Tuesday, December 12, 2017

Don't Give Up!

I don't know about everyone else, but I've been feeling pretty helpless with the state of politics these days. We call, we march, we protest and continue to lose to bigotry and ignorance. I had the great opportunity to meet with RI Congressman Jim Langevin this weekend, hoping for some strategy. If you're feeling like I am, he said to keep being vocal. We only lose when we're silent. If you're in a red state, call your reps. Repeatedly. It does help. And for blue staters, don't forget to call your reps and tell them when you support their legislation. Mr. Langevin thanked me for supporting him on bill HR 3497 to limit automatic weapons because, usually, he only hears from the naysayers. The intelligent, compassionate side of Congress is still there for us, and they need our help, so let's make sure we give it to them!

Thursday, November 9, 2017

Reviewers are Your Best Resource

If I've said this before, I think it bears repeating. Book reviewers are an amazing resource for writers. Why? Because they read, a lot. Possibly as much or more than the editors and agents we're pitching. They've seen it all. They know what's been done a thousand times. They know what's unique. They know what's missing from the market, and ultimately, they are your readers. They are who you really need to sell this book to, and they are letting you know exactly what they want and don't want, right there on Goodreads.

I say this because I read and I review and I write, and the book I'm pitching now is a product of many, many hours of work and plotting inspired by reviewers.

It started out as a revenge book, because who doesn't love a plucky teen girl seeking revenge for her murdered family? Lots of people, which is why lots of authors have used that as a basis for their plot. I was already at work on it, making plans, adding characters when I read a review for another book that said...

Oh boy, another revenge plot.

It was a blow to my plans, yes, but a necessary one. Trying to break into an already saturated market as a new voice with no publishing cred...well, I have to be different. That one line pushed me back into my plotting and forced me to think about what I really wanted to accomplish. Where did I want my character to go? What was she seeking? Where did I see her ending up? Ultimately, there was another way to get her there without sending her in as a vengeful assassin.

So how do you start?

Read the reviews for books you love, your mentor texts. Read the reviews from reviewers who feel like you do, who gave it five stars and put it at the top of their reading shelf. What did they like about the book? Were they the same things you liked about it?

Then read the one star reviews. What did they hate about it? Do you agree or disagree? Is it just a matter of taste?

On the flip side, read the reviews for the books you didn't love. Why did the five-star reviewers give it five stars? Do you agree or disagree?

Keep in mind that books, like art, are VERY subjective. Someone's Van Gogh can be another person's Monet and neither one is right or wrong. (Except if you don't love Monet, you're wrong.)

Once you have your notes, you can start weaving new ideas into your own novel.

  • You loved the way Author A wrote her dialogue, but didn't like the controlling male love interest. 
  • A reviewer said that although the revenge plot was tired out, Author B added a new twist by making the MC a girl with autism. 
  • Another reviewer loved the world-building by Author C, but thought the character was a Mary Sue.

Now back to your novel. What did Author A do to make her dialogue so inviting? Are there ways you can infuse those things into your work? Is there something unique about your main character that you can showcase? What about Author C's MC made her a Mary Sue? Was it an inability to act? Was she another plain girl everyone loved? What can you change about your MC to avoid falling into the same trap?

It's something I like to call Frankensteining. Take a piece from this, a part from that, meld it with your own ideas and start piecing together a novel. None of this is different from simply reading and making notes. But you have a whole team of readers making notes alongside you, who have read things that are still on your TBR pile, or ARC's of books that aren't on shelves. So utilize it. Don't be another revenge plot!

Friday, October 20, 2017

Explain it to a Five-Year-Old: Moana Costume

I read this article yesterday about a mom who thinks it's not okay for a white girl to dress as Moana.


And when I see stuff like this, I immediately imagine having this conversation with my five-year-old

"Hey, we got the Halloween costume catalog. Do you want to pick your costume for this year?"

He takes the catalog and flips through a few pages, stopping on page three, where his chubby little finger drops to a picture of a girl in a Moana costume. "This one."

