Insights. The Healthy And The Wise. Random.

You may have figured this out by now: I'm not the world's best blogger. I'm not even in the top fifty percent.
Blogging is awkward.
There is this deep anxiety of having to write something profound, something that will mean something to others, instead of blabbering about myself or my writing or whatever else I'm doing, or what I had for breakfast. Blogging, for me, means someone else should profit from it. 
And that's something I rarely can provide, because my life is so boring and slow, there's just nothing anyone else could learn from me.


Take the writing. 
What do you want to learn from my path to being published? Nothing.
One morning three years ago I woke up, and while I was lying there in bed, staring at the early spring sky and the geese passing by outside my window on their way back home, way up in the North, I decided I'd get up, make coffee, and start writing a book.
Just like that. And that's what I did. I got up, made coffee, opened my new laptop, and began writing, and I didn't finish until the book was finished.
Then, when that was done, on another random morning, I posted a page of it on this blog. Hours later, I was talking to my publisher, and weeks later I had a book deal.
End of story. Boring. 
By now, I have two more books written, signed, and on the way to being published, and a new project is looming on the horizon.
It's a job. I work for Buddhapuss Ink. 
I get up in the morning (as before) make coffee (also, as before), start writing, and stop when it's time to stop. It's a fun job, and I do it with a passion, but it's a job and pays my bills.


So if this counts as an insight, I'm fine with it.


My husband is sick.
Not mortally sick, not invalid sick, he just has what many men of his age have who like their food and drink too much and don't go for regular checkups: the famous "metabolic syndrome". In normal speak: high blood sugar, blood pressure and cholesterol. 
Last Sunday, he had to be taken to the ER in an ambulance because we thought he had a stroke, but no, it's only a paralysis in an eye muscle, thank you, diabetes. It was a huge, loud, cannon ball shot of a warning, and I'm quite certain he'll take all those pills and stick to a sensible diet and all those things.
But.
For a while there, while I was waiting for the first results at the ER, all by myself, I was wondering how our life was about to change.
It COULD have been a stroke. An aneurism. A tumor. All those were real possibilities. 
This Sunday could have changed our lives forever. 
He'll have to change his diet and lose some weight. He'll have to learn that a meal without meat is still a meal, and that a bowl of fruit for dinner is enough, you don't need a pastrami sammie to feel full.


The insights I've won from this week for myself, though, are wonderful. 
I've learned that whatever happens, I'll never be alone.
Even while I was waiting at the ER until my kids arrived, my publisher messaged me and asked if there was anything I needed.
The darling woman, I wonder what she'd have done if I'd replied, "Come here! Come here NOW! I need you here!!!"
But anyway, that would have been mean, and I know what she meant  - she was there for me. 
As were all the others. My Facebook friends, my Twitter friends, those I've met in person, those I'm going to meet this year, even those in places I'll never go to, people I'll always only know through the internet, they were ALL there, virtually holding my and my husband's hands, praying, sending good thoughts, asking how it was going, offering support. Quite a lot of them messaged me their phone numbers, asked me to call them if I needed someone to talk to, a couple of doctors offered medical advice.


Just so you know: the first thing I did when my hubby had his diagnosis and I saw him there in his hospital bed was to slap his arm, and hard.
He smiled at me and called me "darling". He knew I did it because I was so relieved to see him well.
He's home now.
After the Easter holidays, on Tuesday, he'll have to go and see our own doctor for his medication, and from now on,  go for regular visits to the lab. It's a small price to pay for a big, big scare.
We are still a family.
I am grateful today.
And that is the most important insight of all: don't take your loved ones for granted. 
Never, for a moment, believe you'll have them forever. Tell them that you love them, every day, all the time. Show them you love them, by caring about them.
Because, you see, there may come one Sunday when you look into their eyes and see something is wrong, just like I did.
Only maybe you'll not be as lucky as I was.
It may just be too late then.










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Author For A Year

Today, I'm going to make a list.
A list of the things that have changed, and of those that have not, in the year since I signed my first book deal with Buddhapuss Ink and turned from writer to author.
I'm not good at "meta-writing". At analyzing the why and wherefore of writing, and sharing it. I get impatient with people who ask "how do you do it?" because I have no idea, and no intention of figuring it out.
Thing is, I just do. I open the writing file every morning, imagine what my characters may be up to, and drift into the writing without thinking too much about it, and after a few months the story is told, and - end of story. That's really pretty much it. Really. Honestly.
On the way toward the end courage fails me sometimes, but then I'm lucky, and I have friends who read along as I write, and they understand my stories better than I do, and tell me, yes, everything is fine, just go on, more, more, we're waiting! And so... I go back and write more.
Until it's done and the publisher rips the new novel from my hands, eager, waiting.
They've done it twice now, and they keep asking for book number 3. Gluttons. All of them.


