tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-61274025984531238312023-11-30T17:12:26.700-08:00KATHRYN R. BIEL: AUTHORTelling stories of resilient women with humor, heart, and a happy ending.<br>www.kathrynrbiel.comKathrynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08312004547872461641noreply@blogger.comBlogger236125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6127402598453123831.post-39925955976976415582019-04-17T15:23:00.000-07:002019-04-17T15:23:40.659-07:00'Twas the Night Before Pub ...<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: large;">'Twas the night before pub and all through the place,</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: large;">I know I should be writing instead of staring into space.</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: large;">There's reviews to seek and ads to make,</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: large;">Yet all I can do is eat another piece of cake.</span></i></div>
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It's true--I want all the cake. Oh, and it is indeed the night before release for my thirteenth book, <i>Ready for Whatever (The UnBRCAble Women Series, #1)</i>. I'm in love with this book on so many levels, but let's start with the most basic. Would you look at this incredible cover?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCWWuknx8PJvPoxj-Xp4PEisFmi5HxLazK6Ed2QZFwqFeD6kDOWsxlMGsnyRcS3KQCs_c_iRdqb_HmLpnEa56ggqtyKr525VOp-z9-D9nX4RG-fbp6zPEcoCUu-02vIC-nCQb7h4NR1Z4/s1600/Ready+for+Whatever+Cover+Final.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCWWuknx8PJvPoxj-Xp4PEisFmi5HxLazK6Ed2QZFwqFeD6kDOWsxlMGsnyRcS3KQCs_c_iRdqb_HmLpnEa56ggqtyKr525VOp-z9-D9nX4RG-fbp6zPEcoCUu-02vIC-nCQb7h4NR1Z4/s320/Ready+for+Whatever+Cover+Final.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
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But more important is the story behind the conception of this book. Rewind to last July. On Sunday, I finished going over the first draft of <i>Paradise by the Dashboard Light</i> and submitted it to my editor. Monday, July 8, left me without a current work in progress (WIP). In my head, I was going to write the women's fiction/family drama that I'd been taking notes for. However, my title for that book began with S. I needed an R title.<br />
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<i>(Yes, I title my books in alphabetical order. It's a long story. Also, Q and P were reversed in release order due to issues beyond my control, but I didn't want to let that happen again. I've got some compulsion issues.) </i></blockquote>
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Monday, July 8, 2018, I literally spent 2 hours searching for those files on my computer. When I finally found them and tried to write, it was like trying to get milk from a stone. I spent the day, even at the pool with my kids, feeling tremendous pressure to write but not being able to. I was also battling tremendous feelings of anxiety. My friend, Erin Huss, was three-thousand miles away, undergoing a prophylactic bilateral mastectomy and reconstruction due to a predisposition to breast cancer.<br />
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I hadn't wanted to tell her this, but I'd talked to a few women who'd had disastrous prophylactic mastectomy experiences. I was nervous for her. All day I stalked not only hers but her husband's social media, looking for an update. I messaged mutual friends to see if they'd heard anything. Around 9:30 pm, I dozed off (what can I say, I like to go to bed early).<br />
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As my anxiety ratcheted up (why does sleep seem to do that?), my mind raced, set to the soundtrack of <i>Mama Mia!, </i>which I'd seen that weekend. If you want to feel stress, play <i>Super Troopers</i> on a loop in your brain and see how relaxed you feel.<br />
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I woke up in the middle of the night to find this message from Erin:<br />
💪💪👍<br />
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I relaxed some, and sent the message that I was glad to hear from her and to say yes to all the drugs. A few hours later (damn Abba), I awoke to find this message:<br />
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<span style="background-color: #f1f0f0; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Lol. I so don’t remember sending the above emoji </span><img alt="🤣" class="_1ift _2560 img" src="https://static.xx.fbcdn.net/images/emoji.php/v9/t52/1/16/1f923.png" style="background-color: #f1f0f0; border: 0px; display: inline-block; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; height: 16px; margin: 0px 1px; pointer-events: none; vertical-align: middle; white-space: pre-wrap; width: 16px;" /><img alt="🤣" class="_1ift _2560 img" src="https://static.xx.fbcdn.net/images/emoji.php/v9/t52/1/16/1f923.png" style="background-color: #f1f0f0; border: 0px; display: inline-block; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; height: 16px; margin: 0px 1px; pointer-events: none; vertical-align: middle; white-space: pre-wrap; width: 16px;" /><img alt="🤣" class="_1ift _2560 img" src="https://static.xx.fbcdn.net/images/emoji.php/v9/t52/1/16/1f923.png" style="background-color: #f1f0f0; border: 0px; display: inline-block; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; height: 16px; margin: 0px 1px; pointer-events: none; vertical-align: middle; white-space: pre-wrap; width: 16px;" /><span style="background-color: #f1f0f0; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; white-space: pre-wrap;"> I do remember thinking that I needed to let my book girls know I was alive and well, though! Ha. I’ve been saying yes to ALL the drugs. As I lay here at 1:30 AM, not tired (slept all day) I’ve been running. You know what would be a sweet premise for a contemporary rom? A young woman who loses her mom to BC, finds out she’s BRCA 2 and undergoes the mastectomy and all the recon surgeries. She also has a full hysterectomy (as with most BRCA). In the meantime she meets a single dad, he could probably have a wacky ex-wife, and they fall in love. But she holds back because she one) can’t have kids and he’s expressed wanting more. Two) no man has seen her reconstructed breasts (boxy boobs with no nipples can be jarring). Plus she has zero feeling in them. She’s struggling to feel like a woman. Could be the drugs. Or could be a brilliant idea. Either way, you could write beautifully. Call it previvor.</span><br />
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Yes my friends, that is how <i>Ready for Whatever</i> came to be. Before 6 am, I had the first chapter (now actually the second chapter) written, starting with the line,<br />
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<i><span style="font-size: x-large;">"Look on the bright side, Millie. At least you don't have cancer."</span></i></blockquote>
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By midmorning, I'd also worked on a cover concept. Here was my initial thought:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHrmRpuQcNv_Ks346iWopLd4w7TRG2cUdYLgSUyyhSydI0DSdU1k-G_pCnqLLPRNA3rIz9O8kawVLpkP_gAa8QEgL7sAH922mK7xoKMBUrv2yPNKX36bsKdXta3GxeQ54Kj7JSrjHVkGE/s1600/Ready+for.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1003" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHrmRpuQcNv_Ks346iWopLd4w7TRG2cUdYLgSUyyhSydI0DSdU1k-G_pCnqLLPRNA3rIz9O8kawVLpkP_gAa8QEgL7sAH922mK7xoKMBUrv2yPNKX36bsKdXta3GxeQ54Kj7JSrjHVkGE/s320/Ready+for.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
FYI, there's a reason why I hire a cover designer.<br />
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So, all these months later, this project is finally ready for the world to see. No matter how many books I release, there's always that moment of feeling that I'm standing in front of the world, naked. I can't imagine ever getting over that sensation.<br />
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Cancer touches us all. But many of the issues in this book are not exclusive to cancer. While this is a book about loss, it's also a story of found. And all women need that message of finding, even in the face of loss. Plus, believe it or not, this is a funny book. If you don't believe me, will you trust a review?<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>"I love chick lit, but this book transcends the genre."</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>-Readers' Favorite</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
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If you're looking for the book, you can find it here:</div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">→ Amazon: </span><a data-ft="{"tn":"-U"}" data-lynx-mode="async" data-lynx-uri="https://l.facebook.com/l.php?u=https%3A%2F%2Fbit.ly%2FReadyForWhatever%3Ffbclid%3DIwAR2Wd82Jovt9J531bIenfs5ToS6vXtrsfU8xVE4emYloZGmzzIhscrlhNl4&h=AT3BkShiGFf2LXR7uVcmFy20SMGQzXFwAjc2zVblhAhSIzJu2_xDnVJ9y-d1uRbXxQw4JQSJWbR06ZxVQUKT9V_ilSvfsXYiDORSwH1UqNT2VPkJ6_yJ5fjhZPTbVN56YTzczIKVVkZNmpb-i7fySjsbIUI9CzQXeWH15IIbfL-AhHRwgqtfzGIJPdAXiyeQCyys9dd6ovT6miWPPY5XoWU0y7dQ7MMVIC0aNpsIp4k3vp3KyYhWLZKjspVmsVh5OwxPoO0pXiJ7NlD24bbhA9QP7ECMY9QUvSHhwt4Vxl3yHpn3DllYXy3NdZ3MVG9uuEVaaJ2Plo0SpVyOBB1uFDjPxNBy5urWL03spyfaC_AkI09Llagd3F9oKGUAQIHBWPo90Gomk-UKa9axOaNaMjRcLgqskm6nWhsiH3Iuafnj6FF8wqggyC3S6e_Tp1DmYES9SyUaGb3VbMC01H47YI4ykuTv7MnCLKXCAs16RON1okUdAMGekR1nuEzdFxiBPGHC2OGBLemxJ6Ryq17d53CZYrYeTHP7uDnCmPszX9tv-D4MytOxSoc2SQNYU6iyfB9v6TC0oUfaw52GEKpjlrf05rNfjzkR5Ji5RJMZFc1Hp83rdfavsY35Q7qSkWsmw0kWnbnx7eYuhmslAXXBZQ" href="https://bit.ly/ReadyForWhatever?fbclid=IwAR2Wd82Jovt9J531bIenfs5ToS6vXtrsfU8xVE4emYloZGmzzIhscrlhNl4" rel="noopener nofollow" style="background-color: white; color: #365899; cursor: pointer; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">http://bit.ly/ReadyForWhatever</a><br style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">→ Nook: </span><a data-ft="{"tn":"-U"}" data-lynx-mode="async" href="https://l.facebook.com/l.php?u=https%3A%2F%2Fbit.ly%2FNookRFW%3Ffbclid%3DIwAR3vDfo5t30hmo43otjpcD-PSK4zHfuoKq50M5vi0WU3MsiGBIwVDFExUQs&h=AT3htLc3enfv4PLsQOpMaq7g5ZMlaEGTnf3jBflz8szA_C4mijgs5_eXEjdeHqhtMIfl40ocZ9Pb1qXacIwZFyB7C8sWtF5gNXd44CKaELk67f2SqJ83AT1nEb10rRIKBgBNljpTnayJILD0taYCx3Mm6GKXPqxBEojDX2UPQgC57Gs8QKLbhW_Zlir2D81dFF5GWG-aw0Y56OCWKqg4G59nf8CI0VHAPNvFI3hp4-WNoMwojtdDDdLYe_hWwNKdSBDHyYI7oOxaugW3AtNDRpHZuOS46pbGW1uVAh2DIij3JzsJ0aGM5GEJmOBUKY-1XBGyyArsSu8VOVcfGCok6dk5pVQy_EXPtZtqygoULG10zU6fCGS5EQJmQvJwKaCRHwmIpalxsYtGs2rx5Sb78PnvmDIor5b3L68nQ_6CEb8OvgznY_n8tUI1_fwfHFLPPiZ7GZgUz4oVni9SfWA9AQFvn8PYetmpuKhWPWMKAx9hh7aBqGFfkEcq3mxJqPmyAk54rs_65ROazC5occDdmNpeweTNU1MjECOWT26mdaUiRKP1hRohKrIzUH2DVNZQWK5swpXLQBRE85JkPnkrK4ISWYBGtJn8OfLERNgtXb48xGx12MN-wd-_LX67Osw2BYzj6Tulbizqw_rkrVuF0g" rel="noopener nofollow" style="background-color: white; color: #365899; cursor: pointer; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" target="_blank">http://bit.ly/NookRFW</a><span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; display: inline; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><br />→ Kobo: <a data-ft="{"tn":"-U"}" data-lynx-mode="async" data-lynx-uri="https://l.facebook.com/l.php?u=https%3A%2F%2Fbit.ly%2FKoboRFW%3Ffbclid%3DIwAR1H5jlaXL2kNW35R8X-zlQhEBGGAg_4a-QFwiItUclsD3hNSFamAkPA77Q&h=AT1ogyB26qrAnZ_CuLPPUf7eKIQ4-Hr9YiptYEl70qY1xKT_xY2VvMbCGbenf_f5Tg-Gy-UL8E6ltMfi97-BorzOu6jlGuoa1NVKAEN2EAro_I5w8BvLJfmdDjOG_rB2nJd_icXvzkHmKrBp9dQra9SNBi0NNHWPl3fuOGp-29U7fzqNskwzbBCB4f-mb8m3WK9o6h2zj2EsSMLWQyDbxYfhUQKbTjLXx4HL9mb7Hkzpb1rKBrVHwhAY356cKXkT7zutsgwiXVQrh9xdDaQxUPAqPc03H3N38lCZgRXTRmRY5aFeTUGAQrkSLcoLNDaGcYYP6USqJ0PdesgxURLvpPPoTydl7VmckOKd6mZ11fDPLs5aTvC5uvmChOJdh2d7ph2dGyD9WnZNrMQQDfUBTGEoNviLAhex9vrRCJAJHotZ7G5-Tb86EAjAx6qcTvwl3Q4j-YlghdiuxEgft0OQ9asMp7EptWdWayufXO_2IFvEPGBwDWLdwVN0eUmDLKdD698tu8suIYWb_m_JuJWs89CnMY7tOjV9U8lNpcnN_LeT1tzrT1n7g2PjmFTOI9OTfN1zR7RMiAg8p8lSFK7h6bKW6N-uAZC2Ape3AJpHJ-EJACb2thK9Kt8i7ndW7mijQS4E8vBFHf1ccze8DmkQaw" href="https://bit.ly/KoboRFW?fbclid=IwAR1H5jlaXL2kNW35R8X-zlQhEBGGAg_4a-QFwiItUclsD3hNSFamAkPA77Q" rel="noopener nofollow" style="color: #365899; cursor: pointer; font-family: inherit; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">http://bit.ly/KoboRFW</a><br />→ iBooks: <a data-ft="{"tn":"-U"}" data-lynx-mode="async" href="https://l.facebook.com/l.php?u=https%3A%2F%2Fbit.ly%2FiBooksRFW%3Ffbclid%3DIwAR2q4JjxYrwvk-SYW8A_LHw_8xkXIWfgnkg78cuZICPGJHqYqv2bf-NXDQM&h=AT0u73rSMWxJbRusHkMxaX-csqaKb0133zP1jWfJpjbWsZRRbTc-1zEAkJ3BK9rNrL0ogGWLFc-Y5lw_UCg_y_Ds99hAQZy3U7tPno1UBI2aYVv6yFipNP20Qo4VN0nqAod4_PdXAS8FPTT3dFEmpWibPxYgkp2MtmLPFwscqds2f3ZpO9EhDlshn8Nem9kVcZs9Jp2bcOSY55lAEbYfwH21YXCwLKRkafwKBHY1BRMI_v5SiOZtVnopatfA7_7fPC1cpeOqTG8CC_r8-v3xUEm8fQ0Lh4qkGZeNrLV_JC2nzmTlPXK1IIJavi_5NeQVdWbz4AnT5KLiVIs22iefY4ZrpLYa2QA7HgFxnCCUhCy-BM5RubB9dy48kzxjvA6Wx0j49NxFdx-kFlI2sRnrrB7kmpnm_96jNUE4aeCRYk9BHDucH3nw3UjnVlHRkgXDRJ2tp1Ze0ikp2QpTnQPXRGZghu7P7Ese7HuJUwVe_ux7-BVwVh2nxsv_bWJXLpUx00Cq4i4FpOvLEGTddYXL-6WP6AJwCNYDjMKYFOvlnGf9NsfGQm8Gu_Yv3P-SlRhzxVmFnLs1ersd8Um26Bwt08zV6_KamN-UIlItTAaV1DvBAJnaTUwzCW4OuWCeVec_ccKmsqFz_MWxzJxXUO43Fg" rel="noopener nofollow" style="color: #365899; cursor: pointer; font-family: inherit; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">http://bit.ly/iBooksRFW</a></span></div>
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Otherwise, please just have a piece of cake for me. :-)</div>
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#BeUnBRCAble</div>
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Kathrynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08312004547872461641noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6127402598453123831.post-65260649563621684812019-03-03T15:28:00.001-08:002019-03-03T15:28:52.185-08:00Still a Winner After All These YearsThe year was 1989. I was a mere 13 years old, babysitting for the next door neighbors while they had a night out on the town. The kids were safely tucked in their beds, and I put on the TV. Just in time to catch the beginning of the second half of <i>Gone with the Wind</i>.<br />
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I'd never seen this movie, but I'd been aware of the book for years, as a battered copy sat on my mother's bookshelf.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ9ZbOs-rYPSMata86TaU1tLLc1mgJXuCX4hiRa25eW-gjDzYmcAYUYFpEh-_n2B-YqbpP_N8x32MO6Iybu59IihUPpPbs1eF7wcntS7icCy6ZUu6PeI1s6xd8y8sNFIcqu9V9wdxW3Mo/s1600/IMG_20190303_172900.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ9ZbOs-rYPSMata86TaU1tLLc1mgJXuCX4hiRa25eW-gjDzYmcAYUYFpEh-_n2B-YqbpP_N8x32MO6Iybu59IihUPpPbs1eF7wcntS7icCy6ZUu6PeI1s6xd8y8sNFIcqu9V9wdxW3Mo/s320/IMG_20190303_172900.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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Ok, so it's a bit more battered, but yes, this is it.<br />
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When I got home, I told my mother and had all sorts of questions. What happened with Ashley? Did he tell Scarlett he would marry her?<br />
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My mom, ever the dedicated reader, was disappointed that I saw the movie first. It was then that this battered, 862-page classic became mine. So I read it. Twice. And then I saw the movie. And then I bought a copy of the screenplay while on vacation.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvy2psriF-yyBw9N2bthmu8YjHgkKEQ8tbFYKGot6eO0_x2d88t5VCnKWQ1f8cb_6AhdjlB9yNBId1joxI6xLiYwB2KbURvcQ_U8znEgJ-L6GFhuYjVgOlE_WGSr8opOk5qDeC01rEMSc/s1600/IMG_20190303_172842.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvy2psriF-yyBw9N2bthmu8YjHgkKEQ8tbFYKGot6eO0_x2d88t5VCnKWQ1f8cb_6AhdjlB9yNBId1joxI6xLiYwB2KbURvcQ_U8znEgJ-L6GFhuYjVgOlE_WGSr8opOk5qDeC01rEMSc/s320/IMG_20190303_172842.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
