Goodbye, Kindle

Those of you who know me are used to this. I get attached to things—like, REALLY attached.

The time I tried to pretend that I was a real adult, somewhere around the age of 25, I declared to Mr. H that it was time to get rid of Ken the cow.

ken the cow on the road
(If you haven’t met him, this is Ken and he’s awesome.)

I made him put Ken in a duffel bag so I couldn’t see his face as he went out the front door, out of my life forever.

As you can imagine, that made it even worse. It was like my favorite stuffed animal friend was being carried off in a body bag.

Mr. H hesitated by the door, took one look at me, and brought Ken safely back inside. He knew.

I still have Ken the cow to this day. I’m in my thirties, I sleep with a stuffed animal—and dammit—I don’t care.

Today this post is about letting go of another friend, who simply goes by the name of Kindle.

My mom asked me if I wanted the new Kindle for my birthday next week, which is the sweetest gift she could ever offer me. Naturally, I hesitated before saying yes.

Me and Kindle go WAY back. My mom passed him on to me back in 2012 when she got an iPad.

It was a life-changing moment for me, when I finally decided to give ebooks a chance after being such a paperback purist.

But I wanted to read ebooks by other indie authors, to support them in the same way that some of them have supported me.

Kindle was the way to do it.

Me and Kindle got off to a rocky start. I was reluctant to give up real books in any way. Kindle knew our relationship would take some time and he was very patient with me.

But then, tragedy struck.

Hazel the cat murdered him, knocked him right off the top of our built-in cabinet. I found Kindle’s lifeless body on the floor. I pressed his power button repeatedly, trying to resuscitate him…but there was nothing.

Until that moment, I didn’t realize how close I had become to Kindle and I was very sad. I went back to regular books for a while, then months later—for shits and giggles—I tried turning Kindle back on.

And he was alive. Back from the dead!

After that we were inseparable, and I rarely left the house without Kindle by my side.

He showed me many wonderful novels on his little screen. He didn’t mind when I spilled beer on him and he never judged me when I was too tired to spend quality time with him in bed.

Kindle didn’t complain once during our cross-country move from Milwaukee to Portland. He was a real trooper and a stand-up guy.

New Kindle arrived on Thursday. It’s lightweight, tech savvy, and shiny.

The transition has been made. My library is now on New Kindle, but I haven’t read anything just yet. I needed to give Original Kindle a proper goodbye with this tribute.

Though I only captured a few moments, here are some of our fondest memories together…

my very first kindle

Kindle cat

fall of giants kindle

cat kindle stand

Thanks for everything, Kindle. You will be missed!

P.S. In case you missed grabbing the Everything’s Not Bigger freebie last weekend, if you have Amazon prime, you can borrow two of my books completely free from the Owner’s Library—Everything’s Not Bigger and I just added Nola Fran Evie. Enjoy!

Everything’s Not Bigger is Totally FREE All Weekend!

Everything's Not Bigger Cover

Hello, beautiful friends!

My book, Everything’s Not Bigger, is totally FREE all weekend 12/5-12/7 (until midnight PST) on Amazon, so run over and grab your copy!

If you’ve never read any of my books before, this is a great way to test drive. As always, reviews are much loved if you can take a quick moment to leave one.

I would describe Everything’s Not Bigger as a thriller/romantic comedy/travel adventure/drama. Hey, I’m Indie…I can do that sort of thing with genres.

In case you’re new around here, this is what the book’s about…

In the heartland of oil money, Jaye Davis spends her whirlwind existence trapped in the battlefields of high fashion. After escaping a turbulent past and leaving everything behind, she struggles to find her place in the world. Because Jaye Davis isn’t her real name. She’s a player in the witness protection program leading a dual existence.

Once her fabricated identity is thrown into jeopardy, Jaye flees to the haunting allure of Prague, embarking on a solitary quest to find certainty in her uncertain world. Unearthing her roots in an important step toward self-discovery, she learns to return to who she really is.

GRAB IT NOW AT AMAZON

GRAB IT NOW AT AMAZON UK

Thank you for supporting the Indie Author movement.

 

On Being Humble and Reworking an Entire Book

writing with cats
Dang! Mom’s ignoring us again for that white contraption we’re not allowed to sleep on. We’re so much cuter…what gives?

Writing a book isn’t easy. It’s a commitment unlike any I’ve ever known.

You need a creative idea, a decent handle on language, and time management skills to actually write the thing. Because it ain’t gonna write itself.

You’re showing vulnerability to the world, because every piece of fiction is the author’s soul in written form. You’re putting bits and pieces of your life out there—your weaknesses, your past, your intimacies.

Some will understand what your soul is saying, some won’t.

Every day you wonder whether or not you should keep going.

Am I contributing anything to society? Do I really want to spend Sunday cooped up in my pajamas madly typing away while my cats beg for my attention? Does any of this matter? Is it really worth the sacrifice?

Yes, it is. Because while others dream of writing, you’re doing it. 

Writing’s not all rainbows and unicorns…believe me. It takes dedication and love. It also means being humble, knowing that you are always learning and that nothing will ever be perfect.

For some time now I’ve wanted to revisit a work I published two years ago, Everything’s Not Bigger. Of the three books I’ve written, it’s the only one set in modern-day and it’s also my underdog.

