Today's the Day

How many weeks (months) ago did I say here that I was ready to tackle my weight and health issues? Well, today is (FINALLY!) the day.

How do I know this? Because I took drastic action: I ran very hot water over the tub of my nearly-most-favorite ice cream, Edy's/Dreyer's Peppermint, which is irreplaceable because it only comes out around Christmas. It's gone. Down the drain. THAT's how I know I'm serious.

Baskin-Robbins' Pralines 'n' Cream is my all-time favorite but I haven't bought any of that for awhile so it hasn't been a temptation. It wasn't in my freezer like the peppermint was.

Stop it! I'm making myself hungry for that sweet, creamy-crunchy Pralines 'n' Cream! Stop it!

Deep breath. Okay, I'm fine now.

So what pushed me over the edge into readiness and willingness, my two least favorite and most lacking attributes? Writing. Writing is how I work things out, how I realize what I am thinking and feeling, and how I often move from one stage to another. I wrote myself into the realization that it was time and that the reward of it was what I wanted to focus on.

It feels real right now. We'll see how I feel tonight at midnight.

Turning In the Last Page Proof Is Almost as Good as Sex

I'm giddy! I'm thrilled! I'm so frickin' relieved!

Our book Building for Boomers is AT THE PRINTER! I just sent the last page proof to Smita, our project manager at Glyph International in India. I had my doubts about working with the folks in a foreign country with our time zones upside down from each other, but it's been fine. Fun, in fact, much to my surprise. I've been working with them largely on their time, the time of their workday, which means I've been up until 2:00 or 3:00 a.m. so we could ask and answer questions and communicate pretty close to real time. Consequently, Smita and I have developed a wonderful rapport that we probably wouldn't have otherwise.

What a process this has been. So far. It's not over yet. We've gone the mile, all but the last couple of inches, but those last couple of inches make it real.

For those of you who think you want to write a book, let me tell you that it's much more involved, tedious, time-consuming and, in fact, all-consuming than I ever thought it would be. Not just the writing -- that's really the fun part. The reviewing and editing of the text in Word was a little overwhelming. At that point it's still largely in code (production codes) so you can't see what it will really look like. The pictures aren't there; it's just amorphous text. We could add and change at will, and we did! We were grateful for the chance to do that.

Then come the page proofs, the way it will actually look when it's printed. We could only make changes that did not affect the indexing, so we could add a few words here and there and correct the mistakes and typos, which we kept finding endless numbers of, but couldn't significantly change much. We did find a couple of chunks of copy that had been repeated earlier, so when we deleted them, we had to fill in the space with something about the same length to not throw off the indexing. Challenging but doable.

I rewrote the acknowledgements about 10 times. That was the last piece I just sent in a few minutes ago. I kept thinking of people I wanted to include. My co-author Mike (Kephart) had a very long acknowledgement section, so my adding didn't make it lopsided. Being able to thank people is a great joy. And, we hope they buy the book! (snicker)

Both Mike and I reviewed nearly every word of the text in Word and then in page proofs, so we hope we caught nearly all of the mistakes, typos and repeats.

Now we wait for the index. That should be fun. I rely on indexes (indices, to be technically correct) in business books so I hope this one is good. They did an impressive job on the Table of Contents (TOC). We weren't all that consistent in our structure (ROFL! Understatement!) but the TOC makes it look like we were.

I ordered one of my own books on Amazon.com and paid the same as everybody else. I want to see what everybody's getting. I only get a handful of books for free from the publisher, McGraw-Hill, so nobody better be expecting me to give 'em one. Sorry!

Okay, now I'm calmer and my afterglow is giving way to fatigue. But I've earned it. The last page proof is in and I've gotten the okay message from Smita. Yep, it's almost as good as sex. Almost.

Temper Temper!!

I am going to have a temper tantrum...right here, right now. The difference between the one I'm going to have here and the ones I used to have when I was two years old (okay, and 10 and 13 and 31 and 42) is that I'm just going to vent in writing instead of throwing something that wouldn't break but would definitely make noise and possibly scar whatever it hit.

Don't you ever just get fed up with everything, including things that either don't bother you significantly any other time or things that you just put up with and accept as part of that huge segment of life called, "I can't control that"? Well, that's the way I am tonight.

First of all, speed bumps are the soourge of the earth, so incredibly annoying! All of that frickin' bumping can't be good for the car or the tires and they certainly aggravate the people inside the car.

Okay, that's out of my system.

This temper tantrum precipiting event was a late-night trip to the grocery store to buy hair color for my "natural" red hair. I mix two colors and I was out of one. So I went to a Fry's in the neighborhood, about two miles away from my mom's house in Phoenix where I am for a few weeks. It was about 10:20 p.m. Yes, they were open but help was sparse. No big deal...until I went to check out and not even one checkout lane was open. I asked someone who was stocking something or other at one checkout if any lanes were open and she said no, that the only person there had gone on break and may or may not be back.

Great!

So I disgustedly pushed my cart over to the self-checkout. I'd never gone that route before, or at least not for more than a handful of items, and, of course, I ended up with a relatively full cart.

