07.14.10
Posted in General Info, News and Happenings at 12:52 pm by Administrator
Good News! I am so thrilled to announce that The Happy Hour Effect with Kristen Brown made it to the second round of the Oprah Winfrey Network “Get Your OWN Show” contest. Out of 10,000 entries, it was selected to move forward along with other great show ideas and personalities who submitted entries. I was contacted by a producer who conducted a phone interview and requested some additional photographs. He then pitched my show to producers. The next step is live interviews in Los Angeles for the top 40 who are chosen during this phase of the competition.
Bad News! Unfortunately, I did not make the top 40. Destiny has a different plan for me though I may not see it yet. Of course I am disappointed, but at the same time even more motivated now because I know my show idea has merit and can really help people make positive changes in their lives. I am going to be pushing the show like crazy to local and national networks and pitching it to pre-existing shows in the hopes that I may land even a one-minute segment to share my work/life balance message with the world.
This definitely feels like the logical and right next step as the health supplement just launched, events and speaking engagements are up and running and my book is in its final stages of editing. This show will bring it all together into a meaningful message that others can benefit from and of course, that I can benefit from as well because I will be able to fulfill my passion of helping others live more balanced and less stressed lives!
Thank you to all who voted for me and got me to 30,000+ votes! The show concept itself got me to the next round and your votes reinforced the importance of The Happy Hour Effect!
Much thanks!!
Kristen
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07.07.10
Posted in Writing at 12:20 am by Administrator
At a thrift store today, I purchased a copy of “A Thousand Days: John F. Kennedy in the White House” by Arthur M. Schlessinger, Jr. It is a whopping 1000 pages and was printed in 1965. I don’t know what prompted me to buy it. Something about it called to me – the title, the weight and size, the subject. It sat there on the shelf hidden amongst thousands of other books, but it summoned me to reach for it. When I got home, it sat in the bag for a few hours while I made supper, drank some wine, played with Brooke. But after dinner, I started paging through it. Tucked inside was a handwritten letter dated March 8th, 1967. It was on a simple piece of lined notebook paper, the edges just starting to show signs of age. The ink was a dark red, almost brown – but in 1967 maybe it was black or red. The handwriting was in cursive, loopy and clearly the script of a woman. For some reason, my hands were shaking a little as I started reading:
March 8, 1967
Dear Mrs. Jones,
How could you possibly have known eggplant is my favorite vegetable. I devoured most of it in one sitting. It was abolutely divine.
Since my husband’s illness – cooking has been so plain and simple. This was so appreciated.
Thank you for it – so thoughtful and sweet.
Sincerely,
Jane Doe (name changed to protect her privacy)
After I read it, I sat in silence for a moment staring at the words on the paper. I’m not sure what prompted me to do the math, but it has been about 1000 days since my husband died and in that time, it has been the simplest gifts and gestures (like Mrs. Jones’s eggplant was for this woman) that have kept me afloat. Maybe this book “A Thousand Days” spoke to me at that thrift store because it held this letter – and it knew I needed a reminder to cherish the simple things and be present in the moment.
So that is what I am going to do for the next two months when I have my daughter home with me instead of sending her to school. Instead of worrying about work and if the next idea will pay off, I’m going to cherish this time together with her and be thankful for everything and everyone we have (or had) in our lives. Thanks Mrs. Jones for sharing the eggplant with Mrs. Doe just when she needed it most. And thank you “A Thousand Days” for sharing the letter just when I needed it most.
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06.26.10
Posted in Uncategorized at 11:44 am by Administrator
Dear Family, Friends and Fans,
Click Here to vote for me now!
For the last couple of months, I have been developing The Happy Hour Effect with Kristen Brown, a web-based talk show and radio program that helps audiences better manage stress and find balance in their lives.
While prepping to film episode #1, I learned that Oprah Winfrey is holding a contest to have a show on her new television network, OWN, launching in 2011. So why not enter and pitch my show already in development to her producers right?! So I have compiled a three minute submission video introducing The Happy Hour Effect with Kristen Brown for the contest that is now posted online for viewing – and voting!! That’s where you come in!