So... that's basically it.
And since we're at it, and I know many want to hear how someone else managed to write book and land a deal, here's my only advice for you: write. If you think you have a story in you, write. Don't think about publishing it, don't worry about agents and royalties, just write the damn thing already.
End of story.




But we were talking about things that change - or not - once you have that elusive deal, right?


So here's my list.


Things that DO NOT change:


1. You are not instantly rich and famous. Forget it. One book won't make you rich and famous, unless a miracle happens, and it very rarely does.


2. Even though YOU know you just won the lottery, the general public won't. They have no idea how incredibly lucky you were, to get to sign a book contract. There are a million talented writers out there, but YOU caught someone's attention. Don't wonder why. Sign. Be happy. And ignore the puzzled stares of strangers when you dance down the street. They don't know.


3. You still have to clean the bathroom and feed the kids.




Things that DO change:


1. You are instantly rich and famous. I don't mean money-rich, but rich in a way you never thought you'd be. Let me spell VALIDATION for you. All those stolen hours, all the guilt? REDEEMED! In a moment, the one moment when you put your name on that dotted line of the contract, you are a free person, an author, someone with the License To Write. Awesome.
You can hand out your brand-new business cards and say, "I'm an author. Yes, I write books." And then watch the expression in people's faces change, take on that slightly suspicious look as they ask themselves, "Do I know her?" Ha!


2. You DID win the lottery. Let no one fool you.


3. All of a sudden, the guilty hobby isn't a hobby anymore. There are real people out there who think they can make real money with you, and they don't have time for foolishness. You have a job now, and you better do it, and do it well. And... fast.


4. If you get really lucky (like me!) someone else will clean the bathroom from now on. And get takeout lunch from time to time. Just because they are proud of you. Because you are an author. Because you did something many dream of doing, and never do.


5. and last: it is never too late to live your dream. Never. Do it.




See? I wrote a blog post about being an author. Hope my publisher sees this, too. Hope they see that YES I AM BLOGGING and getting in the swing for the next blog hop, coming up in September, for my new book, "Under The Same Sun".


Please feel free to add to the list!














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Dancing On Tables, Nekkie.

You know how it is... when the Cat isn't around, the mice dance on the table.
Naked. With abandon. Loud music, drinks and spicy snacks. Congas and whistles.
There may be a furtive glance or so to check if the Boss is coming back early, but the party goes on.


Yeah, so my publisher is taking a break, and I could be one of the mice. I could pretend I'm not an author, don't have deadlines, don't have to promote "Distant Shore", just... do what I want. For a few days.
Seriously.
I bought knitting yarn. And a DVD set of "Criminal Minds".
I fluffed up my couch cushions, made a lot of coffee, and settled down for a couple of comfy days.
Sounds good, eh?


Only... instead of picking up the needles and the yarn I opened the MacBook - first mistake.
Then I checked my emails - second mistake. I had a look at Facebook - bloody stupid mistake.


Isn't it amazing how much you can come to rely on seeing someone every day, talking to them, working with them? How much a part of your life they have become, and how much you WANT them to be there?


So, what I did I do?


Instead of lazing around I opened the book file and stared at the last chapter I'd written.
Made some corrections. Added a few lines. Deleted a couple of sentences.
Typed, "Chapter 17". Idly. As if it meant nothing. Wiped the computer screen with my sleeve.
Wrote a first sentence for that chapter, which went:

The plates were huge, the arrangements fanciful, but the portions so small, they made Naomi want to weep.

And since that sentence seemed to sit well, I went on with:

Dolefully she stared at the minuscule steak and the three tiny potatoes before her, and wished she had not wanted to see the place where the New York publishing world hung out for lunch. 

The drinks, she had noticed, were not small. And they were carried past their table often, actually more often than food.

That sounded good enough, and about 3500 words later the chapter was finished.

As always, I sent it off to the publisher, knowing well no one would read it this weekend. And yet, it seemed like the right thing to do.