Luckily, it was the 50th anniversary of the movie, so there was lots of memorabilia available. And then my mom began getting me the plates from the Bradford Exchange, and eventually the Barbie dolls to go with them. The plates and Barbies are still in my old room at my parents' house.<br />
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Disclaimer: These are not pictures of MY <i>actual</i> plates or Barbies, but these are the ones I have.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqeQnBVjDqUY5SKbmLT_rZEy49sk6Cri4V86poCix7OMSDJKtg5IKKjSWbCOA4RcDCmrE0Fc5aNvSQA_oIakE4QC6jQBNiC6YxmiWk17tcIA-bmvvyX8l75izWKzNQ-v2c_SqymDBaSDY/s1600/GWTW1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="314" data-original-width="237" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqeQnBVjDqUY5SKbmLT_rZEy49sk6Cri4V86poCix7OMSDJKtg5IKKjSWbCOA4RcDCmrE0Fc5aNvSQA_oIakE4QC6jQBNiC6YxmiWk17tcIA-bmvvyX8l75izWKzNQ-v2c_SqymDBaSDY/s320/GWTW1.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
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Within the year, I was dreaming up a continuation to the story. I mean, it <i>couldn't</i> really end there, without Scarlett and Rhett together. Of course, my story, which I thought about on many nights alone in my room as a teen, involved Scarlett getting Rhett back via his relationship with her other two children, Wade Hamilton and Ella Kennedy. 'Cause let's face it, Rhett's a good guy and wouldn't cut the kids out simply because of their mother. </div>
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Then came the whole <i>Scarlett</i> sequel and TV movie debacle, which I boycotted, and I moved on.</div>
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But now, 30 years later, I'm a writer, amongst other things. I still list <i>Gone with the Wind</i> as my favorite book, though I haven't read it since high school. But I get totally pissed off when people (ahem, looking at you <i>Goodreads</i>) list it as a romance. It is so NOT a romance. A romance has a sufficiently optimistic ending with a happily ever after or a happily for now with the romantic couple. Rhett storming out 2/3 of the way down page 861 when the book ends on page 862 does not provide for the HEA we all want Scarlett and Rhett to have.</div>
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Let's face it, <i>Gone with the Wind</i> is straight-up women's fiction. Historical women's fiction, but women's fiction nonetheless.</div>
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Today my BFF and I went to see it in the theater for the 80th anniversary. My mom and her BFF went too (separate from us) because, well, apples and trees. Walking out, my mom said, "I can still quote every word." I agreed, and probably can as well. Again, apples and trees.</div>
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The theater was packed and something was different this time. People laughed. Thanks to the wonderful acting of Hattie McDaniel (who so deserved her Oscar) and Clark Gable, the wit of Sydney Howard's screenplay was brought to life in a way I'd never noticed before. I would <i>almost</i> say that the movie, with the exception of the setting/time period, presents as a romantic comedy. Probably not what David O. Selznik was going for eighty years ago.</div>
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With my writer's cap on, I've done a lot of analysis. What Margaret Mitchell and then Sydney Howard did was take a protagonist who's really unlikable and get you rooting for her. Sure, in the first half of the movie, she acts like a selfish brat. As the movie progresses, you see Scarlett grow into a woman willing to sacrifice everything, including herself, to protect the ones she loves. No, she doesn't always go about it in the best way. But man, you gotta love her for not letting people tell her what women could and couldn't do. Scarlett grows and that's what we want from any protagonist. It'd be hard to root for Melanie the whole time because she starts off so wonderfully to begin with.</div>
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Oh, and Ashley-- What a jerk. If he only had the balls to say what he meant and not want to have his cake and eat it too, well, the book (and movie) would be a lot shorter.</div>
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But man, Rhett Butler. <i>Swoon</i>. The perfect character. Absolutely imperfectly perfect in every way.</div>
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<i>"You should be kissed and often. And by someone who knows how."</i></blockquote>
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If you haven't read/seen the book, sorry for the spoilers. The book's been out for 84 years and the movie for 80. It's your fault at this point. </div>
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<br />Kathrynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08312004547872461641noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6127402598453123831.post-72311854989694545712018-12-16T09:12:00.000-08:002018-12-16T09:12:17.153-08:00About That Time I Accidentally Started a Twitter Feud ...To anyone who's been around romancelandia this year, or to anyone who scrolls through Twitter with a bowl of popcorn, it should come as no surprise that sometimes people get into it on Twitter. A lot of times, it's a case of people behaving badly.<br />
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This one's on me.<br />
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No one behaved badly, but feelings were hurt. And for that, I am deeply sorry and greatly apologize.<br />
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You see, I was (and still am) coming from a good place. I'm still okay with my original post, which was, to me, a very funny graphic about rom-com books. It was designed by my friend and fellow author, <a href="https://www.whitneydineen.com/">Whitney Dineen</a>. She, like many rom-com authors, got fed up with defending her preferred genre from <i>yet another</i> person who dismissed her accomplishments because she <i>only</i> writes romance and romantic comedies (as opposed to literary fiction or something that is apparently better-- you know, real books). I'd like to say that Whitney's experience was unusual and someone was having a bad day, but it's not. We've all been there.Unfortunately.<br />
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Romantic comedies, and their kissing cousins Chick Lit, are some of the least respected books out there. Most brick and mortar bookstores barely have a romance section, let alone one for romantic comedy. Look on Amazon too. Many of the covers that Amazon lists in its romantic comedy section suggest, by the amount of bare skin, washboard abs, and pectoral muscles, that the emphasis is on the romance and not the comedy. Because of this, it's really, <i>really</i>, REALLY hard for rom-com books to be found.<br />
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So, after yet another slight, Whitney (who is hilariously funny in both her writing and real life), made a graphic. It's so very Whitney.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQFHtVc8UOAu5DJnPOR86GopJyA6rWPK8LP1hzsjJRIg5ytZDFduWgFKhbhYHvOWyOZ0MovveMo5bRnDLOKfZjimMmXZSMDOR54Zw9QHHQpkAWYEbADjLZjU0uVqf8PF0HKZHwvxl10mU/s1600/romcom.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="960" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQFHtVc8UOAu5DJnPOR86GopJyA6rWPK8LP1hzsjJRIg5ytZDFduWgFKhbhYHvOWyOZ0MovveMo5bRnDLOKfZjimMmXZSMDOR54Zw9QHHQpkAWYEbADjLZjU0uVqf8PF0HKZHwvxl10mU/s400/romcom.png" width="400" /></a></div>
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She requested it be shared, along with the #RespectTheRomCom tag.<br />
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I did.<br />
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But then a well-respected, super awesome author didn't like what this graphic had to say. It grated on her. And she began to wonder if she did actually write rom-com, because some of these things don't fit her writing. Which she mused about on Twitter, and her readers replied and commented.<br />
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I love this writer. She's an auto-buy for me.<br />
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I love Whitney Dineen. She's an auto-buy for me.<br />
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They have two <i>totally</i> different styles and personalities. Their books, while both being considered rom-coms, are not necessarily similar. I do think one reader could/would enjoy both. I do think readers <i>should</i> enjoy both.<br />
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The very <i>last</i> thing I wanted was for people (writers and readers alike) who enjoy romantic comedies to be arguing and splitting hairs about whether a book has all of these points listed above or not and whether that precludes it from being a romantic comedy.<br />
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I am sorry to both authors.<br />
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This graphic is what romantic comedies are to Whitney Dineen. I agree with many of the points. I don't think it's an end-all, be-all list. I also know for a fact, that Whitney was being funny because that is who she is and what she does. If it's not your sense of humor, then that's fine. If you are yes-ing every point, then that's fine.<br />
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If you're still reading this, then that's fine too. (It's better than fine. It's really cool, so thanks.)<br />
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My point in sharing this graphic was to gain support for the rom-com community, not drive it apart. I hope everyone is okay with this, and we can all move on.<br />
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In summation, rom-coms are valid books that are an important part of our world because going through life without a sense of humor is like driving in a car without shocks. It gets you there, but man do you feel every bump and jolt along the way.<br />
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No matter how you define a romantic comedy, please remember to #RespectTheRomCom.<br />
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(And eat cake)Kathrynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08312004547872461641noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6127402598453123831.post-80691494580656771642018-06-05T17:29:00.000-07:002018-06-05T17:29:09.392-07:00Laugh It OffOne of the fabulous authors I've come to know and love along my journey is Erin Huss. We met and became fast friends, instantly bonded with a sense of humor and shared parenting experiences with children who are not neuro-typical.<br />
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To put it mildly, 2018 has not been Erin's year. She's having some medical issues, and yesterday she wrote a blog post about finding <a href="https://erinhuss.com/2018/06/03/the-silver-lining%E2%80%8B/">The Silver Lining</a> in it all. I'll wait for you to go read her blog post and then come back.<br />
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No, seriously. Go read her post. The rest of this post won't make sense unless you do.<br />
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So like the friend I am, I wrote her some nice words of encouragement. Despite the fact that people pay money to read my books, sometimes I'm not the most eloquent. I also use inappropriate humor as a defense mechanism. So I sent Erin a message that said this,<br />
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<i>"Hang in there. Eventually shit will go right. You can meme that."</i></blockquote>
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The following pictures are what happened next.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaELuPSrxcYnyVAM9oD7s2t9ivkhKZb0khtHmV4ew7ubIwABHKnP1yjcoSQJEnN20sUpEo46oEMmNG4u7zl_GCJm78EF2pY3vUn9bIo-wkVrz7N8uHrmx8DEp6tS7lVbdZ6pgL4CPOmjE/s1600/Screenshot_20180604-134033.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="900" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaELuPSrxcYnyVAM9oD7s2t9ivkhKZb0khtHmV4ew7ubIwABHKnP1yjcoSQJEnN20sUpEo46oEMmNG4u7zl_GCJm78EF2pY3vUn9bIo-wkVrz7N8uHrmx8DEp6tS7lVbdZ6pgL4CPOmjE/s400/Screenshot_20180604-134033.png" width="225" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFlPiunDuGHPG5p56pm12AvZsFMfvZBsxIR03zSto4xd2ArTs3rdE9LexcBDH8th20ls0e7T_EQz72ceyw53zk3IbYEl3qNV_8NeOlqwbkcxEj_cSda28Vp5zJ3icnLBD2mo9Yir9vVhI/s1600/Screenshot_20180604-134046.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="900" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFlPiunDuGHPG5p56pm12AvZsFMfvZBsxIR03zSto4xd2ArTs3rdE9LexcBDH8th20ls0e7T_EQz72ceyw53zk3IbYEl3qNV_8NeOlqwbkcxEj_cSda28Vp5zJ3icnLBD2mo9Yir9vVhI/s400/Screenshot_20180604-134046.png" width="225" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioyoK7z1OPkh8e5a_w0YDbGu-OFrN5hjhEeZedaiTKcudGcLpLOYfNJgKPsA1t68JMZea_vU3aONIAZkJDZHosFQhc6WeMw3qEZ2gvZDLLYMpKFPK45nhhthQSYTV_yU2UklIxPKqyfWs/s1600/Screenshot_20180605-194804.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="900" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioyoK7z1OPkh8e5a_w0YDbGu-OFrN5hjhEeZedaiTKcudGcLpLOYfNJgKPsA1t68JMZea_vU3aONIAZkJDZHosFQhc6WeMw3qEZ2gvZDLLYMpKFPK45nhhthQSYTV_yU2UklIxPKqyfWs/s400/Screenshot_20180605-194804.png" width="225" /></a></div>
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So let's take a minute to reflect on this profound statement.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZrm0pJ6GDsv9MrQ71cFLCi8shoMHe2nDzSWQJV6amCHDwIXYN9vAfB-yikqdX5CurRzJUgn-h1H7NID03XRm7Y6sqiriX5pbYBSWXiif57u9dP-BJkKV-Y2WThW2FZ1pgHWieo0C6yZ8/s1600/34385975_10215869460907987_7027239526221217792_n.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="800" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZrm0pJ6GDsv9MrQ71cFLCi8shoMHe2nDzSWQJV6amCHDwIXYN9vAfB-yikqdX5CurRzJUgn-h1H7NID03XRm7Y6sqiriX5pbYBSWXiif57u9dP-BJkKV-Y2WThW2FZ1pgHWieo0C6yZ8/s400/34385975_10215869460907987_7027239526221217792_n.png" width="400" /></a></div>
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Meme courtesy of Erin Huss. Sentiment by Kathryn R. Biel.<br />
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Oh, this was us (plus our other friend, Heather McCoubrey) at the RONE Awards last October. My favorite picture from the night.<br />
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<br />Kathrynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08312004547872461641noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6127402598453123831.post-59144676872225898242018-06-04T17:13:00.000-07:002018-06-04T17:13:31.794-07:00How Rude!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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This was my feeling after the weekend dance recital. Let me clarify--<i>my</i> dance recital. It was also my daughter's recital. I guess we should call it our dance recital. But still, I want to go all Stephanie Tanner on the audience.</div>