There are some entrants in the contest who have over a million votes. I’m pretty sure I can’t compete with that! But if I can get enough votes to catch the attention of the producers, I might just have a shot at making the finals in one of the wild card spots. So please help and vote for The Happy Hour Effect with Kristen Brown. Not only would it be a life-changer for me, but more importantly, it would be life-changing for millions of Americans who suffer from stress and unbalanced priorities every single day. My goal and my passion is to help people overcome that stress so they can live happier, healthier lives – in balance.
Please send this link to everyone you know and urge them to vote – at work, at home, in your social circles, in your community – I need all the support and votes I can get! And if you know someone else who has entered and already voted – no worries – you can vote more than once – so vote for me many times and get your significant other, kids, friends and everyone you know to vote multiple times too! Voting deadline is July 3rd!
Click here to vote for my video for the “Your OWN Show” contest on the Oprah Winfrey Network!
Thanks for your support of The Happy Hour Effect with Kristen Brown!
Have a great day!
Kristen Brown
Founder & President
Happy Hour Effect LLC
About The Happy Hour Effect with Kristen Brown:
Stress contributes to illness & the leading causes of death in the U.S., but The Happy Hour Effect with Kristen Brown can help with fun & easy ideas for managing stress & balancing our lives. Why me? I lived it & overcame it. I’m a widow mom & former extreme stress sufferer but I found the up-side & am now a speaker, writer & owner of my own work/life balance company! I even developed an award-nominated stress-relief health supplement that is carried at an international retailer! I AM a work/life balance guru! My show will reinforce this passion & feature guests who will share their stories & expertise. Each show will include a Perspectives interview, a Happy Mood Food segment (wine WILL be included), a Beauty Break & so much more! After suffering from my own stress, I now know my purpose is to inspire others to get through their own-and this show will let me do just that. Thanks for watching! Hopefully you too share my vision for helping America live less stressed lives…in balance!
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05.18.10
Posted in Writing at 12:11 am by Administrator
Brooke singing while laying on rocks under a tree. (5-17-10)
One day – that’s all it takes to change a life. We have all had these days that leave an indelible memory for us to savor or loathe. I’ve had a lot of days that have changed my life – days that have changed it for the better; days that have changed it for the worse. And in between, there are all those days that make up a life.
I remember a random day, back during the summer of 2002. It is a summer of 12 weddings and the beginning of a courtship. And in the midst of wedding dances and dates, there is one day that jumps out.
I am living in a two-bedroom, typical suburban apartment in Apple Valley, Minnesota. And with the apartment came access to the community pool, a giant rectangle of chlorine-y blue water that on the weekends was overridden by screaming kids, but during the week, was a sanctuary for those lucky enough to have a day off work. It was at that pool that I found myself with my courter and courtee. Todd and I have been dating for six or seven months and find ourselves both with a day off mid-week. So I invite him to spend the hot summer day by the pool with a cooler of beer, snacks and no one around to interrupt our day off. It is this day he notices my toes for the first time. Or maybe he has noticed them but never felt comfortable enough to say anything being it was a relatively new relationship.
“Hey – beaner toe – get over here.” Todd yells at me smiling from the opposite side of the pool where he is lounging drinking a beer. I am mortified. He has spied my weakness, my weirdly-shaped pinkie toes that look strangely like giant beans.
“Shut up!” I yell back but knowing my toes weren’t a deal-breaker after dating for six months and all the sarcastic teasing that we were both masters at and both loved to partake in with each other. The rest of the day was spent by the pool, nothing special or notable to report, but a day that defined the years that were to come with Todd and our life together. Days filled with fun, teasing, beers and toes.
That random day always surfaces when I think of the best days of my life. Nothing special happened that day. It was just a simple day full of simple joys – a perfect day.
