KATHRYN R. BIEL: AUTHOR

You know you're in for it when your alarm doesn't go off first thing Monday morning and you oversleep.  Then, when you get to work, you promptly get a phone call because you were supposed to be at a meeting somewhere else.  Yep, one of those days... I was very scattered this morning, which is not really like me.  But I have good reason to be scattered.  In the midst of a crazy busy weekend, I decided to sit down and try to finish reading what I have on my second book.  Since retrieving my hard drive, I've been re-reading my writing, trying to figure out where to go with the story.  I knew I was about to wrap it up, but wasn't sure exactly how I was going to do that.  I had gone into writing this story with a preconceived notion about where it was going.  But once I got there, I changed my mind.  Anyway, after I got the kiddos in bed last night, I decided to read what I had written.  I got to the end, and it was literally in the middle ...

Hey, anyone wanna guess what this blog post is about? This week, Yvonne at Fiction Books is featuring Good Intentions for  Mailbox Monday .  What's pretty exciting about this is Yvonne is in the U.K., so this could be an international break for me.  Bloggers like Yvonne (and Naida at ...the bookworm... , Marlene at  Book Mama Blog , Charlotte at  A Novel Review  and the gals at  Chick Lit Central ) are such a huge force in the literary world, especially for indie authors like myself.  These ladies have taken the time to read my work or promote it in someway to get the word out to more and more people.  I'm fairly certain that, if (when), I hit it big, it will be because of bloggers like this awesome group. [That being said, there are a few more bloggers who have Good Intentions in their TBR piles.  Anxiously awaiting those reviews!] Also, at the suggestion of my PR manager (a.k.a., my BFF who is working for free at this job), I've ...

My son is on the autism spectrum.  He's not the typical "autistic" kid, although that is the diagnosis that seems to fit closest (although not best).  One of the interesting things about him has always been his scripted play.  From a very early age (about two years old), Jake could recite things, and that is how he played.  We would find him with his toys, narrating an episode of Blue's Clues, but changing the names to "Jake" and "Mom," or something like that.  Not even really understanding what it was at the time, we all thought it was really neat.  He was never one for spontaneous play, where he set up elaborate scenes.  Even to this day, his play is not very verbal. When Jake started school, we used to laugh at his play.  He would come home and play school.  We would overhear him, even if he was in his room by himself, talking.  Reciting, verbatim, scenes from the school day.  We could tell exactly what went on in the classroom...

For my generation, September 11, 2001 is that pivotal day when everyone remembers exactly where they were when they heard the news of the devastating terror attacks.  My story is no different.  However, if you follow the blog and read my post last week, then you could have figured out that I was on my honeymoon when the events of that day went down.  And for the rest of my life, when people talk about "that morning," to me it will always be "that afternoon," as Pat and I were six hours ahead in France.  Being such a world-changing event, I obviously included the day in my honeymoon scrapbook, although we took no pictures that day.  I wrote a long narrative and have included the Time Magazine that covered the story, as well as a copy of 'Le Monde,' which is the main Parisian newspaper, from 9/12/01 in my scrapbook. Here is my narrative from my scrapbook, describing the day from my perspective: *** We spent our last night in Nice in the Comfort Inn.  Unab...

Although I'm sort of having a small career identity crisis at the moment, very rarely have I second-guessed my decision to become a physical therapist.  Occasionally, I think that I should have gone to medical school, but that thought is often fleeting.  With the imminent danger of Obama-care looming, I'm often comfortable in my decision. In fact, I often marvel that I was fortunate enough to figure out, at the age of 18, what I wanted to be when I grew up.  I went to a top-tier program and did fairly well there (once I figured out that attending class was actually necessary for passing said class).  While the economy was bad when I graduated, it took me less than a year to find employment, and I have been steadily employed since.  Often, I even have two or three part-time jobs in my field. Sometimes, working in the school is thankless.  Just like any job, there are people who make your days more challenging.  And just like any rewarding job, there...

I hope this post doesn't come off sounding too whiney or complain-y.  I'm just in a bit of a weird spot right now, and want to process through writing.  Take this as an expression of my thoughts and feelings, but please give me good advice if you have it. I'm stuck.  I don't know what to do or how to proceed. I have my book.  I'm happy that I published it.  Now, I need to figure out how to sell it.  I spent two years trying to get agents to look at it, but to no avail, which is why I went the indie route in the first place.  As I told someone yesterday, publishing is easy.  Selling is hard.  This is why there is big bucks in marketing.  But now what do I do?  I'm sure all of my family and friends are tired of hearing me talk about my book.  I've sent it out for reviews.  Two have come back very favorable, but I only sold a handful of books from it (although any is better than none!).  I'm waiting on a few more rev...

A dozen eggs does not go very far.  A dozen doughnuts travels even less far.  But today, I'm reflecting on another dozen that seemed to fly away in the blink of an eye. A dozen years of marriage. Twelve years ago today, I left Kate Kopach behind and became Kathryn Biel.  I was so very sure of my decision.  Well, except for those brief moments the day before when Pat almost missed the rehearsal.  Then I questioned everything.  By the wedding day, I was nervous, anxious even, but sure of my decision. I can't picture my life any differently.  Sure, sometimes I try.  Sometimes, like when I hear music from my college days, I wax nostalgically upon days gone by and wish for another chance.  But when I am honest with myself, I know that this  is all I've ever wanted. Sure, there are days (or nights, depending on what we're going through), that I play the "If only" game.  There are times when I want to hit my husband in the head wit...