The Devil On My Shoulder

“When one is trying to do something beyond his known powers, its useless to seek the approval of friends. Friends are at their best in moments of defeat.”
Henry Miller"

Together like garden snakes,they contorted, moaned, gasped, clenched and throbbed and eternity was theirs. Ernie had found what Cervantes and Milton had only sought. He waited only for the fillings in his teeth to melt."
"Naked Came The Stranger" Penelope Ashe

I am writing the first draft of this in my back yard on a picnic table. I am writing this on an IBM 560e Thinkpad notebook built sometime around the end of the Clinton administration. I intercepted it on its way to the Salvation Army when a co-worker waved it at me and asked if I wanted it. It was built before the invention of USB ports, thumb drives, CD burners or wireless. The floppy drive is busted. The memory is dicky, so sometimes it’ll give a little hiccup that sends your latest masterpiece into the twilight zone and it cannot be recovered by any technical trickery. When that happens, you start from the bottom. Considering "Moby Dick" was handwritten on paper with a dip pen, I can't complain much.

The old 560e is my axe. It’s the kind of axe that fills an apprentice writer with dreams of glory. I go to Best Buy, I go to Walmart. I look at the shiny machines, and look at the cheapest one, about $500 and say “That one. When I get the dough for that short story the Mammoth anthology bought, and I get my first royalty check for my “Mortal Engines” book, that’s the one I’ll get. A couple of more books out there and I’ll get something really sharp and my day will come." So.

I wrote the publisher of my brave little book. Its been a year. Royalty check? Any news? Well, kid. We sent out the royalty checks already. If you didn’t get any news it’s because there isn’t any.

My ego translates this as:

Nobody bought your shitty book.

Nobody even wants to buy your shitty book.

Nobody will ever buy your shitty book.

Now, I like this editor. This is a kind person who took a chance on me, has always encouraged me and gave me my first big break. It’s a dirty job sometimes to give the news to the hopeful, to be the doctor in the doorway with the x-ray in his hand. “I think we should talk in my office, please. Close the door.”

Sitting in the backyard, wondering if the June bugs will devour the little peach tree again this year. The screen is jumping threateningly on my elderly IBM 560e. Type faster, boyo.

Back on the Internet, trying to get a clue. I check the latest book of the best selling writer my publisher has in the stable; no names. I read some stuff from her book. I read stuff from my book. I look at her book. I look again at my book. I look at her book. I like my book better. Of course everybody thinks their kid is the smartest kid, and her stuff is fine, nothing wrong with it. Better than fine, hell, she's got real royalties coming in from people who really like her stuff. Probably has a hell of a laptop too. Yeah, but. . . but. . .

It doesn’t knock me on my ass, like Bukowski or Angela Carter or even my own stuff sometimes on a lucky day. It's Spice Girls. It’s not Jimi Hendrix, setting fire to a screaming Fender Stratocaster, while people run down the aisles bleeding from the ears.

See - I want to be that guy.

There is a devil who lives on my shoulder. There was an angel once too, I think. He got tired. I look at the story I’m working on now, and just when it gets to that part that really tears me up –
“Nobody likes that shitty book you wrote.” He says.

“It's okay.” I say “This one’s better.”

“Naw.” He says. “It sucks too.”

In his autobiographical craft book “On Writing” Stephen King recalls his early days and advises the apprentice writer not to think too much about being published in the beginning, because that can get discouraging. Your goal in the beginning, says the best selling popular fiction writer of all time, is to get better rejection slips. At first (this was before email) you get xeroxed chips of paper with some sort of prosaic BDSM boiler plate message like: “Thank you for your submission. We’re sorry it does not meet our present needs.” When you get better, the xerox chips have hand written notes scribbled in the margins “Too wordy!” or “Predictable ending.” But hey – handwritten. That’s genuine attention. The guy read it thoughtfully enough to know why it sucks. Tomorrow the world.

“Yes, but –“ says the devil on my shoulder “Nobody wants your shitty book.”

