Project Happily Ever After » Random Musings

How to Become a Writer: A Post to My Younger Self

Alisa — Mon, 12 Dec 2011 16:06:52 +0000

I frequently get emails from aspiring writers, bloggers and authors. They tell me that they’ve always wanted to be writers. They ask, “Do you have any advice?” That question often causes all of my thoughts to vaporize from my brain. After all it’s quite difficult to compress four years of J School and nearly 20 years experience into one short email. Usually I write something like, “Just keep trying. Never stop learning. Good luck!” I imagine people get those emails from me and think, “Gee, thanks for nothing.”

I want to be more helpful than that, so I wrote this post so I can refer aspiring writers to it when they ask me for advice. The post contains all of the things I wish I had known when I was just starting out in all of the following fields: newspapers, books, magazines and freelance.

In the beginning, you will be filled with ambition. You will want your words to change the world, win awards, and gain you much recognition. Your elder peers will tell you that most people lack the maturity and life experience to write anything other than drivel for at least a decade. You will become angry and set out to prove these people wrong. You will believe that you alone can be the exception to this rule. Ten or so years later when you are finally writing words that move people, you will realize that your elder peers were right and you will be humbled.
Read—a lot.
Study the craft of other writers. Never stop studying the craft of other writers.
Stop looking for short cuts to becoming a better writer. You become better by writing and by reading good writing. There is no substitute for either.
You will find that most professional writers are irritated by the question, “Do you have any advice?” If you ask enough professional writers this question, you will likely hear one or more of them sarcastically say something like, “Gee, I’ve always wanted to be a brain surgeon. Do you have any advice?” It’s for this reason that you should ask very specific questions like, “I have this piece that I can’t place anywhere. Here are all of the outlets I’ve tried. Do you have any suggestions?”
Never stop learning. Go to conferences. Read blogs about writing. Buy and read books about writing. Attend lectures about writing.
Just when you think you’ve mastered technology, it will change. If you fail to embrace this, you will end up in therapy.
It would be nice if you could just do the one thing you love and are good at. In reality, you will spend a good portion of your time marketing yourself, asking people to pay you, doing accounting, networking, and pitching story ideas to editors. Accept it as part of the job or you will end up in therapy.
Help other writers whenever possible.
If you want people to read and respond to your words, write for the reader and not for yourself. Words are not about what you want to say. They are about what other people want to read.
Before you become a writer, you will think that the title of “writer” is glamorous. It’s only after you become one that you will realize that most of society thinks of writers as people who goof off and drink coffee all day long. As a result, they will ask you to watch their children during the day, to walk their dogs, and to go shopping with them—because they assume you don’t have anything better to do.
You don’t have to write about Pulitzer worthy topics to change the world with your words. You can change the world by writing about people who rarely receive attention and recognition. You can change the world one person at a time by being kind and compassionate with every editor you deal with. And you can do it by changing the lives of your readers: helping them to become healthier, happier, smarter, more relaxed, and more motivated to help their fellow humans in need.
You will suffer from writer envy. You will envy other writers for their Amazon sales ranks, book deals, awards, magazine placements, titles and even for their friends. If you fixate on how they don’t deserve what they have, you will only create unnecessary misery for yourself. Rejoice in the good fortune of other writers. It will open up the creative energy you need to create similar good fortune in your own career.
You will get rejected – a lot. This does not mean that you suck, should change careers, or don’t have what it takes. Every famous writer you can think of has been rejected many, many times.
Your writing will be criticized—a lot. It will be criticized by readers who wish you’d written something else. It will be described as “stilted” “unimaginative” “disappointing” and “nothing new” by reviewers. It will be torn apart by wanna-be and aspiring writers who envy you. And it will be ripped to shreds by various editors. If you embrace the criticism and learn from it, your writing will improve. If you ignore it and rail against it, your writing won’t mature and you will end up in therapy.
There will be times when you will be convinced that you are washed up, have no more good ideas, and should never have become a writer in the first place. It’s almost certain that you feel this way because you haven’t been getting enough sleep or because you have PMS—or both.
It’s okay to use passive voice as long as you are doing it for a good reason.
The best cure for writer’s block is a mortgage. If that doesn’t work, try taking a nap or a walk.
If you want to make a living as a writer, then learn two important skills: 1) How to write about any topic, even topics you know nothing about 2) How to write about the same topic over and over again. You will do both in your career.
When interviewing people, shorten the wind up and get to the questions faster.
When interviewing people, stop talking about yourself so much. Ask questions. Listen. Ask more questions.
You will make mistakes. When you do, apologize.
Lots of people will help you advance in your career. Thank them.
Deadlines are important. If you are going to miss one, let your editor know.
You will spend your career dreaming that some day you will write the perfect piece—the one that requires not one change by an editor. This is a nice pipe dream, one that most writers share but few ever experience in real life. After all, editors edit. That’s their nature.
There will be a few people who believe in you. There will be many who don’t. Learn how to believe in yourself.
No award or accomplishment will ever give you the satisfaction of a thank you letter from a reader whose life your words changed for the better.
You will spend many years wondering when you will “make it.” One day you will know you have must have made it at some point because you no longer wonder about when it will happen.
If you want to get hired again, find out what your editor wants and then write it. If you don’t want to get hired again, write what you think your editor should want.
Start with the big picture and slowly work your way to the small. Nail down the outline, then fill in the information, then add the rich voice and funny turns of phrases. Finally get the spelling and grammar down.
Early in your career you will worry that someone will discover your weakness and broadcast to the world that you are a terrible speller. Later in your career, you will tell people, “I’m a terrible speller” and it won’t phase you because you will know that you are a great idea person.
There will be times when you show your writing to friends and family and notice that they don’t really care. At first this will anger you. It’s important to remind yourself of two things. 1) They are not your audience. 2) How would you feel if they offered to take you with them to work for a day so they could show you what they do for a living?
There will be many times during your career when you will consider becoming something else. Eventually you will realize that there is nothing you would rather do than write.