I turn to my five-year-old son, the product of French and German descent. I look at his crystal blue eyes, rove down across his ivory skin, to pink cheeks complete with angelic little dimple. If you were to Google image search, "little white boy," his picture would be at the top.

My lips curl into a cringey smile. "Are you sure? You haven't even looked through the whole book."

"I'm sure. Can we go get it now?" He bats his long lashes.

I take the book from him. "Why don't we just look at the other pages?"

Angelic smile turns to frown. "Why? I thought I could be whatever I want for Halloween."

"Well, you can, but you don't want to dress up as something that could hurt someone's feelings."

"Moana hurts people's feelings?"

"No, no." Desperately searching through catalog to find a costume that might tempt him more. "Moana is wonderful."

"I know. She's brave, and she can sail, and she can sing, and do you remember that part with the giant crab? That was my favorite."

"Oh I know, and you're absolutely right...it's just this might not be the best costume for you."

"Because I'm a boy?" His eyes droop, lashes flattening against his cheeks.

"Oh no. Dad and I don't care about that."

"Then why would she hurt people's feelings?"

I close the book and take a breath. "You see Moana is a character based on the Hawaiian people."

"Yeah. It's cool that she lives on an island, and her outfit has so many colors."

"Yes, yes it is. But we're not Hawaiian, so we wouldn't want anyone to think we're making fun of her."

"I'm not making fun of her. I like her."

"Yes, yes." Struggling to find the right words. "Historically, European people have used other cultures to make fun of them, so we don't want to do that."

Small brows draw together. "But I'm not making fun of her."

Exasperated sigh. "We're different than Moana. I think we should find another costume." I retrieve the book.

He twists his face in deep concentration while I rip through pages, trying to find some way to end this conversation.

"Is it because she's brown?" he asks.

The book falls from my fingers. "No...well, not exactly."

"But I like that about her too. She's pretty."

"Yes, she is."

"I'm not allowed to be pretty?"

"No. No."

"Then why can't I wear the Moana costume?"

I stare deeply into his blue eyes, tongue tied, fumbling for words...and I can't find them. "Forget I said anything. Let's go get the Moana costume, and then Mommy needs to pick up a bottle of wine."

Tuesday, October 3, 2017


I am so angry right now, angry to the point where my chest hurts, where I want to scream, but I'm afraid no one will hear me. Because no one is listening. The books I write and *used* to consider fantasy and science fiction are becoming less and less fantastical. Corrupt governments, mass slaughter in the streets, threat of global warfare...it's all real, and it's happening right now.

Where we should consider being scanned and prodded and stripped at the airport an injustice; we now consider it a routine. Terror training for kindergartners is as commonplace as learning the ABC's. You now have a reasonable chance of being shot when you go to see your favorite band.

I'm scared.

I'm scared that we're going to forget that things did not used to be this way. I never had to practice hiding under my desk to avoid shooters in school. I used to go to shows without walking through a metal detector. I could wait for my family at the airport gate instead of being ushered by a police officer on the street for lingering too long.

These are some of the freedoms we've all sacrificed by allowing violence to become the new normal.

We've given up the right to feel safe, to learn, to dance, to be innocent, to live.

In my stories, I often write about a heroine or a group of heroes who stand up against injustice and prevail. We want it to be someone else. We want to be able to trust in our government that they will fulfill that role.

They aren't.

My biggest fear is that nothing will happen, nothing will change--again. In two months time, we'll all be complacent until it happens again. But we can't let this happen again. Every life that was lost yesterday, every sobbing mother, or buried child, or human being fighting for his life is on us. All of us. For being quiet. For forgetting. For expecting someone else to fight.

Call your senators and reps, and not just today, every day or every week or every month until things change. Whatever you can manage. Set a reminder in your calendar. Make your call on the same day you pay your rent or your car payment. Keep fighting for those who can't fight anymore.

I'm tired of being angry.