Today was another one of those days. Nothing remarkable happened. The day is ending with me and Brooke, my three-and-a-half year old daughter, both covered in a layer of dirt and sunscreen. Her short, bouncy blonde curls have tiny pieces of boxwood stem woven into them from her adventures in her “fairy wonderland” in the backyard while I spent the day planting our window boxes. My face has a smear of dirt across the cheek and my dark brown hair is piled into a sweaty, sunscreen-y mess. We are both in sundresses but too dirty and unfit for anywhere requiring a dress. We sit on a chaise lawn chair in the backyard. I am stretched out with my dirt-covered legs atop the dog who is perched at the foot of the chair. He is 85 pounds of soaking wet fur from the kiddie swimming pool he made his own today. Brooke sits next to me, my arm wrapped around her, her head resting against my chest as we watch the birdbath she has just filled up with water, the birdbath I had received from my high school classmates at Todd’s funeral almost three years before.
“Mom, we have to be quiet so the birds come to take a bath.” She says putting her finger to her lips scolding me for being too loud. We sit for a few minutes in silence staring at the birdbath and the trees and structures around us. Power lines run overhead. Our small tan garden shed sits close by. Suddenly a robin swoops down, not to the birdbath but to a tree branch four feet above it. Hanging from the branch is a small bunch of orange berries – a feast for a bird, and a feast for our eyes as we sit here in silence watching the bird. I hear an intake of breath from Brooke as she spots the robin. I whisper to her,
“Brooke, do you see the bird.”
“Ssshh – we don’t want to scare the mommy robin away.” She says so quietly I almost can’t hear her as she looks up at me with her big blue eyes. And she is right. It is a mommy robin, her breast not nearly the red of the daddies who constantly frequent this berry-covered tree. We sit for another few minutes watching the robin eat the berries as another one, a daddy, lands on the power lines just feet from the branch. There they sit together, the mommy robin eating, the daddy robin watching, protecting from afar. Brooke intently gazes at the scene, enthralled, as I am, by the simplicity of nature and the perfection that our day has been.
Suddenly, both birds take off, startled by something unseen and unheard by us on our chair where our little family has been watching them.
“Mommy, did you see them? That was neat.” Brooke says with wide eyes, but still in a whisper. Not wanting to disrupt the peace, I whisper back,
“That WAS neat. Maybe they’ll come back.”
“Well you have to be quiet then” she whispers back settling into position to intently observe the birdbath and the trees and bushes she has spent the day underneath.
There are the best days and there are the worst days – and then all those days in between. The best days are our robins, providing us flittering moments of joy and then flying away before we can grasp them. The worst days are the birdbath, reminders of things wished forgotten, but things that define us in so many ways and give us perspective on all the rest of our days. And then there are all those days in between the best and worst – days just like this one. Days like the one I spent by the pool with a man who flitted in and out of my life like the robin but who I am also reminded of constantly like the birdbath that sits proudly in my garden. Like the daughter that sits on my lap cuddling her blonde curls into my chest as we watch those robins – a reminder of what I had and what I have.
Today was nothing special, but so, so special because I let myself be aware of its specialness. It was an ordinary day, but extraordinary because I spent it with Brooke. It was a day in between, but a day how I want every day to be – one that I remember and one that makes up what will become my life.
Copyright 2010 Kristen Brown
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04.25.10
Posted in Food, Writing at 2:08 am by Administrator
Mist burns my closed eyes, tiny dew drop tears clinging to my lashes, but not falling. My chest tightens as the flavors intermingling in my mouth jolt me into a state of déjà vu back 25 years to what is one of my fondest memories.
I am back in a warm and welcoming kitchen. The aroma of baking fills the air. A sink full of garden-fresh vegetables, herbs and fruit – strawberries, tomatoes, cabbage, cucumbers, dill and peas await attention – soon to be canned, frozen or eaten right from the sink. The air warm from the oven and the late summer sun raise a glisten of perspiration above the sweet and cheerful smile of my Grandma Vivian as she bustles around the small kitchen with an air of authority and gentleness all at once. Her short, soft frame is covered by an apron, a line of white flour smeared across her cheek, her curly, short brown hair disheveled as she preps and mixes in her kitchen. She never shoo-ed me away, even when I was pestering her and getting in the way of her magic-making. She would always pull up the metal stool with the gray, red and white speckled plastic seat that flipped up to fit every size kid. And over the years all of us who were fortunate enough to spend time in that kitchen have used it – infants to adults.
