Tag: writer

Get Set, Go

I’ve gone and signed up for National Novel Writing Month again. My goal: to write 1,700 new words of Book #2 a day for the next 31 days. If I keep up this pace, the end of November will find me a happy, over-tired writer of a completed, overwritten 

Yep, I Got All That from a Conference

I went to the first regional conference of my organization, the Women’s Fiction Writers Association, in Philly this weekend. It was a nonstop sort of weekend, with workshops and meetings from 7:30 a.m. to 9 at night. I got to speak on a panel with 

For It’s a Jolly Good Fellow

Okay: I normally don’t post about Book Things here on the ol’ blog, but…you guys. That book that I started so long ago? The book that journeyed through billion revisions and a pregnancy and birth of a baby boy and a wonderful agent and a house move and little to no sleep on its way to actual, real life publication? That book just celebrated (well, we’re celebrating it, anyway!) it’s birthday. It’s a year old, today.Screen Shot 2016-09-01 at 3.37.16 PMI know. I can’t believe it either.

(And yes. I AM working on the second one. It’s a slow process, okay?)

In the spirit of celebration, I’m hosting a giveaway on my Facebook author page. It’s easy to enter, and I’ll send one winner a signed copy of All the Difference, a cute, roomy tote bag, plus a copy of my friend Kristin Contino’s The Legacy of Us, partly because it’s also set in Philadelphia and partly because Kristin’s writing is a hoot. Sounds fun, right? If you’d like to enter, just go here. If you don’t live local to me and missed out on all the launch day fun (which actually happened a few days after the actual launch day, because timeliness ain’t our thing around here), there’s a photo gallery on my other website, the Professional Author one, which you can access here. I’ll let you figure out which pictures have me crying with joy in them (note: all of them).

That’s all! I have to go pick up my darling children from school right now, but I just wanted to let you know. It’s a happy day. It’s a good memory of one of the absolute best times of my life. And I wanted to share it with you, just a little bit, because I’ve been sharing a little bit with you all along, after all.9.1.16. Book Birthday. Leah with signIt only seems right.

Because Seasons Change

David and Cian and I just dropped the girls off for their first day of the new school year. First and second grade. Tiny plaid uniforms. Backpacks that still look a bit too big for their little bodies. Saoirse told me last night that she 

Office Partner

I’m back to writing after a long stretch of inconsistency due to a nonstop month and a half of school volunteer work, family commitments and a slightly crippling case of fear of failure (more on all of that as soon as I catch my breath). Let’s 

That Sound is 2016 Laughing

No one needs another blog post about the “work-at-home mommy” struggle, or a kid throwing a tantrum because no one will play cars with him, or the difficulty of trying to focus on a creative task (er, writing, anyone?) when you can’t fully dive into it because your 3-year-old wants you to try on his sunglasses and help him get a snack (“yogurt an’ HUN-ee. ‘Cause I hungee.”) and you need to make sure he isn’t really strangling the cat even though it sounds like it. No one needs to read any of that. But it’s the first working day of 2016, the day known to anyone as the very first day all of our New Year’s resolutions get thrown out the window (I had cheese popcorn straight out of the bag this morning for breakfast. Take that, Fitbit!). So write-vent I shall. 

1.5.16. Working Writer Mom. Cian not happy sittingI’m trying to get it right this year, after months (years, a lifetime, whatever) of flailing about wondering how to accomplish the tasks I set out to do (shower, grocery shop, finish another novel). Without set goals, I don’t do much of anything, really, outside of the “have to”s. And with one child still at home during the day–oh, dear child, who, speaking of flailing, is writhing about under my desk as I type (“Mooom, please. Play. Play! PLAY.”), it seems pretty darned impossible. The tricky part about being a working mom is when you lack the income part to pay for the working part, if that makes sense. I’m working toward a future paycheck, one that isn’t at all guaranteed. Invisible money doesn’t hire a babysitter for a few hours each morning. Therein lies a teeny little hiccup in my non-plan.

1.5.16. Working Writer Mom. Cian curled upSo, goals. Do you have goals this year? Are they small? Huge? Do you have a plan to meet them? What are they (no, really: HOW ARE YOU GOING TO DO IT HELP ME PLEASE)? I have sort-of ones for fitness and writing and mommy-ing in my head right now, but nothing concrete. I should probably get on that. In fact, I should make it a goal to write down my goals! I shall be so on TOP of it all!

1.5.16. Working Writer Mom. Cian tantrumCian pushed his toy train and a bunch of play kitchen utensils into the room as I typed that last paragraph, and is curled up on the carpet next to me now telling stories to himself. He is sweet, and I love him, and one day I’ll miss the fact that he doesn’t like to let me out of his sight (except for the part when he sat down in my lap while I tried to do a little yoga this morning. He’s kind of like a cat that way. Also, I might hate yoga). But I’m starting to wonder if four hours a day of TV would be really all that bad (kidding, kidding). Or if my grocery store’s childcare room would mind if I dropped him off for the full two hours every day. Or how long it would take for a babysitter to find out I’m paying her in Monopoly money. The struggle for balance is real.

1.5.16. Working Writer Mom. Cian feet star warsBut I think I need to make the goals first, and figure out how to get meet them later. Cian has me 24 hours a day. I wouldn’t feel too terribly guilty about working for a few hours out of that if it’d mean I wasn’t so grumpy during the other 20 hours. So. Goals. I shall set some goals.1.5.16. Working Writer Mom. Cian with sunglassesYou go first, though. Because right now my son is using a toy screwdriver to joust with the dog and I’m not so sure I’ll even get to finish this





Sliding Around On Our Bottoms is More Fun, Anyway

You may have heard me talk about this son of ours. His name, as you know, is Cian. Cian is two and a half. Cian lives a much different life than his sisters did when they were his age. He doesn’t go to Music Together 

A New Definition

I spent part of last week at a writer’s retreat in New Mexico–a sentence I just typed with slight disbelief, because when did I become a person who goes to writer’s retreats in New Mexico? Let me just say: whoever tells you that life doesn’t hand