What do you wish you could tell your younger self? It can be about writing, about your career, about relationships or about life in general?

Learn more about Alisa's book, the story of how she went from wishing her husband dead to falling back in love.

To find out how the book has changed lives click here.

Want to discuss Project: Happily Ever After at book club or your church group? Click here for an entertaining guide. Go to ProjectHappilyEverAfter.com for more marriage advice or to converse with other recovering divorce daydreamers.

A Sweet Story About My Husband

Alisa — Sat, 11 Jun 2011 02:14:11 +0000

I wasn’t going to write this post. I wasn’t going to write it because it’s about a topic that I’ve found so hard to write about that I’ve avoided writing it all week. In fact, I had to drink a beer in order to bring myself to write this post.

I also wasn’t going to write it because I asked you what you wanted to read on this site, and only a few of you indicated that you wanted to read sweet stories about my husband. I get it. If you are in a bad place, the last thing you want to read is a story about someone in a good place.

But you know what? I’m going to tell the story anyway.

I am because I told this story to a good friend earlier this week and her reaction was, “Aw.” She didn’t say, “Really? With everything going on in my life you have to go and tell me about your husband being sweet.”

No, she rather enjoyed it.

So for those of you who would rather I only write about the times my husband screws up and causes me to plan every detail of his funeral: stop reading.

For everyone else: enjoy, but note that this is a long story with many twists and turns. And before I tell you the story I must let you know one thing about me. It is this: I don’t cry very often. I might have a few stereotypical female traits – such as my shouting “ewww! What’s that?!” whenever I see a bug, worm or small reptile or amphibian – but I am not your usual tear and snot factory. And when I do cry, it’s usually about something touching like my kid’s holiday pageant or the scene in the Justin Bieber movie when he finally gets to Madison Square Garden.

But sad things? I’m basically your regular old rock.

So when, the other day, I happened to drive past an accident right after it all went down, my tears were an aberration. I was not completely sure what had taken place. But I saw people on the ground doing CPR. I saw a baby stroller in the middle of the street. I noticed that none of the cars seemed dented in the least. And everyone standing around looked as if their hearts had fallen out of their bodies. They were ashen.

“Oh my God, I think I am going to cry,” I said, not realizing I was talking out loud. I could feel the surge of emotion rising up from my heart.

“Mommy, what’s wrong?” my kid asked from the back seat.

“Nothing. Don’t look. Nothing. It’s just something really sad. It’s something really, really sad. Oh my God. It’s so sad.”

And the tears came. I pulled into a parking lot. I got out of the car. I wiped the tears from my face. The next thing I knew, my completely dry faced kid was hugging me and saying, “It’s okay, Mommy. Don’t cry. Why are you so sad?”

I didn’t want to upset her, so I stuffed it down as best I could. Eventually I said, “You saw that accident back there? I think a car hit a pedestrian, and I think the pedestrian was either a Mommy or a baby or a very small child.”

Later, I told my husband about it.