“Grandma, can I help?” I would ask whenever she was making bread sliding the stool towards the counter. I loved to watch her arthritic, but never compromised hands knead and turn the dough into a smooth, elastic ball. She would tear off a chunk and I would mimic her – rolling and folding it until my hands and wrists throbbed but still ending up with my own little mound of dough. She would take it then and work it into her own, place it into the big yellow Tupperware bowl and cover it with a white flour sack dishtowel to sit on the stovetop to rise.
“Stop peeking! It won’t rise if you poke at it!” she would say laughing as I would walk by over and over again checking under the towel to check the status during the rising just waiting for the next step in the process. I always knew when it was ready. The dough would look like it was about to burst, the top brimming over the bowl in a perfectly-domed puff of yeast and flour.
“Okay – come on up.” Grandma would say gesturing to the stool. I anxiously climb up getting into position. I loved to punch my fists into the risen dough watching it deflate, the poof of yeast-y air filling the kitchen – and then sneaking a piece of the dough into my mouth.
“Now don’t eat too much of that Kris.” She would say chuckling a little, but never telling me I couldn’t have it as I grabbed an extra dough wad when she wasn’t looking. When the two risings in the bowl were done, Grandma would pull out the bread pans.
“Here you go. Grease them up.” She would say handing me butter wrappers or wax paper and a tub of Crisco shortening. I diligently covered every surface with the Crisco not wanting to compromise the loaves by a potential sticking-to-the-pan situation. She would then bring the yellow bowl full of dough over to the table where she would artistically shape each loaf into a perfect oval while I struggled to make my mini loaves as perfectly shaped as hers. The loaves would go into the oven then and, just as I did during the risings, continuously pace back and forth, monitoring the progress, peaking inside the oven.
“Kris – you’re letting the heat out. And don’t slam the oven door or the loaves will sink.” She would command gently. I might have been annoying her a little at that point but she never let on if I was. When the timer sounded, I was right there next to her, anxious to get the first slab of steaming bread covered in a slather of real butter.
She always let me have the first taste never telling me no or that we had to let it cool. She knew this was a little slice of heaven too – and so did everyone else. It was inevitable that within minutes of the bread coming out of the oven, people would show up. Grandpa Orice would come in from the back garage, home from work or up from the basement smelling of grease, dirt and spicy cologne. Whoever was picking me up always seemed to show up right when the bread was coming out of the oven, my mom or dad scoring on a piece or two before stealing an entire loaf to take home with us. And as Grandma would pack up the tiny, misshapen loaves I had created myself into little baggies for me to take home, I would stick close by her side, having just spent the day with my favorite person in the world – a person who would come to define me in so many ways.
Over the years, those times in my Grandma Vivian’s kitchen stand out as the most impactful memories I can remember. After awhile, I didn’t need instruction from her when we made bread. I would just step in, Grandma stepping back to let me knead or shape the dough without any words being spoken. And yet, after all of those years of her guidance and teaching in the kitchen, something was missing in my own cooking. Bread, sour cream raisin bars, and lefse – my favorite recipes from her never come out with quite the same result. I have been experimenting with her bread recipe for two years in hopes that I can re-capture the essence of the homemade bread she used to make, but the perfect loaf has eluded me. No matter how closely I have followed her recipe, my attempts at the golden-domed loaves of tender, yeasty goodness always fall short.
Today I hoped everything would come together. My Grandpa Orice in the hospital has made me moody and nostalgic. I have been wanting and needing something to recapture the happy times I spent in their kitchen and wanting to share a part of Grandma Vivian with Brooke, my three-year-old daughter who never knew her, but knows about her through the stories I tell.