We all know Vincent Van Gogh. Vincent sold one painting in his lifetime, and that was to his brother for forty bucks, probably because Theo felt sorry for him. His stuff was just too weird to hang in somebody’s dining room. If there is such a thing as reincarnation, Van Gogh was reincarnated as a twentieth century American science fiction writer, one who at least shared his karma. Phillip K Dick was a tenacious hack who cranked out 121 short stories and thirty six novels. He slogged out his life in obscurity, dire poverty and occasional mental breakdowns for the sci fi and horror pulps, waiting for his big break that never came. In 1963 the Scott Meredith Literary Agency gave him the kiss-off, dumped all of his unsold stories back on him, and cleaned him off their client list. Don’t let the door hit your ass on the way out, buddy.

“Nobody bought his shitty books either.” I say to the devil on my shoulder.

He moved on to that big typewriter in the sky in 1982. After his death, “Blade Runner”, Total Recall”, “Paycheck”, “Scanners”, “The Matrix Trilogy” and “Minority Report” were all made from his short stories. Not even his novels – his short stories! Stories he wrote when he and his wife Jan were reduced to eating dog food.

Now on the other end of the rainbow, the end where bluebirds sing down there in the Valley of The Jolly Green, we have Penelope Ashe.

In 1968 "demure Long Island housewife" Penelope Ashe wrote a book called “Naked Came The Stranger”. It was a "Big Money" blockbuster and rode the New York Times bestseller list for weeks churning out fantastic loads of money. Hollywood beat down her door and in 1975 the movie by Radley Metzer came out in spite of a small problem.

The small problem came out at the height of the book’s popularity, around the time Phillip Dick was still exploring the possibilities of Gaines Burgers. David Frost (“Frost/Nixon”, that David Frost) scored an interview with the fiesty Penelope Ashe who had been doing the rounds of interview shows, mostly on the radio. On the David Frost show, while the orchestra played “A Pretty Girl is Like a Melody” nine guys in suits came out one at a time.

In fact this was only a piece of the real Penelope Ashe. The entire Penelope Ashe was more like five women, and nineteen men, 24 writers in all, coordinated by Mike McGrady, an editor at “Newsday”. McGrady and his bunch were convinced that if you loaded a book with enough graphic sex, regardless of anything else, and promoted it like crazy, it would be a "Big Money" best seller, along the lines of Harold Robbins and Jacqueline Susann. They each wrote portions of a loosely conceived plot, independently of each other, resulting in a kind of goofy hash but with plenty of sex. The hardest part for McGrady was that some of the chapters were too good and had to be dumbed down to Big Money quality he was trying to imitate. Explaining the hoax in the book "Stranger Than Naked" McGrady said he laid down the rules to his staff "There will be an unremitting emphasis on sex. Also true excellence in writing will be quickly blue pencilled into oblivion."

“You're being an asshole about this, kid.” Says the devil on my shoulder. “Some folks got it. Some folks don't.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” I say. “Back up a second. It doesn’t work that way.”

Failure does not equal defeat. Rejection does not equal failure or mediocrity. The problem you have with figuring out if you’re no good or just unappreciated is that creativity comes from the same murky swamp that spirituality does. Both defy measurement. Both are approaches towards that kind of truth which is often indistinguishable from insanity. The search for that slippery truth, whether by art or religion is a choice between tried and true formulas and improvisation. The formulas will take you so far and no farther. To get past where the road turns dark takes genuine faith, guts and honest friends. To have faith, you have to be willing to pay the price. The price is this: you have to build an ark.

You build your ark knowing the voice in your head might either be God or just a shortage of lithium and when that last animal gets loaded in, all you can do is wait and see if it rains. You have to understand one thing - the rain is not your problem or even your business. Your job is to build the ark. Specifically, your job is to be crazy enough to build an ark. To build an ark, you have to have the special madness of a person who can conceive an ark and see it through to the end, and that means you have to be willing to fail. Rejection is part of the deal you’ve signed on for. If you're going to risk it all, its better to go down swinging for the fences.

"So what are you doing now?" says the devil who lives on my shoulder.