The ambient noise was so high that I couldn't hear what the mechanical female voice was cooing to me in the way of instructions. Some of the items would scan, others wouldn't. It took me 10 times as long to check myself out as it would have a store employee, even a neophyte employee, and I was getting more and more frustrated! The voice, which by this time was getting quite annoying, kept saying that someone had been alerted and would be over to help me. I looked around -- nobody!

Finally, a young (20s) guy with a slump and an introverted nature came into the area and I called him over. He acted like I was stupid for not knowing that you had to move your items about 3 feet away from the scanner and the shelf to the right of it or it would block the scan. Well, pardon me, but there are no instructions there, and I've not used it before, and I never wanted to scan my own items in the first place!

I got more irritated with his attitude than I had been with the moody machine!

Finally I finished and paid and then I had to bag my own groceries! Their plastic bags -- no choice of plastic or paper -- peeled off of their hanging perches just fine but just try to get one of them open to put anything into it! They are welded shut, I swear! Eventually, I got each of them open and by then was quite open about my disgust and frustration with the whole experience, rather roughly tossing anything that wasn't breakable into the cart once I got the damn things into bags.

The topper, as far as I was concerned, was when I got no receipt when I'd pushed "receipt, yes." I called the slouching, introverted kid over and asked with rather clenched teeth if there was a way to actually get a receipt. Being a bright boy, he sensed that I was about to become an ex-Fry's customer. That and the fact that I said I was tempted never to return and to start going to Safeway. He offered to get a manager to talk to me. Yes, I said, please do.

A nice lady came over to me, a bit warily, I noticed. I told her testily of my experience and exclaimed, "I never WANTED to scan my own groceries and bag them!" She said I could have asked for someone and they would have come. Gee, the point, lady, was that no one was THERE!

Finally I said to her, "This has been such a frustrating experience. What can you do for me to get me to come back, which I'm not really interested in doing after this?" She looked at me like, say whaaaa? She asked, "Like what?" "I don't know, just something, anything," I said.

She went over to the young kid and talked to him and 5 minutes later (yes, it took 5 minutes!) he handed me a Fry's gift card for...all of $5. Geez. Well, it was better than nothing and I said to her, "Thank you. I wanted the acknowledgement more than anything."

I was mollified, realizing that this wasn't a big deal in the scheme of things. I was just tired and cranky and put out that my little trip to the store didn't go quickly and smoothly. I got out to the car, put my stuff in the trunk, and as I slowly and sanely (really!) drove out of the parking lot, I realized that the one thing I hadn't picked up was hair color!

Well, no way was I going back into the store after creating such a scene, and the drug stores were closed, so I drove another 3 miles to Safeway.

On my way there, I remembered a time in my late 20s when I was equally frustrated and upset over who-remembers-what. Only this time I was drunk and it was raining. I drove from the city (Denver, it was, then) to my place in Lakewood and had to exit 6th Avenue onto Wadsworth around a sharp cloverleaf. I just basically said, "F*ck it" and drove around that curvy exit without braking much at all. It's amazing I didn't kill myself. That's one of the reasons I don't drink these days -- flawed thinking when I do.

On to Safeway for my hair color. The people in front of me in line had a big cart full of stuff, saw that I had just one item and generously said, "You go ahead." The nice guy at the checkout was cheery and exhibited a sense of humor, which I matched, and it was a delightful experience. They would probably not believe that I had been so bitchy just a few minutes before.

Okay, I feel better now that I've vented. Thank you, all two of you who have read this whole rant.

Page Proofs!

Tonight I got my first look at the page proofs for our book Building for Boomers. That first moment when I opened the file of the first chapter and saw what it will look like when it's printed was stunning. It's been such a theoretical experience for so long and now it's inches away from becoming real. It started out as a blank page and it's turning into a book!

Three of my personal friends have already ordered the book from Amazon.com. Two of them have absolutely nothing to do with design or construction so it's purely a gesture of support and friendship, period. How great is that?!

Tomorrow morning I'll start reviewing the page proofs for the first two chapters. They're due back to our project manager tomorrow night, which is the morning of the next day in India, where it's being produced. The instructions as to how to edit or comment on a .pdf are a bit overwhelming, but then so were the instructions for creating the manuscript with the exact font, size and style, and I got comfortable with that after a chapter or two. This is much simpler than that.

My mom said she wanted to buy the first copy. She passed away in October so she won't be doing that, but I think I'll order one in her honor now that we're almost there. She would like that.

Midnight Musings on New Year's Eve

Happy New Year, everybody!

Am I glad to see 2009 go from the current file to the archives? You bet! 2009 will forever be the year that my mom died and some other much more minor things happened that I'd rather not think about.

Many good things happened too. My book, Building for Boomers, got done (and will be out in February). My co-author, Mike Kephart, was wonderful and inspiring to work with. I had some really warm and wonderful visits with my mom before she passed. My good friends in several states kept me entertained, sane, and safe. My health improved following my total hip replacement. Over the year, I received many blessings.

Every New Year's Eve or shortly thereafter, I make a list of the things I want to happen in the new year. Not resolutions. Not a to-do list. Not a prayer list. Not a wish list. A list of the things I just want to happen, some of which I can control, some of which I really can't. It's amazing how many of them have come about when I go back and read them at the end of each year.

