. I joined Twitter in March 2013 in preparation for launching my debut novel. It was part of my book launch plan, along with establishing platforms on all social media. I’m sure to some extent I hoped joining Twitter would ultimately result in book sales, but what’s it done for my writing career has brought unexpected benefits.

I don’t follow celebrities. I follow authors, publishers, agents — big and small. It’s provided a community of support and encouragement, but also it’s offered valuable information. I find more articles on writing, the writing process, writing tips than I do through Facebook. I’ve also found really cool contests that exist only on Twitter, like #PitMad or #Pitmas and I really can’t say enough about the awesome and revolutionary #MSWL (Manuscript Wishlist) Their Twitter feed and also their website has redefined the query process.

Other fave writer’s hashtags: #amwriting #writerslife #writingtips

And my most recent faves: #WIPjoy (celebrating our works in progress throughout the month of January) and of course #janowrimo (January Novel Writing Month)

2.Craigslist on crack.
Through Twitter, I’ve found more than one editor to help bring my book(s) to the next level. Recently, Twitter helped me find a great query reviewer — Christy Morgan — who has opened my eyes to what my query was missing. (Guys! find her @xtymorganbooks or her go to her website)

Another awesome content editor I’ve hired TWICE for two different books is the very talented @cassdunn Cassandra Dunn. 

3.Accountability.
Writing a novel is a huge task. It can feel overwhelming. For most of the process, you’re completely alone — living with the story in your head and on your computer. It may be *years* before it gets to beta readers and you can finally talk about it with someone. That’s why we need to set ourselves up with small rewards along the way.

I’ve heard author Jonathan Mayberry‘s keynote speech at more than one writing conference, and one takeaway for me was how he held himself accountable. He would reward himself after reaching his daily word-count goal. Early on, he’d put some money in a jar and when his first draft was done, he’d take his wife out to a nice dinner. Now that he’s a huge success, he moves money into a special account and when the draft is done, his wife gets a nice vacation. (Something to aspire to, gang!)

I’m not putting money in a jar or moving money, but I am using Twitter to keep myself honest. It doesn’t really matter that not many people will see my tweet. The fact that I put it out there to the world, makes it matter somehow. I’ve recorded it, documented it. It makes it official. I’m happy to report that my tweets do seem to be gaining some traction. Other writers are liking. It doesn’t hurt that my publisher is my most avid retweeter. Shout out to Xchyler Publishing.

Which reminds me . . . sometimes the best connections you find on Twitter are those you already have. Just another way to keep in touch, perhaps.

Let’s reclaim Twitter and make it work for us in a positive way.

 

Week one – done!

With one week of #JaNoWriMo under my belt, I’m happy with my progress thus far. I started at around 19k words on my WIP and I now check in at 26,430. Hooray! My story is getting so exciting, I’m having a hard time thinking about anything else.

So, here’s where I’m supposed to tell you how hard it’s been to fit in my writing. As we all can relate, our lives are busy here in the Spero household. I’m a mom of three boys who each have different after school activities. While they’re at school, I do all the shopping, cooking, cleaning . . . and teach yoga three times a week. You may wonder how I could fit in all this writing. (It takes about two good hours to crank out 1000 quality words — and “quality” is all relative).

Aside from having the most supportive husband in the world, it’s almost like I have to do it. It’s not a chore and it’s not a luxury. It just is. And what a gift January has been! Every morning, I feel a jolt of adrenaline knowing I will write 1000 words that day. If I don’t get to it until the afternoon, fine. But knowing that I will give myself that pocket of time dedicated to something that feeds my soul — fuels me through whatever else is going on. And after the writing is done, after the scene is down on paper, it’s like my endorphins are on high. I can breathe more deeply. I smile more easily. I’m more patient with my family. Dare I say, it’s  better than yoga.

So, yeah. I think JaNoWriMo has been a success so far.

BTW: After tweeting my first successful day of JaNoWriMo, I clicked on the hashtag to find . . . #janowrimo is a thing!

Apparently, I did not invent the January replacement of November’s NaNoWriMo. Apparently, lots of other writers think January works better for writing productivity, too. There’s already a community out there! So, yay! Also #WIPjoy celebrates our works in progress all through January. Double yay! Here’s a nice breakdown.