“I don’t know why it got to me like that. I saw it and I just thought, ‘That could be me. That could be her. Oh my God that poor person. That poor family.’”

He held me, but this isn’t the sweet part.

The next morning, I asked him. “Is it in the paper?” He told me it wasn’t. “Oh, good, maybe no one was seriously hurt,” I said.

The following day he told me, “I have bad news. It was in the paper today. A mom was walking across the street with her baby and her four year old. She held the 4 year old’s hand all the way across and they got to the other side. But then the 4 year old ran back to get a toy he dropped and was hit by a car. He’s in critical condition.”

“I think I’m going to throw up,” I said.

We did not discuss the matter after that. There was nothing more to say. We just went about our business. But my eyes teared up again, and he saw that and he knows that I don’t often cry at sad things. As I said, I usually only cry at happy things.

The next day he called me at work. He sounded happy.

“I am calling you with great news!”

I was thinking, “What? Do we have more money in our bank account than I realize? What?”

“The little kid who got hit by the car was upgraded to stable!”

“I love you,” I told him.

And just in case it’s not obvious, this is a sweet story because he would not have normally followed the stories about this car accident and about this kid. He hadn’t seen it. He had no reason to stay on top of it. He only made sure to look for the stories because he knew I wouldn’t be able to bring myself to read them, but he also knew that I wanted to know what they said.

That’s love.

Learn more about Alisa's book, the story of how she went from wishing her husband dead to falling back in love.

To find out how the book has changed lives click here.

Yes, you will want to read this

Alisa — Wed, 01 Jun 2011 16:37:13 +0000

Some of you have noticed the many changes going on here at ProjectHappilyEverAfter.com. I have given the site a new look, and I’ve changed up some of the regular content. Today I’d like to announce the latest change: a new sponsor for Reader of the Month. Cheap Rental Car Choices is now sponsoring each monthly Reader of the Month prize. That means no more gift certificates for sex toys. Sorry folks. But it does mean this: gift certificates for things that more of you will be able to cash in. Each month Cheap Rental Car Choices will award one reader with a day pass to a theme park in Orlando. The actual park will change from month to month, ranging from Disney World to Sea World to Universal. The first prize will be awarded at the end of June and it will be a pass that will get you into any Disney park of your choice. That’s a $90 value.

How do you get in the running to win? You just comment your finger tips off. On the last day of each month, I will pick one person from the Top Readers widget to your right. (Note: if you are reading on email, you’ll need to click through to the site to comment and to see the widget). The more comments you make, the more likely your name will appear in that widget.

For today, here’s what I’d like to know. What do you enjoy reading on this site? What do you sort of wish I wouldn’t include? Do you prefer that I only write about marriage? Or do you enjoy when I stray off topic from time to time? Do you keep reading for the initial reason you came to this site? Or do you stay for different reasons?

Please fill out the poll below. You can click on as many answers that apply. (Remember: if you are reading on email, click through to see the poll). And please elaborate in the comments. Thanks!

Note: There is a poll embedded within this post, please visit the site to participate in this post's poll.

Learn more about Alisa's book, the story of how she went from wishing her husband dead to falling back in love.

To find out how the book has changed lives click here.

Stuff My Kid Says

Alisa — Tue, 03 May 2011 15:41:14 +0000

I post this stuff on Facebook from time to time. If you are on Facebook with me, then you will have many deja vu moments. In fact, if you are on Facebook with me, don’t bother to read this post. You have better things to do. If you are not on Facebook with me, the following is a collection of sayings from my 6 year old. Someone should make a TV show about her.