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Let me set the stage (see what I did there?):</div>
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We dance at a decent-sized family run studio. I've been with this studio since I was 5. The people there are like my family, and my dance girls are my crew. Many of us have children now dancing as well, and it's fantastic to see the next generation rising up. The studio is non-competitive. We don't have teams and there's a welcoming atmosphere. The studio is inclusive, including all shapes, sizes, and abilities. While we strive to do our best, it's certainly not a <i>Dance Moms</i> atmosphere, and I don't think any of us are auditioning for <i>So You Think You Can Dance?</i> That's not why we're there. We're there because we love to dance.</div>
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Week after week, parents schlep their kids in and out. Lesson after lesson, rehearsal after rehearsal, all working up toward our end of the year recital. In the interest of keeping a manageable length show (2 hours or less), we perform over two days. Some of the numbers are the same, but for most of the younger kids (ages 12 and under), they are only in one day. It's not a big commitment. About the same as a baseball game. I have a friend whose two sons play ball in school, rec, and travel teams. Not exaggerating, her family will have close to 100 baseball games this year. That's about 200 hours, not including travel time and practice time. So asking family and friends to sit for two hours once doesn't seem like a lot.</div>
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But apparently, it was too much for most people. We opened with a fun production number including 25-30 students from ages 9 to well, adult (my class). It was to <i>Time Warp</i>. Who in their right mind can't help but tap their toes to that? Let me give you a guess--the entire audience. We often joke that the audience doesn't appreciate the hard steps we're doing but will applaud for the easiest thing. That's usually true, except for this year. The audience gave minimal, obligatory applause at the end of the dances. No encouragement. No clapping. No laughter. <i>No NOTHING</i> during the dances. It didn't matter if it was adorable three-year-old in tutus, or a handsome 6 year-old boy tap dancing to <i>My Boyfriend's Back</i>, the most moving lyrical dance, or a pointe dance to <i>Walk This Way</i>. FYI, do you know how hard it is to do a pointe dance to <i>Walk This Way</i>? For this 42 year-old, it was HARD. But I did it. </div>
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And the audience did nothing.</div>
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Actually, that's a lie. They did a lot. There was a lot of talking to neighbors. So much so that it interfered with people watching the show. There were quite a few people on their phones. You see, the house lights weren't as dim as they should have been, so as we were out on stage, dancing our hearts out, we could see. See that the audience didn't care. We could see the people standing up and walking around during our dance. Did you know when you stand up, the people behind you can't see? Did you know that even if you don't care, they may want to see who is dancing up on stage? </div>
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I understand that some of the numbers weren't terrific. I understand that it wasn't like seeing the people dance on TV. Much like watching a Little League game is nothing like watching the Red Sox. The growth and improvement in these kids over the course of a year is incredible, and there's something hugely rewarding about watching little kids grow up and blossom into beautiful dancers. Every single student on stage poured their hearts out, and the audience was too involved in their phones and conversations and snacks to care. </div>
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It makes it hard to get out there when you get nothing back from the audience. I get that dance may not be your thing, but show some respect people. Respect the teachers who worked countless hours to teach your child and bring out their best. Respect the studio who wants nothing but to see your child shine. And for the love of God, show some respect to the students--<i>all the students, not just your own--</i> who are out there dancing their hearts out for you. </div>
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Here's the take home message for anyone attending a dance recital (or concert or game or play or any event in which people, but especially kids, are out there, doing their best to entertain you):</div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">How to Be Present in the Moment:</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Sit</span><span style="font-size: x-large;"> down</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Shut up</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Show your appreciation of all the hard work</span></div>
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Frankly, that's probably good advice for most things. </div>
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Kathrynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08312004547872461641noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6127402598453123831.post-79949427879564447802018-05-08T12:56:00.001-07:002018-05-08T12:56:28.306-07:00Sacred ThingsSome things you need to know about me.<br />
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<ol>
<li>I like pretty dresses, especially gowns. If I could wear a gown every day, I'd be happy.</li>
<li>I don't get abstract art, including haute couture fashion.</li>
<li>I am Roman Catholic.</li>
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This morning, I went to mass. I don't often go during the week, but this was a funeral for a family member. Even though I'd never set foot in that church before today, I knew what to expect, what do do, how to show reverence, and how to go about giving a reading. After 12 years of Catholic school, I've been to a lot of church. That being said, I don't go as much as I should, and I don't live as well as a Catholic should. I may not be the best, most pious Catholic, but my faith and my church is very important to me. I've made the sacraments of baptism, reconciliation, eucharist, confirmation, and marriage within the church. I will have a Catholic funeral someday as well. Like I said, not the best Catholic in the world, but definitely Catholic.</div>
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And I am offended by several of the looks at the Met Gala last night.</div>
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My religion is not a fashion statement. Rosary beads are not jewelry or accessories. Halos are not the same as tiaras and crowns. The Blessed Virgin is not a costume. The Pope is not something to be sexualized. Priests' and nuns' habits are not immodest. The cross is not a decoration.</div>
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Some of the fashion didn't seem religious at all. There were several angel outfits, including Katy Perry, which were secular heavenly creatures. Arianna Grande wore a gown made from the print of the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. While certainly religious in inspiration, did not mock or inappropriately use Catholic items. None of those bothered me.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKuDJFDrXP5iqExGOAQFFKQA5syJFEa0bTjxWnpt-RYfFfZ2Gy3hLBCTL7D4VNS5jOlITADbRmuaUWJj25MqVfTAssGelfKn50yS1mp0_0dI3fnr2g6vwBwHaEHgcaEbPDhXu5_DajaWM/s1600/Depositphotos_177418330_original.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKuDJFDrXP5iqExGOAQFFKQA5syJFEa0bTjxWnpt-RYfFfZ2Gy3hLBCTL7D4VNS5jOlITADbRmuaUWJj25MqVfTAssGelfKn50yS1mp0_0dI3fnr2g6vwBwHaEHgcaEbPDhXu5_DajaWM/s320/Depositphotos_177418330_original.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
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What did bother me was crosses randomly sewn on gowns that would not be allowed in the Catholic Church due to their revealing nature (Kim Kardashian). The Catholic Church is considered God's house and as such, respect must be shown when entering. This includes not bearing cleavage or wearing a dress so short that your pubic area may or may not be visible. </div>
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What bothered me was Lana del Rey dressed as Our Lady of Sorrows. </div>
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Rihanna dressed as the Pope, the leader of the Catholic church, while wearing a strapless, micro-mini dress. AKA "sexy pope."</div>
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I saw "fashion" based upon the habits of the clergy, complete with cut-outs, bare shoulders and midriffs, and cleavage. Our clergy dress very modestly. </div>
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I saw the birth of the Lord depicted as headwear. </div>
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I saw an interview with Tracee Ellis Ross who said she picked fuschia because on "the third Sunday of Lent, the clergy wears pink to remind us of the coming joy." She struggled to remember those words. She should have rehearsed more because it is the <i>fourth</i> Sunday of Lent, otherwise known as Laetare Sunday. For the record, Tracee Ellis Ross is Jewish.</div>
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In this day and age, cultural appropriation gets thrown around a lot. A white teenager gets skewered on social media for wearing an Asian-inspired prom gown. Halloween is a veritable minefield of what you can and cannot wear. Never is it appropriate to make a race/nationality/heritage sexy.</div>
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So why is it acceptable to do this to the Catholic Church?</div>
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The answer is, it's not. </div>
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I know the Vatican approved the theme this year and lent some artifacts for display. However, that doesn't mean that it's open season on my religion.While some of the "offenders" are at least Catholic, many are not. This, for me, makes it that much worse. I would never be allowed to show up in a traditional African dress or sexy Muslim outfit. Of course, I never would because it's insensitive. </div>
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I understand that there is a level of artistry to haute couture that is beyond me. Some of the outfits last night were stunning. Some were horrendous. Regardless of the taste level or style, please don't use my faith and religion as a fashion statement.</div>
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My religion, and all the sacred aspects of it, are not accessories. Please don't treat them that way.</div>
Kathrynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08312004547872461641noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6127402598453123831.post-8501626269470590372018-05-06T09:30:00.001-07:002018-05-06T09:30:36.518-07:00Branding and BullyingNo, I'm not talking about what they do to cattle, although I sort of am.<br />
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When you own a business, branding is very important. You want to create a look/icon/symbol that instantly make the consumer think of your business. Everyone knows what brand the swoosh represents. I don't even have to put a picture of it up. You know who and what I'm talking about from a simple word.<br />
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Over the past few months, I've been working on my own brand. You might have noticed that blogspot is no longer my primary website. I've got a beautiful new page at <a href="http://www.kathrynrbiel.com/">www.kathrynrbiel.com</a>. I've been working on my graphics as well (mostly because I needed new business cards and signs for upcoming book signings). I had a tagline ("Telling stories of resilient women") that I've been using, but it's slowly evolved into: Telling Stories of Resilient Women with Humor, Heart, and a Happy Ending. My husband thinks I'm giving away the ending to all my books. I want the reader to know what to expect (i.e., while there may be some tears or two, my books will not gut you). But anyway, I think I've finally got a look. I hope eventually, if you see my font or those colors or that heart, it reminds you of me and you come looking for a good read.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2PL-M3uKPEsMAegE8DmYMQ2k3GBDbSuJTUhUGXwZV3mtMou2fRbg-pYxuybkh9YEPh2zfSGX9MYRBtEWyeVre0LU26urv2MfQiI1JNkvq-WmLAREOcdI_VbYWcspB9pU9nZKrLhX-ORg/s1600/KATHRYN+R.+BIEL.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2PL-M3uKPEsMAegE8DmYMQ2k3GBDbSuJTUhUGXwZV3mtMou2fRbg-pYxuybkh9YEPh2zfSGX9MYRBtEWyeVre0LU26urv2MfQiI1JNkvq-WmLAREOcdI_VbYWcspB9pU9nZKrLhX-ORg/s640/KATHRYN+R.+BIEL.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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That's the way it's supposed to work.<br />
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Except one author has taken it too far. This past week, an author in the romance community trademarked a very common word used in romance books (cocky). Although she was just granted the trademark (April 2018), she had it retroactively reinstated to the date of her first publication (June 2016, I believe). She is sending Cease and Desist notices to <i>every romance author</i> who uses the word "cocky" in their titles, for all books published after June 2016. She is also lobbying Amazon to have these books removed because they "violate" her trademark.<br />
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This is what the author claims (copied directly from her Twitter feed): "<span style="background-color: #f5f8fa; color: #14171a; font-family: "Segoe UI", Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;">I receive letters from readers who lost money thinking they bought my series. I’m protecting them and that’s what trademarks are meant for."</span><br />
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Definitely cocky.<br />
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Because here are three main things that I find problematic with her statement:<br />
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<ol>
<li>Books (and e-books, much to my chagrin) are returnable. That's right. You can purchase and download and e-book and then return it. People do it. ALL THE FLIPPIN' TIME. (There are some exceptionally douchey people who buy the book, read it, and then return it, but that's a post for another day.) If this author's readers purchased a book in error, they could return it and not lose money.</li>
<li>This author is under the assumption that the other books with cocky in the title are no good and therefore equate to a loss of money. That may or may not be true. I'm willing to bet there's at least one good cocky book out there by a different author. And a good book, regardless of the author, is not a waste of money.</li>
<li>This is the important one. Ready? If this author's readers KNEW WHO SHE WAS, they would search by NAME not TITLE. Think about that. It's a heck of a lot easier to remember that I want to read the next Penny Reid book or the next Kristan Higgins book or the next Courtney Milan book than what the book titles are. Even after I've read them, I sometimes have trouble recalling the title. I have to look them up. How do I search? BY AUTHOR NAME. This author has a very unique name. Her fans should have no trouble remembering it. If she had been successful in her branding, she wouldn't have to stoop to this low.</li>
