FIVE CONFESSIONS


Confession #1:  I adopted a stray cat.

When I take breaks from marketing, blogging, writing articles, and editing manuscripts, I'm on the lookout for Putty; and if he is waiting by the deck door, I'll feed him a dish of cat food.  I've known this adorable stray for almost seven years.  By the grey in the black spots of his coat, he's probably twelve-years old or older.  Many years ago when he first wandered into our backyard, he was skittish.  Over time, he learned to trust me and would come to me when I called him.

Putty used to sit on the deck next to our first cat Ollie (separated by a screen door).  They were buds.  On the day we had to put Ollie down, Putty stayed on the deck.  It was as if he could sense he would never see Ollie again.  Losing my first pet was devastating.  I've never owned a cat before, and seeing him get sick and waste away killed me.  When Ollie was gone, the house seemed so quiet, so cat-less.  Putty still came around even after we buried Ollie.

Confession # 2:  I swore I'd never get another cat.

Three months later, we adopted Ozzie.  I wasn't sure how Ozzie would react to Putty.  But since Ozzie's territory is inside and Putty's is outside, they get along swell as long as they are separated by the screen door.  Putty loves to lounge on our his deck.

Mornings at the Mrvos household are fairly routine.  I feed Ozzie and then if Putty is on the deck, I set out food for him, well before I toast my bagel or have a sip of coffee.  My furry friends come first.  But one morning when Putty was enjoying his breakfast, a large orange tomcat sneaked up and tackled him.  The yowling was awful.  Luckily, I was able to chase the intruder away, but it looked like he may have harmed Putty.

After the fight, tufts of Putty's white fur stuck to the deck.  Miraculously, there wasn't a trace of blood.  Putty leaped off the deck and lingered nearby on our neighbor's driveway, frozen and stunned.  I wanted to reassure him that everything would be okay.

Confession # 3:  I pined for Putty.

But Putty didn't come when I called him.  He ran away.  I couldn't blame him.  He comes to our house because he'll find shelter (a shady patio when it's hot and a heated cathouse when it's cold), food around the clock, and love (he lets me rub his coat and pat his head).

For weeks after the attack, Ozzie still waited at the screen door for his buddy to come back.  He seemed more hopeful than me, though any time I was in the kitchen, I'd peer out onto the deck expecting to see my little stray press his sweet face against the glass door.

And then one day Putty came back.  Like nothing had happened.  Maybe...

1. he forgot about being attacked
2. he was hungry
3. he missed me

If you guessed #2, you are correct.

Confession #4:  I fed other strays.

Leaving cat food on the deck was not smart.  It was an invitation for other strays to dine at the Mrvs'.  And this included the orange tomcat.  Though at the time he started to lurk around the deck, I didn't have the slightly clue he would be so aggressive.  Since this big cat only stopped by at night, I never dreamed he'd come around at daylight.  Wrong.  A stray will come a begging any time of the day or night. Lesson learned.

Now, I set out food only when Putty is present.  I watch over him while he eats to make sure no other cat sneaks up on him.  I resist feeding the other strays.  Though seeing them wander through our yard makes me feel sad, but I can't take the chance of one hurting Putty.

Confession #5:  I adore Putty.

Now that's it's warmer, we placed our furniture on the deck and Putty comes by more often.  He sleeps on one of the chairs.  That makes me feel better, too, because he has a better chance of spotting a cat that may wander to the deck.

I could never turn Putty away or be mean to him.  He's so cute, plus life has got to be tough for him.  He's susceptible to scrapes, scratches, and sores.  And he must deal with all kinds of weather conditions, find shelter and food, and fend off vicious feral cats.  So, that is why there will always be a special place in my heart for Putty.  I confess, he's like a second pet.

And that means in the morning he will have a dish of food (premium wet cat food just like Ozzie) even seconds, well before my first sip of coffee.

✌ and ♥

Promoting Maggie

I said it before and I'll say it again.  Marketing a children's story book is amazingly difficult, especially for first-time authors. We compete with best-selling authors and celebrities whose well-known names gets people excited about buying their books. Likewise, established children's authors have already built a fan base. Nonfiction authors have it easier, too.  People buy these books because they want or need to learn something.