Tuesday, August 1, 2017

Go Fund Me: Psychic Needed

*I probably don't need to say this, but this is a work of fiction. 

Most of you know what happened to Jonah. For those who don’t, my brother is dead. He overdosed on heroin that no one even knew he was doing. We were all ignoring him then. Not anymore.
It started right after the funeral. We all came back to the house and sat around, eating cheese and crackers, telling stories about my brother. I told Aunt Lois about the time my kite got stuck in the maple tree out back and how Jonah climbed up to rescue it for me. Then he got stuck, and we had to wait for my dad to get home because I wasn’t strong enough to lift the ladder. 
Jonah was always that type of guy, the guy to do things without thinking about how he would get out of it later. The same with shooting up heroin. The same with what he did after he died. You see, I think, when it was his time to go off with the other ghosts, he decided to stay, and just like the maple tree, he’s stuck.
After all the cheese and crackers were gone, I went upstairs to my room, exhausted from crying all day, and I crashed on my bed. I looked up, and there, written in black ink on the ceiling was, “I’m still here.” It was Jonah’s handwriting, a little shakier. My mom yelled at me for playing a sick joke, and she made me clean it up.
But it kept coming back.
So I had my best friend, Sam, bring his sister’s Ouija board over to try and get in touch with Jonah. Instead we found a spirit named Cletus, who told me I should go out with my best friend Sam, which leads me to believe the whole Ouija board thing is a load of crap.
I suppose, from there, I could have lived with my dead brother leaving messages on my ceiling, but then two days ago, I found my parents standing outside the bathroom door. They turned when I stepped behind them, and Dad said, “Why would you do this?”
“Do what?” I asked, and Dad showed me.
The mirror was shattered, glass covered the floor, and the pieces had been rearranged to say, “Help me.”
Trying to convince my parents that my dead brother did it and not me, landed me an appointment for family therapy. They assume that I’m so upset over Jonah’s death, I’m making a not-so-subtle cry for help.
That’s not it. I promise.
My brother is still here, and I need to help him, like I should have helped him before, when he’d been breathing. It’s too late for that, but I can get him out of the tree. I can put him to rest. That’s why I need money. I need to a hire a psychic to exorcise my brother from this house and send him where he belongs. Please help. I owe him this.

Tuesday, July 18, 2017

Writing Diverse Characters

Even as I wrote that title, I broke out into a sweat. I'm a privileged white lady. I'm not supposed to talk about this stuff! But I'm also a writer, so I'm supposed to talk about this stuff!

It's common knowledge that there is a lack of diversity in YA (and many other places). We need more stories with people of color, different faiths and sexuality to both star in and write stories for teens and young adults. I'll admit, most of my early manuscripts are a whole bunch of white kids doing white things. Those books were terrible, for many reasons, that being one of them, because it made my work inauthentic.

I grew up in Arizona, and half of my friends, coworkers, classmates, were Hispanic. Speaking with a librarian friend, she asked me, "So did you put a black person in your book to make it diverse?"

"No," I said. "There is a Mexican doctor and a Native American girl in my book because it all happens in Arizona." I let the place and the time direct my cultural mix because that's what's real.

But they were secondary characters. I was still too scared to make any of the leading characters POC because ya know, I'm a white lady, and I see all the negative opinions swirling around white ladies writing diverse stories.

Maggie Stiefvater, All the Crooked Saints.
Keira Drake, The Continent
Veronica Roth, Carve the Mark

Now please note, I haven't read any of these. From the sounds of it, mistakes were made. But Maggie Stiefvater's book isn't even out yet and people are already waggling their fingers. Maybe we should give her a chance? Especially because she's Maggie Stiefvater, and her work is, for the most part, incredible?

Which leaves me with a lot of questions:

It's pretty common for me to write about things I'm not. I've written about doctors, space travelers, police officers, dads, brothers, soccer players...I did my research, and I'd do the same for writing about anything else I didn't fully understand.

So can writers of color not write about white people? Can men not write women characters?