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Her "reasons" don't hold weight with me. Her responses on social media are unbelievable. And now she's claiming she's finally received a movie deal that she's backing (turns out, it was crowd funded). She's attacking other authors on social media (including Goodreads) accusing them of not only violating her trademark, but of plagiarism too. I've seen screenshots of the letter this author sent to other authors threatening with a lawsuit and financial damage if the other author doesn't change the title.<br />
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Incredibly cocky.<br />
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Unfortunately, she's another example of "Authors Behaving Badly." It's under the larger heading of "People Behaving Badly," or as I like to call it, "WTF IS WRONG WITH YOU?" Several groups, including the Romance Writers of America, are working to help the authors affected by this one bad apple. If you're active on Twitter or other social media, you may have heard about all of this.<br />
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Normally, I find the author world, especially romancelandia very supportive. I hope this is an abnormality. A blip in the radar.<br />
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Oh, and thank you Jessica Biel for not trademarking your last name. In all honesty, you had the name first. I married into it. I won't trademark it on you either.<br />
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<br />Kathrynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08312004547872461641noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6127402598453123831.post-63350337302453934392018-04-23T18:13:00.000-07:002018-04-23T18:13:01.209-07:00A New TitleI've spent the last few weeks re-doing my logo and all my signs, business cards, social media, etc. to better represent my brand. It falls in line with the website redesign I did this past winter (isn't it pretty?). Anyway, I've been really happy with it all and sometimes catch myself staring longingly at my headers. If you haven't seen the new look, here it is:<br />
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So pretty, right?<br />
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And tonight, after my gazing was complete, I decided to google myself. It's something I do to make sure no one's talking smack, find reviews where people completely bash me, get angry at all the a-holes who are offering pirated copies of my books, and basically do anything I can to procrastinate with actual writing.<br />
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I found a pretty recent hit for my name, so I clicked. It had my name and then following KATHRYN R BIEL AUTHOR it said BAD CAKE DECORATING. You can see it <a href="http://agbara.us/bad-cake-decorating/view/kathryn-r-biel-author-a-piece-of-cake">here</a>.<br />
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And there was a picture!!!<br />
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They stole it from this <a href="https://kathrynbiel.blogspot.com/2014/08/a-piece-of-cake.html">blog post</a> in which I talk about all the cakes I've made for my kids and how they don't always turn out great but it's about the journey. When I click on this link with my name and the bad cake decorating, it's weird. There's a picture of Sophia's first birthday cake and then a paragraph about <i>decorating a house that's in an airplane hanger</i>. Someone please explain this to me??? My friend said, "WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?" I have no idea. I'm not sure if it's a good thing or a bad thing. Frankly, out of all of the pictures in my blog post, that's not my worst cake.<br />
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So, even though I'm all happy with my new headers and am now the proud owner of a seven-foot sign (and have new business cards on the way), perhaps I should re-re-do my slogan.<br />
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Kathryn R. Biel: Bad Cake Decorating at your service.Kathrynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08312004547872461641noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6127402598453123831.post-38059313394438755662018-03-02T07:03:00.000-08:002018-03-02T07:04:38.673-08:00Happy Birthday, Dr. Seuss!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Today is March 2nd, which for anyone with a school-aged child, we know is Dr. Seuss's birthday. I dare anyone who is a book lover to deny some love of early literacy as a result of Dr. Seuss. We, of course, had books in the house, and my grandfather belonged a book of the month club where he received pretty much the whole collection of Dr. Seuss and related books. I can still picture them on the bottom of the built-in bookcase in the TV room (FYI and totally unrelated, my grandparent's house is now a restaurant, and you can eat in that room with those bookcases still there). What a great gift for all the grandchildren (there were 24 of us, so it was probably a wise investment)!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlh422QCMRL7ul1eHQ4jYwJEm6V9z3L7HV68MYid-luMGnOT6m-AaVOW5V5RjewJsJjs-9MwLfl55M4jsi2LANZgQay4KyXCstVTseNwxR67lz6G9rnUdA7ujKyZ7zhwwpoGL5CAE-BV8/s1600/The-Sneetches-and-Other-Stories.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="600" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlh422QCMRL7ul1eHQ4jYwJEm6V9z3L7HV68MYid-luMGnOT6m-AaVOW5V5RjewJsJjs-9MwLfl55M4jsi2LANZgQay4KyXCstVTseNwxR67lz6G9rnUdA7ujKyZ7zhwwpoGL5CAE-BV8/s200/The-Sneetches-and-Other-Stories.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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As a child, my personal favorite Dr. Seuss stories were <i>The Sneetches</i> and <i>What Was I Scared Of?</i> They were both part of the collection, <i>Sneetches and Other Stories</i>, which overall, is fantastic. My other favorite was <i>The 500 Hats of Bartholomew Cubbins</i>. I don't know why I liked this story, but I remember picking it to read to my third grade class.<br />
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As a parent, the Dr. Seuss books took on a whole new meaning and love. When my son was born and very young, we received as gifts (and then purchased) a whole bunch of the Dr. Seuss books in the little board book form. Often they were abridged from the regular form, but this is how I grew to love the stories. Jake <i>loved </i>to be read to. Oh the hours we spent reading <i>The Foot Book</i>, <i>There's a Wocket in my Pocket</i>, <i>One Fish Two Fish Red Fish Blue Fish</i>, and <i>ABC's</i>. Despite the fact that my son is now a teenager (weep), I can still recite sections of them. Big A, little a, what begins with A? Aunt Annie's Alligator ... a ... a ... a. My dad "adopted" the nickname "the bofa on the sofa" from <i>Wocket,</i> in reference to the only place he will sit in our house. I swear, the couch cushion is indented from him and his numerous hours of babysitting.<br />
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When Jake was about eleven months old, he was sitting on the floor of the living room. My dad had just arrived (and taken up his usual place on the couch, across the room). Jake was in a little footie-pajama outfit and playing with his foot. My dad looked at him and said, "Left foot, left foot, right foot, right. Feet in the day, feet in the night," which is the opening line from <i>The Foot Book</i>. Jake took off like a shot, crawling down the hall to his room. We didn't think anything of it until he came crawling back a few minutes later, <i>The Foot Book</i> in hand.<br />
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Then there was always the debate about who had to read <i>Fox in Sox.</i> It's a tongue-twister for most people, but my dad hated it especially. He used to tell the kids, "Grammy wants to read <i>Fox in Sox</i> to you." I don't think she appreciated it.<br />
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One more cute Jake/Dr. Seuss story: when he was in pre-school, they were celebrating Dr. Seuss's birthday with green eggs and ham. Jake told his pre-school teacher he couldn't eat the green eggs because, "they weren't ripe yet." ♥<br />
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Now as an adult, I can see the allegorical messages in Dr. Seuss's books. I was in a classroom yesterday, waiting for a student, while the teacher began reading <i>Sneetches</i>. I couldn't help but think about the book I'm currently listening to, <i>The Hate U Give</i> by Angie Thomas, and the topic of race relations.<br />
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If you haven't picked up a Dr. Seuss book recently, why not celebrate today by reading one? I guarantee you'll end with a smile on your face, especially if you're reading about a tweetle-beetle battle.<br />
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Happy birthday Dr. Seuss!<br />
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Kathrynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08312004547872461641noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6127402598453123831.post-31240860779953378392018-01-15T09:51:00.000-08:002018-01-15T09:51:47.602-08:00Age Ain't Nothing But a NumberI think I may be getting old. Don't get me wrong, it beats the alternative but ...<br />
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While watching pro-sports, like the NFL, I realized that any players my age are "super old" and many are retiring. It's odd to think that Peyton Manning and I would have graduated high school together. I'm technically 3 months older, but we don't need to focus on that. Pretty soon, there won't be anyone "my age" left in professional sports.<br />
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And then, spilling across my Facebook feed is the sad news that Dolores O'Riordan from The Cranberries died suddenly. She was 46.<br />
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I remember when The Cranberries burst onto the scene. I was in high school. It never occurred to me that the lead singer was relatively close in age to me, about the same age as my oldest brother. That news, along with the news of her death, is hard to process.<br />
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There are days when I feel old beyond my years. There are days when I simply cannot even entertain the fact that I'm middle-aged (there, I said it). More and more, my friends and I are having conversations of life-altering illness and declining health. People are getting sick and not recovering. It's weird to think I'm entering into a phase of life where accidents aren't the leading cause of death. My peer group is tossing about words like EKG and screening and bifocals and arthritis and ... colonoscopy.<br />
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But still, I'm blessed with another day on this earth, with another chance to watch Tom Brady (just a year younger than me) play in another football game. I'll ignore the chink in my neck and the ache in my hip and be thankful that I'm still drawing breath.<br />
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RIP Dolores.<br />
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<br />Kathrynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08312004547872461641noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6127402598453123831.post-1406154044919307492017-12-13T15:10:00.000-08:002017-12-13T15:10:09.610-08:00Pivotal MomentsI'm lucky that in my (almost) 42 years on this planet, I can look back and see pivotal moments that changed the direction and shape of my life. In fact, without even realizing it, I've often blogged about them.<br />
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There's the one when a sick day spent at my grandmother's house and a piece of "junk" mail led me to the medical field and working with kids. You can read about that one <a href="https://kathrynbiel.blogspot.com/2013/05/inspiration-from-unlikely-source.html">here</a>.<br />
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Then there was the time I was getting allergy shots and my next door neighbor's step-mother said the words that gave me direction in my career. That story, in addition to directing my career, also gave me inspiration for the book of which I'm most proud, <i>Live for This</i>. That book even won an award this year. You can read that story <a href="https://kathrynbiel.blogspot.com/2014/12/for-eric.html">here</a>.<br />
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And how about that time that the use of a standard comma instead of the oxford comma led me to meet my husband? That's a funny one, although not really, because the PT/Speech therapy cap is STILL limited by that damn lack of comma. Want to here that story? Read about it <a href="https://kathrynbiel.blogspot.com/2015/01/my-life-was-changed-by-standard-comma.html">here</a>. <br />
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And so, on this 13th night of December, I just asked Alexa to play my favorite Christmas song. If you know me or follow me at all, you know it's <i>Christmas Wrapping</i> by The Waitresses. Now you're going to shake your head and tell me you've never heard of it. But you have. Take a few blissful moments and rock out.<br />
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You've heard it, right? Now take a gander at the lyrics. I've always loved that song. So much that for years, I wanted to write a story based on the song. Then, one August, as I was writing the heaviest, and most important book (<i>Live for This</i>), I decided to put that aside and write a fun holiday novella based on my favorite Christmas song. That's how this came to be:<br />
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So, it's a stupid little novella. What does it have to do with the rest of this post? Well, it's another pivotal moment, and every time I hear the story it reminds me. I had a lot of fun writing this book, and as soon as I was done, even though I knew I had to finish <i>Live for This</i> first, I knew I was going to write a chick lit series based on this book. The rest, as they say, is history. <i>Made for Me</i> and <i>New Attitude</i>, the two follow up books (and I hope <i>Queen of Hearts</i> as well) have been my most successful books. They've hit bestseller lists and <i>Made for Me</i> was not only featured in Woman's World Magazine, but it also won Honorable Mention in the Reader's Favorite International Book Awards. This New Beginnings Series has changed the face of my writing career. It's made me a successful author.<br />
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I always knew going in that these books wouldn't be the "important" book of the time, but I've been contacted by more than one person who found comfort/laughter/inspiration in my words. These books, although light entertainment, have touched people. All because of a song.<br />