This year my list isn't just all about me. I'm including "get-well" thoughts for our country and, in fact, the world. We are still coughing and sputtering, and I'm hoping, wishing, praying, affirming and declaring that some cosmic Vitamin C gets injected into the world so we can all get well.

This year on New Year's Eve, there's a blue moon, they just said on the news. Last one was in 1990, next one won't be until 2028. Well, once in a blue moon true miracles happen. With that as a harbinger for 2010, I'm expecting miracles. Maybe the Denver Broncos will actually make the playoffs and even go on to play in the Super Bowl, for example. Or, maybe terrorism will end, we'll be able to take more than 3 ounces of liquid on airplanes again, and everyone will be at peace. Neither one are likely, but hey, they could happen....

After Sliding Down the Back of a Stegasaurus...Now What?

About three weeks ago, my co-author Mike Kephart and I turned in our manuscript for our book, Building for Boomers, to McGraw-Hill. The real estate market was in good shape when we started working on the book. Within a few months it tanked and we had to start over pretty much completely since projects, people, and companies we had talked to just went away. It all kept getting worse and it made our job so much more difficult.

But now we've turned it in. And we have been notified that the book is in production. Our book should be available by mid-February, they told us. Very exciting!

It was a long slog. Neither Mike nor I are eager to write another such book any time soon. It reminds me of my friend Noah. A few minutes after his (first) wife gave birth to their first son, he got carried away with the moment and suggested they have more kids. She said, "Don't talk to me about that now. I feel like I just slid down the back of a Stegasaurus." That's (metaphorically) exactly how I feel.

So now what? Not with the book, with the rest of my life.

For the last year and a half, I've put nearly everything but the book on hold. Well, I also had to make time, lots and lots of time, for suffering with my left hip and then getting it fixed. It hurt so bad for so long -- I felt absolutely crappy day after day after day after day for over a year. My total hip replacement in June was a godsend. I wish I'd done it months before. It would have really made a difference in my quality of life and in my ability to work on the book. Many days it was all I could do to just get through the day. But...no regrets. Onward.

So now what? No pain, no book deadline. No job, either.

First of all I want to tackle some of the things I've put off. My to-do list has about 50 things on it: dentist and doctors appointments, clean out closets, hang pictures on my walls, get rid of some of my zillion books, go see my mom, shop for shoes (can't wear my beloved sandals much longer), reconnect with people I've been neglecting, send more goodie boxes to the troops through AnySoldier.com, redo the resident directory at my apartment complex, relearn the piano (bought a wonderful 88-key electric keyboard 4 years ago and it's been sitting), write my novel (started it the night of the day we turned in our manuscript)....

Then there's the Construction Writers Association Fall Conference Oct. 5-7 in Chicago. And the AIA-New York's social media seminar, which I'm moderating, on Oct. 14: "Why to Blog, Text and Tweet - Strategic Social Media for Design Firms."

Then what? Woo hoo! I can't wait to answer that!

More to come. MUCH more to come. Stay tuned.

Procrastinating on "Getting My Stuff Done"

Such a wonderful little animated video that hits all too close to home, probably not only for me....

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Now, back to work! Really.

Journalists: "Gee Whiz" Approach to Twitter Is Getting Old!

I saw yet another "Gee whiz - look at this Twitter thing" story this morning, this one on "CBS Sunday Morning." There's one every two minutes lately: On "The View," in the Wall Street Journal, on various evening national news programs and morning shows, etc. They all basically just start from zero, explaining in the most elementary terms what Twitter is and gee-whizzing their way through the story. They act like few of us have ever heard of Twitter, let alone are tweeting our hearts out.

Well, guys, as a journalist myself, I know there's such a thing in journalism as a "Day Two" story. That's when the news nugget has already been announced, either by your pub/station/etc. or in general, meaning that there's an assumption that a lot of your audience has already been given the raw news. Breaking the raw news - that's the "Day One" story. The Day Two story, then, advances the story, providing analysis and/or a deeper look.

Twitter has been around for a little over three years. Millions of people now tweet. It's not easy to find out exact numbers and they are rising exponentially anyway, but the point is that Twitter is not brand new. Just because you've never heard of it, Ms. or Mr. Journalist, doesn't mean the rest of the world is as ignorant.

Everybody whose story I've seen in mainstream media acts like they've just discovered Twitter and want to tell us about it. Gee, thanks, but a lot of us are already here and are getting proficient at tweeting, building networks and actually knowing what to do with them for whatever purpose(s) we are out to fulfill. We are ready for the Day Two story, guys!

I first heard about it at a web-oriented American Independent Writers seminar organized by Kristen King about seven or eight months ago and signed up on the spot, from my seat in the audience. (Thank you, Verizon broadband device!) I was shocked when after a couple of days some people I didn't know were following me. Why would they want to do that, I wondered? Now I have 1,452 followers, and I follow 1,256. I personally know about a dozen, yet I consider many of them my cohorts, co-conspirators, allies and some even friends.

