New Leaf

I am turning one.

So I’ve been working on my mindset (what with it being a good servant but a terrible master) about exercise, fitness, and my body.  And through my research and much Deep Thinking I have come to several conclusions:

• Good habits are easier to start than bad ones are to break, and since I’ve been unsuccessful at breaking my One Bad Habit, I’m going to reach for the former and hope that it, by extension, will help with the latter. 
• It’s easier to stick to a routine of exercise if you write down your progress.  Here’s the tracker I’m using.
• Doing what I can do is better than doing nothing.  This should be self-evident, but as a perfectionist, I am loathe to reach for “good enough.”  I have finally (!) come to grips with this fact.  It’s only taken 38 years, 7 months, and 4 days.
• One MUST prepare oneself mentally for the journey before one begins.  By that, I mean: Get a plan.  Figure out how you’ll do it, when you’ll do it, and what you’ll do.  Decide how you’ll overcome your obstacles before they arise.
• Don’t push.  If it hurts later you’ll be put off.  Start slowly for once.  Ease into the journey.  Praise the effort. 

Also?  The most important, hugest thing that I learned?  Dear Friends, I will tell you now:

• I like my body, just as it is.  

I’m just not going to pick at myself anymore.  First of all, I don’t need that negative voice in my head.  And second of all, that negative voice never knew what it was talking about. 

That, for me, has been the very best part of growing up.

***

Anyone’s who’s regularly read my blog knows that I strive each day to reflect on a few things I’m grateful for.  I cannot encourage everyone to do this enough.  Only by focusing on our blessings do we truly enjoy life.  I think daily of George Bernard Shaw’s “splendid torch.”  Carry your own, my friends, and let it “burn as brightly as possible.”  But in doing so, you must remember to look at the torch, to notice its fire. 

So by way of example, I thought I’d include bits of my own gratitude list here in the hopes it might inspire someone to keep their own.  Your list needn’t be anything too long or too specific, nor should you chastise yourself for not including things you feel you SHOULD be grateful for.  Of course we’re all grateful for our lives, our health if we have it, our family, our home, etc.  This is more of a way of observing the large and the small things that make your life whole, special, and ordinary.

Today’s Gratitude List:

• Self-acceptance, hard won – and the determination to keep it
• My pond
• My son’s freckles – the only other one in our family to have them besides me and my father
• The smell of the German’s skin, his hands on my body, his lips on my neck
• My camera, there to catch the moments
• Caprese salad and homemade bruschetta, candles by the pond, the waterfalls, the soft summer night air, good music, good company
• Having a home large enough to welcome my brother when his life fell apart

THIS JUST IN: Baby Tracy Returns to the Blogosphere

Srsly.  Dudes.  You like me.  You REALLY like me.

And I couldn’t feel more humbled by that.  You have no idea.

So where’ve I been, you might be wondering?  Well.  Baby Tracy got a job.  Like, a real one, with bennies and a paycheck and everything.  I mean, don’t get me wrong.  Writing books is fun, see.  And I love it a lot.  (When I say I love it a lot, what I mean is that I have an aching in my heart where my full-time writing gig used to live and it’s a soul-sucking, soul-crushing suck-fest each morning when I arise and realize that it’s over.)  But writing books is (I’m whispering here – this is a secret) not very profitable.

But don’t tell anyone, k?  ‘Cause Publishers don’t like writers to know that.  They want us to think that if we work really, really hard and write a really good book (ones that get nominated for awards like RT’s Best British Isles Set Romance of 2008) and spend part of our advance on things like promotion and websites and web ads, we have a chance at success.  They want us to think that, because it makes them happy when we’re working like busy little bees.  What they DON’T want us to know is that they will slash our print runs by less than half of half, thereby eliminating ANY chance of success.  They don’t want us to know this because what’s going on in NYC is Very Important Publishing Business, and writers are far too silly to understand how those things work. 

Don’t get the impression that I’m disillusioned about how the gig operates.  Because why would I be?  It’s not as if a publisher contacted me, offered me a book deal, let me spend an entire year pulling my hair out whilst agonizing over every bloody word, and then pulled the flim-flam of a print run without disclosing that their terms had changed. 

And you know what the worst part of all of it is?  It’s that if this hypothetical scenerio were to play out, it’d be unprofessional for me to speak about it.

I, my friends, am a consummate professional.  So I’m working the day gig, yeah, but I’m still busy beeing it in the Word Factory (though production is sadly down), because while writing books is a bit like shoveling elephant shit in the circus, it’s near impossible to quit Show Business.