Yes! #WIPjoy #janowrimo #writerslife #amwriting

Oh, and I also broke the 1000-follower benchmark on Twitter this week, so I’m on my way to rule all of social media. Ha!

Here’s to January, folks! It may just be my favorite month of the year.

JaNoWriMo — GO!

Okay, folks! Time to declare our New Year’s Resolutions for 2017. Statistically, most resolutions don’t last beyond January, so mine perfectly applies. I’m not giving up sweets or wine. I’m not promising to workout more. I’m going to write.

Perhaps you’ve seen my post about why I won’t ever do NaNoWriMo since the month of November is jam-packed with holiday festivities and preparations. In that post, I suggested January as a better month to focus on a daily writing routine. JaNoWriMo: January Novel Writing Month. I’m starting 2017 with a pledge to do something I love to do most in the world, every day: write.

I plan to work on my first draft of the sequel to ForteWith 15k words under my belt, Sami is back! She uses her music magic for a much different — altruistic — purpose…only to run up against the most surprising adversary. Throw in a love triangle and a new, urban setting, and you have the makings of a future page-turner. I’m so excited to get my first draft done. If you don’t have a WIP, start brainstorming today for your JaNoWriMo project!

JaNoWriMo will work somewhat differently than NaNoWriMo. There isn’t a website for it. There’s no submission form to log your word count. There won’t be badges to celebrate accomplishments. I’m not starting a national, non-profit community. I’m starting small (with, um, me). But I’d love company! Here are the rules:

  1. Comment below if you’d like to participate, declaring your personal daily word-count goal. For Nano, the idea is to complete a 50K-word novel. For Jano, let’s be realistic but also push ourselves a bit. My daily word count goal will be 1000 words.
  2. After you complete your writing goal for the day, tweet about your accomplishment with the hashtag #JaNoWriMo (and use my handle @jdspero). You will receive e-kudos for your hard work. Not on Twitter? Email me!
  3. In February 1, 2017, one “winning” participant will be chosen to guest star on my blog to share a synopsis and a teaser of their project.

At the end of every week, I’ll post some handy writing tips or a funny story about how I managed to squeak out my quota of words while juggling the schedules of three busy little boys. My job will be to offer inspiration, humor, and wine (ahem…or whine).

That’s it. Easy peasy!

Let’s do this. Who’s with me!

Small things

“Just remember this . . . We are what we think. All that we are arises with our thoughts. With our thoughts, we make our world.”

“I don’t understand.”

“It means, don’t worry.”

From Elephant Run by Roland Smith


Easier said than done for a mom. Ever since my first child was born over eleven years ago, I’m constantly navigating a world full of dangers I hadn’t noticed before. Not only dangers to my children but to myself as well. I look back at the stupid risks I took in my youth and wonder how I survived. My next breath is stuck thinking about my children doing a version of those same stupid risks, their own variation of “coming of age.” I lose sleep over it. “It” being “everything.”

Since the election, I’ve avoided the news and social media, unable to stomach the information that comes through. It’s, like, worry on a totally different level. I don’t believe I’m being dramatic when my fears of an apocalypse are being realized. I tell myself it’s out of my control. My husband reminds me that as long as our children are healthy and safe and our immediate world isn’t affected, we can’t worry about it.

But, “it” means “everything.” What happens in the world also happens to my children, and I nearly wilt from worry.

Until I get a reality check.

Last night, I got news (through social media, ironically) that one of my high school classmates passed away, losing her battle with breast cancer.

At first, I didn’t believe it. But other posts followed, how her close friends will miss her, her college roommate will always hold her in her heart, prayers going out to her family. A husband and three children. I didn’t realize how sick she was. The last post I remember seeing from Lorien was about her daughter’s success at a horse show. She’d been so proud of her, and I had foolishly thought from the tone of her post that everything in her world was okay.

Lorien and I grew up in tandem at Lake George elementary. She always towered over me. I specifically remember feeling dwarfish next to her in gym class. At some point in high school, we were in the same Home-Economics class. (Home-Ec. Do they even teach that anymore?) We learned how to sew. We made stuffed animals. She made a brown puppy and named it “Roadkill” — which she announced in her signature low voice, followed by her signature deep, chuckling laughter. I’d looked on, bemused at her dry, semi-morbid sense of humor. It was a glimpse of who Lorien was. Just a glimpse. But it’s stayed with me.