We are driving past a car dealership. There’s a guy outside in a hot dog suit. The kid says, “If you dress up like a food, people are going to laugh at you.” Gospel.
We are driving past a golf course. The kid asks, “Mommy, don’t you think golf is boring?” I say, “Yes, it is.” She says, “They really should make it more interesting. Like, maybe they should putt the ball into someone’s bottom. That would be interesting, don’t you think?”I don’t know about you, but I think she’s onto something.
We are walking into a Barnes & Noble. The kid says, “Mommy, just so you know, you can’t steal anything in here.”
The kid says, “Mommy, if I ever bought your book, I would say it was a huge success.” I love that kid. I think I should rent her out. Other neurotic authors would pay a fortune to hear that sentence over and over again.
I’ve just rolled out of bed. The kid asks me to draw pictures of Mario and a few other characters. I do, despite the fact that I’m still half asleep. The kid says, “Mommy, that is not your best work.” Parenthood is thankless.
The kid asks me to draw a picture of a Pokemon. It is an incredibly complicated Pokemon to draw. I hurt my brain trying to draw it. I am proud of myself. I show it to her. The kid says, “Mommy, you know you can do better than that.”
The kid asks, “Mommy, can I make my hair spiky and color it red?” I say, “Not right now.” The kid says, “So when I’m 14 then?” I say, “Sure. Whatever.” A lot is going to happen in this house when this kid turns 14.
The teacher shows me a wonderful little story my kid wrote about about a chore she does around the house. It is about her pet gecko. The story is about how often she cleans the gecko’s cage. It’s about how she makes sure to keep the top on the cage so the gecko can’t escape. It’s about how the gecko has a tendency to smell. It’s about the food she feels the gecko. The teacher is quite proud of my kid’s story and about how much work my kid does around the house. I say, “This is interesting, but she doesn’t have a gecko.” My kid has fish, but she refuses to feed them or clean the aquarium. Later, I ask the kid about her gecko. She says, “I had no choice but to write it that way.” I suppose that’s because writing about feeding her fish would have been a lie.
The kid, as she lovingly pats my tummy, asks, “Mommy, why is your belly so fat?”
The kid says, “Mommy, I want to go back to school in September.” I say, “Huh? What?” The kid says, “Ha-Hah! I can’t believe you fell for that!” I say, “Fell for what?” She says, “That is the oldest joke in the book. I. CAN’T. BELIEVE. YOU. FELL. FOR. IT! Ha-hah! That’s so funny.” I’m still lost. I have a feeling I will always be lost.
The kid is upset with me. She says, “Mommy, you treat my feelings like smoked salmon!“
My kid falls off her bike. She gets up, shakes herself off, and shouts, “Stupid gravity!“
Business advice from my 6 year old: “If companies would treat people like their favorite stuffed animals, people would stick around longer.“
The kid says, “Oh, mommy, can you buy me some brains?” Me: “Hahahahahahahahaha.” Kid: “They’re $3.”
The kid says, “Mommy, this is why you can’t ice skate. You are trying too hard. When you try too hard, it makes it harder. When you stop trying so hard, it’s easy.” Little Buddha.
The kid says, “Mommy I deserve a wedgie. Do it.”
I ask, “Are you in love with Justin Bieber?” The kid says, “No, Daddy is.” I ask, “Daddy is in love with Justin Bieber!?!” The kid says, “Yeah, and I don’t know why.” Note: My husband prefers the Beastie Boys.
The kid says, “Who ever broke this is in big trouble.” I say, “I broke it. Am I in trouble?” The kid says, “No, it’s okay if you broke it. But if Daddy broke it, he’s in big trouble.” Poor Daddy.
On Christmas Day, the kid says, “I’m having a rough day with the toys I got!“
I ask my kid to put her bowl in the sink. She says, “You have two legs. Why don’t you do it?“

UPDATES

* I REALLY AND TRULY will be continuing the Save Your Marriage series tomorrow. Promise!

* Tony and Alisa DiLorenzo are hosting a 7 Day Sex Challenge next week. No, this isn’t a kinky love in. But it might be what your bedroom needs. Learn more about it here. I wrote about the benefits of having a sex challenge here.

* Happen magazine interviewed me about How to Revive a Dead Relationship.

* My husband and I appeared on CNN last week offering marriage secrets.

* Two friends of mine started a cool site for rejected essayists. I’m thrilled that they did not reject the essay I sent to them.

Learn more about Alisa's book, the story of how she went from wishing her husband dead to falling back in love.

To find out how the book has changed lives click here.

Peace Starts at Home

Alisa — Mon, 02 May 2011 22:20:07 +0000

This morning as I was walking my Doberman, I noticed an old man and his really old dachshund walking toward me. Both dog and master were wrinkled and moved forward slowly with a limp. Neither looked particularly happy.

As they approached, the old man enthusiastically said, “It’s a good day!”

A good day? I looked up. The sky was dark. It seemed as if it would rain at any moment.

At first I thought he was a prophet, sent from heaven to teach me to feel grateful for the small things in life. I was about to respond, “You’re right. Every day is a good day.” Before I could get the words out of my mouth, however, he said, “Bin Laden is gone! Can you believe it?”

For a brief moment, it was as if we knew one another. For those few minutes, this old man—whose name I do not know and who would not normally talk to me—and I were friends. We connected.