So what else is new with me, you might all be wondering?  Well – life’s pretty good.  My Gratitude List is long, rife with frogs in the pond:

An incredible husband who is made entirely of Awesome:

And a kid who I adore (and who also won the silver Presidential Academic Achievement Award):

And over all, job and everything considered, I am a very happy, very grateful Baby Tracy:

Oh, and guess what else?  One of my short stories is being published in a literary journal.  I’ll post more about that when I know more details.  And also?  My latest novel, STEALING MIDNIGHT, will be on sale (all three copies) in October. 

I’m back.  Thanks for still checking in on me. 

VEILED PASSIONS

I  just heard:

VEILED PASSIONS got a great review in Romantic Times Magazine, 4 1/2 stars, along with a Top Pick and the K.I.S.S. award.

Huzzah!

When The German ISN’T Perfect

An actual conversation that occured five minutes ago:

Setting:  TMac is at her desk, drinking coffee and fixing a scene in her latest masterpiece.  The German breezes by the doorway.

German:  I was going to make breakfast.

Me:  Okay.  If you make it, will you also clean it up?  (In my defense, we’re leaving in an hour to go golfing for the day.)

German:  I didn’t want to clean it up, no.

(He gets a bonus point here for honesty.)

Me:  So you want to make a big mess and you want me to clean it up, or you want to leave it for the day so I can clean it up later.  This is what you’re saying.

German:  Why are you making a big deal out of this?

Me:  (Sighs and glances at the clock.  I guess I’m done my morning edits.)  I’d just like to know what I have to get done before we go.

He walks away and goes into our bedroom, angry.  When he returns, he says the following.

German:  Maybe it’s time you start using that progesterone cream again.

Dear readers, this cream he speaks of is for PMS.  So what the German is in fact saying, is that unless I am willing to clean up after him without comment, I must be a seething, raging case of hormones.

Because I am, in fact, NOT a seething, raging case of hormones, I declined to respond or further engage.  I find that when a man is accusing a woman of being hormonal, they’ve reached the final threshold that leads to either a full-on fight or a discussion that will end badly.  There is nothing a woman can say when a man takes this stand that will not seem combative, emotional, or unreasonable.

He walked on, and is now happily banging away with pots and pans in the kitchen and singing to the radio.

I guess I’m cleaning it up.

THE END

Word Count:  126,226

Current Status:  Fried

Mood:  Grateful

Will blog more when the words come back.  Right now, they’re all used up.   I’m off to open a bottle of really, really excellent scotch that I’ve been saving for this occasion.

The World’s Worst Blogger.

I almost typed The World’s Worst Booger.  Which I would probably be, as I detest snot and therefore would be forced to hate myself.

Today I got an email from Beth. 

Subject: Hey. 

Content: Where the hell have you been?

Where’ve I been?  What happened to June and July and half of August?  Allow me to elucidate (it’s my blog, so I get to use words like elucidate, because when I use those words in Real Life, people wrinkle their noses at me and become annoyed at my profligate (my blog) use of the English language, and while I would like to point out that it’s our mother tongue and as such should be easily understood when we are conversing, I become flustered at their nose wrinkling and refrain):

Behold TMac, cruising along in the back of Paige and Tim’s Land Cruiser (don’t judge them – they have many children and require a vast amount of space in which to transport them and their french fries).   TMac has no idea that her appendix has become irritated and is in fact, growing irate.

So there I am, bouncing along through my life with a book simmering away.  Life, she was good.  I had a WHOLE summer ahead of me!  I was SO HAPPY.

 

Alas, life wasn’t complicated enough, and my German, saddened my his loss of The Fat Bastard, also known as Chester, began to contemplate acquiring a kitten.  So we did.

This is Matilda, my computer, and my peonies.  Note: This kitten is NO HELP AT ALL with the novel I’m writing.

 

Alas alas, one kitten isn’t complication enough – so we got two!  Sisters!

Cute, no?  The black tuxedo is Chloe.

One wouldn’t suspect these two babies in crimes against plants, but don’t let their “innocent” faces fool you!

These two are very bad babies who have zero compunction or remorse.  They are dangerous, armed (clawed), and will attack (anything beneath the blankets) with no provocation.  Do not underestimate their vicious nature.  These are badass bad babies.

But remember TMac and her pissed off appendix?  Right, well, there it was, fermenting in its own vileness until one day it could take it no more.  This appendix had had enough of TMac and her generously sized abdomen.  One day in early June, it decided to blow that joint and make a break, only to be thwarted by the good Doctor Shearborne and his mighty scalpel. 

I am now in possession of a three inch scar, and I am here to tell you that sadly, an appendix does NOT weigh five pounds as I’d so desperately hoped, and also?  Doctor Shearborne does NOT have the ‘while we’re at it’ kind of attitude that I most prefer in a surgeon.  You know, such as, “Well, she’s already unconscious, so while we’re at it, let’s go ahead and do some liposuction on this tummy, sculpt this waist, and hey, I’ll bet she wouldn’t mind if I removed that unsightly wart.”