As the baking commenced, I was in the zone. I knew it from the moment the ingredients came together in the bowl. I saw the texture of the dough and it felt perfect. As I monitored the progress of the first rising, my heart beat fast and hard knowing this might finally be the breakthrough I had been waiting for. When I watched Brooke punch down the balloon of dough after the first rising, the long-ago familiar feel and smell of the air electrified me. And as she snuck a piece of the dough into her mouth and grabbed another hiding it behind her back, a familiar laugh erupted from my chest – my Grandma’s laugh. I looked up at the Norwegian Rosemaled angel sat on the shelf overlooking my work. It was a wedding gift from a friend who said it symbolized my Grandma. Was she here witnessing and even guiding me? The second rising was perfection, the “poof” again filling me with an impending sense of success. As I shaped the dough into loaves and eased them into their pans, I looked at my hands and for a moment almost thought I saw the gnarled and bent fingers of my Grandma doing the shaping for me. As the loaves baked, the smell penetrating the house was like nothing I had ever smelled before – except in my Grandma’s kitchen.
“Mommy, it smells good in here.” Brooke announced as we came up the steps into the kitchen to check the progress.
“You’re right – it does smell good. This is just how Grandma Vivian’s bread used to smell.” I said hoping it was a good sign. My muscles tensed as the timer went off and I pulled the golden loaves from the oven, their crusty tops exact replicas of what I had pulled from my Grandma’s oven so many times before.
But the real test was in the tasting. I immediately rubbed the tops and sides of each loaf with butter just like she used to do. I anxiously grabbed the bread knife, sliding it into the crusty exterior through to the tender crumb of the inside. As the steaming slice fell into my hand, a lump raised in my throat. The texture was impeccable – moist, even and soft, but not too dense or heavy. I spread a layer of butter on, the heat of the bread melting it on contact. But instead of taking a bite myself, I handed it to Brooke, her eyes lighting up as she took a bite.
“Mmmmm – this is yummy!” she announced as I watched her smiling. Did the taste live up to the name on my recipe card “Grandma Vivian’s Bread”? I sliced off another slab covering it in a generous layer of butter. I lifted the bread to my mouth and took a bite wondering if I had finally baked the elusive loaf of Grandma Vivian’s perfect bread.
As the warmth of the bread and the salt of the butter hit my tongue, I knew it was perfection. Tears welled up in my eyes and memories of my Grandma flooded my brain. Those hours in her kitchen are some of my favorite memories. For 27 years I knew her and she knew me. She is gone now. She died just a few weeks before my wedding, but her spirit is alive and well – proven by the perfect loaves I finally baked today with Brooke.
As Brooke and I ate the perfect slices of bread, I looked up at that symbol of Grandma Vivian, the Rosemaled angel I turned to so often, and swear I saw her wink at me as if to say, “Now you know what your previous attempts at the recipe were missing – love and family to share in it with you.” A piece of her bread was a piece of herself – and she shared them with everyone who came through her kitchen – and I am now picking up and passing on the pieces…
Copyright 2010 Kristen Brown
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04.15.10
Posted in Uncategorized at 5:48 pm by Administrator
For those of you who may not have seen it, below is a link to the article I wrote for the Montevideo American News.
Monte News Article
And for those of you wondering about the progress on the book, I am STILL waiting for responses from the agents who are reviewing it. I have followed up with them and been told they are still reviewing. And while this is good, it is also really testing my patience as I have had multiple events where I could have been selling the book this whole time if I were to jump in to the self-publishing world. BUT – agents and publishers say you shoot yourself in the foot if you self-publish. Unless you can sell 10,000 copies, a big publisher usually won’t consider taking you on at a later date. So I am now weighing my options…
In the meantime, I have been spending my time while waiting doing a lot of writing for Happy Hour Effect (the company I started to help ease work stress and promote work/life balance) which luckily ties to my overall writing platform of overcoming challenges. I have been pitching stories to magazine editors, writing some poetry which is a fun change of pace and am always tweaking things in the book as I read and re-read it, monkey with flow and find ways to make it better. I am still throwing around ideas for my next book – still thinking about a young adult story that has been keeping me awake at night thinking of plot twists. I read a part of it to Brooke and even at three she was intrigued and helped me with some ideas for it.