Later, back at home, my phone rang. It was my mom. She told me that my cousin Michael, who lives in DC, had run to the White House when he’d gotten the news last night. There he’d gathered with hundreds of people—none of whom he’d known, but all of whom were collectively feeling the same emotions. They were elated, all hoping and praying that now, finally, peace might be possible.

And peace very well might be possible, but not necessarily because Bin Laden is gone.
Peace might be possible because of our shared connection.

These moments are rare. They take place only once every 5 or 10 or 20 years—usually only after a tragedy like September 11^th or a success like sending a man to the moon.

Strangers don’t often spontaneously connect. Usually, they spontaneously disconnect. When strangers come in contact with one another, they build an invisible wall around each other. They pretend that the other does not exist. If you don’t believe me, spend a few hours riding up and down an elevator in a crowded building. You’ll see what I mean.

The proximity of people we don’t know threatens us. It creates anxiety.

And because we respond to that fear by building walls, we are less able to see that we all actually have more in common than we have differences.

This disconnect, however, goes well beyond just strangers. It’s pervasive. Many of my readers tell me, for instance, that there is no lonelier place than their own marriage beds. Many families these days spend more time connecting with a screen – a phone, an iPad, a computer, a gaming device – than with each other. Others tell me that they don’t feel comfortable around their own siblings or parents.

It’s for these reasons that I believe the rare moments when humans connect based on their shared feelings of euphoria or grief are an incredible opportunity. As humans, we like to sort people into black and white categories of good (Mother Teresa, Gandhi, the Dalai Lama) and evil (Bin Laden, Hitler, Pol Pot). This tendency to sort people into such black and white categories, however, is, in part, what causes us to disconnect and feel so separate from one another most of the time. We fear that our spouse, friend, siblings, neighbors, or parents are “evil,” so we build a wall around our hearts. Once we build a wall around our hearts, the very person we are protecting ourselves from perceives us as “evil” and builds a wall around theirs.

It’s a vicious cycle. Retaliation, unfortunately, often leads to retaliation.

Fear leads to more fear.

Anger leads to more anger.

Disconnect leads to more disconnect.

It’s only in finding the courage to tear down our own emotional walls and to connect with others that we will ever truly find peace at home, at work, and even in the Middle East.

If we could see beyond our walls and notice what we have in common, most of us wouldn’t feel so threatened.

I know this because I practiced it over the weekend when I happened to be in New York. While riding on subways and up and down crowded elevators, I practiced connecting with others rather than distancing myself from them. It required a certain amount of courage and vulnerability to do it, but the results were nothing short of amazing.

I had to force that connection because it doesn’t often come naturally.

But right now, for the briefest of moments, it is natural. It’s a window, an opportunity, one we could all use to foster peace at home and elsewhere.

Right now we are united in our shared humanity. Memorize this feeling. Study it. Know it.

Make it your goal to foster it everywhere you go.

We all have the capacity to do good or do evil while we are alive. Most of us, if we are being honest, will admit that we’ve done some of both during our lifetimes. That’s one thing that all humans have in common. We’re all deeply flawed.

But we also have something else in common: the ability to see beyond one another’s flaws and to love one another anyway.

Once we can do that at home—with our own spouses—will we be able to do it beyond our homes—with our friends, neighbors, and coworkers.

Eventually, if we all work at it, we’ll be able to do it with strangers.

And then we just might be able to find peace.

How will you be the peace your marriage needs? How can you start connecting with your spouse and your family now?

I’ll continue with the Save Your Marriage series tomorrow. I’ll also pick the rest of the prize winners.

Learn more about Alisa's book, the story of how she went from wishing her husband dead to falling back in love.

To find out how the book has changed lives click here.

A Long Life Remembered

Alisa — Mon, 14 Feb 2011 20:27:27 +0000

Grandma, circa 1990, as drawn by me

Grandma died last night. She was 94. It was not unexpected. She’s had dementia for many years, which means that she’s been slowly dying for quite a long time. She hasn’t known me for more than a year. The last time I visited, she called me Sally.

If there is such a thing as a good way to die, she had it. She caught pneumonia, went to sleep, and eventually died peacefully.

This is all supposed to be comforting and, to some degree, I think it is. I’m not distraught. I’m just sad.

I find myself wanting to do something constructive with her death. She’s been sick for a long time, but it’s only now—after her death—that I find myself wanting to make sense out of her life. I want to know what I will remember.

It’s silly, isn’t it, to want to know now what I will remember later? As if I had a choice.