Newby authors like me will try just about anything to sell a book.  We search the Internet for solutions and try them all.  Some suggestions work, some don't.  A lot of authors, seasoned and newcomers rely on Facebook to spread the word about their books.  With Facebook, LinkedIn, and Twitter, I had very little results.  But I didn't give up.  For me, it seems Pinterest works best.

I created several boards that reflect who I am and what I like.  One of my favorite boards is Inspirational Quotes. For this board, I design my own pins.  Creating pins help drive people to my website. Here's how to do it:

• Search the Internet for free images or photos.
• Copy them into a Word doc.
• Search the Internet for engaging quotes that relate to writing and inspire people.
• Insert the quotes with fancy fonts onto the photo.
• Add the title of the book and the personal website. 
• Upload the pin to a board on Pinterest.

In about two months, I've noticed a lot of impressions and engagements.  People are saving my pins to their boards, which is one of my goals.  Some Pinterest followers click on my website link.  And ultimately, this brings people to my homepage where they can take a look at my book.

Statistics have shown that Pinterest has quadripled pageviews to my website.  However, there have not yet been many sales.  It's like the old adage, you can lead a horse to water, but you can't make him drink. So...I've been trying to figure out how to entice people to buy my book.  That took re-designing the landing page in warm inviting colors, adding explanations why the book is an important read, giving a list of its awards, and offering gifts that come with a purchase.

Time will tell how successful Pinterest will be.  So far, there's been terrific interest in my pins.  That makes me feel proud.  And the work continues.  The hardest thing is to do is to remember that it takes time and patience to market a book.

                                                                                                                                                                                          Photo: Guillaume Bourdages

BUT I DON'T WANT TO BE A PIRATE RACCOON-CATCHER  

I'm a little prejudiced when it comes to the wildlife that wanders into our backyard.  I'm fond of foxes and frogs.  I can put up with possums.  But I'd rather not have any raccoons—even if the French word for raccoon (raton laveur, meaning young rat bather) is adorable.  

In the past, raccoons had been a nuisance.  About twenty years ago, a family of raccoons made a habit of raiding the garbage can every night, which prompted my husband to secure the bin with a bungee cord.  Since then, these masked raiders have not returned—until recently.   

Not long ago, a raccoon was lounging in the top of a neighbor's tree.  In broad daylight.  Raccoons are supposed to be nocturnal so, there's no telling what this critter was up to.  It might have been looking for food, but these creatures usually feed at night on nuts, seeds, fruits, eggs, insects, frogs, crayfish—oh, and sometimes tuna.  How do I know?

A few weeks ago, an enormous tomcat appeared in our neighborhood and terrorized my sweet stray cat Putt-Putt.  He attacked Putty twice in our yard.  One time, I was able to break up the fight.  The other time, I arrived too late—evidence of Putty's white fur lined the driveway.  So, in effort to keep Putt-Putt safe, I contacted the Humane Society.  An animal trapper by the name of Sarah suggested that I catch the troublesome cat and have him neutered.  She assured me the cat would become less aggressive.  So, I met Sarah and borrowed two steel traps. 

She instructed me to fill two trays with tuna, one for each trap, and then set the traps outside at dusk.  When evening rolled around, I placed one steel cage near the deck and the other in the backyard under a fir tree.  I checked every half hour, but by bedtime, the tuna was untouched and the cages remained empty.  This was discouraging.  I had given up hope of catching Putty's tormenter.    

The next day around 6:30 in the morning, I stepped out back to survey the cages, still feeling doubtful that an animal had been trapped.  But low and behold, the tomcat was in the cage by the deck.  And judging by the growling and the scowl on his face, he was not too pleased.      

I figured the other trap would be empty.  As I tramped through the dewy grass to the fir tree, I approached the cage.  The tuna had been eaten.  And staring right at me was what seemed to be a strange-looking cat with a mask.  It took me a few seconds to realize that I had trapped a raccoon.  The memorable line about a puffy shirt from a Jerry Seinfeld episode immediately popped into my head, "But I don't want to be a pirate"   https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0mPIqVOBFis  but in this case it was more like:  But I don't want to be a raccoon-catcher.

