My first radio interview

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I had an exciting first with a radio interview at our local PBS affiliate station on a daily 20-minute arts show. I’ve interviewed many people in my previous career as a journalist, but this was the first time I sat for an interview about me.

The studio was so comfortable. I was expecting a glassed-in booth where we both wore headphones (a la Frasier), but Erika Funke, ArtScene’s host, sat across from me at a table where we each had basic looking mics.

The biggest adjustment was realizing quickly that, on radio, you can’t say “mmm-hmm” or make any of the other noises that you do in everyday conversation. I have a habit (maybe being a northeasterner) of cutting people off before they finish sentences to agree or add my own thoughts. I am used to it because we all do it around here.

I quickly learned from watching Erika to be completely silent when it was her turn to talk, as she was for me. She wasn’t lacking expression, though… I felt like a musician in the presence of a conductor with all of her facial expressions and hand gestures conveying when she liked my train of thought. I could almost hear her shouting, “Yes! This is good! Keep going!”

Erika was a pro. She didn’t have any notes in front of her, but she asked many specific questions that showed she had done her prep work. I was really impressed with her clear diction. I started noticing every “t” I softened. (If you’re from Scranton, you know what I mean!)

She made the whole experience so comfortable, like we were having a regular get-to-know you conversation, except that one person was asking all of the questions. I talked about my influences in writing, my past careers, teaching, and my current novel-in-progress.

I’ve posted a link in case you’d like to listen to the interview. I say this was my “first radio interview” because I’m trusting there will be more in the future (thinking positive!).

Thanks for reading!

Grete

 

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Keep going, even when you’re nervous

IMG_9222This is Rey. She stands guard by my laptop when I am writing. She stands for bravery to do things that make me nervous.

First, I had to assemble her. Legos are fun, but when I was a kid, they didn’t make me nervous. You got a box of assorted blocks and did whatever you wanted with them. Now they come in kits with booklets of directions. My logical brain loves to follow step-by-step assembly, but it’s also intimidating because I might screw up.

There are lots of things that make me nervous. I was too shy to order a soft pretzel at the mall when I was a kid, so my mom sent my younger brother who could barely reach the counter. I’ve come a long way since then, but a lot of phone calls and social interaction still get my heart beating fast. Just calling the doctor to make an appointment for a checkup feels like an accomplishment.

Sometimes my house makes me nervous. Can I take care of everything I need to do to keep it running smoothly? Parenting makes me nervous. The teenage years are about to hit and I hope I’m ready.

Writing makes me nervous. It’s my passion, but precisely because I love it so, I feel there’s more at stake. The job of a writer is to inform, entertain, or somehow connect with readers. In order to create true connection, a writer must be prepared to share her feelings, no easy feat for a private person like me. Even when you’re writing fiction, there has to be emotional truth in what you say. I worry that no one will like what I have to say, or worse yet, that they won’t care at all.

I think about what Rey would do. She would keep going, no matter what. 

 

 

If you enjoy reading my blog, please check out my first novel, Giving Myself Away, about a divorced mom making tough choices and a fresh start.

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When you don’t take your own advice

I was having a rotten day… running late, too much to do in not enough time, and feeling stressed and resentful. I consider myself a responsible person, but sometime during that morning, I lost a check that my employer had written out for me to deliver for an order.

I panicked, I dumped out the contents of my purse, and I complained to my coworkers, who were sympathetic and said, “It can happen to anyone.”

Yeah, but not to me, I was thinking.

Of course I agreed with them in theory that it could happen to anyone, and if it had happened to anyone else, I would have said the same thing. I would have told them to relax and it will probably turn up later, and even if it doesn’t, no big deal.

Later, I found out that one of my coworkers who was soothing me about the check just found out her godmother had died. That put things into perspective immediately. Not only was I acting silly about a little mistake, but I wasn’t being aware that other people around me are dealing with much worse a lot of the time.

I’m trying to catch myself in the act when I start putting myself down and treat myself the same way and with the same allowances for mistakes that I’d give anyone else. Sometimes I barely notice the negative self-talk; it’s like having a radio on in the background and only listening to what they’re saying now and then.

When I hear it now, I stop and ask myself “What would I tell my friend who made a mistake?” And I say to myself whatever I would have said to her.

P.S. Someone did find the missing check and put it in my work mailbox a few days later.

Have a great day and talk nicely when you’re talking to yourself!

Grete

[Image courtesy of public domain images on http://www.pixabay.com]

If you enjoy reading my blog, please check out my first novel, Giving Myself Away, about a divorced mom making tough choices and a fresh start.

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Chest wrinkles? Really? Saying no to women’s magazines

actress-1299250_1280Chest wrinkles did me in. I didn’t even know that was something I needed to worry about.

Every month I’d look forward to the latest issue of the women’s magazine I’ve been subscribing to for years, and each time I curled up to read through it, I’d put the magazine down an hour later feeling despondent.

I’m sure that’s not the effect the editors intended (although the cynical part of me knows that selling products is best accomplished by making you feel bad about something and then presenting a solution you can buy, and furthermore that these cheap subscribers’ rates only come because of the astronomical amount of products advertised in the magazine).

The letter from the editor every month talks about empowering women. There is always at least one article about how I can help girls and women in other parts of the world. They’ve even started sprinkling in a few models who are above single-digit sizes without calling attention to it. And this month I read a heartfelt essay by a woman in her 50s who says she feels more beautiful now than she ever did before in her life.

But yet… this was blended in with articles about preventing chest wrinkles by sleeping on my back (and I’m a side sleeper, so I must be doomed), doing exercises to tighten my butt while I’m filling the bathtub for the kids, and dozens and dozens of ads for makeup and skin creams and hair products and perfumes.