I remember, way back when, I read Wally Lamb's, She's Come Undone. The entire time I was reading, I thought Wally had to be a pen name, or a nickname, something short for Wallamina (I didn't say I was smart!) Then I get to the back and see a picture of some white guy who wrote this wonderfully emotional story about an overweight girl.

That's what I want. I want to be able to write about a young black girl and have people think with every word that the author has to be black. That, to me, is authenticity. That, to me, is really stretching your imagination as a writer. And that's what stories are all about--becoming someone else.

But when you're trying to write something true, there are going to be things you don't want to hear. I wish there wasn't racism or sexism or hate in the world, but there is. And if I were writing about a struggling young twenty-two-year-old, fresh out of college, starting her first job, some suit-wearing bigwig would definitely pop by her desk, drop a stack of paper on her, and say, "Make two copies of this for me, Honey."

It doesn't mean I'm sexist. I'm just trying to paint a true picture of the world, and that really happened to me. But does that mean it happens in every office? God, I hope not, and I think that's another thing to remember. My twenty-two-year-old white girl story is not representative of EVERY twenty-two-year-old white girl story.

My former roommate said the most profound thing to me once. "You shouldn't not tell someone's story because it's sad. You SHOULD tell it because it's sad." And I especially love the double negative. She's absolutely right, though. It's the stories that make us sad or angry that make us think. I don't want to read fluffy stories where everyone loves each other and rainbows burst from our eyeballs...so I'm not going to write them.

The key, that I mentioned above, is research. Sensitivity readers. Avoid cultural stereotypes. Stop and think if what you're writing is a true experience or what you THINK is a true experience. I recently hired a sensitivity reader, and she pointed out a couple of improvements I could make to my gay character. I made them. It was two lines of additional copy, but that could mean the world to a reader.

Wednesday, May 24, 2017

This is what you get when you let your child name things

We're starting our mini-farm at the new house, where I often hear the theme song to Green Acres* playing in the back of my head. Pretty much any time I touch a rake or shovel or gasp...an axe. I'm still too afraid to handle a chainsaw after watching an episode of CSI where one guy hacked his entire arm off with one. That would definitely be me.

Anyway, we're starting slow, with small animals that are unlikely to kick us, bite us, or leave shovel-size poop on the lawn.

Our two rabbits - named Hippy and Hoppy (this is only one of them, but they look EXACTLY the same)

And our chickens: (also not all of them) Grimlock, Sideswipe, Strong Arm and Bumblebee

If you haven't guessed, the rabbits were named using absolutely zero creativity whatsoever, and the chickens are named after Transformers, thanks to my almost 5 year-old-son, who has both a limited grasp on the English language and names beyond television, his classmates, and family.

None of this has anything to do with writing, unless of course your character is a five-year-old, and you want to know about the ridiculous names they pick for things. For everyone else, it's just pictures of cute animals--enjoy!

*For those who don't watch Nick at Nite, HERE is the Green Acres theme.

Thursday, April 27, 2017

The Crazy Lady in the Bathroom.

Do you guys know this story?

Okay, so sometime in 1992, or whenever, some woman caught an editor in the bathroom and tried to pass her manuscript under the stall wall. Everyone in the publishing industry swears it to be true, and now, before every writer's conference, we're all reminded of the Crazy Lady in the Bathroom and warned not to pass pages like toilet paper.

There's a part of me that's like, "Okay, I know a few eccentric people who might do this." And another part of me is like, "This sounds a bit like the man with the hook hand who kills couples making out in the woods." An urban legend.

Whatever it is, it's a thing, and writers for all eternity will be paying for it.

Because of it, there's this invisible wall hovering between writers and agents and editors at a conference. They look at us like we're going to corner them in the elevator for an impromptu pitch. And we look at them like they're the cool girls at the lunch table. Untouchable.

But they're not. They're people. You can talk to them, but just talk to them like, you know, people.