Never have I had such access to writers; IT gurus; movie, tv & music stars (Jane Fonda, Ashton Kutcher & Demi Moore, Billy Bush, MC Hammer, Jimmy Fallon, to name just a few); fellow fans of NASCAR, "Dancing with the Stars," "Life on Mars," and people who are interested in discussing all kinds of topics. I have gotten technical advice, instructions (and a video) on cooking omelettes, recommendations and URLs on healthcare solutions, and wisdom on a multitude of subjects. There are people who are willing to promote my book when it comes out, people who pray for me when something goes wrong, people who would do me all kinds of favors and for whom I'd do the same thing. I could get writing jobs and even consulting gigs from my Twitter network, the Twitterverse, as it were.

That's what journalists need to talk about, not just what Twitter is and how gee-whiz interesting it is to microblog 140 characters at a time, but how Twitter really works for the tweeple who tweet!

And then they can write about how businesses are successfully using Twitter to expand their customer base, take care of their existing customers (@comcastcares is a great example of customer service extraordinaire via Twitter, as I know first hand), spread the word on specials or new products, or just be visible. Following @BaskinRobbins, @Starbucks, @DunkinDonuts, and @traderjoes has been fun and has been good for them as well. Individuals who are hawking their wares or services get visibility and customers. I've gone to a wonderful writing seminar put on by @Mike Geffner that I never would've heard of otherwise and joined some professional groups I hadn't previously heard of. There's a receptive audience for every product and service, if these firms know how to find those folks on Twitter or let them find them. That's another Day Two story. Hey, just trying to be helpful!

So Much to Say, But Not Yet

This is the equivalent of sticking my index finger in the air pointing upward, as in, "hold on."

I'll be back blogging soon. But I've got a book manuscript due in early December, so until then I'll be focused on that and not this.

This is more fun but that's better for my career. And probably my soul.

So hold on.... I'll be back.

Social Networking (Online) Rocks!

With my book deadline looming, I could hardly afford to take a day off. But I am today. I braved the rain (thanks, Hanna, for sharing) and drove to George Mason University in Fairfax, VA, about an hour's drive from where I live, for a "Push the Electronic Envelope" seminar put on by the American Independent Writers group.

Fabulous!

I've got 13 years of Web experience. In Internet years, especially in the B2B (business-to-business) world, that makes me a Web granny. I brought blogs to McGraw-Hill Construction a year or more before most anyone there or in the construction industry even knew what blogs were. I've been on LinkedIn for years, MySpace, Facebook and even Gather for awhile. So I know some stuff but figured I could learn a whole lot more today.

I was right. Whew! Social networking is da bomb. I'm in the seminar now on a lunch break, and I've been online (thank you Verizon Wireless wi-fi broadband) during the whole thing. I'm now on Twitter too. I've got widgets on my blog(s) but now I know more about them. In fact, I've already, just in the morning sessions, learned enough to more than justify my $89 investment for the seminar and the drive in the nasty rain. (We'll see if I still feel that way after I make my way home at 4:00, when Hanna is expected to be at her fury here. Hopefully she'll be pretty well spent here by 4:00.)

One of the speakers talked about our network outside of our family and friends who know us well. He called it our "weak ties" and quoted somebody-or-other as touting "the strength of our weak ties." In other words, it's the people we know a little or knew well but don't so much anymore or used to work with or know professionally but not personally who can help us connect with the people and resources that can help us do what we want to do and get where we want to go.

I definitely agree. My "weak ties" are fabulous, and I've loved reconnecting with them through LinkedIn and Facebook especially. No matter what their e-mail address du jour is, those social networking sites keep us linked. How great is that?!?

Funnily enough (a British phrase, seems a little awkward to me, even though it works), it's almost like e-mail is passe with people I'm socially connected to. People who used to e-mail me now send me messages through Facebook notes instead. And I've definitely been surprised to see who's on and not on these sites. Some curmudgeons are quite active and some young, hip folks are nowhere to be found. Huh! But then, I haven't mastered the art of finding people who are already on these sites yet. I did learn how to find the NY Times sports and movies and business feeds on Twitter, thanks to this seminar. Very cool!

So look for me and I'll look for you, and we can use our "weak ties" to help each other out or just keep in touch. I'm all for that, especially since -- loner than I am, though people think I'm a social being -- we can eavesdrop on each other's lives without having to do that pesky thing of actually talking to each other. Then we reach out when we want to and if we've been keeping up with each other, or even if we just know we're able to, we tend to respond much more quickly and positively than we would if we saw their name and thought, "Haven't heard from him/her for a long time -- what does HE/SHE want?!?" So, link up, tune in, let me know you're there, and come see me on LinkedIn or Facebook or Twitter (I don't keep up my page on MySpace much)...or wherever might be the next great place.

Whining about Word, Media Monkey and "Progress" in General

Grrrrrr!!! I want to throw Word 2007 out the window! And whatever idiot created the so-called simipler user interface. What the hell were you thinking?!?!

I got a brand new Dell laptop a couple of weeks ago, fortunately with Windows XP. (Thank you, Dell!) Vista's there too, or at least the disks if I want it later. But at least I didn't have to learn a new operating system. Whew!

Then...I opened up the Word program. You've gotta be kidding! I didn't recognize anything in the user interface. The toolbar and, in fact, the whole top is entirely different. I can't find out how to do anything that I used to do quickly and easily. And it's not like Microsoft Office is the most intuitive suite of software on the planet. PowerPoint is about the most intuitive, at least the old version was. I haven't tackled the new one yet. And I've got this book deadline....