"Just stuff." I say.

"What stuff?" he says.

"I'm building an ark." I say.

"No, you're not. You’re writing another shitty story." he says.

"So, some arks are made out of words." I say.

"No one will read it." he says.

"I suppose." I say.

"So whattaya?" he says.

"I dunno." I say. "I guess what it is; I just really like doing it."




Fiction By C. Sanchez-Garcia

http://csanchezgarcia.blogspot.com/

http://www.myspace.com/csanchez_garcia

Rejection Sucks!

Yup, it does, royally!

As any author who has submitted more than a couple of pieces knows, rejection is part of this business. No matter how good you are, how polished and fascinating the story is, it's not always what the publisher is looking for. I know I've submitted work and been rejected with comments such as, please submit again, your writing style is excellent, but the content just wasn't what we were looking for. Now, that's encouraging! It's the form letters that tell an author nothing. Sorry, your story, Joe's Amazing Jack Off Stories, has been rejected.

I've spoken to publishers over the years and learned how to increase my odds. Wink, wink! I'll share the little bits of knowledge with you all and hopefully it'll help. Reading the guidelines or the calls for submission is number one. Okay, following them is right up there too. From what I've gathered, this is pretty huge, enormous even, so read it again, Read the guidelines and follow them, to the letter.

My first publisher told me that over 50% of submission were rejected unread. Shocking, yes? His guidelines weren't difficult to follow, in fact they were simple and he accepted all forms of romance and erotica, with the exception of the usual, beastie stuff, kiddies or necrophilia. But often, when he opened an email, the authors had neglected to send the information he needed. Stuff like name, address, contact info. How said author expected to be paid or contacted was beyond the publisher. He simply deleted the ms unread. There were lots more waiting, so why would he worry about Joe or Jane Shmuck who'd messed up?

All righty, you've read the guidelines/submission call and spent that extra time making sure your story fit. It's exactly what the publisher is looking for. Format is the next thing to thing very seriously about. Making the page a pretty pink and your font that sexy swirly script might go over well for you. But, this poor publisher has to wade through dozens of stories a day, if not more. Pity him or her. Think about the hours they spend in front of the computer and how sore their eyes might get trying to disipher your pretty text. If the font is red on pink, said publisher might actually upchuck and that wouldn't be good. Number two, keep the font simple. Most publishing houses will accept Times New Roman if they don't specify something else in their guides. Yup, back to the guides. They may actually tell you what font, spacing, indents, all of that stuff. READ THEM D**M CAREFULLY!

I really can't stress that enough. New authors seem to sometimes think it doesn't matter. Or it only matters to the others submitting work. More established authors are almost as guilty. Some seem to think that because they've got ten books under their belts, the editing staff won't mind if they don't format properly. Well, dumbasses, it matters. LOL It matters a lot. It's called professionalizm and is huge.

Refusing to give a publisher your correct contact information is also something that will find you on the wrong side of the publishing door. You can rationalize and say you can't trust anyone on the internet. Okay, that's a little paranoid, but really, do you want to be published? Very few authors, insert miniscule number here, will manage to snag a contract with a big NY publishing house, especially on the first book. Many authors begin their publishing careers online. Many are happy to stay there. An epublisher is as legimate a publisher as any other. They need information to work with you. Your phone number, your snail mail address, all that and possibly more. Mine also asks for my next of kin, in case I get run over by a truck. Royalty payments don't stop when an author dies. I can determine who gets mine and I believe that's a very good thing. So, before you hit that send button or drop that ms into the post, decide if you trust the publisher.

If you can't trust the publisher, don't send your submission. Period!

I mean think about it. If your story/book is accepted, how are you planning on getting paid those royalties you're hoping for? Some epublishers pay via paypal, some send you a check. Some actually send payment directly to your bank account. This is a job, even if it's not your day job that pays most of your bills, buys groceries and puts bread on the table. If you get published, you will receive money for it. I hope you do anyway.