Photo: Anna Salisbury

When I called Sarah with the Humane Society, I told her of my luck.  She made plans to pick up the cat in a few hours, have him neutered the next day, and then re-released into our neighborhood the following day.  Sarah explained that feral cats need to come back to their neighborhoods because they have a homing instinct and if they are placed elsewhere, they would die.  She assured me that after his operation, he would be less of a menace.  

"And the raccoon?" I asked.

"We don't handle raccoons," said Sarah. 

"Wait.  What are you saying?"

 "You'll have to release him yourself," said Sarah.

I hadn't bargained for this.  All I wanted to do was keep Putty safe.  And now I had to find a way to release a raccoon and keep myself safe.  Lifting the locks and having my fingers close to an unhappy raccoon was not going to happen.     

There had to be a way to release this critter without both of us getting hurt.  I had time to think on this.  Since I needed to pick up weekly groceries, I figured perhaps my Kroger peeps could help me figure this out.  They were thoroughly entertained with my predicament—but they offered no sound advice. 

I returned home an hour later with bags of groceries but without any new ideas on freeing a raccoon.  It was worrisome and distractive.  I needed to edit picture book manuscripts, update my website, and work on marketing my book.  But I couldn't concentrate.  I went out back to check on our backyard guest.    

When I approached the trap, the area looked like a battle had raged.  The cage had moved ninety degrees.  The back part of the cage was filled with mulch and dirt.  The towel I had placed on top to keep the creature calm was torn to shreds.  To my surprise, the raccoon had vanished.  It had managed to slide open the ring locks and let itself out.  

You might think that after this episode my dislike for raccoons has grown, but actually, my heart has softened.   

Raccoons are kind of cute, that is, from a distance.  

They have an IQ higher than that of cats—which I learned while googling how to release a trapped raccoon.

And raccoons are blessed with nimble fingers and puzzle-solving skills (thank goodness)...because this writer would still be wondering and worrying how to release a tuna-loving raton laveur.    

✌ and ♥

Feel free to leave a comment at: Rlmrvos@gmail.com     
Comments:
I love your blog… interesting subjects and thoughts. Shelley D.
I enjoyed catching up with you on your blog post.  Nancy B.

    

                                                                                                                               Ozzie tormenting playing with Putty

HOPE

2019, early winter
There is no sign or trace of my beloved stray.  I miss Putty.

2007
When our daughter was in middle school, she wanted a cat so, we adopted a short-haired domestic cat named Ollie.  Not long after we brought him home from the Humane Society, a black and white stray with green eyes and a pink nose appeared at the deck door.  I called him Putty.  This adorable stray came to our house for food (which he received) and to hang out with Ollie, separated by the screen door.  They were pals, yet their friendship would be short-lived.

2015
Ollie was happy and healthy but after eight years, he began to lose weight.  The blood tests revealed that his kidneys were failing.  He had about three months to live.

I wasn't prepared to lose Ollie.  We decided to follow the veterinarian's suggestion by giving him subcutaneous fluids which would extend his life.  But Ollie would not have it.  It made him miserable so, we decided to stop the treatment.  Poor little Ollie.  Towards the end of his life, he had no interest in eating or cleaning himself.  By Christmas, he weighed less than four pounds.

2016
It was devastating to see Ollie suffer. I had to make the heartbreaking decision to put him down.  On that day, Putty came by.  It was like he knew he would never see his buddy again.  Having Putty on our deck comforted me during that difficult day.

For the next few months, the Mrvos house was quiet.  Too quiet.  I missed having a cat in the house.  So, in March we adopted Ozzie...and he and Putty became friends.  Safety separated by the screen door, Putty and Ozzie would play—well, Ozzie would play, meaning Ozzie tried to swat Putty's tail and Putty would look at him indifferently, like man, you are one crazy cat.