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So, before rushing off to my son's concert ("on with the boots, back out in the snow"), I'm going to listen to my favorite Christmas song one more time, and thank my lucky stars for all my pivotal moments.Kathrynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08312004547872461641noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6127402598453123831.post-47020540671167206682017-10-27T15:45:00.001-07:002017-10-27T15:45:21.613-07:00Trippin' on a HoleWhen I was in college, at the apex of the grunge/alternative music movement, I grew to like Stone Temple Pilots. They were (and still are) my favorite of the 90s bands. While at work one day (I was a waitress at an Applebees), the bartender, my friend Jeff, mentioned how he'd gone to the STP show the night before at UMass. I was terribly envious that Jeff had been to see them live. Jeff didn't realize I was a fan, and if he'd known, he said he would have brought me. Jeff went onto describe the opening number, STP's cover of "Dancing Days" and how Scott Weiland sang it sitting on a couch wearing an afro wig. It was well known that Scott Weiland was a heroin addict and was most likely losing that battle. This was early 1997. Neither Jeff nor I thought Scott Weiland would live to see another tour cycle, and that neither of us would see him perform live again.<br />
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We were only half right.<br />
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June 26, 1997, while driving home from our apartment, after a night of drinking, Jeff died. It was his own fault. It doesn't make it hurt any less, especially since we all knew he probably shouldn't have been driving. Especially since he refused the offer to stay at our place. Jeff had battled his own drug demons, and his return to Massachusetts was his attempt at a fresh start. He knew if he stayed at school in Miami, he'd wind up dead. His death occurred two months <i>to the day</i> after he'd been to that concert, and we'd talked about the most-likely imminent death of Scott Weiland.<br />
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That summer was hard on all of us. People changed. Grief does that to people. It can bring them together or tear them apart. We all missed Jeff. A week or so after it had all happened, I'd driven home to my parents' house. On the way back, just as I hit the NY-Mass state line, heading into the Berkshires, "Dancing Days" came on the radio. Even back in 1997, the STP version was not widely played.<br />
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Multiple times over the next two years while driving between NY and Massachusetts, I heard that song as I hit the border. I cannot for the life of me explain why, other than Jeff was with me. When I'd hear the song, I'd touch the guardian angel hanging from my rearview mirror, knowing Jeff was there. Cursing him for his stupidity. Laughing at the cruel twist that Scott Weiland was still here while Jeff was not.<br />
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I got to see STP in concert twice before Scott Weiland was kicked out of the band for good because of his drug use.<br />
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Then, the event that Jeff and I'd predicted in 1997 happened. Scott Weiland died of a drug overdose.<br />
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Today would have been Scott Weiland's 50th birthday. My Facebook feed is full of things about him, celebrating his life while mourning his death. I didn't know Scott Weiland, but I did enjoy his music. Instead of missing him today, I'm missing my friend who's been gone for over twenty years. Almost half my life.<br />
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<br />Kathrynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08312004547872461641noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6127402598453123831.post-18636770898773097772017-09-16T05:40:00.001-07:002017-09-16T05:40:39.747-07:00Don't Do ItI was scrolling through my Facebook feed, as one does on a Saturday morning, sipping my coffee, when I came across an article (from a radio station) about how "Motherhood is less and less appealing to Jennifer Lawrence" or J-Law as apparently we're supposed to call her.<br />
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Here's my advice. Don't do it.<br />
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I am the mother of two. I love my kids. They are without a doubt the best things in my life. And I ABSOLUTELY wanted to be a mother. My whole career was literally planned around it.<br />
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But, man, is it hard. Like, <i>hard</i>.<br />
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There are days (perhaps one or two this week) when I want to give up. When I want to run and hide. And my kids are older (13 and 10). We're not in the screaming all night, potty training, "I do it myself" phase. My kids are relatively self-sufficient human beings. In fact, the 13 year-old made the coffee and delivered it to me in my room, complete with a biscotti (side note: I highly recommend teaching your kids how to make coffee). But it's still hard.<br />
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There are days that are totally awesome too. My kids are fantastic, and I hope will be fantastic adults some day. But they are also strong-willed, smart, clever, and self-directed. You know, kids. I often feel like I'm the bad guy. Like I'm banging my head against a brick wall. Like I'm repeating myself over and over. Like I'm repeating myself over and over (whoops, sorry. Nothing I say is ever heard the first time).<br />
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There are sleepless nights. Messes you didn't make that you have to clean up. Laundry. Bodily fluids that don't belong to you. But even worse than those are the intangible things. The fights with friends. The school struggles. Learning disabilities. Attention deficit disorder. Teachers who don't get your kids.<br />
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It sometimes seems that society still expects every woman to want to have kids. I know several who don't and never do. Some of those women succumbed to pressure and had kids. Guess what? It doesn't turn out well, either for the mom or the kid. Moms deserve so much credit. They're the unsung heroes. But I also have the utmost respect for the woman who says (and sticks to it) that she doesn't want kids. If you don't want them, you shouldn't have them. There should be no judgment. There should be no convincing. No means no. We need to stop speculating about what Hollywood starlet is going to have a baby next. We don't ask when the male celebrities are going to have kids. Often male stars become fathers and we barely know it until their girlfriend/wife/significant other delivers. Meanwhile, women can't eat a burrito for fear of sparking rumors about their bumps.<br />
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It's time to stop.<br />
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Being a mother is a hard, often thankless job. It's the most important thing I will ever do, but that's <i>my choice</i>. Let's support our sisters out there who want a different choice. Let's make it not a thing anymore.<br />
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And if you don't want to do it, don't do it.<br />
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Please.Kathrynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08312004547872461641noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6127402598453123831.post-90619368040132989072017-08-31T16:12:00.002-07:002017-08-31T16:12:54.650-07:00End of Summer ReflectionsI'm tired and I'd rather just vlog this than type it all about but the bags under my eyes are horrendous due to lack of sleep. So, I apologize in advance for the disjointed, rambling nature of this post. Consider this some true blather, more a collection of my thoughts.<br />
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<ul>
<li>August is over. Holy crap, where did it go? Summer, come back. Please. </li>
<li>I had 3 days of work this week. It sort of sucked especially since my kids were off. My parents were super awesome and took the kids, but I missed them. I liked being at home this summer.</li>
<li>I'm having difficulty watching the news out of Houston. It makes me anxious and panicky. It doesn't mean I don't feel terrible about what people are doing down there, and I'll be doing my bit (besides the praying I've already been doing) to help. But I don't want to see it.</li>
<li>I'm about to launch my 10th book. I'm having trouble wrapping my brain around the fact that I've written 10 books (9 novels and a novella). That being said, I'm finding plot bunnies EVERYWHERE and I feel desperate that I can't get the stories out fast enough. </li>
<li>My low back/hip went out on Tuesday. It's been a long time since I dealt with these issues, and man did it suck. I had to miss hanging out with friends because I couldn't walk (I'm better, fingers crossed).</li>
<li>I looked through a friend's Kindle Bookshelf today (she showed me). It sort of felt like looking through her underwear drawer. But it was also cool to see the books from authors I've met or will meet in October at InD'Scribe Reader Con and Book Festival, with my books on the shelves right next to theirs.</li>
<li>Earlier in the week when my Facebook giveaways weren't getting any love, I messaged as many authors/bloggers as I could to help me share. I cannot believe the people who gladly helped. I am in awe of what a kick-ass community I belong to. It's truly one where the majority of the people really want to see all of us succeed. Just great people.</li>
<li>Later in the week, a member of my community (clearly not the in above-mentioned awesome group) was really, truly awful to me. It was the first time on my publishing journey that I've cried from hurt. This person said that self-published books aren't really published because "anyone can pay to self-publish a book." This person reiterated this position multiple times until I had to walk away for fear of my inner mean-girl rearing her vengeful head. I guess in one way this person is right. <i>Anyone</i> can self-publish a book. Not everyone can sell books. Not everyone can write books that people want to read. Not everyone can get solid, strong reviews and be nominated for awards. Not everyone can make money. But I can do, and have done all those things.</li>
<li>College football starts tonight with the Buckeyes. Yes.</li>
<li>Project Runway is also on tonight. Double Yes (and thank goodness for the "Last" button on my remote control).</li>
<li>I read I think 14 books over the summer and I'm reading at least one more before Labor Day. That's what I call accomplishment. </li>
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If you're on Facebook, check out the giveaways I'm doing this week on my <a href="https://www.facebook.com/kathrynrbiel/">author page</a> to celebrate the release of <i>Once in a Lifetime</i> on September 5, 2017. Ten books. </div>
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I can't even.</div>
Kathrynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08312004547872461641noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6127402598453123831.post-89002543317909319492017-07-30T12:32:00.000-07:002017-07-30T12:32:38.260-07:00#RWA2017I just got back from RWA 2017. For those of you not in my writing world, RWA is the Romance Writers of America, and this was their national conference, held in Orlando, FL.<br />
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But to me, RWA stands for Really Wicked Awesome.<br />
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Why was this week so great? So. Many. Reasons.<br />
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First of all, I got to go and hang with my posse. My inner circle. My writing peeps who I talk with every day online, who are with me every step of the way, and I with them. It's extra special being able to actually see them, hang out with them, brainstorm with them, and laugh until you cry with them. These are <i>my friends</i> and seeing them for four days a year isn't nearly enough.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.authormelissabaldwin.com/">Melissa Baldwin</a>, <a href="https://www.beckymonson.com/">Becky Monson</a>, and me at the RITA Awards</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjfR5WrJRzSGKsdyLpjY8pcfK7J8egGesU4JpZiUYaQCWN1hGix6sd1nyn53pYxV1tnQ3O5nth7jdNzijxAVFjqSaEVx-ESQFXSfbIG92ZmGKIDkpsrK6aq5pfZYi9j6oWWBXsPfA1IRo/s1600/20476356_10214116917663746_9195109859247414266_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjfR5WrJRzSGKsdyLpjY8pcfK7J8egGesU4JpZiUYaQCWN1hGix6sd1nyn53pYxV1tnQ3O5nth7jdNzijxAVFjqSaEVx-ESQFXSfbIG92ZmGKIDkpsrK6aq5pfZYi9j6oWWBXsPfA1IRo/s400/20476356_10214116917663746_9195109859247414266_n.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Taking the boat to Disney Springs. It's the only Disney experience I had the whole time because I was too busy learning.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3pzDn2eiKaGJ07FEHZGRjVsxQirYRGaI_3OQlETaMAM57b07Z-NAgmiJYdnTW4cLzOoN5N_2bcvxJM5K8tVT3i9y7vBKKEyjiIXAuIcMd-FdCyrP-AXnQrzTREEap-se74_UE0JZDSpU/s1600/20496112_10214122689608041_69723074_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3pzDn2eiKaGJ07FEHZGRjVsxQirYRGaI_3OQlETaMAM57b07Z-NAgmiJYdnTW4cLzOoN5N_2bcvxJM5K8tVT3i9y7vBKKEyjiIXAuIcMd-FdCyrP-AXnQrzTREEap-se74_UE0JZDSpU/s400/20496112_10214122689608041_69723074_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Last day, so sad. :-(</td></tr>
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<br />