These really are the basics, but they're so often neglected it's painful. Follow them and your chances of getting your toe in the door are much greater. Be willing to work with an editor is also up there. Many publishing houses have their own likes and dislikes when it comes to both grammar and style. Don't argue unless it's something you feel very strongly about. When you get your contract, read it. If something doesn't sit right with you, ask about it. If you're unsure of something, ask. Any publisher worth his or her weight in salt will be happy to explain this kind of thing or get you in touch with someone on their staff who has the time.

Wow, this turned into a business lesson didnt it? Once you get a couple of submission, rejections and acceptances under your belt, you'll find it's not a lot easier, but it is something that you become familiar with and can do without pulling your hair out. You'll never like the rejections, but you will hopefully see fewer of them. I know I still get my share, but I also try new things and sometimes finding homes for these experiments isn't all that simple. I do write a lot for publishers I know, places I can generally count on an acceptance. But, testing new waters is always a draw for me.

Anyone else have pointers for new authors? Stories about rejections or acceptances that made you laugh? I'd love to hear them.

Thanks so much for dropping by. Have an awesome Tuesday

Hugs.

Typical...ouch.

By Jamie Hill

Rejection.

According to Wikipedia (so it must be true) : The word "rejection" was first used in 1415. The original meaning was "to throw" or "to throw back". Makes sense to me.

Every author has a tale about that first rejection. I've told my story numerous times...an outrageous, 120K manuscript and 27 rejection letters...I barely knew what I was doing back then. That book didn't get published until I knocked it down to a tight 30K.

Instead of rehashing that tale, today I'm going to talk about reviews. Obviously the word rejection shouldn't go hand in hand with the word 'reviews', but occasionally, ouch. In my defense, I've received many more good and decent reviews than negative ones. But those first few bad and so-so comments stuck with me.

There was the man (I'm picturing a middle-aged, paunchy man) who didn't care for my first romantic suspense novel and said it read like a romance novel intended for women. Huh? Excuse me? He was obviously not my target audience.


Some reviewers haven't liked my sex scenes, thought the supposedly sexy dialogue was cheesy, and didn't think I'd rounded out my characters enough. These are all points other people/reviewers have loved about my writing, which goes to show taste is subjective. An early reviewer rated my story in an anthology very low, suggesting it smacked of incest because my ghost was being promiscuous in front of her ghost father.

Oops. My ghost bad.

Just today I opened my email to another review. I'll share the last line with you.

It is short, which made it easier to get through and fans of the author’s writing may enjoy this story, as it’s typical of the writing and plot of her offerings.

Ouch.

One of my critics said, "That's just not the type of book I like to read." (I hate to break it to you, Mom, that one was written before I discovered I enjoyed writing erotic romance. You don't want to read what I'm writing these days.) I'm fairly sure she knows it. If she doesn't, there's a disclaimer on my website saying if you're under 18 or Jamie's mother, don't go any further.

Fortunately, there are people (and reviewers) who like my work and seem to get what I'm trying to do.

Some of my favorites include:

The talented Jamie Hill creates a story of romance and suspense that is both sensual and realistic.

A short story that will have readers seeing the light that is Jamie Hill.

Jamie Hill is at the top of her game with her new erotic release and I look forward to reading more from her in the future!

Bottom line for me...rejection sucks. It stings, but I try not to sweat the small stuff and take joy where I can find it. The 'light that is Jamie Hill' line brings a smile to my face every time.

*G*

Have a great week, and Happy Easter to those who celebrate it.

How to sell your soul and avoid rejection

by Lisabet Sarai


I have a confession to make. Rejection doesn't bother me much. I almost feel embarrassed to admit that, unlike some authors, I don't burst into tears, smash china against the wall, curse the editor, go out and get drunk, or sulk in my room for a day when I get the news that one of my submissions has been rejected. Obviously, I'd rather have my work accepted, but when it's not, I'm relatively philosophical.

