Telling A Story

I guess it's time for an update.

If you're expecting a perky update about my latest WIP, you're shit out of luck.

This update is about that festive life event known as the "mid-life crisis." Although, technically, I'm not sure I'm really at the mid-life point. I'm about to turn fifty. I suppose this is payback since I've been making fun of my husband's mid-life crisis for years. (I think his started at quarter-life and continues to this day).

My mid-life crisis doesn't have anything to do with feeling time-challenged. I'm fine with growing older. My mid-life crisis concerns what path to take. Which is quite common for folks in this predicament.

So, what's the problem? Here's the problem. I'm at a fork in the road. It's possible this fork has more than two tines, but let's just pretend there are two for the moment.

I write stuff. And I'm an independent author. That means *I* get to decide what to write. No agent, no editor, no publisher tells me what to do. I make the decisions about my career.

On one side of the road is the path EVERYONE TELLS ME TO TAKE. Also known as "how to sell books, you big dumb-ass" and "market-driven" and "time to grow up, sweet cheeks." On this road we have series. Lots and lots of series. Because this is how romance authors sell books and gain a readership. We have books about popular topics, like NA angsty sports heroes with six-pack abs and tattoos. Interestingly enough, there's not a ton of romance in this romance (from my vantage point, old-school romance reader clinging fiercely to my Julie Garwood books). But the readers love it.

On the other side of the road is the PATH OF CREATIVE FREEDOM. This path has nothing to do with commercial success. You write any topic that interests you. You focus on craft and unique storytelling. It's not super popular at the moment. And it's hard to hook those readers when you keep jumping around different genres.

I know the "right" thing to do in order to sell more books. Write a series, nothing too weird. Jump on the bandwagon of popular topics. Be an aggressive promoter and learn how to game the system. If you think those books just pop up on Amazon with all 4/5 star reviews, hundreds of them, and it's just a natural and spontaneous occurrence, I have a bridge to sell you.

That's not how this works.

That's not how any of this works.

But I have never been market-driven. I've been story-driven. Even if my stories are weird, and blend genres, and push limits. That's how I've done things.

And now, at the ripe old age of almost-fifty, I have to decide if I'm trying to sell books. Or trying to write truly unique stories that might not fit into a tidy little marketable box.

And to add a bit of extra angst into the mix, the romance genre I fell in love with--twenty years ago...yep, I'm old--no longer exists.

What the hell am I going to do with this fork? Bend the tines? Throw it into a fire? Admit defeat and open a flower shop?

I feel like I've been banging my head against the wall for a long time, and I have a big fucking headache.

I've been getting great advice by many smart and wonderful people.

And I have an extremely cool, small, devoted group of readers. Clearly, folks who also like to think outside of the box of the typical romance novel. Folks who appreciate older characters, different types of stories, mixing Yeti into a holiday tale, and are not off-put by the occasional cuss word.

God bless us, everyone!

I have about a dozen books in the queue. A lot of the books are already partially written. Some of them are a sentence of an idea. Just one image that sparked something.

I know the ones I *should* write.

I know the ones that make rational, reasonable sense. That would continue to mold my "brand" and grow a consistent readership.

I know.

(You can see where this story is going, right?)

But the one that keeps nagging at me to write it doesn't fit in any tidy box. It's raw and intense and like nothing I have ever done before.

Like a tornado clearing a new path?

I'm not sure if Penny is going to write this one.

I'm pretty sure Nina is going to write this one.

Hi. My real name is Nina, and I'm going through a mofo mid-life crisis.

And so I climb into that Thelma-and-Louise convertible, perched on the edge of the cliff.

Surprisingly, I feel relief. Trying to squeeze into this box has been sort of stressful.

Jumping off the cliff is liberating.

Stay tuned for more...

Talk soon,

Nina

What I Learned Over Summer Vacation: The Meaning Of Life

Summer is almost over. I managed to pack in three vacations, a visit with Mom, a nervous break-down, cleaned the garage, read some fun books, and got a bumper crop of pumpkins. You're probably wondering how the whole mid-life crisis thing is going. Well, it's going pretty well as a matter of fact. I finally figured out the meaning of life, which has two parts.