Lorien and I weren’t close. In our small school, we were friendly but we didn’t hang out on weekends or anything. I didn’t really know her all that well. Still, her tragic death has shocked me awake.

As I snuggled my children into bed last night, I thought about Lorien. How she was no longer able to put her kids to bed, to kiss them goodnight. She wouldn’t see her daughter in another horse show. She wouldn’t be able to post how proud she was of her. She wouldn’t see her children graduate from high school, college. She wouldn’t see them get married. She would never meet her grandchildren.

What the fuck am I worrying about?

The passage above is was taken the book Elephant Run by Roland Smith. It’s one of my son’s Battle of the Books books this year. I’m reading along with him so we can talk about it and study together.

A small thing. But a huge thing.

Our jobs as moms are made up of these small, beautiful things. Things that Lorien also won’t ever be able to do again. Pouring cereal, packing lunches, signing permission slips, meeting the school bus, driving to piano lessons, monitoring homework, trimming nails, reading stories, doing unending laundry . . .

Guess what, Moms? These small things are *just as important* as the big things. We know this, but we need the reminder. These small things shape our lives and our children’s lives. They make up our world.

We have to cherish every little thing. Celebrate them, even. Every day. Because, my god, they matter. They are everything.


“Just remember this . . . We are what we think. All that we are arises with our thoughts. With our thoughts, we make our world.”

“I don’t understand.”

“It means, don’t worry.”

6 things you can do to ease election pain

The election result is a shock for us Hillary supporters. There are a lot of us out there. There’s a lot of pain. It takes everything in me to believe in our country right now, and to give Trump a chance. But I refuse to go negative about something I can’t control.

What can I control? Here are six things I plan to do to feel better, starting today.

  1. Raise my boys well. The next four years will be crucial for my children, who will be entering pre- and teen years. In our wonderful family of five, we’ll be dealing with all that comes with that: puberty and confusing hormones, competitive sports, and driving a car — to name a few. Throughout all, they will respect women as equals, without question. I vow to raise our boys with goodness and love and acceptance and hope.
  2. Take care of myself. I exercise regularly, but as I sweated it out this morning, I thought about my body in a different way. As many women probably feel, I’m saddened and hurt by Trump’s comments and shameless objectification of women. I’m also guilty of falling into the trap, objectifying myself. There have always been things I’ve wanted to change about my appearance. “If I could only lose that pesky five pounds, if only my nose were more petite, if my teeth were whiter, if my hair wasn’t so wild…” You know what? It’s all bullshit. I’m healthy. I’m strong. And, goldarnit, my husband thinks I’m gorgeous. My kids think my extra five pounds adds to the snuggle factor. I vow to be kind to myself. To love myself as I am no matter what I see in the media.
  3. Take care of our planet. The continuing devastation to our environment is real. Our efforts in recycling and renewable energy are (excuse the pun) only the tip of the iceberg. There’s got to be more we can do to reverse the damage so our children have a worry-free future, without relying on the government to do so. Coincidentally, I’m working on a sequel to Forte which addresses this very question — where magic is the answer. If only magic were an option. I’m not quite sure how yet, but I vow to take a more active role to help heal our earth.
  4. Be kind to each other. It’s tempting to make the generalization that everyone who voted for Trump agrees with everything he’s ever said and condones the things he’s admitted doing. That’s not necessarily the case, as my husband reminded me. There are many people out there who have lost jobs and are struggling to raise their children — to survive, even. They are angry and fed up with the government they believe let them down. I vow to keep an open mind, to withhold judgment, and to treat others with kindness no matter what their political views may be.
  5. Have faith. Even if you are not religious, the idea of having faith helps during times like these. Have faith in the peaceful transition of power that George Washington bravely set up for us when our country was founded. Have faith in the US Constitution. Have faith in its “checks and balances.” Have faith in due process. Have faith in science. Have faith in God. Have faith in our country.
  6. Smile. Give yourself the gift of a good, healthy cry. And then, find humor in something. In everything! Here’s something: Just think how good SNL will be for the next four years.

I’m not saying all this will be easy. To be honest, part of why I wrote this post is to pull myself out of hopelessness and convince myself to be positive.

Let yourself grieve, and then think about what you can do to feel better. Maybe these six things offer a good place to start.