And since the writing was flowing I went to get some more coffee and then typed:

"Chapter 18"

Made that one begin with,

Olaf had sent people from the hotel to do the Christmas decorations, saying that she probably didn’t have anything at hand, and he knew how much she loved to have everything perfect and up in time.

Worked, too, and I had another 3K words down before the weekend was over.

Then Johanna Harness reminded me that I was scheduled for a guest blog on #amwriting for today. 

Oh, Ok. Forget about that one.

Write about the Blog Hop, she said, and my insides drew together like quince juice on an unsuspecting tongue.

But I did that, too. In fact, it was easier than I thought, and the Blog Hop not as terrible as I like to pretend.

So... after having spent the entire weekend writing (like a good little mousie!) I called my publisher today. It was good to hear her voice, good to laugh and chat. 

And it was even better to be able to say  – quite  coolly – oh, I'm fine. Nothing new here. Just the same old stuff. Writing. Promoting "Distant Shore". Blogging. Nah, I was fine without you. Yeah. Talk tomorrow! Take care. Bye Bye. Love you.

So... who wants some nekkie dancing on tables now? I'm free to do some partying!














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Jaqui Asks

A couple of weeks ago, my dear friend Jaqui asked me a few questions about myself, and I was intrigued, because she didn't want to know about the AUTHOR but the PERSON Mariam. 
It felt different, and actually quite liberating, to answer these. And I'm glad to tell her everything she wants to know!

Right then - here are my very random questions!!!  I hope you think they're okay.  I seem to have asked one or more questions in some of them!!!  But I literally wrote whatever popped in my head.

 

1. Do you enjoy being interviewed?
   
   
   Sometimes. Actually, yes. I love talking to people, love to learn about them, and tell them about myself. I'm not shy! I've made many friends via Facebook and Twitter, met quite a number of them in person, and that wouldn't have happened if I didn't like to talk to people.
   
   
2. What was your favourite lesson at school?
   
   
   English. No two ways about it. We speak English at my parents' house, but I soon developed a kind of obsession for the language. It took me to university where I studied American Literature, to learn as much as I could. As you know, it turned me into a writer! I'm a native German, but I write in English, and I publish in the USA. I'm very proud of that. I'm proud of being good enough to be successful in a different language!
   
   
3. What was the last book you read?
   
   
   That was NOT my own, during editing? That would be Sam Hilliard's "The Last Track". I'm not a great fan of crime, but that book really caught me. Do you want to hear a secret? 
   I LOVE Science Fiction. That's my favorite reading genre. Lately I've even been thinking of writing some. But not yet... there are still too many other projects.
   
   
4. Would you write an autobiography?
   
   
   One word: NO. 
   My family's story is... let me say, not fun. 
   But some small details do crop up in my novels. I've picked settings for the "Stone Trilogy" that I've actually visited, and my own feelings about them spill over into the books. 
   
   
   A real autobiography, though - never.
   
   
5. What's your favourite food and do you treat yourself to anything in particular when you're writing?
   
   
   When I'm writing, I don't eat anything, and often enough I even forget to drink enough water. That's because I hate to get up and interrupt myself, once the thoughts are flowing. I've forgotten to put on socks or make lunch, let in the cat or keep appointments.
   
   
   My favorite food... homemade, that would be chicken soup. With asparagus, peas, and fresh noodles. Yummy! My mouth is watering even now!
   If someone else buys me lunch or dinner, it would have to be Thai. I ADORE Thai cooking! Green Thai curry with beef... *drool*!
   
   
   
   
6. You obviously love music. Do you have something fave that you listen to when you're writing?
   
   
   Yes, I do. For every book, I put together a playlist with about eighty or so songs, that I listen to while I write. There are songs for every scene, every chapter, and when I listen to them, I recreate the atmosphere of that particular setting. It works!
   
   
   Oh, do you mean PARTICULAR songs, lol? That's a secret!
   
   
   
   
7. Are you good at saying 'The End' or do you find yourself going back and wanting to add more or change stuff? If you do – how do you stop yourself?
   
   
   No, I'm good at saying "The End". There is a natural point for ending a story, when it comes full circle. It's easy to let go, then. You can feel it coming on, after the climax of the tale, when reason returns and solutions are in sight, one way or the other. Like a river, the story runs to its end. Then, I go back and read the whole thing. Once, two times, three times, and edit and polish until I think it's good enough to send to the publisher. 
   A finished novel feels like an egg, somehow. I don't know how else to say it. When I send it off, when I put it into that attachment and hand it over, it feels like a shiny, smooth egg. Something that rests well in my hand.
   