Next, I got to meet in person people in my outer writing circle. People I've "known" online for years. Brainstormed with. Supported. Received support from. It's great to meet these people in person. A blogger who is very active in our of our groups drove two hours to have dinner with us all. How cool is that?<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJPaLNN_Sq3eTzne5FXwUicpeVL1ch-EACmi2WavOy2hLr2M_golctWqxq-Y9e9Wj7qDSh2aFsELH4XTRahNlkD3U0vsETm8SIjMvz24PKKGv6nKpE5Ys9UIRNRnC1kY_qsZ6jfYPJfJI/s1600/20170729_153135.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="900" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJPaLNN_Sq3eTzne5FXwUicpeVL1ch-EACmi2WavOy2hLr2M_golctWqxq-Y9e9Wj7qDSh2aFsELH4XTRahNlkD3U0vsETm8SIjMvz24PKKGv6nKpE5Ys9UIRNRnC1kY_qsZ6jfYPJfJI/s400/20170729_153135.jpg" width="225" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">With the great <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Camille-Di-Maio/e/B018RKXLZU">Camille Di Maio</a> from my Great Thoughts, Great Readers group</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8IvKAW_8-nfMZtT5aK-gPqP9zP2VMFmCH6fDz1Rpxm_ACbsqEqL17Z5DQnJlzWeG-uFT24xEZ9pTQpkX8YAE0jiuz-vUGnAtUnE5j8WcptIoDXt-Qz_8aGTkE38fucsSrHHQLqJzXW2g/s1600/20170729_160319.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="900" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8IvKAW_8-nfMZtT5aK-gPqP9zP2VMFmCH6fDz1Rpxm_ACbsqEqL17Z5DQnJlzWeG-uFT24xEZ9pTQpkX8YAE0jiuz-vUGnAtUnE5j8WcptIoDXt-Qz_8aGTkE38fucsSrHHQLqJzXW2g/s400/20170729_160319.jpg" width="225" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">With <a href="http://www.rochelleweinstein.com/">Rochelle B. Weinstein</a>, also from Great Thoughts, Great Readers. She let me give her a copy of Live for This to read. </td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVEphLsFdisrVCAC1QgjhdIaVCEvPmb19C47P-4t9d1k3w6LLHkgSriE2pCPNLY2t6DdVebTyrHqDTsdp-C-ErVHiboyKGedyd9ZRjSeqkh4L55TiD25uVW5Wvy1AzJmTrUT74FdMIhfk/s1600/20374606_10156551500528289_1743720926946958308_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="540" data-original-width="960" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVEphLsFdisrVCAC1QgjhdIaVCEvPmb19C47P-4t9d1k3w6LLHkgSriE2pCPNLY2t6DdVebTyrHqDTsdp-C-ErVHiboyKGedyd9ZRjSeqkh4L55TiD25uVW5Wvy1AzJmTrUT74FdMIhfk/s400/20374606_10156551500528289_1743720926946958308_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQPTMAE3Khw2Vcooe2usLOwMklqXSWH2Z2EbnEVjRjaa9HEg7AkosaK-dUYEh8Y4o8y1gcnQfn8g9hRbq75lvBvuw8pUa77_ui2OIdtSz4_9CKULY0cmoH6bKwxikfkWqxy9k16POi66o/s1600/20170729_153755.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="900" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQPTMAE3Khw2Vcooe2usLOwMklqXSWH2Z2EbnEVjRjaa9HEg7AkosaK-dUYEh8Y4o8y1gcnQfn8g9hRbq75lvBvuw8pUa77_ui2OIdtSz4_9CKULY0cmoH6bKwxikfkWqxy9k16POi66o/s400/20170729_153755.jpg" width="225" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">With my online buddy, <a href="https://laurachapmanbooks.com/">Laura Chapman</a>. I was so proud of her for doing the literacy signing! She's fantastic and I was so happy to finally meet her in person.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGeJVHT1JHgdn0DPxyYBh-BeYp4bwX7vfuis2hJJhCFnvousaJdvFmcwwftOZL3fPmQR02iz4pAnym_V7Lt4odDYwM_uf4vrWhceb-aDmxWfLtpOo4aKtK6QRjhKlmUCiljpbhdrZ76TM/s1600/20293043_10155661211335337_1696026232233719763_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGeJVHT1JHgdn0DPxyYBh-BeYp4bwX7vfuis2hJJhCFnvousaJdvFmcwwftOZL3fPmQR02iz4pAnym_V7Lt4odDYwM_uf4vrWhceb-aDmxWfLtpOo4aKtK6QRjhKlmUCiljpbhdrZ76TM/s400/20293043_10155661211335337_1696026232233719763_n.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">With the group from Chick Lit Chat. Blogger Kayla (Book Lover in Florida), Laura Chapman, JQ Abbey, Silvi Martin, Rick Amooi, Becky Monson, Melissa Baldwin, Jennie Marts, and me!</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnqgyvNCnGewk5PHOZqmPEHJSCmezJc_AHhyphenhyphenPrNGBUCMVWGRYvbLsD3xGzpTB9FNml6wPt3NlMLEzpqvZVOSnoXwDjjCrNEEKrLJvhKl_xxh_Em4jLjBB0M3IH2GSHFioVEyYNAo23b8c/s1600/20429955_10155661211355337_1557509823669716551_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnqgyvNCnGewk5PHOZqmPEHJSCmezJc_AHhyphenhyphenPrNGBUCMVWGRYvbLsD3xGzpTB9FNml6wPt3NlMLEzpqvZVOSnoXwDjjCrNEEKrLJvhKl_xxh_Em4jLjBB0M3IH2GSHFioVEyYNAo23b8c/s320/20429955_10155661211355337_1557509823669716551_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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The cool aspect of the conference is that I get to meet big time authors. And most are soooo approachable and down to earth, especially when I'm acting like a spastic fangirl. Which, by the way, I excel at.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOkfx3lla4ekd3FWFg_BXQlzHSGMinscxMYBJNDoHtqfOjW-gM0nwP53Zv3gcbrq5M5-dTSEBOlY5MOOw9PJNjFQitzvfuvxg9WfyqODmb1njdHuylfLJK0pqhL5paom3IoAzwRHGEKAo/s1600/20170727_120605.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOkfx3lla4ekd3FWFg_BXQlzHSGMinscxMYBJNDoHtqfOjW-gM0nwP53Zv3gcbrq5M5-dTSEBOlY5MOOw9PJNjFQitzvfuvxg9WfyqODmb1njdHuylfLJK0pqhL5paom3IoAzwRHGEKAo/s400/20170727_120605.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The<a href="http://www.kristanhiggins.com/"> Kirstan Higgins</a>. I can't even. Still. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXDipIMsiUsSQAG0GS0GqTNT2Zegr383l4ZhBdtQsHM2OxENtBwaHXjt-Jp9F0byhGY3RcGmctxhidGNHz4FA9L8J7kMxP7SvrKHrvUbMeS0zn7Ext0Zj7kdXP9K8gZv6K9DxXCB2mNfA/s1600/20170729_151252.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="900" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXDipIMsiUsSQAG0GS0GqTNT2Zegr383l4ZhBdtQsHM2OxENtBwaHXjt-Jp9F0byhGY3RcGmctxhidGNHz4FA9L8J7kMxP7SvrKHrvUbMeS0zn7Ext0Zj7kdXP9K8gZv6K9DxXCB2mNfA/s400/20170729_151252.jpg" width="225" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.jenniferprobst.com/">Jennifer Probst</a> is absolutely the coolest. I'd love to share a bottle of wine with her someday. I imagine alcohol would make me so much less of a bumbling idiot. Or not. </td></tr>
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<br />
My surreal moment of the conference came when an author approached me after I'd asked a question in a workshop to discuss the topic. We were talking branding, genre, and book covers and when I pulled out one of my books to show her what I was talking about she said, "Oh my God, <i>you're Kathryn Biel!</i>" Apparently, we write in very similar styles and genres, and my books appear in her metadata. To make it even more cool, when she showed me her book cover, I pulled out my phone to show her the screen shot of her book that I'd taken the night before as I was discussing cover options for my next book and said, "I want it to look like this!" This author and I decided we were destined to meet and to put our heads together to find the audience who want to read "mainstream fiction with romantic, comedic, and sometimes suspenseful elements." There's not a category for that on Amazon yet, but perhaps we can forge one.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXqn1Xcrt8jpXqacx0gWlH8rpArpq__AcfUDsgfDd5PFzygtDwE0gMuX4OSrjENnhW3wNhYBJ26rxDJpsJJnUwTyQW0tKQNRR_7n47bipMRtY_QjEIloF-dWbvWFva9FzA3UUQiAD50YQ/s1600/5163qaXYWyL._SY346_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="346" data-original-width="231" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXqn1Xcrt8jpXqacx0gWlH8rpArpq__AcfUDsgfDd5PFzygtDwE0gMuX4OSrjENnhW3wNhYBJ26rxDJpsJJnUwTyQW0tKQNRR_7n47bipMRtY_QjEIloF-dWbvWFva9FzA3UUQiAD50YQ/s400/5163qaXYWyL._SY346_.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Y'all need to check out <a href="http://thegoddesshowe.com/violet-howe-author/">Violet Howe</a>! According to the data wizards at Amazon, if you like me, you'll like her too.</td></tr>
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Okay, surreal moment number two. When I was giving my writing idol Kristan Higgins a copy of one of my books and she asked <i>me</i> to sign it for her. ME! When I told my daughter about it, she said, "Did you freak out?" Obviously, the answer is yes.<br />
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All the above aside, here's why the conference was awesome. I learned tons about my craft. About marketing. About running my own business. About how to write characters that will keep you up all night reading, laughing out loud, falling in love, and coming back for more. I stumbled into writing. I didn't know much, or anything, about it when I started. I didn't know to show and not tell. I didn't know characters have a flawed belief. I had no idea about internal and external conflicts or how to use action verbs to describe a character. Since I started going to conferences and workshops two years ago, I've learned so much.<br />
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There's also so much more I need to learn, to work on. I almost said to perfect, but I don't know that that's a reasonable goal, as I think this will always be an area in which I can improve. I've got pages and pages of notes to look through. I hope the information seeps into my brain, filling my subconscious as I sit down to write my next project. And every project from here on out.<br />
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Yes, this kind of conference is expensive. It means time away from my family. But RWA is so worth it. Compared to the wealth of knowledge and experience at this conference, I know nothing except this. If you are a writer, you should be going to classes and workshops to further your skills. I CANNOT stress this enough. GO TO WRITING CLASSES AND WORKSHOPS. There is a huge network out there of people willing to teach you, if you are only willing to learn. Only a fool thinks they have all the answers.<br />
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So now I'm home and I'm so tired I don't know where to put myself. My back hurts, my feet hurt, and my blisters have blisters. So while this was me at the conference:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_MkHAJ4rGIJlCYXKsyGlx3f_QlOIzDkDdtj1Ox10LvoUXcPw6NMlLlW7Jnd8v_A2rNNTg6XUSDQNos5Y15MiQyXP36UlQXtvufdu1-FrMeXN3cNTTeRe7Pps6RwHnfbO99jm5lk4kAAA/s1600/20170729_151601.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="900" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_MkHAJ4rGIJlCYXKsyGlx3f_QlOIzDkDdtj1Ox10LvoUXcPw6NMlLlW7Jnd8v_A2rNNTg6XUSDQNos5Y15MiQyXP36UlQXtvufdu1-FrMeXN3cNTTeRe7Pps6RwHnfbO99jm5lk4kAAA/s320/20170729_151601.jpg" width="225" /></a></div>
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And this was Becky at the conference:<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHukG6Mq47GEK2eyRBf9rVDXXMhdImVadtZIp2giPO5tOidyTVUju238y2XnKhWXwa0_jbzzPGXk2qKlvDPXub2lujU8XoJlVk4alEJfLxvv0NLxOiDOEPOoypwiP6J0e2USZW9MJjEl0/s1600/20375737_1582296501815815_713704164503797020_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="828" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHukG6Mq47GEK2eyRBf9rVDXXMhdImVadtZIp2giPO5tOidyTVUju238y2XnKhWXwa0_jbzzPGXk2qKlvDPXub2lujU8XoJlVk4alEJfLxvv0NLxOiDOEPOoypwiP6J0e2USZW9MJjEl0/s400/20375737_1582296501815815_713704164503797020_n.jpg" width="345" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Don't judge. I was so close to doing this on the last day.</td></tr>
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This will be me for the next week as I try to absorb it all and write my best book yet:<br />
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<br />Kathrynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08312004547872461641noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6127402598453123831.post-4900656807304474682017-07-13T11:32:00.003-07:002017-07-13T11:32:42.822-07:00On Writing, Quilting, and Letting GoI've written before about how I have a hard time letting go. And I do. If I let myself, I would always live in the past. But living in the past doesn't let you be present or anticipate the future. I can't say it's been a conscious effort, and I still love my 90s music, but I find myself more and more in the present. I started writing my first book about 6 1/2 years ago. I finished it 6 years ago this week, and titled it <i>Good Intentions</i>. Some of you may be familiar with it. At that time, I'd been married for almost ten years had two young kids (ages 7 and almost 4). I was slowly climbing out of the haze and daze of those yearly years of infancy, toddlerhood, bottles, diapers, potty training, pre-school, home ownership, home renovation, going back to school, raising a special needs child, and being a working wife and mother. I struggled to hold onto <i>me</i>.<br />
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As with most of my life, I was in between friends. I've always done that. Been good friends with a group, then drifted onto another group. At this time, when I began writing, I was in an in between time. I'd recently become better friends with someone I'd gone to high school with, and she was slowly becoming my person (and still is). Previous to this, I'd been friends with the pre-school moms. I'd been very close with my sister-in-law who suddenly cut me off and doesn't speak to me to this day. Prior to that, I'd had my college friends.<br />
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In college, although I did drift between groups, I was part of a group of five. We met freshman year, all living on the same floor in Rich Hall at Boston University. By the end of that year, I thought we'd be inseparable for the rest of our lives. But life happens and people change and even by the end of college (which was 5 years for 4 out of the 5 of us since we were getting our Master's), there were irreparable rifts. Not really because so and so did this or so and so said that. Just ... because. Life. Death. Relationships. Careers. Geography.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6q5iyVge9aRCX5FhhRmt11GQCk7EUPkdwUSOPDFXBtgFjgLeqjYX06byQsySi7ObgTZYqv7qDLKihFME7EKPG1SXgFSGLC_FMQfQH5VI-ZMLLD6fhVC8Cxs8TRcxVXEacXjwl8bi3ak0/s1600/10400642_139141500296_3393_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="403" data-original-width="604" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6q5iyVge9aRCX5FhhRmt11GQCk7EUPkdwUSOPDFXBtgFjgLeqjYX06byQsySi7ObgTZYqv7qDLKihFME7EKPG1SXgFSGLC_FMQfQH5VI-ZMLLD6fhVC8Cxs8TRcxVXEacXjwl8bi3ak0/s320/10400642_139141500296_3393_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My favorite picture of my BU girls, on Spring Break in the Bahamas.</td></tr>
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<br />
When I wrote <i>Good Intentions</i>, I waxed nostalgic about my time in Boston. The character of Maggie is loosely based on me, at least physically (none of the actual story line is true--it's all made up). The setting is absolutely based upon places I'd lived and been. At that time in my life, I was yearning for a better time. An easier time. And for me, that was college.<br />
<br />
Fast forward 6 years and 10 books. My husband has been encouraging me to get rid of the stuff we no longer need. We've cleaned out the baby clothes and toys. Made countless runs to Salvation Army to donate furniture. It's hard, as I feel like I'm giving away my children's childhoods. So, when it came time to clean out my closet, I struggled with a massive pile of t-shirts I've held onto since my college days. T-shirts from sporting events. From orientation. From concerts. From Spring Break. The shirt I bought when I decided to go to BU. While I would occasionally wear one here or there, I certainly no longer need a massive pile. So I decided to make a t-shirt quilt. The plan is that it will go in my office, once my office is finished (we're finishing our basement and the now playroom will become my dedicated writing space).<br />
<br />
So, over the past two days, I've been cutting and sewing my old t-shirts. I had to cut quickly, as the action of destroying these shirts that held such memories was difficult. But as I was pinning and pressing and sewing, I realized something. My latest novel, <i>Once in a Lifetime</i>, is about a group of five women reuniting 10 years after they separate. And, short of one small reference to a deplorable hotel condition while on Spring Break and a story about cheetos, there are absolutely no references, easter eggs, or actual tidbits from when I was part of a group of five.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFhcu6a6r0pHUoiS7RPKFXUfyuqhXugwrb08inD6T2kwNNw1v3piIwMXB_cJbbL7j1zyTatkQCXZr7N4hvqKXZkHS1QJyPp2h5GIhFSnhrxJtiqX2qrSX8RXNXyYPAehjg-EeTVQi3YnQ/s1600/tshirt+quilt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFhcu6a6r0pHUoiS7RPKFXUfyuqhXugwrb08inD6T2kwNNw1v3piIwMXB_cJbbL7j1zyTatkQCXZr7N4hvqKXZkHS1QJyPp2h5GIhFSnhrxJtiqX2qrSX8RXNXyYPAehjg-EeTVQi3YnQ/s400/tshirt+quilt.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Part of my quilt of memories</td></tr>
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It made me pause, as this would have been the perfect time to draw on that time in my life. But I never thought of it. And instead of making me sad this time, thinking about the friends I've lost, I simply shrugged as the realization hit me. Times change. People change. Sometimes people are there for you. Sometimes, even though you might need them, they aren't. And while I still keep in touch with the girls, now they're more of people I used to know than people who I'm friends with. We're planning a get together this fall. I haven't seen anyone in five years. I think some of them still get together and are involved in each others' lives. I'm not sure I still fit in. I'm not sure I ever did.<br />