1. Live In The Moment.

2. Get A Williams-Sonoma Panini-Maker.

I know this sounds odd, but bear with me. Let's start with #1. Initially, I was convinced that the answer to my mid-life crisis was something huge and monumental. I needed to go to Alaska and see a glacier. I needed a vintage Porsche sports-car with racing stripes. I wanted to move to Hawaii and live in a grass hut on the beach. I was mulling over these options on the day I decided to take my daughter to an organic farm to pick flowers. It was a sunny and gorgeous New England summer day. Breezy and light. And my daughter and her friend ran around a field of luscious flowers, laughing and singing and dancing with the butterflies. (See post for photos).

I stood watching them, and I found that I had tears streaming down my face. I realized something profound. I didn't need to go to the Great Wall Of China, or see a volcano in Hawaii, or buy an over-priced sports car to feel better. I just needed to focus on the small things. Really focus. Instead of thinking about my to-do list for the day, or the fact that my car registration was expired, or that I had a mound of laundry to fold on my bed.

Live in the moment. Enjoy the breeze and the sunshine. Go pick flowers with my daughter. And not rush her. Not rush us. Enjoy that simple moment because that's what life really is. Not the big moments, which are wonderful and exciting, and definitely have their place in our lives. But more importantly, the small moments we have each and every day. The ones we miss because we are too busy picking up the dry-cleaning. Most of our lives are the small moments. And taking the time to enjoy them, savor them, appreciate them, is a gift we should embrace.

After making that profound observation, I decided to put my new attitude into action. When my daughter asked me to stop at the pet store on the way home from camp--for absolutely no good reason--instead of automatically saying "No...sorry honey I have to get home to cook dinner," I said...."Yes." She was delighted. We meandered around the pet store, visiting with the turtles and puppies and finches and frogs. That night we had pizza for dinner.

When my husband said "Let's go to Newport for the day" I didn't answer "No, I have too many chores, and what about the dog, and the drive is too long" instead we jumped in the car and drove to the beach and had a blast with the kids and the neighbors were happy to walk our dog. I was being spontaneous. This was something new and different and sort of scary.

When I complained about my hideous commute into Boston this summer, while driving my son to his camp, my husband said "Try to enjoy it." Enjoy it? So with both kids in the car, fighting traffic on Huntington Avenue, we played the license plate game. And people-watched. And picked out our dream cars. And God Christ Almighty, I actually did like it.

And after I signed up Natty for soccer and skating, and Cristian for swimming, I decided I wanted to take a class, too. So I'm taking stained glass window design, and a glass-blowing workshop this fall. Me. Taking a class for fun. And Natty and I are taking a cooking class together....Dessert Party. Hee hee.

Which brings me to Part #2 of The Meaning Of Life. The Williams-Sonoma Panini Maker. If I'm living in the moment, and making chocolate brownies with Natty, how am I supposed to cook dinner and do the laundry and take care of all of the mundane details of life that suck the joy out of my day and crush me under a to-do list from hell? Well, I decided I have one hour a day to do that shit. One hour. That's it. Pay bills, make the beds. Whatever. After that, if I want to take a yoga class or write a romance novel, or play with the weenie dog, then that's what I'm going to do.

And the undisputed answer to this dilemma is the Williams-Sonoma Panini Maker! I shit you not! It's the greatest invention of all time. I can make dinner for the whole family in five minutes. I can make breakfast sammies, lunch for the kids and neighbors and a quick dinner before swim practice. Veggie sammies with grilled vegetables and fresh basil from the garden and yummy melted cheese. Plain old grilled cheese for the kids. Carnivorous stuff for the hubs. I use that damned appliance every single day and it rocks. Anything that saves me time and still provides a nutritious meal for the family frees me up to do fun stuff. And it's all guilt-free.

So, that's what I learned over summer vacation. How about you?

Penelope