I know for a FACT he’s not a team player in this regard, because as he wheeled me into surgery, I sweetly asked if there were any way possible he could hook me up, to which he replied, “Not a chance.”

!

AND THEN, after the surgery which, in my opinion, was rather ill-timed, as I would much rather have spent weeks recovering in FEBRUARY when who cares about being outside?  Instead, I had to give up golf, riding my bicycle, and various other athletic pursuits that I lamented the loss of only until I was cleared to resume, at which time I reverted back to my normal indifference, because hello?  I have a book to write.

On a happier note, my German and I are coming up on our 20th wedding anniversary (I know, I look so young!), and we decided to commemorate this blessed event with something that will grow and endure (and also we really just wanted one) and so we installed a pond.

Here it is just after installation, before I’d added any plants.

Water lillies!  Yay!

WARNING: COMPLAINTS AHEAD

To summarize the rest of my summer: It Has Sucked.

END OF COMPLAINTS

So I’m reallythisclose to finishing the novel, and I’m hoping to squeeze an entire summer of fun into the remaining two weeks I’ll have left.  And then I have to (cue whining) get a job.

What are the rest of you doing? 

Thursday 13

*UPDATED*

I tried to upload pictures of my sweet Baby German, but WordPress hates me.  I’ll keep trying,  but meanwhile, today’s post is dedicated to the one I love.  (And believe me, he’s FAB)

**UPDATED AGAIN**

I tried this.  Did it work?  If so, it’s my German and me!

13 Things I Love About My German:

1.)  I know I have referenced his bedroom skills, but they do deserve another mention.  My German is a wonderful lover.  It ALMOST seems selfish to hoard him all to myself.  But that’s okay.  My therapist assures me that certain selfish behaviors are quite healthy.  So back off.

2.)  He’s really funny.  Like as in, really quick with the one liners, but not in the jokey “I’ve got one for you” creepy way.  More in the super witty, you can’t believe he said that way.

3.)  He’s a hard worker.  This is really important, because I could never respect a slacker.

4.)  He has supported me in my writing career for more than 10 years, and never once has he ever said a single word about the fact that pretty much any money we have is because HE earned it.  He also never questions my spending, and he never, ever undertips at restaurants.  I think the way a man handles his money says a lot about him.

5.)  He smells as good as he looks.

6.)  He likes watches, and he’s not too good for a nice Swiss Army or something, even though he likes Tags and Omegas and Breitlings, too.  He’s easy to buy for because of this, which I really appreciate.  Don’t tell him, but I’m cooking up a plan for a pretty sweet piece of wrist candy to mark our 20th.

7.)  He takes me golfing with him!  And he says things like, “Nice shot, baby!” and “You look hot when you bend over to mark your ball.”  This makes for lots of extra fun on the golf course, and he always takes me out for a beer afterward.  My German is fun!

8.)  He has broad shoulders and big muscles and a really nice ass.  I am shallow enough to love this about him.

9.)  He is very affectionate.  Always with the hugging and the kissing and playing with my hair and rubbing my feet.  The German loves to snuggle!

10.)  He talks dirty to me.  And he’s good at it.

11.)  He wants me to be happy, no matter what.  He doesn’t cramp my style – he lets me be me.

12.)  He loves our boy.  Even though he’s hard on him sometimes, he really loves our son.  So much that once in a while, he gets misty when he talks about him.  The German has a great heart.

13.)  He’s honest and loyal, and I trust him completely.  This is perhaps the thing I love most about him, and it says an awful lot about him, that he could win complete trust from a woman like me.  

The quickest, easiest 13 I’ve done yet.

Back off, ladies.  He’s all mine.

Wednesday

I love Wednesdays.  Not the beginning, not the end, just the nice fat sweet stuff right in the middle of the week.

  Nice!  (Photo stolen from Cracked.com)

So yesterday I spoke with Brent Monahan, my beloved mentor, and when he asked how the book was going, well, of course he had to hear Baby Tracy moan and cry that it’s horrible, just horrible.  He took pity on me and helped me focus, and we came up with a few tweaks that might just WORK.  The bones are there, but what I’m looking for is a living, breathing, flesh and blood thing (that hopefully does not resemble Frankenstein in any way).

I’m looking for resonance, and Brent reminded me of his three golden rules: Clarity, Brevity, Unity.  Which are great when you KNOW WHAT THE BOOK IS ABOUT.  Ahem.  He also helped me nail down the themes.  So I’m back on track.  Thanks, Brent!

I also took my son to the eye doctor, and my poor, sweet little laddie needs glasses.  Poor Baby E!

  It’ll be okay.  He has a GREAT personality.

Oh, and I’m back on a diet.  Yay for me.  I can look forward to weeks of low energy and gas pains.  But hey, I slept last night.  Life has a way of equaling things out.