When my maternal grandmother died roughly 20 years ago, I thought I knew what I would remember about her, too. I didn’t.

Memories would suddenly surface when I walked into a building and smelled roach killer mixed with mothballs. Her Bronx New York apartment had always smelled like that. The power would go out. I would run around my house looking for a candle, stub my toe in the dark, and then I would think of the time the power went out in her building in the Bronx and the elevator didn’t work and I helped to carry her wheelchair down 7 flights of steps.

I wonder what will trigger memories about my paternal grandmother. Will I think about her every night as I get into bed and crawl underneath the quilt she made me for my wedding? Will I do it every time I look at the picture I drew of her during the summer I lived her with and Grandpa? Will it happen every time I eat pudding or pie, two of the foods she was so good at making?

I don’t know. I do know that today I am remembering her quiet strength and her gentle spirit. She never raised her voice. Even during the summer I lived her with, she patiently waited and waited for the day I did not curse, and then she thanked me. Until she thanked me for going through a day without cursing, it had never occurred to me that my language bothered her.

Grandma was a quilter, and it takes a patient person to enjoy a pastime like that. She made all of her quilts by hand. She sat in the same chair every night as she stitched. She never hurried. She never got frustrated. She sometimes hummed.

I would imagine that it probably took months if not more than a year to make each quilt. If it were me, I would have become attached to something that had required so much of my effort. She didn’t. She gave most of her quilts away—often to people she didn’t know that well. Her quilts were not decorations or accomplishments. They kept people warm, and she gave that warmth freely, without attachment.

The Buddhists tell me that a life without attachment is the life most worth living. I believe them, but I have a difficult time putting that idea into practice. Once, a few years ago, I told one of grandma’s caregivers, “Please don’t let her give all of her quilts away. I would like to have one or more of them. I love her quilts.”

The quilt top.

I had made the same plea to grandma a few years before. That’s when she gave me a quilt top, one that had been started by her grandmother almost a century before. I took the quilt top with vague plans of finishing the work.

Then I put it in a cedar chest where I forgot about it—until today.

The design, aptly, is called a “Grandmother’s Flower Garden.” I’d love to say that I’ve become inspired to finally finish this quilt that my great, great grandmother started and that my grandmother wanted to finish but never did. But patience is not a virtue that I have in abundance. Neither is the ability to sew. Still, I find myself attached to that quilt top. It quilts together more than four generations of people. It started with my great, great grandmother.

I’ll probably pass it on to my daughter.

And then, sadly, it might end. My daughter will not remember grandma Bauman. She will not grow up hearing stories of great great grandma Fish, the woman who made the quilt top and who died before I was born.

My daughter may or may not feel attached to this quilt top. For all I know, she’ll give it away.

Or worse.

But I can’t think about that right now. Right now I’ll just look at the quilt top, and I’ll think of my grandmother.

Because I’m pretty sure that’s what my grandmother wanted to happen when she gave it to me.

UPDATES

* I’m going to take a few days off from blogging so I can take care of some arrangements. I’ll be back soon and continue with the Your Worst Marital Problem Series.

* I was interviewed for Your Tango’s 50 Top Marriage Tips story.

* Your Tango also included my advice for having an irresistible online profile.

* Radio Health Journal did a nice story about marriage that features me. It’s a great listen, and not just because I’m interviewed. I’m convinced you’ll get something out of it.

* PHEA, I am told, was the inspiration behind this blogger’s quest to be her own Valentine.

* Lost in Cheeseland reviews PHEA and writes her own love story in the process.

Learn more about Alisa's book, the story of how she went from wishing her husband dead to falling back in love.

To find out how the book has changed lives click here.

And the winners are…

Alisa — Fri, 04 Feb 2011 19:31:31 +0000

Thanks to all of you who entered the Fabulous PHEA Giveaway. Nearly 200 of you entered, and most of you entered multiple times. I’m touched, and I hope the folks you gave copies of PHEA to really enjoyed them.

Now for the winners. I will be contacting all of you shortly to arrange getting prizes to you. I have put first names and last initials here to avoid accidentally outing someone who wishes to remain anonymous. It’s possible that more than one person with the same first name and last initial entered. Stranger things have happened. If you do not hear from me in the next few days and wonder if you won, please feel free to contact me.

First place: Sabrina L–Congrats! You won the romantic Cape Cod getaway at Chez Sven Bed and Breakfast!

Second place: Steve Y–Congrats! You won a Communication Styles Consultation!