2019, early summer
One day in June, a large orange tomcat began to hang around our yard.  I made the mistake of feeding it one evening.  As a consequence, he claimed our yard as his own.  One morning the tomcat snuck up behind Putty and attacked him on the deck.  Luckily, I was able to break up the fight.  Putty seemed relatively unharmed; but a week later, another fight ensued while I was away.  When I returned, clumps of Putty's black and white fur clung to the grass by the driveway along with a smattering of orange fur.  It was apparent that Putty bore the brunt of the battle.  Since then, I haven't seen Putty.

2019, early fall
But I am hopeful he will return.

Neighbors one street over told me they had seen Putty shortly after the fight.  It was good to know that he survived the attack.  But it's been four months and Putty has not returned.

This is Kitty.  Could she be Putty's daughter?
She has green eyes, a pink nose
and the same facial marking as Putty.

Strangely, during Putty's absence another cat showed up at our house.  Since it's tiny, it may be a female.  I call it Kitty, not a remarkably creative name but it seems fitting.

Kitty looks like Putty. This little critter has big eyes that look like they've been marked with black eyeliner.  Its left ear had been clipped straight across.  This procedure, called ear-tipping, is performed while a cat is under anesthesia and indicates the cat has been spayed or neutered before it is re-released to the wild.  

Kitty is terribly shy, but it cautiously approaches the back door to be fed.  It is amazing to me that another cat "adopted" us so quickly after my stray disappeared.

This pretty cat brightens my day, though it will never replace Putty.  Because Putty was a character—from the way he meowed (deep, harsh and gravelly) to the way he slept on the deck with four paws pointing to the sky.

I constantly think about Putty.  Whenever I'm in the kitchen or taking a walk through the neighborhood, I am on the lookout for Putty.  Whenever I'm writing or relaxing at night with a book, I am thinking about Putty.

You may think it's strange that someone could be so attached to a stray.  But I think it's because I earned his trust.  At first, he would never approach me.  Over time, he came to me when I called him (he learned his name) and he let me pat his head.

One day I got an encouraging sign that my stray is safe, wherever he may be.  At lunchtime, I work the Jumble Daily Puzzle in the newspaper.  With this puzzle, one has to unscramble four words and then arrange the circled letters in the words to form a bonus answer.  The first scrambled word was UPTYT.  PUTTY.

2019, mid fall
While my husband and I were taking a walk, we spotted Putty four streets over from our house.  Putty turned to look at me when I called his name, but he didn't come close.  I was crushed.  Didn’t he recognize me?  Was he afraid of me?  Surprisingly, a few days later he trotted up to our deck.  I fed him and he ate well. But since that visit, he has not come back.

Maybe he is leery. Maybe bad memories of the cat attack prevent him from coming by more often—who really knows what a cat remembers?  But I hope that he will remember the Mrvos house as a place where he is always welcome.

2019, late fall 
I should be working on writing projects, updating my website, and concentrating on marketing.  But my mind drifts.  I find myself worrying about my adorable stray.  I miss his meow and his silly way of sleeping on the deck.  Kitty is sweet, but Putty stole my heart.

Many months have passed.  The temperatures are dipping into the low thirties.  I set up the heated cat house on the patio.  Hope gives me peace and strength and it keeps me going when all seems lost.  I am optimistic that Putty will return.

And when that day comes, there will be food, water, and shelter for Putty the cat.
✌ and ♥

November 15, 2019

To leave a comment, email Rlmrvos@gmail.com

Mid-winter
I am awestruck.  I am relieved.  I am grateful.

Early November, Putty returned. 

And you can bet...my beloved stray will be getting plenty of loving care.








COMMENTS:

Qu’est-ce qu’il est mignon! (He's so cute!) Dale H.

I always enjoy your writing. Nancy B.

                                                                                                                                                                                                    Photo:  Alex Rosario

DEFENSELESS

I would have never guessed that buying groceries and shopping for clothes would make me sick. 

Years ago, when my daughter was a pre-teen, we'd shop at Abercrombie & Fitch.  Minutes after making a purchase, my head would pound.  This happened every time we shopped there.  I finally figured out that the in-store scent was giving me a headache.