When you sit down next to a stranger on the bus do you start talking about your book? (I don't know, maybe you do.) But I usually start with the weather, or mention their shoes. I was leaving a conference with an editor after I'd taken her session, and I said, "Thanks for your comments. They gave me a lot to think about." We talked briefly about submissions and then that segued into, "Send me your book when it's done."

That doesn't always happen, but even it if doesn't, you can always use your very normal interaction later in your query.

Dear Jane, 

We met at the NEWSCBWI conference in spring and talked about how much our kids loved Moana...

She might remember you. She might not. But at least she won't remember you as the lady who stuffed pages into her purse when she wasn't looking.

Friday, March 10, 2017

Before & After - Window Seat

I rarely post my craft projects on here, because frankly, you can go on Pinterest and find a hundred other people who did the same thing only they did it much, much better. But my husband and I are pretty proud of this one. About a year and a half ago, we bough a fixer upper out in the country. The bones of it are in good shape, but the outside needs a bit of work.

Like this window seat.
Um, holy wood on wood, Batman. This is ridiculous! And I will note that the previous owner did leave behind a cushion that had been used as a pad for a guinea pig cage...so we promptly tossed that out.

I think a lot of home buyers would look at this and say, "Nope. No way." But as a child, growing up in the suburbs of Scottsdale, Arizona where every house is the same, and you tried to avoid sitting close to windows, I'd always dreamed of one day having a majestic little place in the window, with my pillows and stuffies, where I could curl up and write about boys in my diary or read about them in pre-teen vampire books. That is what I saw when I looked at this, and the hubs and I made it happen.

Here is my new, cozy, reading nook.

EEEK! Can you believe this is the same window seat? And it honestly did not cost us much to do it. The paint was leftover from our bedroom, the cushions I made myself, the curtain and throw pillows (apart from Mittens the cat pillow) are from Target, and the bird cage is from Michael's. We just strung an Edison bulb through it.

Here's a close-up of the cushions.
I had contacted a woman on Etsy about making them and she wanted to charge $300 plus shipping! After I finished gasping, I decided I would give it a shot myself. I bought the fabric on sale, had a coupon for the padding at JoAnn's, and all-in-all put in about $112 plus a day of work. (Admittedly, the Etsy woman was going to add the piping and likely do a nicer job, but I think I did okay and saved a ton of money.)

Some links if you're interested:
Blue Chenille Throw Pillows
Tie-up Curtains
Creepy Cat Pillow (it's not the same one, but this is where I got it.)
Bird Cage

Tuesday, February 28, 2017

Writing a Query

I've been doing some query critiques lately because I'm a weirdo and I actually enjoy doing them. Even if I don't *have* to do one, I do one because it's a good way for me to capture the true heart of my story and make sure I stay on track while writing the actual story.

Anyway, in doing these critiques, I've seen a similar issue: telling not showing (and ladies, if you're reading this, I'm not trying to call anyone out, it's a really common issue.)

If you want, just stop reading here and go to the queen of critiques, the Query Shark. You'll see.

But if you're too scared to go there just yet (and I don't blame you,) I promise I'll be nice.

My query letters are pretty formulaic, but hey, they've worked!


Please insert real agent's name. Some people opt for Ms. Smith. I write Dear Jane.We're all adults here, and that's how I write my business emails at the day job. But I don't think you'll get crucified for either one. Just make sure you use the RIGHT name.

I saw on Manuscript Wishlist you're looking for romance novels centered around crafting, and I think TWO BASKET-WEAVING HEARTS will interest you. It's complete at 80,000 words and will appeal to fans of KNITTING TOGETHER and PAINTING TO PARADISE.

Key elements of the first paragraph:

  • Say why you are querying the agent
  • Give the title of your manuscript in all caps along with word count. If it is 80,253 words, round down to 80,000.
  • Comp titles if applicable, although sometimes I skip these, and sometimes I reference one of the agent's own books. Just don't say something like, "My novel is the next Harry Potter."
Kristin Jones is a twice divorced copy editor with two sons whom she hasn't spoken to in over a year. Her cat died last week, and she's on the verge of becoming a hermit when her best friend buys her a pass for basket-weaving classes at the local community center. Kristin is not going. She has no interest in basket-weaving, but after too much wine one night, she finds herself sitting at a table with a pile of reeds next to an incredibly gorgeous guy.