The author's guidelines are helpful -- for Word 2003! They don't translate to Word 2007. Grrrrrrrr! Fortunately, by searching on Yahoo (I prefer it to Google) on "hate Word 2007," I came across the Word 2007 Cheat Sheet, kindly put together by Computerworld. I knew I was in the right place by just reading the first paragraph: "Baffled by Word 2007's new interface? Join the club. Making the switch to Word 2007 can be exceedingly disorienting -- like coming home and finding out that not only has all your furniture been rearranged, but the house itself has been moved to the next county." Thank you, Computerworld! (There's also a cheat sheet for Excel 2007 and PowerPoint 2007 accessible from that page.)

Then there's Media Monkey, which I use to keep my music organized. I love Media Monkey. But...I have run into a snag. Media Monkey on my new laptop doesn't recognize my iPod. It always did on my old computer; why not this one? Grrrrrrr!

Whenever there's a new update for one of my software programs, I used to automatically install it. Now, after getting burned a few times, I am more suspicious and hesitant to just say yes. Those sneaky software folks often "upgrade" and "simplify" their software by cutting off some of our abilities to do what we want. That especially holds true with anything that allows a person to move data from an old computer to a new one. It's like the software makers are afraid we're going to steal something from them, not use the same data from the same program on our own new computer. Grrrrrrr!

Okay, I'm done whining. I'm not really, but I have to get back to work. Well, not get back to work on "work," but get back to work on figuring out how to make my work work with the dastardly new "simpler" Word. Grrrrrrr!

Meeting the Creators of Dismas Hardy and Little Miss Sunshine

Highlights of the Maui Writers Conference, was when we were royally entertained by author John Lescroart (pictured here), screenwriter Michael Arndt, and authors Scott Turow, whose books I've always loved as much for the beautiful writing as much as the plot, and author Buzz Bissinger.

Lescroart (pronounced "Le-SQUAW") is the writer of the best-selling series often featuring lawyer and smart figure-outer Dismas Hardy, his friend the gruff and crusty Detective Abe Glitsky and now a new character, private investigator and former foster child Wyatt Hunt. (They all have "issues.") I was already reading Lescroart's newest paperback, The Hunt Club (Wyatt Hunt's debut), when I left for the conference so I brought it with me, not realizing that Lescroart would be here, let alone a keynote speaker. Next time I may actually read the brochure before I come to the conference.

Arndt is the creator and screenwriter of the raw but hilarious movie Little Miss Sunshine, for which he won an Academy Award this year. I first saw it on an airplane, loved it, and rented it for my mom and her significant other. Mom hated it because of the incessant profanity, which had all been edited out for the airplane version. I still loved the quirky little flick.

Both writers told their stories, what they did when they were waiting to hit it big, what they were thinking at various stages, etc. Lescroart quit his day job many times, and he had many, many day jobs. Arndt only quit his day job twice, the same one twice, in fact, that of being a personal assistant to actor Matthew Broderick. Both talks were just so inspiring. Writers love hearing first-hand stories of writers who have made it. Lescroart was impressive not only for his writing but also for his humility. He kept quoting Arndt in his session the next day on "Six Steps to a Best Seller," which was definitely another highlight. I even bought the CD of that. I loved his steps on "genius mode" and "idiot mode."

Buzz Bissinger is a former journalist, or a current journalist, for all I know -- a journalist, is the point. I haven't read Friday Night Lights, which is a true story, but I love the tv series, which is not. But to tell an author that is like what one public relations person told me a few years ago when she saw a story I'd written about one of her clients that had some very rich photos with it that our photographer had taken: "Ooooooh, it's great!" I said, "But you haven't read it yet." She said, "Oh, no one reads the words anyway."

Scott Turow is a working lawyer and a successful author. Wow. And a nice guy too. During his book signing, his line moved super slowly because he took the time to talk to each person pretty much as long as they liked. I wanted to kick them in the ass, but he was gracious. Admirable.

Fraternizing with fellow writers was such a treat. It's one time when I don't have to explain myself or apologize for my bookworm side. The trick is keeping the magic in mind when we're all back in our real lives.

I did make it to the ocean, but only once. And that was time well spent -- the time at the conference, that is.

Maui: Paradise, But Not for the Reason You Think

I arrived yesterday afternoon in Maui. Paradise. Not because of the ocean, which I haven't been to yet, even though it's mere steps away from my hotel room. Not because of the view, which is spectacular. Not because of the succulent fruit and fresh fish, which are delicious. Why, then?

Because I'm with others of my ilk! I'm at the Maui Writers Conference (MWC), one of the few places I ever go where I don't feel like a freak for taking a book with me everywhere I go, or packing two mysteries, the one I'm currently reading and a spare in case I finish it before I head back, even though I know I'll buy a couple more in the MWC bookstore because I'll hear an author I like and can't resist buying one of his or her books.