   
   
   
8. Who in your family has read The Distant Shore? What did they think?
   
   
   My Mom, would you believe it, and she loved it! I was SO embarrassed when she told me she had ordered it, and I didn't even want to think about her reading the "steamier" scenes, but she loved it! She told me she felt like she was there, as if she was inside the scenes. I think that's a great compliment, and I'm very happy about it. 
   No one else here has read it, and I don't think anyone will. I'm surrounded by guys, and I can't see them reading "The Distant Shore" or any other of my books.
   It's okay. I'm fine with it. They are a huge support, and they are proud of me. That's good enough for me!
   
   
   
   
9. Are they very impressed and proud of you? (I AM!) 
   
   
   Impressed? I don't know. If they are, they don't let on. My teenage son is WAY too cool to admit that he is proud of me, or impressed. My hubby tells me he's proud. I think he really is. But he's also not very surprised. It's a bit deflating if all you hear is, "I TOLD you so!" Honestly.
   Same with my older son. For them, it was a matter of fact that I'd sooner or later be a published author. I know. They are nuts. But they are also right, so who cares!
   
   
10. Do you have an outfit planned in your head for your first tv interview?
    
    
    But I had my first TV interview already! That was last summer, in Lynchburg VA in the US. My friend Bunny is a TV producer, and she arranged it for me. I was in a very nice embroidered, red shirt and a white skirt. Not that anything really looks REALLY good on me, I'm too much out of shape for that, but I looked neat enough. 
    Of course, had you asked me for the outfit I'll wear once "Distant Shore" is a Hollywood movie and I'm at the Oscars when it is nominated... totally different story! :)
    
    

The Dolphin Of My Heart's Desire.

I talked to a friend yesterday. We were best buddies in high school, during grades eight to ten. We did everything together, all the time. There wasn’t one weekend when we didn’t sleep over at each other’s houses, not one day when we didn’t spend hours on the phone after school, no lunch break we didn’t hang out together.

We had the same hobbies, shared the same passions…well, almost.

Carol always loved horses and dogs, and I’m scared of horses (they are so HUGE!) and I’m more of a cat person. 

She preferred rock music, while I was (in the early 70s) more of a Neil Diamond, Albert Hammond and Simon & Garfunkel girl, with some Joan Baez and Janis Ian thrown in. There may or may not have been a Barbra Streisand album or two thrown in.

I remember learning some English words from Neil Diamond that were definitely not in my text books, like “transcend” and “overhear”. It must have been around that time when I decided I wanted to know every English word there was.

Carol and I wrote stories. 

Like most teenage girls, we had our secret loves, TV stars, pop stars, and we made up stories about them. Well, Carol made up the stories. I designed the “covers” and came up with the titles. And I watched her write.

I helped her make up the plots, and I did write a bit myself, but generally I was too lazy.

I didn’t see myself as a writer. Carol was the writer. She was the one soaring in her imagination. She was the one who brought wonderful sentences to paper.

Her novels had a plot, they had a beginning, a middle, and an ending, there were characters in them that seemed alive and real. Normal, living people, while the heroes I made up were always some kind of celebrities, famous, rich, and carefree.

You see, there was enough dreariness in my real life to want to keep it out of my dream world. I wanted to escape to nicer, happier places, like California with its eternal sunshine. The music business, creativity, those were my subjects, while Carol wrote about a family living on a ranch, with horses and dogs.

My people had to struggle with their creativity, with their loves, but never with money, and certainly not with animals. They didn’t even have time for a potted plant, let alone a pet, they were that busy creating and loving.

I lost Carol when we were in 11th grade.

She drifted off into the drug scene, and I went to Canada for the summer. When I got back, she was in a clinic, and I changed schools.

We met once more, about ten years later. I was married by then, my first son in pre-school. My husband and I stopped for a brief visit with her.

She was married too, had three babies, and was living in an apartment overlooking a factory yard, as far away from that ranch and the horses as you can imagine.

We never reconnected after that, until yesterday. She had found me on Facebook.

I called her on the phone, and we talked.

She told me she is a widow now, her husband died of a brain tumor six years ago. There were four kids, she had to raise them on her own, and it wasn’t easy.

The family lives out in the country, in an old farm house, with horses and dogs and cats. Carol doesn’t have a lot of money, but, she told me, she’s happy.