<br />
I have other friends now. Different friends. Friends who I can't imagine my life without. Much like my BU friends. But still, when I look at the quilt, I'll remember the good times and the times that were woven into the tapestry of my life, making me who I am today. <br />
<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My new tribe. Wendy, we need to get you in here too cause like it or not, you're in.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My best friend Michele--my person.</td></tr>
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<br />Kathrynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08312004547872461641noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6127402598453123831.post-52987807548517555552017-07-11T18:23:00.001-07:002017-07-11T18:30:35.210-07:00I'm Becoming a PolygamistYup, it's true. I've become a polygamist.<br />
<br />
A book polygamist that is.<br />
<br />
I've always been a one-book at a time woman. I don't know what is up with me right now, but I've got three going, and want to be with a fourth.<br />
<br />
I'm reading the <i>Throne of Glass</i> series by Sarah J. Maas. I've read the first 3 books in the past 2 weeks and am waiting for #4 from the library. I really need it to come in quickly because, well, it's getting good. <i>To whatever end</i>.<br />
<br />
Sigh.<br />
<br />
Then there's the pool book I started. I kept it in the beach bag. It's a traditional romance, <i>Everywhere and Every Way</i> by Jennifer Probst. Well written and sexy. I feel the black moment coming. I hate the black moment.<br />
<br />
Then, I'm beta reading the upcoming Whitney Dineen chick lit book. It was not what I expected, but it's super cute, and I can't wait to see what happens.<br />
<br />
Then, I'm listening to <i>Friends Without Benefits</i> by Penny Reid. But I can't stop thinking about Nico Freakin' Mangianello. I'm considering buying it because I don't want to wait until the next time I can listen.<br />
<br />
Oh, and I'm writing two different stories and editing a third.<br />
<br />
I have no idea what's come over me. I'm in need of an intervention. Please send me a pint of Ben and Jerry's Heath Bar Crunch ASAP.<br />
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<br />Kathrynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08312004547872461641noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6127402598453123831.post-87440746046474062562017-07-06T16:03:00.000-07:002017-07-06T16:03:28.678-07:00My Big Break...Or Not.It only took a minute. Certainly not two. That rise of emotion. That burst of hope.<br />
<br />
Staring at the information I'd copied down from the voice mail message, my brain whirring in a hundred different directions. I knew it was too good to be true.<br />
<br />
But what if it wasn't? What if this was really it? My big break.<br />
<br />
We hardly ever check our home voice mail. Today, my husband went through and listened. Our insurance agent, trying to get us to refinance our car. A car dealership. And then, a message for me. Someone seeking me out, looking to represent one of my books at an international book event. I made my husband replay the message and wrote everything down. I hadn't been listening the first time, and this time I did.<br />
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Quickly, I posted in a Facebook group for authors. Then a Google search. I had my answer. No need to return the phone call. A scam.<br />
<br />
And that hope, which had only swelled for mere moments was dashed, anger flooding in to replace it. How dare they?<br />
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I work hard for my money. 9 1/2 months out of the year, I work a full-time job while being a wife and mother and author. I have 10 weeks off in which I dedicate to my kids and my writing. Only recently was I able to give up my summer job. And these people want to steal my money, playing on my hopes and dreams to make it into the big time.<br />
<br />
I repeat, how dare they?<br />
<br />
I may never be a NY Times Bestselling author. I know that the people I am reaching like my stuff and want me to continue. It is for them, and for me and my husband and my children, that I write. And I resent someone trying to steal from me.<br />
<br />
So, for a few seconds I thought someone wanted to take this secondary career of mine to the next level. But they didn't. They were only out for themselves. You know what, when I make it there through my own hard work and determination, the success will be all the more sweet.<br />
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<br />Kathrynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08312004547872461641noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6127402598453123831.post-35266665915915963662017-05-30T04:09:00.000-07:002017-05-30T04:10:03.592-07:00Four Years of ThankfulnessFour years ago, I began my journey as an independent author. Four years ago, as I chaperoned my daughter's Kindergarten field trip, I anxiously checked my phone and waited for those first few sales to start.<br />
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I had a goal. I had to sell 4 books to re-coup the cost I'd spent on the cover (yes, can you believe I paid money for that first awful cover).<br />
<br />
I knew nothing. Absolutely nothing.<br />
<br />
My book was woefully unedited. I had it edited. I changed the cover. I published a paperback, making it somehow real. I started writing my second book.<br />
<br />
And I waited. It didn't sell much. More than the 4 books I needed, but not much more.<br />
<br />
Then I learned. I networked, I listened, I worked. I wrote. And I wrote. And I wrote.<br />
<br />
In the 4 years since <i>Good Intentions</i> was published, I've released 9 titles (8 novels and 1 novella). I hope by the end of this year to have 10 novels out.<br />
<br />
And I wouldn't be here without the support of so many. No man is an island, and certainly no one in the publishing industry truly goes it alone. I'm sure I will miss a few people (and my apologies if I do), but here are just a few who have made this possible:<br />
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Michele Vagianelis</div>
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Mary Rose and Philip Kopach</div>
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Patrick Biel</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Karen Pirozzi</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Becky Monson</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Wendy Nagel</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Melissa Baldwin</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Cecilia Kennedy</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Jayne Denker</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Tracy Krimmer</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Marlene Engle</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Karan Eleni</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Amy Buser</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Laura Chapman</div>
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Cahren Morris</div>
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The ChickLitChatHQ Group</div>
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The Writing Wenches</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Charlotte Lynn</div>
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Geralyn Corcillo</div>
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Thank you to each and everyone of you for your support these past four years. Thank you to all the readers who have purchased, read, reviewed, reached out, and encouraged me.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
I'm sure I've missed a few. I'd like to think my writing has progressed since my first book. It's a good story, but I think I've evolved, and continue to evolve with every book. My sales and reviews have surpassed anything I ever dreamed of. My plan has changed to include writing funding my retirement.</div>
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If you haven't read my fledgling effort, take a chance on <i>Good Intentions</i>.</div>
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Kathrynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08312004547872461641noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6127402598453123831.post-64961609183728537032017-02-23T10:31:00.001-08:002017-02-23T10:36:09.025-08:00Holding On and Letting GoIt's a beautiful, sunny day. The windows are open, the kids are outside playing. The winter coats are hanging up. It's 60 degrees ... in February.<br />
<br />
Before I can even question this gift that Mother Nature is bestowing, I'd best get to my point. After about eight or so years of threatening to work on our basement, my husband has actually started it. Long story short--we had a finished basement. Due to the incompetency of our contractors ten years ago, we lost it, having to gut it down to the walls and floor. The rebuilding process has not been speedy. In the meantime, that area has become a dumping ground and storage area. For the past six weeks, my husband has been cleaning out, which included several dump runs. Now, mind you, I've been asking him to get a dumpster for years because I knew we couldn't start work without cleaning out first. It doesn't matter who suggested it. All that matters is that it's getting done.<br />
<br />
Except now my husband wants me to move on his timeline. I may or may not be biting my tongue when this sort of thing happens. One of my tasks is to go through the bins of baby clothes. I saved everything for the first five or six years of my son's life. He's now 13. I had good reason to save it--we didn't know if we were done. We're done. My daughter is nine, so we've been done for a while, whether we knew it or not.<br />
<br />
But there's another reason for me to save. I'm sentimental, and I attach emotions and memories to things. My husband is not and does not. This difference makes it hard for us to find common ground at times. On the other hand, both my parents are savers (pack rats, semi-hoarders), and that's not a good situation either.<br />
<br />
Take, for example, one of the boxes in my pile to clean out. It's mostly filled with liquor. Not a bad thing, right? Well, it was my grandfather's liquor that I cleaned out of my grandmother's cabinet when she sold her house. Almost 12 years ago. And my grandfather (who would have been 100 yesterday), has been dead for almost 28 years. So this liquor has been around for at least 30 years, but judging by the bottles, probably longer. So, I make the executive decision that I'm dumping the liquor and recycling the glass. I happen to mention this to my mom last night, in discussion of her father's 100th birthday. Later on I get a text from my mom. My dad wants the box of liquor, and I'm not to get rid of it. Something tells me that I'll be cleaning that box of liquor out of my parents' house in the future.<br />
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So, there are these bins of clothes. I did start giving clothes away after a certain point, so I guess this could be much worse. I'd say there are about 20 bins. I told my husband I'd reduce it to 1/3 of the current number. He doesn't remember that conversation. So I start bagging clothes. I can't look too closely or take too long, otherwise I won't be able to give anything away. I look at these small outfits and can picture the kids in them. I think of a simpler time, even though I probably didn't appreciate it. Back to the days where the kids' worlds revolved around me. Back to a time when I wasn't staring eye-to-eye with my son.<br />
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I joked with someone that I needed to watch a few more episodes of <i>Hoarders</i> to be able to complete this task. I'm sort of not joking. Nor am I poking fun at the people on the show. I can very much relate to the feeling of not wanting to give anything away because it means something. But I also don't want to live like that (and I want the basement finished someday this year).<br />
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I know that a tiny pair of shoes won't keep my kids little. A blanket won't make them need me like they used to. I have to force myself out of the past and to be in the moment, listening to them play outside on this gorgeous gift of a February day.<br />
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I'm passing the clothes on. To friends. To charities. I hope someone else makes as wonderful memories in these clothes as we did.<br />
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P.S.--I'm keeping four bins. Two for each kid. He wanted me to keep one bin total. Tough. I win.Kathrynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08312004547872461641noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6127402598453123831.post-88383102028117603912016-12-29T10:46:00.000-08:002016-12-29T11:03:42.867-08:0016 for '16Right now, many people are bummed as heck. The news of the past few days, the icons we've lost, are weighing heavily on most people right now. I actually cried when I told my kids about Carrie Fisher.<br />
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2016 has been a bad year for a lot of people I know. No two ways about it, but in some ways 2016 has been a great year too. So, no matter what you are feeling right now, I want you to sit down and make a list of 16 good things for 2016. It might be hard, but it's time to stop focusing on the negative and remember the positive.<br />
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Here's my list (in no particular order):<br />
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<ol>
<li>My book, <i>Jump, Jive, and Wail</i>, was nominated and was a finalist in InD'Tale Magazine's RONE Awards.</li>
<li>My son participated in and his team won a debate. This was a months-long research project. Seeing him get up and speak in front of a crowd (he led-off for his team) made me cry.</li>
<li>My daughter learned how to do cartwheels, handstands, and round-offs. This doesn't seem like a big deal, but ask the poor girl who taught her in gymnastics this summer--it's huge.</li>
<li>For the first time in my life, I bought a new mattress. It's on an adjustable frame so I can lounge comfortably, and my back and hip pain is reduced tremendously.</li>
<li>I got to vacation in Cape May again, including my morning walks on the beach with my dad, which I didn't think would happen after his stroke last year.</li>
<li>My cousin got married (to a great guy). My cousin's and I had a blast at the wedding and I feel closer to them than ever.</li>
<li>My book, <i>Live for This</i>, was featured on Maryse's Paranormal Book Blog (no, it's not paranormal), which resulted in my best organically performing book to date (meaning no sales or promotion).</li>
<li>I got to see my great-Aunt who lives in California. She's in her 80's and an absolute delight. I'm so happy I got to see her again.</li>
<li>I traveled to Burbank, California for the RONE Awards. It was the best four days of classes and camaraderie with my author people, who I absolutely adore. I don't know when I've laughed as much, nor when I will have the opportunity to rap to Vanilla Ice while wearing a Victorian gown again.</li>