Happy Wednesday!

Monday

First things first:  I slept last night!

My weekend:

The German and I attended a lovely wedding on Saturday night at Skytop in the Pocono mountains.  We had a blast – drank and danced (The German danced!!!).  The German and I even went out onto the terrace and slow danced beneath the lights outside, which was just about perfect until he whispered the lyrics to the song in my ear, and then perfection was actually achieved.  Ladies, if you want to be happily married, marry a man who whispers in your ear.

After the reception, The German and I went exploring the resort and found ping pong tables, where I discovered that after 4 scotches I cannot hit the ball.  We then found an indoor mini-golf course, where I discovered that after 4 scotches I can still putt.  I ended up wandering into a room that had flapper costumes in boxes, and I also discovered that yes, I DO look fabulous in feather boas, a fact that I had long suspected but never confirmed.  We wandered some more and found a tap room, wherein I enjoyed a cold, creamy Guinness and some conversation with new BFFs (the best BFFs are always found in tap rooms after hours).  Then, off to the room where we made the very best use of the hotel bed and the feather boas.

All in all, a very good wedding.  Thanks Baby Matt Matt!

Yesterday we met our new BFFs for breakfast and then said our goodbyes, made plans to hang out again, and drove home.  Upon arrival at the German/MacNish household we did nothing, rendered useless by extreme fatigue and mutual hangovers.  We watched golf, though, which makes for very good intermittent napping.  I highly recommend Sunday afternoon golf when you’re too tired to move.

In other news, I haven’t been blogging much because I’m in the weeds with this new book, the shape and size of which is vast and formless just now.  I need to hemorrhage several more chapters, and I have not a frigging clue what’s going to happen.

This is the part of the book where I have long, detailed fantasies about returning my advance money and calling it quits.

Also?  Despite the sleeping last night (which was really just my body trying to recover from the liver training), I’m still tired. 

And so I’m off to Get Back To It. 

Oh, but first?  Have you heard that song by the Flobots?  Seriously.  It will infect your brain and repeat endlessly.  I know they’ve got stuff to say and all, but is it necessary to record an earworm? 

And second?  Get a feather boa.  Or two.

 

Saturday

Got insomnia?

Whatever!  Stop your complaining and cheer up.  Need help?  Look at this:

  He’s dishy and I’m spoony.  We’re a perfect match!  And speaking of perfect matches, check THIS out:

 Why, yes.  That IS Colin Firth drenched in coffee.  I did say we were a perfect match, no?  Here I am, so tired I want to die, and into my life comes coffee with Colin Firth!  (I don’t need no stinking half and half.  I want whole man in my coffee, please.)

And because I have nothing else to say, now that I’m having torrid fantasies involving Colin Firth and an espresso machine, here’s a meme I stole from Beth, because if Beth can steal it from Lyvvie and Lyvvie can steal it from Chick, than I figure it’s mine for the taking.

You’re feeling:  Tired, and very worried about the book I’m writing.

To your left:  A walk-through closet that will someday be my wine cellar.  Beyond that, the pantry and the five steps leading up to my kitchen.

On your mind:  The book, the book, the damn book, and three repeating questions I keep asking the damn characters who inhabit the damn book: Who are you?  What do you want?  What is the worst thing that could happen to you?

Last meal included:  A cocktail.

You sometimes find it hard to:  Sleep.

The weather:  Overcast and cool.  Rain expected later.

Something you have a collection of:  Books, shoes, evening gowns, and jewelry. 

A smell that cheers you up:  Clean sheets, fresh air, the German’s skin.

A smell that can ruin your mood:  Vomit.

How long since you last shaved:  Yesterday.

The current state of your hair:  Long and straight (I love my flat iron!).

The largest item on your desk/workspace (not computer):  My whiteboard/cork board thingie that is leaned against the back of the desk, behind my laptop.

Your skill with chopsticks:  Excellent.  I learned chopsticks before a fork, because I lived in Taiwan as a child.

Which section to head for first in a bookstore:  Romance.

Something you’re craving:  Sleep, and in lieu of that, coffee.  

Your general thoughts on the presidential race:  Canada seems a lovely place to live.

Favorite place to go for a quiet moment:  A bicycle ride.

You’ve always secretly thought you’d be a good:  Actor.

Something that freaks you out a little:  My book is due in 8 weeks.  (This freaks me out more than a little, actually.)

Something you’ve eaten too much of lately:  Chinese food.

You have never:  Gotten a tattoo, shaved my head, or dated a three hundred pound biker named Pedro.  I’ve also never written a best selling novel, had my work made to film, bought my dream house in Key West and a flat in NYC, and had a dog named Dave. 

You never want to:  Lose my sense of fun and excitement, my hopes and dreams.

(Something else I’ve never done):