I've had migraines for over twenty years and I'm still trying to figure out all of my triggers.  It's kind of depressing because the list keeps growing.  In addition to fragrances, I've discovered wine (red and white) gives me headaches as well as preservatives and additives in processed foods.  I'm particularly sensitive to soy lecithin, an additive which is found in foods like chocolate candy and certain soups (Progresso tomato basil)—and this sucks 'cause I love chocolate and tomato soup.

But what is troubling is, though I can avoid certain foods, I can't avoid certain fragrances.

About 7:30 one morning while I shopped for groceries at Kroger, my head began to throb.  The store reeked.  I encountered a strong-smelling cleaner and the overpowering scent of pine, cinnamon, and cloves.  These odors were a double whammy for me.  Though I tried my best to avoid those areas, the damage was already done.  One whiff was all it took.  It was a real bummer because the grocery shopping had to be finished and there was no escaping the cleaning odor and holiday fragrances.   

I was frustrated about being so sensitive to fragrances.  So, I did a little research and found an online article.  In the WebMD piece "Fragrance Allergies: A Sensory Assault," medical journalist Colette Bouchez says, "We do have some control over what we allow into our homes and other personal spaces -- we can toss that magazine with the inserts or switch shampoo -- but it can really become an issue when our senses are assaulted in common areas, such as the workplace or a college classroom, places where we have to be."  

Olfactory researcher Pamela Dalton PhD, MPH says, "It's a loss of control over your personal environment.  And for some, it can have serious personal health consequences."   

Dalton adds, "From hair shampoos to carpet shampoos, from laundry detergent to shower gels, from home sprays to hair sprays to moisturizers, cosmetic, and personal care items, the scent industry has literally exploded.  And for many people, it's a real sensory overload."   

Photo: William Bout

"Sensitivity to one fragrance or odor can snowball into a crippling multiple chemical sensitivity that leaves its victims defenseless in the face of an ever-widening number of chemical odors and fragrances," says Dalton.

Bouchez reports that "some experts aren't even sure if it's the fragrance itself that is the real culprit, or just one part of a mix of chemicals (as many as 200 or more) that are used to create both fragrances we smell and the masking agents used in unscented products."  

Bouchez adds that there are a growing number of people who are sensitive to odors.  The American Academy of Allergy and Immunology calls this condition multiple chemical sensitivity (MCS).  Experts agree that people with chemical sensitivities should try to remove themselves from the offending fragrance.  Avoidance is the most effective treatment.  

Really?  I wouldn't call avoidance a treatment.  Nor, would I say avoidance is always possible.  Grocery shopping is a weekly necessity and if my family wants to eat, it's difficult to avoid Kroger.

There is no denying being exposed to strong odors or fragrances interferes with my daily routine.  It not only causes my head throb and it does weird things to my brain.  It's like I'm trapped in a fog and I get confused or can't think clearly.  My mind is totally f*cked-up.  Luckily, there's prescription medication that works quickly for me.  Otherwise, I'd never be able to do the things I love such as composing blogs, mentoring writers, marketing my brand, or editing new work.

Who would have guessed that Kroger would be as troublesome as Abercrombie?  Crazy, huh?  Luckily, I am not entirely defenseless.  There are three things I can do during the holiday season:

1. shop at another neighborhood grocery store
2. take prescription medication proactively on grocery day 
3. communicate my concerns about store cleaning with the manager

By being aware of the chemicals and fragrances that I might face, I don't feel as helpless.  I'm armed with possible solutions that could make a difference because...when we can't change a situation, we are challenged to change ourselves.