My equanimity in the face of rejection derives from two sources. First, I'm not as emotionally invested in publishing my writing as many authors. I started writing on a lark. I continue for the fun of it, for the little bit of cash it brings in, and most of all to please my readers. I know that I write reasonably well, but I have no illusions of being a Great Writer. My scribblings explore the many facets of love and lust, occasionally in relation to spirituality, but I have no deep conflicts that I am trying to resolve, no heavy messages to deliver, no absolute Truth to impart. Sometimes I feel that I am not a "real" author, since I don't burn with the overwhelming desire to share my insights with the world. In the larger scheme of things, it doesn't matter much whether I'm published or not.

The second reason that I don't get too upset when my work is rejected is that, quite honestly, it doesn't happen very often. Again, I'm almost ashamed to say this. I'm well aware of the struggles some of my colleagues face, trying to get their work published. My debut novel, Raw Silk, was contracted by the first publisher to whom I submitted it. Of course, the book was more or less tailored to fit the guidelines of that publisher (Black Lace). And it is true that they rejected my next two novel proposals -- because they ventured too far from the formula, I suspect. However, both were accepted by the next publisher I tried (the now defunct Blue Moon Books), an imprint that handled a broader range of erotic fiction.

Much of what I write is targeted for a particular publisher or at least a specific genre. Most of my short stories are written in response to calls for submissions that detail what the editor is seeking. This significantly increases the odds of being accepted. In fact, when my work is rejected, it is mostly because it's not a good fit to what the editor wants. When I first starting submitting to Total-E-Bound, which focuses on erotic romance, Claire (the wonderful owner of TEB) rejected everything that I sent her because 1) it didn't have a happy ending or 2) it didn't focus on a core relationship or 3) it was written in the first person present, a perspective that I like but she abhors. Now that I understand the conventions of the romance genre (as well as her personal pet peeves!), my acceptance rate has gone way up.

I think that the people who receive the most rejections are often the authors who are most creative. Their work doesn't fit nicely into the cubbyholes of a popular genre. Their stories are perhaps too long or too complex or too challenging, emotionally or intellectually, to be appealing to most publishers. Garce (who proposed this week's topic) is that kind of writer. I know that he's gotten far more rejections than acceptances, at least so far. My heart aches for him, because I love his work and I think that the world should read it. He has a lot to say -- a lot more than I do.

Yet I'm more successful than he is, at least if you judge success by number of publications. Something is not right about this. It definitely makes me uncomfortable.

We authors perennially bemoan the short-sightedness of an industry which looks not for the fresh voice or the original premise but for more of what is already selling. But that does make it easier to avoid rejection. You just have to give the publishers what they want.

Am I really that bad? A literary whore? A hack who can bang out a three or four thousand words a day, once I sit down to it, with the comfortable conviction that if my first choice of publisher won't accept it, my second choice probably will? Is there no room for inspiration? For flashes of insight? For a truly original approach to my chosen genre?

Well, I try. I look for new angles. I overturn stereotypes in a quest for novelty. But if I want to be published, I can't stray too far from the publisher's specs (and perhaps the readers' expectations. I'm brought back to the issues we raised when we talked about genres a few months ago.)

I've always been good at following instructions. (Hey, I'm a submissive at heart!) I know how to mold my writing into the shape that will at least be acceptable to my target publisher and audience. Rarely does my writing take over and drive me furiously in unexpected directions, the way other authors report. It's tamed.

This makes me somewhat sad. I envy them that madness, the thrill of being overwhelmed by inspiration, "the buzz" that is so intoxicating but which seizes me so rarely. On the other hand, as I add credits to my publishing history, I recognize that other authors probably envy me.

Is Thin Sexy?

By: Selena Illyria

Too thin is just unhealthy and not sexy at all. There is so much outer pressure to be this impossible figure that may be right for some but not for all. Women and men come in all shapes and sizes, heights and weights. We can’t all be the same, then we’d be lemmings. And that would be bad. I like diversity and difference, it makes life interesting.

As a woman it’s hard not to feel some of that pressure to be thin. I don’t want to be a size zero and I doubt I could. I love to eat. So that’s a nooo, on being a size zero. I just want to be healthy. And that’s what’s important, being healthy. Turning into a toothpick is not.