Third place: Gretchen CR–Congrats! You won the Kindle!

Fourth place: Belinda J–Congrats! You won the membership to Power of Two!

Fifth place: Maureen M–Congrats! You won the Nooki!

Sixth place: Sarah L–Congrats! You won the E-mealz subscription!

Seventh place: Kayle R–Congrats! You won the Love Sox!

Eighth place: Tera M–Congrats! You won the pocket rocket!

Learn more about Alisa's book, the story of how she went from wishing her husband dead to falling back in love.

To find out how the book has changed lives click here.

What to Serve at PHEA Book Club

Alisa — Mon, 24 Jan 2011 03:10:50 +0000

I included a reading guide in Project: Happily Ever After for a reason. It’s this: it was at book club that I opened up for the first time about my bad marriage. I did it after reading the Alchemist, which has nothing to do with marriage at all. Well, that’s debatable. At any rate, it sparked quite the discussion. It’s my ultimate dream that Project: Happily Ever After will bring bad marriages out of the closet, so people can talk about them openly and honestly and without embarrassment or shame. If you are in a book club, I beg you to pick Project: Happily Ever After are your next read. And if you happen to hold book club over dinner, I think it only makes sense to serve what I would have served at my husband’s funeral.

At my husband’s funeral, I would have served butternut squash soup, crusty rolls, lamb, and apple strudel. My husband loves braised lamb the most, but that’s hard to eat standing up. So I probably would have served lamb meatballs or lamb on a stick instead. Yes, it is quite difficult to eat soup while standing up, but you can blame that on my husband for loving it so much. In lieu of lamb, you could also serve duck, octopus, strip steak or slow-cooked pork butt. He also loves BBQ and wings, too.

Beverages

My husband’s favorite beers are Magic Hat #9, anything from the Stone brewing company, and all brand of Flemish Sour. It’s been my experience, however, that most bookclubbers do not fancy beer. Here are a few alternatives that I think might work well.

The Broken Heart Martini

Fiery Balls of Death Drink

Love Potion # 9

Heart of Darkness (as served at my husband’s coffee shop): One large cup of brewed coffee mixed with 4 shots of espresso

Do you have a book club recipe to share? Please suggest it in the comments so other book clubbers can plan accordingly.

Learn more about Alisa's book, the story of how she went from wishing her husband dead to falling back in love.

To find out how the book has changed lives click here.

What’s your biggest marital struggle?

Alisa — Fri, 21 Jan 2011 14:43:17 +0000

For the next few weeks, here at PHEA, I’d like to address the most vexing problems you face in your marriage. Please list them here in the comments on this post or email them to me. I can’t promise that I will be able to tackle every single one, but I will do my best.

This post is a short one. It’s short because it snowed last night. That means school was canceled YET AGAIN this week. I know it hasn’t been a truly bad winter. It just hasn’t. Years ago we had a winter in these parts that was the winter to end all winters. That winter it snowed something like three feet of snow in just one night. I woke the next morning to realize that I didn’t own a snow shovel. I had to trudge through three feet of snow to a store just to buy a shovel, and then trudge back so I could shovel out my car, among other things. That’s how I know the four inches we got last night are just not a big deal. It’s also how I know that it’s really not a big deal that I didn’t buy milk or bread yesterday.

But it doesn’t make me feel happy about the situation. My skin is dry. My hair is one giant ball of static. There’s a bunch of snow on my car, and the gloves and ice scraper are both inside the car. That means I have to open the car door while snow is on it so I can get the gloves and scraper out. That means snow is going to get inside the car. Then the inside of the car is going to be damp and my windshield will keep fogging up.

And my kid wants me to play Wii and I truly don’t feel like it.

I’m ready for spring.

I think it’s time for me to go meditate.

How about you?

UPDATES

* Kim Tracy Prince wrote one of my favorite reviews of PHEA ever at House of Prince. I couldn’t pick just one excerpt. So here are two of them. Excerpt #1: “It’s all written with such a vivid voice that I can imagine her sitting here having a glass of wine with me, leaning in close and saying something like “Pubes? Those are no problem. I find the full Brazilian makes me love my girl parts.” But that is just conjecture, of course.” Excerpt #2: “If there’s anything that disappointed me in the book, it was that I couldn’t reach through it and smack her husband around for being such an obtuse dolt during Bowman’s early motherhood. I know that she should have asked for more help, spoken up for her needs, blah blah, but the whole idea of a father not wanting to help out his clearly bedraggled wife pisses me right off.”

