You may have noticed I’ve lost my blogging mojo. I’ve had stories to share with you since June when we took a family road trip to Colorado.
I’ll spare you the details and just show pictures. (Sorry, Booky, but at least there are captions for you to read.)
We stayed at Airbnbs of varying degrees of “nice place” to “a serial killer lived here.”
This was one of the good ones:
Wynne and Vicki at Heart of the Matter kindly invited me on their podcast to talk about Wish I Was Here and its long, winding road to publication.
Before we started recording, Vicki told me she was upstairs reading, got to the end of chapter nine, and yelled, “Shut up!”
Here’s something I haven’t done in a while: post on my blog!
But, for a change of pace, I’ve hopped onto someone else’s blog for a (very) mini book tour. I’m used to hosting others, so this is fun and different.
Jacqui Murray, one of my oldest and closest blog friends, kindly wrote about my debut novel, Wish I Was Here, on her blog.
So, I wish you were there. Go check it out: Ilsa Rey’s Newest Book.
Oh, but wait! Wait! One second! While I have you here, and since I haven’t updated you all in FOR-evah, just one quick thing to show you:
Now we wait for their judgment.
P.S. I didn’t turn it in with “The end, baby!!!” I added that just for you, took a screenshot, then deleted it. 🙂
Sorry, no trivia. Go read Jacqui’s post then come back here if you want an autographed copy mailed to you in time for Christmas.
Here’s what happened.
Friday night was the school’s football homecoming game. Usually Hubby takes the kids, and I chill at home alone, blissfully. Ah, introversion. I was also super tired, so a low-key quiet night sounded great.
But, I wrote this book…
Apparently it’s harder to sell books if you don’t talk to people???
The funny, talented, and inspirational Cheryl said she keeps a box of books in her trunk (can do), and then SELLS them to people. (Wait, wut?) She even stops at garage sales and gets the sellers–sellers!–to buy her book!
That’s next level salesmanship. I could never.
But, I chugged some caffeine, put a box of books in the trunk of the family van, and the six of us hauled off to the game. I ambitiously put four books in my purse with Hubby saying he could run back to the van if I needed more.
HAHAHAHA!
Allow me to take you back in time two weeks to my daughter’s and my lovely visit, as they all are, to the DMV. (In case you’re new here, I get a little sarcasticy. I also make up words.)
Daughter’s driving test appointment was at 1:00. We got there around 12:30 and were able to check in right away, but there was a long line of testers ahead of us. We waited on the floor inside for quite a while. Finally, we joined a long line of cars waiting outside. It was 85 degrees, so we kept the van running with the A/C on for who knows how long? An hour? Time has no meaning in those situations.
Also with us was my 8-year-old son, missing school because he hadn’t been feeling well. Like all boys his age, he was quite placid, sitting patiently in the backseat, tapping his knees, humming pleasantly. (Sarcasticy again.)
I turned on the radio to try to calm him. He used the opportunity to “sing along” by saying, “I’m booooreeeeddd” repeatedly in time to the tune. Great stuff! (Yep. You’re getting it now. Sarcasm.)
Finally, it was Daughter’s turn for the drive test with “David,” if that’s even his REAL NAME, so Son and I “relaxed” on an outdoor bench in the shade.
Another mom whose daughter was in line behind us eventually joined us.
“This is nerve-wracking, isn’t it?” I said to her.
“Yes, and this is my daughter’s second try.”
“Oh gosh. I hope she passes,” I said, meanwhile, thinking smugly that SURELY my daughter will pass on the FIRST try.
I had the week from hell. My stress was distressed.
I had been waiting for the publisher to tell me when early copies of Wish I Was Here would be available. I had hoped I’d have them for a Sept. 20 launch party. Greg the Guitarist was on alert for the go sign to book the brewery. (Pun. “Book.”)
I had no forewarning when: The books are available Right Now!
Quick! Check the brewery calendar for the 20th! Aaaaaannnnddddd… booked. (Still a pun.)
Wait! Sept. 6 is open! That’s three weeks away!
Greg??
Like all great stories, this one begins and ends with zucchini.
Here’s what happened.
As planned, I made [read: commissioned Baking Daughter to make] muffins with the zucchini from the Senseis’ bounteous garden. I showed Sensei:
Sensei said, “Want to make a trade??? You need raw materials, I need finished goods.”
This was my third year teaching a girls’ self defense summer camp. I wore a boot for my not-quite-healed broken foot, but I made it work.
The last day was a flurry of fast-paced review, interrupted briefly by what the girls called “story time” for which they gathered around me in a semi-circle.
I’d already given a speech about situational awareness and how their level of alertness should go up as the comfort of their surroundings goes down. (And for goodness sake, don’t be looking at your phone.) This time I gave them real talk about danger from non-strangers and what to do if a relative, family friend, or future coworker makes them uncomfortable.
At the end, one of them said, “That wasn’t a very fun story.” So I added, “Then you grab their head and smash your knee in their face!”
They all shouted, “Yay!”
Not even kidding. It always amuses me how stiff and quiet they are the first few days. By the end,
Cover me.
I’m going under cover.
Cover your mouth when you sneeze?
Okay, fine. I was trying to be unique and not do the standard announcement, but…
Writing and Martial Arts 