Despite the numerous covers that profess to women the ten ways lose weight there’s always one article that says, “Be proud of your curves,” or “Be comfortable in your own skin,” how can we be encouraged to lose weight and then you turn around and tell us to be comfortable in our own skin, you called us fat! Not directly, but just enough to makes us take a second look at the delicious dark chocolate candy bar or regret that chocolate chip muffin.

How can we be ourselves if we’re being told ourselves isn’t sexy or fantastic or us? Also, there’s that whole if you’re not thin you can’t get the guy. Says who? Oh right, movies and magazines and yes, even romance novels. Well, that’s changing right? It may not be a full on revolution but things are changing and will continue to change. Thin is out being real is in.

At least that’s what I’d like to be believe. In a world of tummy tucks, a pinch here and snip there, what’s real and genuine is what’s important. Be who you are, because at the end of the day, that’s all you’re left with and that’s what matters.

So is thin sexy? No, not if you live your life trying to become that toothpick on the catwalk in clothing that’s been designed more for a hanger than a person. So eat that candy bar, take a bite of that muffin and be happy in who you are. After all, there are no stunt doubles in life.

Here are a few suggestions on stories with real women who aren’t toothpicks (Warning the subject matter of these books may not be to some readers liking, all books are erotic of nature):

The Big, Blooming and Wild Series from Changeling Press

Club Shadowlands by Cherise Sinclair

Splitting Hares by Camille Anthony

The Bound Series by Dawn Montgomery

The Yeti Series by Celia Kyle

Over the Wall by Theolyn Boese

Redesigning Adele by Talya Basco

Wicked Intentions by Tuesday Morrigan

Big Girls don’t Die by Crystal Jordan

Polly’s Perilous Pleasures by Daisy Dexter Dobbs

The Calendar Girls series by Madison Hayes

Fetish by Sherri L. King

Full Bodied Charmer by Marilyn Lee

Ordinary Charm by Anya Bast

These are just a few authors, there are so many more.

Some real women who are considered sexy:

Nigella Lawson

Sara Ramirez

America Ferrerra

Mo’Nique

Tocarra Jones

Jill Scott

----

And now for a little about our guest blogger, Selena Illyria.

I/R Author, Selena Illyria was born with need to write and an over active imagination. She loves to write stories that push her imagination. When she’s not writing, she loves to read many different genres of books, watch some of her favorite movies (too many to be named) and televisions shows. She also, loves to listen to some of her favorite musical artists. All of these things help inspire her to write. She does believe in the quote above. She does believe that part of writing does bare a part of the soul.

For a taste of her work:

With His Mind

by Selena Illyria

publisher: Changeling Press
cover art by Bryan Keller
ISBN: 978-1-60521-057-5
Genre(s): Futuristic, Paranormal, Sci-Fi
Theme(s): Interracial
Series: Family Heirlooms
Length: Novella

To Buy

Blurb:

Stacia Allen loves her job and has no desire to lose it. But she’s been “friends with benefits” with Jason Montano for months… and he’s her boss. And now he says he wants to “talk” about their arrangement.

Jason has a confession to make. He’s in love with Stacia… and he’s a telepath. To even the playing field, he plans to give her a family heirloom that will let her read his mind in return and also see images he projects. Oh, the sexy possibilities!

To learn more about Selena:

Website: www.selenaillyria.com
Pink Chair Diaries: www.pinkchairdiaries.com
Books: www.selenaillyria.com/books

Does this blog post make me look fat?

by Helen E. H. Madden

Seriously, I have to ask, because I don't usually blog about my weight. I'm considered the skinny-minny in my circle of friends, thought I'm not really skinny. Not fat either, just somewhere in between. However, I have friends who are overweight and I don't usually feel comfortable talking about what I weigh, even though weight does seem to be the topic to discuss among mommy bloggers (of which I am one, as well as an erotica writer).

