For almost two weeks now, I’ve been doing this thing where I sit down in the same place and same time every single day, to write. I give myself an hour, because, really, that’s all I can afford most days. I’ve read enough from successful writers to know that the real work is sitting your butt down in the chair every day and, well, I wanted to figure out a way to make that work for me.
I take it quite seriously; that hour every day. Sometimes it means rushing my kid out the door (if it’s my day for drop-off) so that I can be back at my desk by 8 am. Other days it means telling my family I’ll see them in an hour and then close myself in the office. One morning, it even meant sitting in the hotel lobby while Dom slept in upstairs (and here, it should be noted that I sat and wrote in front of a lovely, warm fire).
I don’t always write for the full hour, but you can be sure my ass is in my chair that whole time. I’ve never been great at creating habits from scratch, but this one? It will be well worth it in the end.
I haven’t really talked to many people about what I’m working on now. There are a select few who know how I’ve been spending my mornings; what thoughts are now filling my journals and notebooks, but mostly, I’ve kept it to myself. I think that, right now, while I have some inkling of what it could all be, I don’t want to get ahead of myself. It needs to be something more, something bigger, before I share it with everyone. I have a habit of jumping the gun, and I don’t want to do that this time. Not with this project. Not with these words.
These words are rebuilding me, letter by letter.
The last almost two weeks have been, well, kind of a mess. First, I fell down the stairs and messed up my tailbone. Then, just days later, DJ and Dom both got the worst cold they’ve probably ever had. That I didn’t catch it was a miracle. DJ missed a lot of school, Dom missed work, and I was here, working from home like I always do. It was a rough six days, to be honest.
I’m tired this morning; the kind of tired that coffee cannot fix. DJ is back and school and Dom is back at work but my mind and my heart haven’t quite caught up.
And so I wanted to look at something beautiful. Be reminded of something beautiful.
Like three blissful, child-free, relaxing days in Maui this past December.
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Over coffee with a girlfriend recently, I admitted that I’m a terribly private person. I didn’t give her the chance to say what most people say—“you sure share an awful lot online for someone who claims to be private”—before I set down my too-strong coffee and leaned closer, saying, “I share what I’m okay with other people knowing.”
That is to say: I’ll tell you what I want you to know. And the rest I want to keep to myself.
I share a lot more with some people than with others, as I think most people do. And there are a select few who get very little of me, mostly because I’ve learned from my mistakes. I consider myself a forgiving person. I’ll forgive you, but I’m also not going to give as much of myself to you in the future should you hurt me.
Lately I find I’m struggling with what to say and what not to say. I used to talk a lot more openly about my life, which is funny if you think about it, because my life has changed so much in the past seven years. Right now, I can think of three things I’d love to write about, but it would mean opening myself up to people I’d rather keep at bay.
So, like I have for too many years now, I stay quiet.
But I find I’m missing it; writing about my life. And I’m determined to find some kind of middle ground, some areas of my life that I’m comfortable sharing. Because as simple and slow as my life is, there is so much good in it that is worth being celebrated.
Beau Fortier starred in most of my cringe-worthy teenage fantasies.
I met him when I was a junior in high school, a time that revolved exclusively around bad hair, failed forays into flirting, and scientific inquiries into which brand of toilet paper worked best for stuffing bras.
That is, until Beau moved into the small guest house just beyond my bedroom window.
A 24-year-old law student at Tulane, Beau was as mysterious to me as second base (both in baseball and in the bedroom). He was older. Intimidating. Hot. Boys my age had chicken legs and chubby cheeks. Beau had calloused hands and a jaw cut from steel. Our interactions were scarce—mostly involving slight stalking on my end—and yet deep down, I desperately hoped he saw me as more of a potential lover than a lovesick loser.
Turns out, I was fooling myself. My fragile ego learned that lesson the hard way.
Now, ten years later, we’re both back in New Orleans, and guess who suddenly can’t take his eyes off little ol’ me.
My old friend, Mr. Fortier.
But things have changed. I’m older now—poised and confident. My ego wears a bulletproof vest. The butterflies that once filled my stomach have all perished.
When I was a teenager, Beau warned me to guard my heart.
Let’s hope he knows how to guard his.
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Despite the craziness of the last month of the year, I was able to read four novels in December, bringing my tally for 2017 up to a cool 50 books read.
I should call December (and the end of November) the month of Christina Lauren, because I read four of their books in succession–Autoboyography being my first and favorite. That book deserves it’s only special review, that’s how much I loved it.
But, I digress.
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I work from home and sometimes things can be a little too quiet. I used to listen to music, but have, over the past few months, started leaving the television on. Usually, I just let a show like Friends or Felicity run in the background, but around the time that the calendar changed over to December I started playing Christmas movies. I love Christmas movies, the cheesier the better. Except for Love, Actually. I don’t know what it is about that one, but I just don’t like it. But turn on The Holiday and I’ll watch it over and over.
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Someone In The Way, book 1 in the
Someone In The Way series
Release Date: January 10, 2018
Lily Gardner thought she’d found her soul mate when she met and married the handsome and well-off Thomas Gardner. But now, thirty, with a four-year-old son, Lily finds herself wading through the messy waters of divorce and single motherhood, crying herself to sleep at night wondering if she’s just lost her only chance at love—and herself in the process.
Nathan Trainor always falls for the wrong women—and Lily is no exception. But now that she’s practically single Nate knows this could be his only chance to prove history wrong. When Lily and Nate are assigned the task of signing a bestselling author who is rumored to be seeking new representation, Lily must put her troubles aside and do whatever it takes to get the job done. And Nate might just get his chance to write his own happy ending.
At once heartbreaking and hopeful, Someone In The Way captures what it feels like to be given a second chance at life—and love.
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What makes you happy?
That was the question Emery Reed asked me the day we met, and I couldn’t give him a single answer. I could have said my dog, or my books, or yoga — but I just stared.
And then, I got in his car.
It was crazy to take a road trip with a stranger, but after years of standing still, he was my one-way ticket to a new life, and I wasn’t going to miss it.
We shared the same space, the same car, the same hotel room — and still, we were strangers.
One day we’d be laughing, the next, we wouldn’t speak. Emery was surrounded by impenetrable walls, but I wanted in.
Discovering his journal changed everything.
I read his thoughts, words not meant for anyone’s eyes, and the more I learned about him, the harder I fell. It turned out nothing made Emery Reed happy, and I wanted to change that.
I earned his trust by violating his privacy, and as wrong as it was, it worked — until one entry revealed a darkness I never knew existed, a timer I never knew was ticking.
Suddenly, what made me happy was saving Emery from himself. I just didn’t know if I could.
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I disappointed my boss on Tuesday. It’s a new feeling, and not one I like. I knew I disappointed him because I could feel him watching me, wanting me to do something, but I couldn’t. I didn’t want to.
We were at PubCon, sitting at a table in the exhibit hall when a woman came up to us and asked us if any of us would like to be interviewed on camera talking about digital marketing. Right away, my boss volunteered me, but I shook my head.
I was angry. He knows I’m terrified of speaking in front of people. Being filmed is even worse. And yet he volunteered me. On the spot, just like that. No preparation.
The woman looked excited, told me they couldn’t get any women to participate. I didn’t look at my boss as I shook my head and declined her offer. I could feel him watching me, disappointed.
It kind of feels like I’ve been letting down a lot of people lately, myself included.
This was the toughest week in every way possible. I know you’re not supposed to wish time away, but I’m glad this week is coming to an end. I just want to put it behind me.
Four weeks until Maui. I can’t put into words how much I need this mini-vacation.