✌ and ♥

                                                                                                                      Photo by: Gesina Kunkel

LOSING IT Because it had been a while (and since I was curious), I decided to step on the scale.  Let me just say, the number did not please me.     Not that my weight should be a concern during these troubled times of a pandemic. But controlling my weight through strenuous exercising was something I had been doing before the outbreak.   The weird thing was, the weight gain was imperceptible to me. Back during the 2018 Christmas season, I baked holiday cookies for my family and believe you me, I had my share of the sweets.  After Christmas, I had a cup of ice cream every night.  Unbeknownst to me, my weight crept up from winter and into the summer of 2019.  Over those months I was never aware of the additional pounds.  There was no need to weigh myself because my clothes fit perfectly.     On a whim, I decided to check my weight.  That's how I discovered the weight gain and then immediately decided I had to do something about it.  People looked at me strangely when I told them I wanted to lose weight.  One of my husband's friends said that I must weigh 100 pounds soaking wet.  Looks can be deceiving.  And the scale does not lie.  According to the charts, women at my height are supposed to weigh between 107 to 140 pounds.  I'm petite, not even close to 140 pounds, but I'd like to weigh less than the median value of 123.5 pounds.    I had always worked out three times a week.  Obviously, that was not enough.  When I told one of my workout friends that I had gained weight, she replied, "Don't weigh yourself.  That's what I do."  I liked her approach.  Why step on the scale and get upset?  This philosophy appealed to me.  But it didn't feel honest ignoring my weight.  A week later, I checked.  I had gained another pound.

John, another workout buddy told me he had lost over fifty pounds.  He challenged me to come to the gym every day and ride the exercise bike for thirty minutes each day.  

How could I go to the gym EVERY DAY?  That would mean the time for marketing my book, consulting with clients, and composing blog posts would be replaced with being at the gym. 

   Photo: Gesina Kunkel 

To do as John suggested meant I would mess with my schedule and keep me from my writing obligations.  This would be a difficult commitment for me.    

But then I thought of the number that had registered on the scale.  That ugly no-good number.  I would meet John's challenge.

So, my strategy was to replace weight-lifting (which I did three times a week) with riding the exercise bike for thirty minutes seven times a week.   

Over a few days, I was able to gradually increase the resistance on the bike.  It took everything ounce of energy I had to keep going.  To deal with the discomfort, I concentrated on my heart rate and the calories that were burned.  I listened to music on Spotify.  I pedaled for thirty minutes despite it being tiring, painful, monotonous, and sweaty. 

Going to the gym everyday was not the only change I made.  I decided to cut back on snacks and give up sweets.  Good-bye cookies.  Sayonara white chocolate raspberry ice cream.  This was equally as painful as riding the bike because salt and sweet cravings are like to murder to manage.      

So, until the coronavirus outbreak, I had been going to the gym EVERY DAY and giving up sweets and limiting snacks.  I was able to work up from level 5 to level 16 on the bike, the highest level.  I had reached my goal and surpassed it by two pounds.  But staying at this new weight will be challenging.  My gym is closed like other businesses in the United States.

Like many others who like to stay active, I'm trying to figure out how to exercise.  For now, I walk around the neighborhood for one to two hours a day.  Sometimes, I carry hand weights with me.  Then, I do a ballet barre at home by watching YouTube videos taught by ballerinas.  I do this routine every day.

Will these things help me stay in shape and keep my weight constant?  Who knows?  But when I feel doubtful, I remember my conversation with John, and it motivates me and fires up my can-do attitude.  If I was able to find the physical and mental strength to lose fifteen pounds, then I should be able to maintain my weight—even if the gym is closed.

Just like everyone else, I'm trying to live a normal life.  I'm trying to stay healthy, and for now, this will be one of the biggest challenges I will ever have to face.

✌ and ♥

I WILL NEVER BE A BALLERINA

When I was young, I loved ballet.  I couldn't get enough of the pink tights, the black leotard and the leather ballet slippers.

Children typically start ballet training between the ages of five and eight, and though I began at an early age and took for three years, I wasn't able to continue.  Students were expected to take tap before continuing to the next level of ballet.

Even at the age of eight I knew tap dancing was not for me.  I put my foot down.  I would not take tap. I would not take tap.  I WOULD NOT TAKE TAP.  And so, unwilling to take a class I had no interest in, I had to give up something that I dearly loved. 

I would never be a ballerina. 

Even if I had gone on to learn tap, ballet classes would have been too expensive.  My father worked two jobs.  He had five mouths to feed.  He only had to look at my overbite to know the future foretold the footing of orthodontic bills.  Paying for lessons would have been a huge financial strain.

I would never be a ballerina.

I would never have the opportunity to learn pointe and partnering.  That's just the way it was.  Instead, I was fortunate to do a little horseback riding and play softball and basketball.