So what is it about weight and fat, anyway? Why are we so obsessed with it? It's already been pointed out in previous posts this week that we have an obsession with what other people weigh, as though we like to point and stare and say "Hey! Look at the fat people!" Stupid isn't it? Like people who are carrying extra weight deserve to be ridiculed and punished.

I've often heard people say that being fat is a sign of over-indulgence. People who are fat don't just eat too much; they're lazy, slothful, indolent. I don't think I have ever been lazy or slothful. Certainly not in the past couple of years. Between two small children and my writing career, I've been exhaustingly busy.

I've also been overweight, in spite of the fact that I am a so-called skinny-minny.

I haven't been a lot overweight. I've just been stuck with 10 pounds left over from my second pregnancy that I haven't been able to lose to save my life. It's only a problem because my favorite clothes don't fit very well, and because my bum knees ache more at with those extra 10 pounds hanging around my ass. There's also the little problem of the extra weight affecting my menstrual cycle. I don't know why, but weighing an extra 10 pounds causes me to retain more water during my period, so that I'm suddenly carrying an extra 15 pounds and nothing I own fits. Plus they make my period more painful. It's kind of a bummer, you know? So I decided the extra weight needed to go.

But the weight didn't want to budge. I did my damnedest for two years to exercise and eat right, but nothing seemed to work. I went swimming two or three times a week, cranking out the laps. I lifted weights and hopped on the elliptical machine for 30 minutes at a time. I spent five hours a week in karate classes. I sweated and strainged. I fit as much exercise as I could into my busy schedule, and I always looked for new ways to fit in more. Because exercise and activity would burn calories and make me lost weight, right?

Wrong. I'd exercise one day, and be dead tired the next. With two kids and a full workload, I didn't have the luxury of sleeping in, so I'd get up and push myself through my schedule. Even though I ate healthy meals, I was constantly hungry, craving snacks I knew I shouldn't eat - sugar, fat, caffeine. Bad stuff, but those snacks were be about the only thing that could keep me awake so I ate them and trudged through my day - a day that usually ended around midnight, thanks to my workload. Then I'd crawl into bed, get up five hours later and drag myself through the whole routine again.

I went through the past two years like that, always tired, always hungry, and never losing any weight. Things finally came to a head around last Christmas when I got pissed off about not having enough time to enjoy the holidays. My schedule was packed with exercise, work, my daughter's school, and that was it. My inbox was overflowing to the point of craziness. I had no time for anything else, no hobbies, no fun, no lazing around. I had pared down my life to the bare minimum just so I could keep up with my crazy schedule, and it sucked. I wanted to bake cookies, dammit! I wanted to laze on the couch and read the Sunday paper while sipping a hot coffee and eating a piece of toast! I wanted a hot bath with bath oils and smelly candles and a trashy novel!

In short, I wanted back the simple things in my life that I had given up to keep pace with everything else that was going on.

It has taken me four months to turn things around. Slowly but surely I have cleared stuff off my calendar, and in light of this year, I am rethinking next year's schedule. I don't want to work myself to death. I want my simple pleasures, my self-indulgences, back in my life for good.

To give myself more time to enjoy my life and my family, I cut way back on exercise for a while as I straightened out my work. When I got the work under control and could finally get to bed most nights before 10PM, I found a way to exercise that wasn't going to demand too much of me. The Hubster bought me a Wii Fit, and I've been having a blast playing silly games on the thing, all the while losing weight. Not much, just a few pounds, but I'm finally on my way back to my prepregnancy weight.

It seems so strange and yet so wonderful to finally not bust my ass all the time and just relax instead. I had a nice lazy day this past Sunday. I ate breakfast while lingering over the funny pages. I had a long hot bath and read one of my trashy shojo manga (Japanese romance comics - SWEET!). I folded some laundry, had some tea, played around with some artwork on the computer, read stories with the kids, drank a glass of wine and hopped onto the Wii for a bit. A lazy day. A fun day.

A day of indulgence. I want more of them. I want to spend a day over Spring break baking pie with my oldest daughter. I want to pick dandelions with the youngest. I want to sleep in curled up next to my husband. I want to soak in a tub surrounded by flickering candles while reading "Pride and Prejudice and Zombies" (it's a real book, no kidding!).