One year, Catherine Coulter was a speaker. I'd never read any of her books. She was a history major and she writes very well-researched historical romance novels, and, at the opposite end of the spectrum, current-day FBI thrillers. She was funny and warm. She said she wrote one book in first person as a man but she won't do that again. "He had a problem and got frustrated and I had him eating chocolate and calling a friend and my husband said, 'No, no no!,'" she said. Her seminar on writing sex scenes had all of us rolling on the floor (with laughter, not acting out the scenes). I ran into her in the bookstore, told her how much I'd enjoyed her but that I wasn't a romance novel reader. She suggested that I read her FBI series -- I've since read every one -- and she picked up two of her romance novels and said I should read them too, because one was funny and the other was....well, I can't remember why she said to read that one, but I did read those two and she was right. I took back an armload of her books, fortunately all in paperback.

Today I went to lunch at our hotel out by the pool and nearly every table was occupied by just one person, reading. The veranda also was occupied this afternoon by single souls scattered about, all reading. Even a couple weren't talking but were reading, side by side. My kind of book nerds!

The conference officially starts tomorrow but most of us come early to snag 10-minute consultations (at $40 apiece) with noted agents and editors, which is quite a process in itself. The conference creators have refined the procedures over the 15 years that the conference has been going on, so it's pretty painless now, compared with the first time I attended several years ago when we stood in line for what seemed like a long, tedious time.

This evening I just happened to bumble into the area where the authors and presenters were gathering for a group photo. I stuck around and chatted up the photographer. A few minutes later, they descended in a swarm, smiled pretty for the camera and disbanded, all within about five minutes. I saw John Saul, always a conference favorite, talking with John Lescroart, one of the featured speakers, one of whose books I'm reading now, coincidentally, and brought with me. I didn't even realize Lescroart would be here. Very cool! Maybe I'll have him sign his book that I'm reading. And one of my goals is to find out how to pronounce his last name.

The time difference between Maui and Maryland is six hours. It's 9:00 p.m. local time, which is 3:00 a.m. body time, as I call it. I'm going to bed now (those of you who know me must be quite shocked) so I can plunge in to the big doings tomorrow revived and refreshed.

I may or may not make it to the ocean. Stay tuned.

If You Could Replay Your Life, Would You?

Jeff Winston suffered a deep, unfathomably searing pain at his desk at work and immediately died of a massive heart attack. He was 43. The next moment, he awakened in his college dorm room some 25 years earlier. He relived all those years only to die again on the same day at age 43. He kept waking up in his own life years earlier and kept trying to make sense of it as he soared, stomped, floated and trudged through the years.

There was his super rich life, his I'm-going-to-do-everything-right life, his decadent life, his fatherhood life, his scary life, his who-gives-a-shit life, his surprise life and many more. He tried to change history, he loved and played with many women, Every time he awoke again as a young man, he dreaded the years to come. Each time, he died on the same day. Would that go on forever?

Jeff Winston isn't a real person; he's the protagonist (remember that word from school? does anyone use it anymore?) in one of my favorite books of all time, Replay by Ken Grimwood. The book is copyright 1988 but I reread it every few years, as I just did for probably the 5th time. (If you decide to look up the book, DO NOT READ the summary from Publishers Weekly -- they give way too much away. Also, the cover shown is the original edition from 1988; the one they are selling now has a different cover, but it's the same book.)

It's a great book for putting everything in life in perspective. Here's the question I've let flow and trip over the virtual rocks in my mind: If I could replay my life, would I?

If I could replay it just once, I'd do just one thing differently, having to do with college. I went to Colorado State University, which at the time had 27,000 students enrolled. I've always wondered what would have happened if I'd chosen a medium-sized school, maybe in the Midwest. Or if I'd gone to Stanford, as a very bright, snobby fellow student urged me to do when he saw my SAT scores. 99th percentile for women in math, as I recall, and a pretty good score in the verbal or whatever they call it. Now I can hardly add two three-digit numbers together in my head -- kind of discouraging.

I think that one variation from the route I took would have changed everything. The wonderful movie "Run Lola Run" illustrated how some little tiny change, such as leaving 10 minutes later or stopping to let a car pass, could change your whole life. So going to a different university would certainly have taken my life in a different direction. I just don't know how.

Maybe I would have gotten married earlier than I did, and maybe it would have lasted longer than mine did. Maybe I would have had children, which I didn't and didn't want to in this series of life choices. Maybe I would have become a prominent something-or-other. Maybe I would have been a stay-at-home wife, sweetly and lovingly supporting my husband and his career. Sorry, I had a hard time typing that with a straight face. I've lived my life so "in control of my own destiny" without having to accommodate anyone else that I have a hard time imagining another path. Maybe I would be a drug addict, in prison or dead by now. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

Meanwhile, here I am in this life, the result of my choices along the way. I only wonder about other choices when I read a book like Replay, and then it's fun to daydream. Just for a minute. Okay, now back to my life. It's a pretty good one just as it is.

How Private Should Sex Lives Be?

Isn't sex a great topic for a blog? I'm too chicken (and smart?) to talk about my sex life or lack thereof in this blog or any other, but I find a certain lawsuit for $20 million fascinating. A former U.S. Senate aide, Jessica Cutler (who wasn't former at the time) divulged lurid details on her "Washingtonienne" blog of her sexual encounters with another Senate aide, Robert Steinbuch, which quickly got linked to another blog, Wonkette, and later became fodder for a book (The Washingtonienne: A Novel). Steinbuch is suing Cutler for $20 million. Whew!