When she asked me about my life, I told her about my just published book, about the new contract I’ve just signed with Buddhapuss Ink, about last year’s book tour, and the one coming up next year.

“I’ll be going to New Yoek,” I told her, “And Salt Lake City."

There was a long pause.

“Wow,” Carol said, “I’ve never left my home town. We went on vacation once, but that’s it. I’m still here.”

She could hardly believe my life. She could hardly believe it when I told her I was a published author now, and my book was selling and getting good reviews.

“You lived our dream,” she said, “You’re going to all those places we were dreaming about, you are a published author! How did you do it? Where did you get the spark?"

The spark?

There was no spark. There was only a lingering dream, a constant, soft pull I had ignored for most of my life.

It almost felt like the dolphin of my heart’s desire playing in the ocean of my life, sometimes breaking through the surface, but never long enough to make much of an impact.

I don’t know what changed.

All I know is that, on a gloomy day in November of 2008, I woke up and knew the time had come. Suddenly, with every fiber of my soul, I knew I had to write that book.

My hubby bought me a laptop, and I sank into The Distant Shore, forgetting everything else. Often enough, there was no lunch for the family, and no ironed shirts for my husband.

I was too busy writing.

And I didn’t stop until the book was finished. I had left the surface, and I was dancing with the dolphin. The moment I put that first sentence on paper was like jumping from a cliff into that ocean where the dolphins were waiting, and I was free.

I’m still down there, frolicking in the freedom of the sun-dappled water.

And I’m never coming back.

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Liebster Blog Award

To my utter surprise and delight, my friend Jackie nominated my little blog for this award.

Jackie is an outstanding poet. Her verses are among my favorites, and I'm honored to be her friend. Visit her blog here: http://1emeraldcity.wordpress.com/

The Liebster Blog Award originated in Germany.  Liebster means “favorite” or “dearest.”  The recipient of this award agrees to the following:

1.  Show your gratitude to the blogger who gave you the award by linking back to them.
2.  Reveal your top 5 picks for the award, and let them know.
3.  Post the award on your blog.
4.  Bask in the love from the most supportive people in the blogsphere.
5.  And last, have fun and spread the karma!

The following are my five selections in no particular order:

http://buddhapussink.blogspot.com/  - my publisher, and dearest friend

http://www.junyingkirk.com/  - author friend Junying Kirk, a wonderful writer and kindred spirit

http://pompomrouge.wordpress.com/ - crafter, quilter, knitter Kirsten Duncan. I can't say enough  in how many ways I adore her art

http://www.fayerapoportdespres.com/ - Faye Rapoport Despres. One of the really great Ones. Enough said.

http://thepioneerwoman.com/ -  Ree Drummond. Seriously.

and as number six I'm adding http://www.johannaharness.com/ - because nothing goes without her. 

NeelaVanam - a review of "The Distant Shore"

Today I got this mail from my poet friend @NeelaVanam on twitter. 

I had asked her to read and – if she felt like it – please review "Distant Shore". This is what she wrote. (And YES my heart stood still!)

Thank you so much!

Dear Mariam

 What a lovely book you have written. My time was well spent reading it. 

What I say will not in any way be new, but I need to tell you that you have a style of writing that is so lyrical and captivating. 

Thank you for sending me a copy to read. I anticipate the arrival of the second and third book in the trilogy.

I thought my review should be in a poetical style matching yours. :)

A poetical review of "The Distant Shore"

Here is a love story ~ first of the trilogy ~ well crafted and spellbinding ~ "The Distant Shore."

The popular and rich rock star ~ Jon ~ who is pining and longing. 

The richer and humble ~ Naomi ~ strong willed and adoring.

Joshua ~ the strength and reason ~ for their bonding.

Friends ~ parents ~ lovers and dear siblings.

The story begins as a brook ~ twists and turns ~ whirls and meanders

and as you raft along ~ delves into a deep river.

The pain and resentment ~ their piled up love ~ flow in a lyrical fever.

Like a magic carpet ~ from Malibu to Halmar ~ 

London to New york~ Mariam's pen~ takes you everywhere.

The last few pages~ will glue you to the couch~ with bitten nails!

You will waste a day for sure wondering ~ Why did this end~ what will happen next? 

I have a few stars from the sky~ to give you~ they are five in number.

For the second book~ with bated breath~ we shall wait~ Mariam dear!

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