And then much, much later in life, in my mid-twenties, I wanted to find a way to stay in shape, so I decided to try some adult ballet classes.  Once I learned the French vocabulary, I felt more confident to continue.

Over the years I tried different dance studios, trying to find the balance between a serious class and a class that would be fun.  Through persistence and luck, I found the place that I love—Dancers' Studio in Lexington, Kentucky.

We begin each class at the barre.  This is where we perform exercises to stretch the entire body.  We might do this combination:  tondue, coupe de pied, relevé.

That means begin in a ballet first position, extend a straight leg with pointed toes, return to first position, slide a curved foot to the ankle, and balance on the other leg.  The exercise is performed in first, second and fifth position.  Then the entire exercise switches sides so both the right foot and the left foot are used.  After eight different barre exercises, we're ready for center work.

Center work is composed of adagio and allegro movements.  We begin with adagio where combinations of ballet steps are pieced together and danced slowly in order to develop balance, control and extension without the use of the barre.  Then we move on to allegro—the faster, livelier steps which include jumps and turns.  Class ends with a révérence, a bow to thank the teacher.

I've been doing ballet for many years now and I still can't get enough of the pink tights, black leotard and leather slippers.  It is a good workout for the mind and the body.  Dancers must remember all of the steps of a combination and perform them correctly.

As I conclude this blog post, I am reminded about the similarities between ballet and writing.  Both require practice and discipline.  Even marketing a book is like ballet.  It takes an incredible amount of time and effort to be successful. 

However, even with practice, discipline, time, and effort chances are I will never be a best-selling author.

But, still I write.

And I will never dance a pas de deux or wear a dancer's tutu.  I don't have physical stamina and impeccable balance.  I'm not as flexible and coordinated like a professional dancer.

I will never be a ballerina.

But still I dance.

✌ and ♥

On the Telly

A few months ago, I was invited to be part of a program on local television. WTVQ in Lexington, Kentucky hosts a morning show called Good Day Kentucky.  Since I was going to partner with the Woodford Humane Society at the book signing of Maggie and the Summer Vacation Show-and-Tell, the marketing director of the animal shelter asked me to join her during her taping. 

Naturally, I was flattered.  Who could pass up this amazing advertising moment?  But deep inside, I was wondering what on earth have I done? I'm terribly shy.

Way back in high school, I actually enjoyed performing in plays and loved being in front of an audience.  But fast forward about forty years. Like the other dance classes at Dancers' Studio in Lexington, Kentucky, my ballet class would perform at the annual recital. I knew the routine perfectly. On the day of the performance however, I got stage fright. My feet literally stuck to the floor.  We're talking deer-in-the-headlights frozen. Luckily, in what seemed an eternity, I snapped out of it and fell back in line to finish the dance.

Since then, being in front of an audience makes me nervous. But people tell me to relax. They say being on television is no different than having a conversation with a friend. They say it's easy when you talk about what you love.  

I love Maggie and the Summer Vacation Show-and-Tell. It's a special book because it shows the value of  pet rescue and encourages young kids to solve problems and recognize peer pressure.  And that's what I tried to remember when I sat upon the yellow sofa greeted by Troy and  Katie.  Granted, I was terrified being on live TV, but the experience was worth it because I was able to show people how excited I was about my book.    

If you have the chance to be on television to promote your book, go for it.  Don't let shyness stand in your way.  It's difficult trying to find ways to market your work.  Embrace this amazing opportunity.   

Tips for preparing for a television spot:

  1.  Prepare questions for the host ahead of time

  2.  Practice your responses

  3.  Stand (or sit ) before a mirror as you practice your responses

  4.  Arrive early and check in with the the receptionist.

  5.  Be aware that the host may not follow the script

  6.  Stay focused and listen 

  7.  Make sure the host mentions the title of your book

  8.  Look at the host, not the camera  

  9.  Be excited about your book (let it show in your voice)

 10. Women:  wear a little eye makeup and lipstick 

 11. Dress comfortably.  Wear solid colors, no patterns 

 12. Try to relax and smile 

 13. Have someone help you get miked  

 14. Have fun