So – that’s the latest. I have been lagging on my posts for this blog as I get my company up and running, but rest assured I am still writing…
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02.19.10
Posted in General Info at 7:09 pm by Administrator
I had an experience today that is just driving me crazy with how it’s affecting me and my emotions since it happened an hour ago. I have to get it off my chest.
The Set-up:
Brooke and I were at Target in Plymouth which is in a very busy area with a strip mall, grocery store, gas station, pharmacy, liquor store all in this area of a four lane road with a lot of traffic coming on and off a major freeway (Rockford Rd and 494 for those of you in the NW suburbs of Minneapolis). We were leaving the shopping area and proceeded into a right turn lane slowing for a yield sign going onto Rockford Road (the busy four lane road). There were cars coming so I stopped awaiting an opening in the traffic so I could proceed onto Rockford Road.
The Incident:
From behind me, a young man in a red, sporty, late 90’s model car pulls up behind me, honks and gives me the bird as I sat for about 8-10 seconds at the yield sign waiting for the cars to go by so I could turn right onto the busy road. As I pulled out, he honked again and sped around me on the right shoulder flicking me off again as he passed and looking into my window clearly cursing me out.
My Reaction:
I got so angry, mainly because Brooke was in the car and I was slowed at a yield sign waiting for traffic – obeying traffic laws and being a responsible driver and parent with a child in the car. And suddenly, something took over my physical and emotional body and I raised my arm and gave him the one-fingered salute right back as he drove by which I could tell made him more annoyed – which then made me annoyed because I was 150% right in this situation. Wasn’t I?
My Dilemma:
So why am I letting this brief traffic interaction make me so angry? I think mainly I am upset because this guy made me react so violently by something that he did – not something I did. And that he made me do something very uncool (middle finger) in front of my daughter. That was not a great parenting move or an act of a role model in any way. But yet, this guy made me so angry and I kept thinking I hope he saw my company’s website on the car window decal and tracks me down so I can give him a piece of my mind. But now, I am home and calmed down, yet this person who probably drives like that and does things like that whenever other drivers get in his way is still irritating me.
The Lesson:
This dumb little experience has reminded me once again that it isn’t what happens to us, but how we REACT to what happens to us that makes a difference. I can’t let another person’s actions that I can’t control cause me stress and anxiety. Their actions are THEIR actions and regardless of how those actions affect me, I need to take the high road and do what is right for me.
My Apology:
So – guy in the red car who honked at me and flicked me off for obeying traffic signs and being a responsible parent and driver – I apologize for flipping you off back and I am sorry I let your irresponsible and jerk-y behavior make me so angry that I did something uncool in front of my child. And to my daughter, I’m sorry mommy made a rude gesture at that guy in the red car earlier. His actions were uncalled for and so were mine. Do as I say, not as I do.
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01.18.10
Posted in Uncategorized at 3:23 pm by Administrator
I am attending and exhibiting at a wonderful event, the WIN Expo, on January 28. It is an invaluable event for business and social networking and offers tremendous opportunities for learning and making connections. I think it is going to be a fabulous event and I wanted to share some information with you, as well as offer my member discount if you want to attend!
My member exclusive discount code is: invite, but the discount code expires on Thursday, so be sure to check it out soon. Enter the code and my name in the appropriate areas of the registration form, if you decide to join me at this event, and you will get $10 off of the price of the conference.
Your day will include:
•Continental breakfast and luncheon buffet
•Motivating keynotes, focused on setting clear goals and maximizing opportunities to propel yourself and your business forward.
•Your choice of 3 “Make It Happen” breakout sessions, so you can customize your experience and choose sessions that will be most valuable to you.