It's beyond me why anyone, especially someone who works in a forum as scrutinized as the U.S. Senate, would put any details of their sex life on the Web. It's even more beyond me why anyone would betray a lover, former or current, by revealing their, shall we say, idiosyncracies. "Sex in the City" is one thing -- I loved the one about Carrie farting for the first time with Mr. Big -- but real life is quite another. To do that is disrespectful, vengeful and/or stupid. Once that stuff is out there, there's no taking it back. Not only is it a total betrayal, whether the relationship ended badly or not, it also usually damages the reputation of the accuser, er, revealer, at least as much as the accusee or revealee.

I've been a journaler since age 10. I have been known to write in some detail about all aspects of my life, since my journal is my therapy more than it is a chronicle of my life or even a commentary on life in general. And keeping journals help me to think my life is real and enables me to revisit events to see if I remember them as I experienced them at the time. It's amazing what the mind does to an event over time. Much of what I write is mundane, repetitive and hardly good writing. But it's meant for me and me only.

If I knew today that I would be dead tomorrow, I'd burn my journals. Not knowing that (and hoping not), I am willing them to someone I trust with the agreement that they will not be released to anyone for any purpose until 25 years after my death. By then, the innocent and guilty parties (some of whom are disguised) will either be dead or beyond caring. Hopefully, anyway. If I live 25 more years, that will certainly be true. It's not all that interesting anyway, probably only to me.

Meanwhile, I wonder what Cutler was thinking and if she regrets going public with her exploits. I bought her book awhile ago on a whim but haven't read it. Maybe I will dig it up now and at least scan it. But I ain't puttin' my own adventures on any blog any time soon. (Note to Mr. X: You're welcome.)

McGreevey Comes Out Again

I recently indulged in my favorite guilty pleasure: BookExpo America. This year it was in Washington, D.C.

It's three days of book-lover's heaven, intellectual (or not) decadence, gluttony for the imagination. It's every publisher imaginable showing off their books -- their best sellers, their dogs, their upcoming catalog of hopefuls -- to booksellers. And checking out their competition.

It's 3 days of authors signing their books, including the biggest ones on the best seller lists and prepublication copies from authors we all know (the most precious of all). Attendees stand in long lines to meet the authors and load up on books. Some seem to spend all day in author lines. As a book lover, I revel in the atmosphere where practically everyone is so weighed down with books that they can hardly walk. No wheelies are allowed unless there's a medical reason to have one, and those folks have colored wristbands to identify them. So whatever you can lug or stash somewhere, you can have. BookExpo has a huge shipping room where attendees can get a book box (at a ripoff price of $25 a box -- whew!), mark it with their names, leave it in the room on a long table with hundreds of other boxes and fill it up as they gather their books. The honor system seems to work pretty well, as the boxes and their contents can be accessed by anyone. I stood in line to ship back my one paltry box (which held probably 20 books), following a bookseller who was shipping back six. And she's a bookseller!

The author autographing is definitely a highlight. Over the years, I've met many of my heroes: Vince Flynn, Jeffery Deaver, Scott Turow, Lisa Scottoline, Lee Child, Linda Fairstein, Michael Connelly, Dominick Dunne, Scott Adams, Cathy Guisewite, and probably my favorite ever, Edna Buchanan. Well, actually Terry Anderson (the journalist held hostage for seven long years in Beirut) is probably my favorite author to meet. Shortly after he was released, he was at BookExpo signing a little excerpt booklet (which they give out if the full book isn't ready). The line to get it and meet him was one of the longest that year. He was so gracious and humble -- I was blown away at how concerned he was about the people he was meeting after everything he'd been through. I was deeply disappointed not to get the whole book then. I did buy it when it came out (in hardback too, which I try to avoid) and it was one of the most memorable books I've ever read. What a man. But I digress....

This year, one of the authors was Jim McGreevey, signing "The Confession," his book about his life in politics and as a very closeted gay man, at least until he very publicly resigned as governor of my current home state, New Jersey. Although it made national news, I thought it was more of a local story so I figured his line would be short.

Hardly! McGreevey's line stretched way long.

I was near the front and was delighted to see the ex-guv looking quite bright-mooded and healthy. He was gracious, gave plenty of time to each person and didn't seem horrified or humiliated to be there. I was disappointed as hell to just get an excerpt of the book instead of the whole thing -- it won't be published until September. McGreevey said, as if he was joking but he probably wasn't, that it's in its 9th draft.

Josh Margolin, the reporter from the Star-Ledger who covered McGreevey during his governorship, was there with a photographer. The highly energized Margolin scribbled as his photographer snapped (the pictures, not psychologically). His May 21 article delves extensively into McGreevey's book preview. Margolin covers politics so he is much more interested in the political scene from an insider's point of view than I am. I just want the juicy details of the scandal. Well, that's not totally true. I also want to know what led up to it and how he felt and what he thought about it leading up to it and since his resignation. (Hey, I got my degree in psychology, not political science.)