“Empowered” is the opposite of how I feel after reading all of this. I remember subscribing to a teen magazine when I was about 12 that published the height and weight of each of the models. I started feeling fat exactly then, because even though my BMI was normal, as you can guess, the girls in the magazine were so much thinner.

After two children, I’ve given up on aspiring to be as thin as a model, but the playing field now is wrinkles and uneven skin tone and gray hair. I’ve just recently come to terms with the fact that I’m getting little wrinkles above my knees and now I’m supposed to be on the lookout for chest wrinkles?

The worst part is, the magazine doesn’t promote aging gracefully, but fighting it hard with products and exercises (and even sleeping positions). Don’t I have enough in my life to be responsible for? Like raising my kids, working at my career, running my household?

The overall message I take away is that I could be doing much, much more to look good and show the world that I’ve got it all together.

 

I’ve decided that I am not reading this stuff anymore. I probably won’t know what clothes are trendy or how to conceal sagging eyelids, but I’m willing to trade that in for more time to read things that actually do make me feel empowered. I’ll have more time to read about being a kinder person, a better parent and teacher and writer.

Take care and please let me know your thoughts on women’s magazines!

Grete

[Image courtesy of public domain images on http://www.pixabay.com]

If you enjoy reading my blog, please check out my first novel, Giving Myself Away, about a divorced mom making tough choices and a fresh start.

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Thinking big: you can do it!

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My kids are at that age where they still believe anything is possible. When I tell my son to pick up his dirty laundry, he lets me know that he’ll have a butler someday to do the mundane household stuff. When I say I’d like to go to Disney World, my other son tells me he’ll buy the whole park for me. Inside I’m thinking “not likely,” but I play along.

The other day after telling me about the five-star restaurant he’s going to own, my son said, “Sometimes I think I’m thinking too big, but then I realized it’s good to think big.”

Indeed, it is. I lost my way somewhere into adulthood, scaling back my expectations to imagine what’s realistic rather than what’s possible. Now that I’m watching my kids navigate the many roads ahead, I’m inspired to go exploring again too.

For years, I held back a little bit here and there, thinking if I haven’t done this or that by now, I’m never going to. Now I’m jumping in to whatever I’m wishing for, trusting the universe to provide.

Last week, I went to a writers’ conference where they had pitch sessions with agents by appointment. I was pretty scared to talk to an agent because I might have to hear “no, thanks, I’m not interested in your book” in person rather than by email.

Somewhere along the way in the car, a thought popped into my head that I would just leave this up to God. If I’m meant to get an agent soon, I will. I immediately stopped worrying and started thinking big. Guess what… both agents said they were excited about my story idea and please send the manuscript!

My older son wants a laptop so much. He’s been bugging me for a few years now, but I’m holding off until he’s in 9th grade, when he’ll need to have one for school. I told him if I sell a million novels, I’ll buy him one before then. “Not likely,” he said. Ha! We’ll see.

What kind of big thinking do you do when you let your imagination wander like it did when you were a kid and you knew you could do anything, be anything, have anything?

Have a great day!

Grete

 

[Image courtesy of public domain images on http://www.pixabay.com]

If you enjoy reading my blog, please check out my first novel, Giving Myself Away, about a divorced mom making tough choices and a fresh start.

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Why you need to find your tribe

people-1230872_640When I started out in fiction writing, I got some misguided advice to stay away from other writers (they’re the competition and they don’t buy books). So I toiled away alone for a couple of years, often yearning for a learning community of people who love writing as much as I do.

A few months ago, I joined the Women’s Fiction Writers Association and it’s been exhilarating and amazing. I’m in a critique group with three other novelists and I’m overjoyed for how nitpicky they are.

When I listen to a symphony, I can enjoy the music, but since I’ve never played an instrument, I have very little to say other than “I like it.” Now I have the chance to work with writers who know the guts of a novel, its plot development, dialogue, character arcs, and themes. We can talk shop and know we’re not boring each other.

I realized that other writers are my friends and support network, not people to be avoided. It’s not like buying a car… readers buy dozens of books a year. And I’m a writer who buys books, especially in the same genre I’m writing. After all, I write what I like to read, and I never would have started writing if I didn’t first love reading.

Whatever your interests, there’s a group out there for you, whether in person or online, and it’s easier than ever to find them.

Please comment below and share your passion!

Have a wonderful day and take care,

Grete

[Image courtesy of public domain images on http://www.pixabay.com]

If you enjoy reading my blog, please check out my first novel, Giving Myself Away, about a divorced mom making tough choices and a fresh start.

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On becoming the mother of a teenager

IMG_8473Today I became the mother of a teenager.

Even though I am a teacher to dozens of teenagers every year (or maybe because I am), I’ve looked to this day with some trepidation. I’d watch these kids feeling suddenly self-conscious about everything, blushing and awkward and growing taller than I am.

I know logically that today is no different than yesterday, but yet thirteen has hit me the hardest of any birthday so far. My son is undeniably growing up now.

The past few years felt like a comfortable holding pattern, with my kids somewhat capable and independent, but still very much little boys.

My son is easygoing and kindhearted and reliable. Sometimes he’s the one comforting me. When he saw me getting teary-eyed at his birthday dinner, he picked up a few crayons and started coloring as if to show me he’s still a kid.

Every morning when I open my classroom door, I see that the stalk of this amaryllis bulb has grown a little taller, and today, the red flower is about to open. How fitting to watch this flower blooming on the same day I am thinking of my son and his full potential about to burst forth.

 

If you enjoy reading my blog, please check out my first novel, Giving Myself Away, about a divorced mom making tough choices and a fresh start.

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