I know at this very moment you’re quite concerned about your “summer body” (whatever that is), and vowing to give up all pasta and doughnuts and everything else delicious in life for the next month just so you can fit into your swimsuit without being incredibly conscious of the way your cute little stomach roll flops over the top of your tankini bottom when you crouch down to sit beside the pool. Oh, wait. You don’t do that? I also know that you make mac and cheese “for the kids” and eat all the leftovers in a moment of carb-craving mania while standing over the pot with a wooden spoon in your hand hoping nobody decides she wants seconds. You don’t know me. Look: your stomach’s gonna flop a little. It’s really no big deal. Just eat the pasta already. Pasta’s at least a once-a-week staple in our house, as I’m sure it is in yours, too, occasional pre-summer body anxiety notwithstanding. But here’s the thing: you know as well as I do that the best…
I’m going to be honest with you: Orly Konig is one of my favorite people in my writing world. I met her through our organization, the Women’s Fiction Writers Association, which she helped found as its first president, and I would’ve asked her to be here with Just Five Questions even if she didn’t have a new book coming out early next month I wanted her to talk with you about. Orly is a consistent cheerleader, my unofficial writing life coach (not even kidding), volunteer early reader, and a calm voice in the crazy tumult that sometimes comes with publishing. She’s also a fantastic mom, talented crocheter (is that a word, Orly?), and well-versed in the languages of espresso and red wine (languages I will happily speak with her). After years of pushing the creativity boundary in corporate communications, Orly decided it was time for a new challenge and made the switch to fiction. Now she spends her days chatting up imaginary friends, drinking entirely too much coffee, and negotiating writing space around two over-fed cats. In addition to being the co-founder and past president of WFWA…
I’m at a coffee shop (okay, it’s a Panera, because #suburbs) with my husband right now, writing. We have a couple hours until Cian needs to be picked up from preschool, and I often get more work done on these time-crunch work dates than I do any other time. Today, though, is a bit different. I feel free, and a little sad, and sort of refreshed (that last part just could be because I’m showered and out in public and have a second cup of coffee in my bloodstream, but I’ll take it). See, here’s the thing: My second book–the one I called A Version of Lucky, which was about a female friendship gone bad, layered against a fledgling, then flourishing, food truck business, and set against the backdrop of downtown Baltimore–isn’t selling. Which means that no publisher to whom it’s been pitched has offered to buy it. The news isn’t unexpected, nor am I all that dismayed, really. Well, let’s back up–in all honesty, I spent a lot of yesterday moping around, occasionally having…