* I was on I Love Authors talk radio where I talk about marriage, writing, and how I did not celebrate my book’s birth. It wasn’t until after the show that I realized the strange parallel between how I felt on my book’s birthday and how I felt on my daughter’s birthday. It kind of makes me want to stop birthing.

* Frugal MD Corgi Mom reviewed PHEA. Here’s an excerpt, “I highly recommend this book because you will find a little bit about yourself, your husband, and your marriage within the pages.”

* The Night Own Mama reviewed PHEA saying, “You’ll find your self crying, laughing and even being able to relate to situations that are described in the book… Alisa covers many topics that couples go through, including her husband losing his job. I love that the book tells it like it is and there’s no sugar coating the actual things that happen in marriages gone bad.”

Learn more about Alisa's book, the story of how she went from wishing her husband dead to falling back in love.

To find out how the book has changed lives click here.

Writing that Should Not Have Been Published, Part 5

Alisa — Thu, 30 Dec 2010 02:43:59 +0000

This may or may not be the last segment in this series of stories that did not make their way into Project: Happily Ever After. After this, I’m going to take a couple days off, and then I’m going to start a 31 Days to a Better Marriage series. This particular excerpt takes place about midway into the marriage project. My husband and I have just gotten back from New York, where we resurrected our sex life. We’ve been away from our daughter for the first night, and I’m anxious to get back to her. Then my husband’s junker of a car refuses to start.

We get off the bus, walk the short distance to the car, and get in. It won’t start. My husband keeps turning the key in the ignition, but the engine makes a sound that I interpret as the following, “I’ll think about starting. Nah, I don’t have it in me.” It won’t turn over. A couple of times, it almost turns over and sounds as if it’s going to start, but then dies. “It does this sometimes,” he says. This is news to me. I hate his car, for many other reasons, as I occasionally have to drive it, but I didn’t know that about the “failure to start” problem.

“It gets flooded sometimes,” he explains.

“What are we going to do?” I ask, starting to feel anxious. I’m tapping my fingers on my leg. My heart rate speeds up a bit.

“We’re going to get the car started,” he says, and he does. This, yet again, is a trait of his I wish I could cultivate in myself. He never doubts his ability to fix things or get things to work. If I had been alone in this car, panic would have set in the first time I turned the key in the ignition. I might have tried to start the car perhaps one or two more times. By the third time the car told me, “Nah, I don’t have it in me,” I would have called my husband with anger or fear in my voice.

Whether it was anger or fear would depend on how we were doing generally in resurrecting our marriage. If it was anger, I would hear him answer the phone, and, without a hello, I would launch into a diatribe about how his car is cursed, how I hate driving it, and how I shouldn’t be stuck driving the decrepit piece of crap in the first place. I might also threaten that, if I had a container of gasoline, I’d dump it on the car, light a match, and put the poor thing out of its misery.

Around that point, I would reach a catharsis, calm down, and lovingly ask him to pick me up. He would, of course, because helping his wife when she is in distress is another thing he does amazingly well. It strokes his ego; he loves helping me. As I am an independent woman, I almost never let him do it. He would find me. He would start the car on the first try, because that, as you know, is Murphy’s Law. He’d say something like, “So what was the problem?” Then he’d offer to drive the piece of crap car home and let me drive my dependable car.

Around the time I finish thinking about this, he gets the car started and we drive home.

UPDATES

* Misadventures with Andi interviewed me about Project: Happily Ever After. Here’s an excerpt: “It’s hard to connect with book readers. You write the book in one place. They read it in another. You might hear from readers if they happen to review your book online, email you, or come to a book signing. But, for the most part, there’s a disconnect.”

* There’s still time to enter the Fabulous PHEA Giveaway! Be entered to win a Kindle, a stay at a B&B, marriage counseling, a vibrator and more with proof of purchase of Project: Happily Ever After.

Learn more about Alisa's book, the story of how she went from wishing her husband dead to falling back in love.

To find out how the book has changed lives click here.

Project Happily Ever After » Random Musings

How to Become a Writer: A Post to My Younger Self

A Sweet Story About My Husband

Yes, you will want to read this

Stuff My Kid Says

UPDATES

Peace Starts at Home

A Long Life Remembered

UPDATES

And the winners are…

What to Serve at PHEA Book Club

Soup

Lamb

Apple Pie or Strudel

Crusty Rolls

Beverages

What’s your biggest marital struggle?

UPDATES

Writing that Should Not Have Been Published, Part 5

UPDATES