Over the next few weeks, Kristin gets to know her way around a basket and the hunk, Adam, a recently widowed former mechanic with early onset rheumatoid arthritis. The basket-weaving is to keep his fingers nimble. But what neither of them expected to find in the bindings of their baskets was laughter, love, and a renewed passion for living.

This is the meat of your query and where writers tend to get lost. Do not use this space to say, "This is a story about starting new ventures and finding love after fifty in unexpected places." NO! Introduce us to the characters (Kristin and Adam), the inciting incident (the basket-weaving classes), and the problem, (they both think life is over until they find each other.) Bam! That's your query.

I'm a member of RWA, and my short story, Quilting Dreams, won the FASPA award for best short story about crafting. Per your submission guidelines, the first ten pages are pasted below. I look forward to hearing from you.


The closing. Here's where you mention any qualifications you have for writing the novel, any awards you've won, any other publications you've made plus what materials you've included. This varies from agent to agent. Make sure you check the agent's latest guidelines before sending your query. They are known to change, take time off from queries, or move to a new agency. I do keep a spreadsheet, but right before I click the send button, I check their website one more time to make sure everything is accurate. Please do this. Not following instructions is such a quick way to get auto-trashed, and you don't want to do that. 

Please keep in mind, this is not the only way to write a query, it's just my way. Most importantly, make sure the summary of your book is in the best shape possible along with your opening pages. All of the other stuff can be overlooked if your writing is amazing. 

Friday, February 17, 2017

Cover Art

I have to share this, because, as much as my husband is proud of me for following my passion to write, I'm so proud of him for following his passion to create. I've forced him to read most* of my manuscripts, subjecting him to teen angst and make out scenes that he probably never imagined he'd be stuck reading. He's been a real trooper about it, and he's an amazing copy editor. (I think he secretly likes finding all of my typos and pointing them out) Anyway, my latest WIP inspired him to create a cover design, and I absolutely love it. It's modern, clean, simple, and it captures the real heart of the story with a little mystery that would intrigue a reader to look inside. Or maybe that's just me. What do you think, though? Would you read this book?

*I wrote a YA thriller about mean girls that I thought might be too much for him so I let him skip it.

Tuesday, January 31, 2017


Let's get back to editing, and this one's an easy one. To start, every paragraph, every sentence, every WORD in your story needs to serve a purpose. One as grand as revealing a pivotal plot point, as lovely as describing a room, or as simple as giving a reader pause.

Everything else? Delete.

This is one reason agents, editors, most people are so anti-adverb. They're like the carbs of the writing world. Sure, they taste great. But they're empty calories. Filler.

Case in point.
He eyed them circumspectly.
What does that mean? Can you tell me what that looks like? And if you can, do that instead of copping out with an adverb.

He violently attacked her. 
Really? Because when I attack people, I usually do it passively.

In addition to adverbs, we also have unnecessary prepositional phrases. Sure, you might need to know the cat was in the closet. Or the laundry was on the stairs.

But do you need to know...
Her heart thrummed in her chest.
Really? Not her elbow?

They dug the grave in the ground.
Oh, thanks for clearing that up. Most people dig graves in the middle of their living rooms.

He inhaled through his nose.
A tricky one, because yes, he could inhale through his mouth. We have two orifices for that just in case one gets blocked. But do we really need to know that? Is it integral to your story, or the character that we know, without a doubt he took that breath through his nose?

I don't need to read your work to say, "no."

I'm not trying to shame anyone for this. We all do it. The point is, before your draft goes out on submission or even worse, to print, you should give it one last read to delete all of the unnecessary amplifiers. It's also a super-easy way to cut down word count if you're running high.

Wednesday, January 25, 2017

The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly

So far, 2017 has mixed reviews.