The more I relax and take time to indulge myself, the better I feel. The fact that I'm losing weight as I calm down does not surprise me now. If I can work too hard, if I exhaust myself trying to do everything, I have to pay for it somehow.

If you're having trouble losing weight, try taking a break. Enjoy a nice dinner, enjoy a nice life. Enjoy yourself, no matter what you weigh.

Zaftig Goddess, by Helen E. H. Madden

Does size matter?

By Kim Dare.

Every week I help out in a local slimming group - No, not Weight Watchers, lol. A different one. You’re actually allowed to eat with us ;)

So, every week I see about 250 women, and a few men, who want to lose weight.

Some want to lose weight for health reasons. Some want to lose weight because they want to fit into a certain wedding dress or a certain bikini. There are a fair number who I’m pretty sure come because it’s a nice place to spend an hour or so catching up with their friends and talking about new recipes. And yes, I think some women may come to lose weight because they want to look and feel sexier.

I’ve been thinking about this topic since it was first scheduled in our calendar. And I found myself wondering which of the women who are trying to lose weight with us I would consider to be sexy.

They are all different shapes and ages and sizes, but the conclusion I came to is that sexiness has nothing to do with any of that. It’s all about attitude – to life in general and to their weight as well.

Take two women who come to group wanting to lose X pounds. Let’s assume they want to do that because they want to feel sexier.

One woman comes to group every week. Most weeks she loses. Other weeks she has a birthday party or some other special occasion – she goes out and enjoys herself. She puts on. But she gets back on the plan and keeps going. She loses those X pounds.

She fits back into the dress she wore last summer. She feels a bit more confident about herself as a result. Maybe she finds she has a bit more energy. She puts herself back in a healthy weight range and feels proud of herself. Her curves are still there.

She feels sexier and that makes her sexier.

The other woman also comes to group every week. She doesn’t think she’s losing it fast enough. She wants to lose every week. She cuts down what she eats to the point where she makes herself miserable. She won’t go out and enjoy herself. She stresses about her body and judges each little flaw until she doesn’t see anything positive at all.

Even though she achieves the same results as the other lady we were just talking about – she doesn’t feel good about herself. She doesn’t feel more confident. She doesn’t feel sexier and no matter what she looks like – that makes it almost impossible for her to be sexy.

The woman’s weight or size or dress size isn’t important. I’d go so far as to say it isn’t really relevant. Their attitude to their weight – that’s a much bigger factor.

The slimming organisation we belong to has a minimum weight you can be for your height – we won’t help you go below that for health reasons. But when you decide what weight you want to be, there is no maximum weight at which you can set your target.

If you want to go by a BMI chart, that’s fine. If you’re back in your black jeans and happy, that’s fine too.

I think the secret to being a weight / size / whatever that makes you feel sexy is to be a weight / size whatever that makes you feel good about yourself.

As for me? Well, I can’t say I’ve ever wanted to look like one of the women in the magazines or on the catwalk – even though I’m of the generation that’s supposed to be obsessed with it.

A few years ago, when I was deciding what weight I should try to achieve and maintain, I just looked at one of those height to weight charts and picked somewhere around the middle of the healthy weight range.

I’m currently 5 foot 2 inches, and 8 stone 13 pounds (125 pounds if you’re not in the UK). Which is apparently in the middle of healthy.

I go in and out in pretty much all the places I’m supposed to go in and out. There are a few stretch marks here and there and a bit of cellulite – but nothing that’s going to ruin my life.

I eat healthy-ish. If I put on a bit, I eat healthier. If I lose a bit then maybe I add in a few more treats.

But when it comes down to it, my weight has far less impact on my self esteem, sexiness level or anything else than whether or not I’m having a good hair day. High heels make me feel sexier. So does nice perfume and nice underwear. A little bit of leather never did anyone’s self esteem any harm either.

Size? In this case I have to say it really doesn’t matter.