<li>Said trip to California only cost me $11.20 in airline fees. That should be number one.</li>
<li>We were able to bring my mother-in-law to stay with us both this summer and for the entire holiday season. We're all she has, and we're trying to convince her to move here, but it's been good to have her here where we can help her.</li>
<li>My son transitioned to Junior High. We were prepared for a tough one, but he sailed through it and was on the honor roll first quarter.</li>
<li>My daughter has become a very wonderful writer (for a nine year-old), and I love sitting next to her while we're working on our projects.</li>
<li>My best friend, even though we only get to see each other like twice a year, continues to be my biggest support and cheerleader, and I don't know how I'd get through everything without her.</li>
<li>My husband and I celebrated 15 years of marriage. I was sick as a dog, so we didn't have a big shindig, but we were still able to take joy and pride of all we've weathered through fifteen years of ups and downs.</li>
<li>As of tomorrow, if all goes according to plan, for the first time in 31 years, I won't need glasses. I'm having LASIK done and won't have to put contacts in or wear glasses to see the TV, to tell what time it is, and to go to the bathroom at night. I still can't process what that's going to be like. </li>
</ol>
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You know, there's so much more I could list. My challenge to you...make your own list.</div>
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Happy New Year!</div>
Kathrynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08312004547872461641noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6127402598453123831.post-38490356763759864672016-11-05T05:49:00.002-07:002016-11-05T05:50:07.616-07:00NaNoWriMoIt's November again (how did <i>that</i> happen?), which means it's National Novel Writing Month. The goal is to write 50,000 words in 30 days. That breaks down to 1,667 words a day. It doesn't sound like much but it is. It takes a lot of focus and dedication to get the words in every day.<br />
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I sort of hate NaNo.<br />
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I sort of love NaNo.<br />
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What I hate is the pressure. Sometimes (like this year), I'm struggling to get the words down (I want to say to get the words on paper, but since I write on a computer, that's not exactly true). I fell behind on November 3. Usually I'm ahead in the counts at least until the second week. I get so far ahead I can even skip writing for a day. Not this year. I made up some ground yesterday, but I still am 500 words behind, not to mention the additional 1,667 I owe for today.<br />
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What I love is that I write. I've been in a writing slump since I finished <i>Made for Me</i>. That was the end of July. So, yeah, I need motivation to write. Plus, NaNo works for me. My first attempt at NaNo (2013) resulted in the first 50,000 words of <i>I'm Still Here</i>. April and July are Camp NaNo, where you set your own word targets for the month. I finished <i>I'm Still Here </i> in Camp NaNo in April 2014. I started <i>Jump, Jive, and Wail</i> in the July Camp NaNo 2014. I finished it just before NaNo 2014, so that's when I started <i>Killing Me Softly</i>. I didn't complete (win) NaNo in 2014. November is a hard month with work, conferences, and the holidays. I stopped about 27,000 words into <i>Killing Me Softly.</i> I felt okay with that decision, and since I had to edit <i>Jump, Jive, and Wail</i>, I never looked back. Camp NaNo in April 2015 saw <i>Killing Me Softly</i> get finished. <i>Live for This</i> was started in the July 2015 camp, and finished as my NaNo 2015 project. The April and July camps for 2016 are how <i>Made for Me</i> was written.<br />
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Certainly I write other than in November, April, and July, but it is when I get the bulk of my books done. This NaNo, I'm working on the follow up to <i>Made for Me</i>. I have a working title, but I'm not sure it will stick. You can be sure it will start with N though. :-)<br />
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I may not blog for the rest of the month, but you can be sure my hands will be on the keyboard. I owe it to myself. I owe the world Kira's story. And, let's face it, NaNo works for me.<br />
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<br />Kathrynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08312004547872461641noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6127402598453123831.post-4923817569018179582016-10-05T18:15:00.001-07:002016-10-05T18:15:43.062-07:00Indie Book DayI'm getting this post out a few days ahead of the game. Today, I'm here to talk about Indie Book Day. This year, it's October 8, so consider yourself warned and ready to grow your TBR.<br />
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Truth be told, I started as indie because I wasn't getting any bites from the multitude of agents that I queried. More honestly, I've continued being indie because it is something I truly, truly believe in. Oh sure, there's part of me that would love to receive an offer from a Big 5 Publisher with a huge advance and lots of zeros. But I also know that it's not the reality of the market right now. Here's the reality. Over a year ago, I received an offer. I was waiting to check into my hotel at the RWA conference when I opened the email. My brain could barely process it. I was reading a contract!<br />
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But after the conference was over, I read the contract. It was for a book that was already published. They would give it a new cover and re-edit it. I looked at the company's covers. They are made using the same stock photos that I browse through to make my covers. In fact, the publisher had used a photo for a cover from the same shoot with the same models that my cover was made from. And in return, there would be no advance, no sign-on bonus. I would make a 45% royalty on e-book sales. As an indie author, I make 70%. I would be responsible for 100% of my marketing for 24 months. I'm responsible for 100% now. I would have no creative control over the cover, nor would I be able to put the book on sale when I want. It made no sense to take this deal.<br />
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And once I sent in the declination letter, I stopped querying, tweeting, and pitching for a publisher. Even though I had been fairly confident in my decision to be indie before, I was absolutely positive now. And I haven't looked back. Being indie has given me the ability to write a serious contemporary romance (<i>Live for This</i>) and follow it up with a light and funny chick lit book (<i>Made for Me</i>). It lets me write a Christmas novella when I feel like it. It lets me set deadlines and adjust them as I need to. It lets me be creative and be true to who I truly am, therefore bringing you the best book I possibly can.<br />
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It doesn't mean it's always easy. Watching people launch books that their publisher has secured 50 reviews for is disheartening. Fielding the comments--"Oh, do you actually edit your book?"--gets tiresome. The backhanded compliments about really being published. Let's face it, despite the larger share of the ebook market, indie books and authors remain the red-headed step-children. Well, I've always felt I should be a redhead. For me, even though it may be a more difficult path, it's the right fit.<br />
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To help celebrate Indie Book Day, I've put together a <a href="https://www.pinterest.com/kathrynrbiel/indie-book-day-2016/">Pinterest board</a>. Check it out for lots of great indie books, as well as blog posts by talented indie authors like myself.<br />
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And, because I practice what I preach, here are some great indie reads (other than mine, obviously) you should be checking out:<br />
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<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Elements-Chemistry-Parts-Penny-Reid-ebook/dp/B00XO12QKY">Elements of Chemistry</a> (3 book trilogy) by Penny Reid<br />
<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Art-Soul-Brittainy-Cherry-ebook/dp/B00WFMNHFG">Art and Soul</a> by Brittainy Cherry<br />
<a href="https://www.amazon.com/First-Goal-Queen-League-Book-ebook/dp/B01LX24XMT">First and Goal</a> by Laura Chapman<br />
<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Face-Time-S-J-Pajonas-ebook/dp/B00JVUQA86">Face Time </a>by S.J. Pajones<br />
<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Miss-Adventure-Love-Limelight-Book-ebook/dp/B00NNXWFAE">Miss Adventure</a> by Geralyn Corcillo<br />
<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Speak-Now-Forever-Hold-Peace-ebook/dp/B00VWJ72OK">Speak Now</a> by Becky Monson<br />
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<br />Kathrynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08312004547872461641noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6127402598453123831.post-30689363402858528752016-10-04T19:00:00.001-07:002016-10-04T19:00:35.282-07:00Lucky #7Lucky number seven.<br />
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Today's pub day for my seventh full length novel, <i>Made for Me</i>. Seven novels. Three and a half years ago when I released <i>Good Intentions</i>, I had no idea that this would happen. That I'd be here, writing a post for my seventh novel.<br />
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This book is fun. That's what it's for--fun. It's light and funny and hopefully it leaves you with a smile on your face. Inspired while watching Project Runway and my friend Wendy's frequent posts about Kate Middleton, we follow Michele as she hits rock bottom and then pulls herself up by entering a TV design show. Yup, fun.</div>
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There's a fair amount of sewing detail in this book. That, I owe to my grandmother and my mom, both of whom were avid seamstresses. I learned to sew by watching them.</div>
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And since I know you want to know, <i>Made for Me</i> is now available at the following retailers:<br />
<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Made-Me-Biel-Kathryn-R-ebook/dp/B01JHNBJE6">Amazon</a><br />
<a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/made-for-me-kathryn-r-biel/1124234901?ean=2940157157296">Barnes and Noble</a><br />
<a href="https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/made-for-me-3">Kobo</a><br />
<a href="https://geo.itunes.apple.com/us/book/made-for-me/id1141062697?mt=11">iTunes</a>Kathrynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08312004547872461641noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6127402598453123831.post-42579169121465365412016-09-25T16:47:00.002-07:002016-09-25T16:47:45.070-07:00A Weekend of Nothing and EverythingI had the best weekend. It was a weekend of nothing that meant everything. Of course, there was the usual--soccer, religion, laundry, grocery shopping. Sunday dinner at my folks' house. In many ways it was unremarkable. But in this ordinary way, it was totally unremarkable.<br />
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Friday night started with a dinner out--just the four of us--to The Cheesecake Factory. The kids had given us gift cards there for our anniversary (thank to a little help from Grandpa). I was too sick at the time of our anniversary to use them, so Friday was perfect. Spared me from cooking; changed up the routine from pizza. It was a pleasant dinner, even with my daughter telling jokes that took about five minutes to deliver. In case you were wondering, a joke with a five minute set-up is not worth the punchline. But it was a pleasant dinner. The only time electronics were used were to Google some facts that had been under discussion. There was a cat drawing contest (Sophia won for anime, I won for realistic), as well as talk about school and life in general.<br />
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Saturday saw Sophia playing soccer on a beautiful fall day. The difference in her investment in playing since even last spring is huge, and that is really paying off on the field. Jake found a snail, which is the sort of thing at which he excels--noticing the small details of nature. After the soccer game, I lamented to my husband that since Ohio State had a by-week, there was nothing to look forward to.<br />
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Boy was I wrong. You see, TNT was playing a Star Wars marathon. All day, Episodes 1-3, and then The Empire Strikes Back in prime time. Jake reluctantly came into my room when I called him. Until he realized The Phantom Menace was on, and then he was transfixed. He's never seen all of The Empire Strikes Back, so he was excited for that to air. Sophia was off to a birthday party sleep over (or over as I call it because I'm not sure there was any sleep involved), so it was an all Jake evening.<br />
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Pat and I took him out to dinner at one of his favorite places, The Melting Pot. Then, we came back and watched The Empire Strikes back. Of course Jake didn't make it through--we dvr'd it in anticipation. We also noted that TNT was starting the whole marathon, episodes 1-6 at 5 am on Sunday, just in case we needed to catch up.<br />
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Jake and I have spent most of the weekend binging on the Force. Noticing the discrepancies, finding the links. In between, we got some laundry folded, waste baskets emptied, homework done. There's been conversation during the commercials, as well as during dinner. There's been dancing and singing. My boy, who doesn't like to sing in front of people on pain of death, sang along with me. P.S.--It's subtitled so you too can sing along (I don't need to look at the words. Not sure if I should be proud or ashamed of that fact).<br />
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It's been the best weekend with my son.<br />
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Because I know it will not always be like this. He's on the cusp of teenage-dom. The mood swings, the sullenness, the surliness--we already see them. There are lots of times when he wants nothing to do with me. And I get it. It's normal. Someday, he won't need me. Won't want me. There are also lots of times where stress and anxiety rule his world, and I don't get to see the laughing, laid back Jake that hung out with me all weekend.<br />
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We did take a break so Jake could watch football with his uncle. Even driving over, we couldn't help but marvel at the perfect crystal blue sky and were even lucky enough to see a bald eagle soaring in the sky.<br />
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This is a weekend of nothing and everything. And I will never, ever take it for granted.<br />
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<br />Kathrynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08312004547872461641noreply@blogger.com0