Sessions include:
5 Things Every Woman Needs to Succeed in the Workplace
Put It On Paper: Goal-setting for 2010
How to be a Media Magnet
Kick Butt Sales – 3 actions that will lead to increased success
Market Like You Mean It
Raise your Stress-Resistance
How To Stand Out from the Crowd
Nitty Gritty of Effective Networking
Small Changes = Big Profits – 5 ways to bigger profits
•Wonderful gift bag for every attendee valued at over $400.00 – These are real GIFTS- not just discounts. (a wine opener from my company!)
•Dynamic entertainment
•Mystery gift valued at over $40.00. You’ll receive something special that will serve as a daily reminder throughout the rest of the year, of what you learned and experienced
•Expo area
•Awards ceremony recognizing women who are pillars in fostering meaningful connections
•Invitation to stay for Happy Hour in the lounge to toast your ambitions and continue connections (with complimentary beauty enhancements and chair massage available!)
For more information or to register, click here: WIN Conference Info & Registration
Hope to see you there!
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01.03.10
Posted in General Info at 9:37 pm by Administrator
As the weather dips below zero here in Minnesota, I am feeling wistful about not being in Los Angeles instead. A few months ago, my plan was to be there by now for three months of weather and writing bliss – thus missing the bulk of winter. I had a house rental with a yard for the dog and a daycare for Brooke – all I needed to do was write a check and get myself there by January 1st. But when I made the choice to leave corporate America – and a regular paycheck – I also made the choice to give up the idea of escaping the cold. I gave up one dream for another.
So, as I sit here feeling a cold draft sneaking under the window in the kitchen – I have been given another choice – to embrace the winter or let my dislike (abhorrence, hatred, loathing) of Minnesota winters drive me crazy (and drive me to drink) like they have my entire adult life.
What do to? What to do?
Okay – I’m still going to complain about waking up to -13 degrees and the backdoor being frozen shut. And I’m still going to complain about every snowstorm and icy road conditions.
BUT – I am also going to take this opportunity to work on some things that only three months of winter prison will allow. During the summer, all I want to do is garden and play in the sun. But in the winter, since I’m house-bound, I might as well finish some projects that have been on the list for a few years like purging the storage closet and re-painting some trim that needs touching up. And to really take advantage of this time of chosen self-employment to focus on growing my business and improving/increasing/getting paid for my writing life.
So while the choice between corporate America/Los Angeles warmth/money and starting my own company/crummy winter/eating ramen wasn’t easy, it has turned out to be the right decision – the best decision. And I am actually looking forward to three months of undisturbed time for self-reflection and making improvements to my home – and myself in the process. And while I do plan on escaping a couple of times for some warm weather vacations (Can you say emergency credit card?), I will not let my winter repulsion affect my mood and attitude any more.
I made my choice and now it’s time to live with it – and capitalize on it.
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12.29.09
Posted in News and Happenings at 3:27 am by Administrator
I spent the last couple of days working on my book revisions, finishing my book proposal and writing my query letter to book agents. It’s amazing how much work I got done, but how it didn’t feel like work at all. That alone solidifies that embarking on this writing journey was the right path to take when I officially decided to go down it in May. But now, the real test happens. Is my writing publishable and saleable? While my research on the market says yes; and supporters and audiences say yes; my writing has yet to undergo the scrutiny of professional agents. Rejection is the name of the game in the publishing world so I am mentally prepared for a lot of “no’s”. But it only takes one yes! So my full proposal is ready to go should any agents request it. Let’s just hope my query letter is enough to pique the interest of at least one. And if not, I’ll keep writing and re-writing until someone connects with the story. Thanks to everyone for all the support these last several months as I’ve been revising, re-writing and playing a lot of garbage can basketball with all my crappy drafts. The fact that I put my goals out there and made a promise to the world really made me do it. I never would have gotten this far if I hadn’t put it out there that I was writing a book about my experiences. Thanks for keeping me on track!
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