The Good.
I heard back from new agent regarding rewrites. She said, and I quote, "You did an amazing job with revisions!" Amazing. Next up, a submission plan and hopefully, a book deal. I'm always optimistic.

The Bad. 
My identity was stolen. At first I thought it was just my debit card, but then the thieves used my debit card to buy prepaid Visa cards that required my address and SSN. I had to cancel those cards when they showed up at my house. Then I had to file a fraud alert with the credit company, and after three calls to LifeLock, they say there is nothing they can do for me.

So uh, what am I paying them for?

I'm also still waiting for the bank to refund the stolen charges because every time I see them on my transaction history, I get angry. I might not be as bothered by this if we hadn't been robbed a little over a year ago. The thieves broke into my house, almost lost my cat, and stole my wedding rings.

My husband and I have enough, not a ton. We're not flashy, (my wedding ring was from Sam's club,) and we're always willing to share what we have. So I'm having trouble renewing my faith in humanity. Especially considering the beliefs of the man currently in the White House and knowing the majority of Americans put him there. They chose hate over love. They chose discrimination over acceptance. Money over science.

I'm doing my best to fight the good fight, both personally and politically, without turning to the Dark Side myself...but it's getting really hard.

The Ugly
My anxiety has worsened. Present situation is partly responsible. I already take medication, but I've started to see new bad habits forming. For one, I get really angry when I get anxious, often lashing out at my family or forcing them to change plans. I totally freaked from the crowds on Halloween. I can't take my son to those places like Gymboree or Monkey Joe's because all of the kids running around screaming send me into a panic attack. I couldn't go to the women's march because of the thought of the crowds. I had to cancel a meeting downtown because the thought of parking made me sweat.

I don't make phone calls, or at least I try not to. If I have to, I prefer to be the one making the call, because that way I can plan out what I'm going to say. Sometimes I'll spend an entire day planning out a script for a conference call so I don't sound like an idiot. I'll review my conversation at least ten minutes before I order a pizza. If I have to meet new people, I prefer to do it at a place where I can have at least one drink. I'll even get there early to make sure I can have that drink before they arrive.

One of my goals for 2017 is to get into better shape, (which is why I'm hesitant to up my medication. It makes me gain weight.) I decided to take advantage of the YMCA pool and swim laps. Only I had nightmares about going to the pool! I worried it would be too crowded, or I'd look like an idiot, (considering I haven't lap swam in ages.)

Nightmares, people. About going to a pool.

For people who don't have anxiety, this is what it's like. I know I'm overreacting. Like what are they going to do if I doggie paddle my laps? Kick me out? I have a panic attack every time I go to the grocery store, and the funny thing is, to everyone else, I look so obscenely organized and put together. Because to avoid accidents or mishaps, I plan everything.

My grocery list is written in the order things appear in the store, so I can get out as quickly as possible. I match coupons to sales, and have those select coupons already out so I don't have to dig for them in my purse. If the store looks crowded, I make sure to get a cart from the parking lot. In case there aren't any available inside.

If I have to drive somewhere new, I memorize the map before I go, and usually leave the directions running on my phone. But I like to know what they are ahead of time in case the GPS directions lag so I can be prepared for the turn. For the pool situation, the first time I went, it was too crowded! They were swimming three to a lane, which I couldn't handle. So I waited a half hour for a lane to open up.

And all this planning, avoiding crowds, rehearsing scripts for phone calls, (or making my husband order the pizza) works for me. Most of the time. Until an unplanned situation comes up. Like getting my identity stolen, and then I just feel like crawling into bed and hiding until it goes away. Like I can deal with life as long as it's going smoothly, but as soon as there's a bump in the road I don't have a contingency plan for, I'm done.

I'm not trying to whine about it, or poor me! Going to the grocery store makes my heart race! At least I have money to go to the grocery store, right? I'm just saying it's tough, and it sucks, and hopefully, by month two of 2017, I'll have it under control. Until then, there's wine.