I asked McGreevey -- in my usual tactful way -- if in the book he told the truth and went into the real issues or if it was just a surface story. He said he definitely told the truth. Great! Then I can't wait to read it. I may read all of it, including about the crazy and dirty New Jersey politics, and not just the juicy personal parts. Every state thinks their politics are unique. I don't know that New Jersey is stranger than anywhere else -- I lived in Arizona during the Meacham years; now THAT was strange! But, back to McGreevey: I was glad to see him coming out again. Whatever I think of his politics, as a human being, I had empathy for him and his fear of being exposed as a gay man and possibly losing it all. I think he gained it all when he had to come out -- I'm sure he feels much more free and authentic than when he had to hide who he was, what he did and how he felt. I want to read his book -- I will probably even buy it in hard cover -- but I wonder if his story is finished yet. I'd like to see his second autobiography in 30 more years.

Judith Miller -- My Hero

Pulitzer Prize-winning New York Times reporter Judith Miller has been in jail for nearly two weeks now for refusing to reveal her confidential source to a grand jury. The Karl Rove story is headline news all over the country, if not the world, and part of that story is about two journalists involved, and their two media organizations.

Time magazine reporter Matthew Cooper also refused to reveal his source to federal prosecutors. But his editor, Norman Perlstine, decided to turn over Cooper's original e-mail and his notes, thereby giving up the source, who turned out to be presidential advisor Karl Rove. Still, to Cooper's credit, Cooper held fast to his refusal to testify until he got permission from Rove in writing to testify to the grand jury as to his identity.

On "Meet the Press" this morning, Cooper told NBC's Tim Russert that Perlstine had a tough decision that he put a lot of thought into but that Cooper disagreed and that it was a disagreement between individuals. Very charitable, I thought. I doubt that I could be that politically correct if I were to speak about my boss betraying me and everything I and supposedly he believed in as journalists and editors. I hope never to have to find out.

As an aside, on CBS' "Face the Nation" this morning, host Bob Schieffer ended it with the editorial comment that the White House's investigation as to who leaked the information that Valerie Plame was a CIA operative should have never gotten to the point of naming a special prosecutor, which has cost taxpayers millions of dollars. It should have remained in-house, he said; President Bush should have called together his top staffers and told them he wanted to know the identity of the leaker by the end of the day. Period. Hear, hear, Bob Schieffer!

Matt Cooper is testifying before Congress in support of federal shield legislation that would give protection to whistleblowers and confidential sources to members of the press. Miller would no doubt love to do that too, but it's a little tough to do from a jail cell.

I always thought when a reporter was sent to jail for refusing to reveal a source that it was punitive. But I learned through the federal court papers on this case that it's not supposed to be punitive but coercive. It's supposed to convince the reporter to give up their source and testify in compliance with a subpoena, which is the reason for the time being limited to the term of the grand jury, not to exceed 18 months. District Court Chief Judge Thomas F. Hogan denied Miller's motion to reconsider the order because she (supposedly) failed to make the case that "there is no realistic possibility that confinement would be effective in obtaining Miller's compliance."

Also in those court papers, in the "Government's Memorandum in Opposition to Judith Miller's Motion for Reconsideration," about 3/4 down the page under II B, it says, "Much of what appears to motivate Miller to commit contempt is the misguided reinforcement from others (specifically including her publisher) that placing herself above the law can be condoned...."

Schieffer says in a column on the subject, "What I find most offensive is this government claim that Judy Miller considered herself above the law. If that were true, she would have tried to escape. She recognized the authority of the court and went to jail just as Martin Luther King, Jr. and other Americans before her went to jail when they thought a law was wrong."

In my own career as a journalist, which dates back to 1984, I was confronted early on by the seriousness of the decision to keep my sources confidential. I was writing a column on advertising for the Arizona Business Gazette in Phoenix and one of the local radio stations had conducted a survey on opinions of their station, which they presumably hoped to make public. The responses were so negative that they kept it as an internal document. But I got a call one day from a source telling me about it and asking me if I'd like a copy of it. Well, of course! It was juicy and relevant to what I wrote about. My source made me promise not to reveal his or her name and I, of course, agreed. I got a copy of the survey and responses from the source and called the station's general manager for comment. He was livid and told me he would sue me if I ran anything about it. He accused me of stealing it. He was powerful enough to possibly follow through with this threat so I didn't take it lightly. I decided on the spot and knew deep in my soul that I would go to jail rather than reveal my source. I ran the piece and never heard a word from the station.

Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein kept the identity of "Deep Throat" to themselves for 33 years. They didn't even tell their spouses at the time, both of whom are now ex-spouses, which may be the ultimate manifestation of source protection. Only after Mark Felt's family decided they wanted to benefit from his "help" in the Watergate scandal and went public with Felt's identity did Woodward confirm it.

The irony in the Judy Miller situation is that she never wrote the story that this case is all about. Still, she sits in jail while the court hopes to coerce her to testify. We can only hope, for the sake of a free press, that other journalists would have Judy Miller's courage. And, most of all, that Congress quickly passes a federal shield law. Judith Miller, from one journalist, please hang in there, for all of us. And to both her and her courageous editors at the New York Times who have consistently stood behind her and the 1st Amendment, thank you, thank you, thank you!



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