Ask any actor, director, writer, dancer, or painter if they return to an old piece of work and most of them will say…Hell, no! That work, for better or worse, is dead to them.

So, I did the crazy thing. I went back—naturally, I cringed a lot—and after a major overhaul, I feel much better about my work.

I did some little things, like revising the description, cleaning up the chapter layout, and adding a Note From the Author at the beginning to touch on the inspiration for the book.

Major things involved a faster-paced beginning as well as chucking some scenes that were dragging. My characters were in dire need of body language during some of the heavy conversational moments, aka “beats”. After two years of blogging and a third novel, you can bet I did some grammatical polishing along the way.

And, my best typo I found must be shared…face to face was fact to face. Dude, WTF? 🙂

Today Everything’s Not Bigger is officially being rereleased on Amazon.

For those who already purchased it, you should be able to go to “Manage Your Content and Devices” (formerly “Manage Your Kindle”) and choose “Update Available” next to the book.

I know my good friend, Tim Dittmer, covered some Amazon issues with updated content when he rereleased his fantastic novel, The Valley Walker. (P.S. If you haven’t read this yet, it’s only $0.99 right now and totally worth your time.)

If the available update is not showing up for you, you might have to delete the damn thing and redownload it.

That brings me to my next piece of news…Everything’s Not Bigger will be totally free on Amazon next weekend…12/5-12/7. (Don’t worry, I’ll remind you then.)

As a writer and the insane human that I am, I know that I will never feel completely satisfied with anything I do. But remembering to stay humble, to give new life to something you left long ago, can be a beautiful thing.

I’ll leave you with a snippet from Everything’s Not Bigger. This is the non-date scene, when the main character, Jaye, agrees to go on a walk with a handsome fellow she just met in Prague. The non-date rules include no food, no candlelight, and no flirting.

Naturally, these non-date rules don’t last long.

Everything's Not Bigger Cover

He covered her eyes with his hands, but she wiggled out of his embrace. “What are you doing, Milan?”

“It’s part of the surprise.”

Jaye returned to her position and he replaced his hands.

“A little warning next time would be nice, Milan. Otherwise you come off as a kidnapper.”

He guided her forward with his chest, and she fought off the surge of lust charging through her body. His warmth electrified her like nothing else. She was acutely aware of every inch of him through their thick coats.

“How much longer are we doing this charade?”

“A few more steps, princess.”

His mild insult made her smile. Coming from him, she didn’t mind. It was all in good fun.

“I’m going to uncover your eyes, but you can’t open them yet.”

“Yes, sir.”

Milan rustled around in his coat pocket, then stepped in front of her. Her back instantly felt cold.

She perked up at the familiar sound of a wrapper.

“Open your mouth.”

Jaye thought the bit was peculiar, but did as he instructed. She smelled it before it landed on her tongue. Chocolate.

“You can open your eyes now.”

The chocolate melted on her hot tongue, its decadence gracing her taste buds. Luminosity reflected in her eyes as they lifted open.

It was a breathtaking sight.

They stood in between a far-reaching row of crystal shops. Bohemian glass competed with the moonlight, shining ferociously, instilling awe and brilliance in the antique windows. Jaye chewed the bittersweet morsel, sea salt sprinkled dark chocolate encompassing a creamy caramel.

It was the most incredible treat she’d ever tasted. It was the most incredible sight she’d ever seen.

Exquisiteness for all senses occurred effortlessly, leaving her overwhelmed and speechless. She roamed in a daze, in a chocolate trance, seduced by the sparkling display of beauty.

“This is what you wanted to show me?”

“Just think—you tried to stop me.”

Jaye turned around and cocked her head. She hadn’t wanted to surrender to him. Too many untrusting encounters had left a cold soul, a skeptical fortress dominating each pleasurable experience.

“Hey, thanks.” She reached her leg out and tapped his shin with her boot.

He mirrored the gesture. “Hey, you’re welcome.”

Learning to Love That Thing I Hated

trail running forest park

I was always that “I only run if I’m being chased” girl. But a couple of months ago, I changed that.

Over the summer this voice in my head—one of many—told me to start running. And, quite frankly, I laughed at it.

Now you all know me as being a very active person, so the hard feelings toward running may surprise you.

As a kid I played sports, did everything I could outdoors, then danced the rest of my life. Six years ago I traded my car for a bicycle for commuting to work. Though I stopped dancing, I became a regular Yoga practitioner with a ridiculous love for hiking.

On one of those beautiful summer Portland hikes in Forest Park, my crazy ass took off running.

Even crazier…it wasn’t so bad. In fact, I was having a blast.

Mr. H has been a runner for a few years now. First and foremost, he advised me to not get all 150% Britt with running, to take things slow and steady so I didn’t kill myself. He also recommended that I read Born to Run by Christopher McDougall.

This part really spoke to me…

“You had to love running, or you wouldn’t live to love anything else. And like everything else we love—everything we sentimentally call our ‘passions’ and ‘desires’—it’s really an encoded ancestral necessity. We were born to run; we were born because we run.”

When it comes to exercising, I’ve always been into the organic way the body moves. Combining that with nature is one of the most exhilarating moments I have known. Which is why my running focus has been on a trail rather than a treadmill.

Trail running has come very naturally to me. I’ve been running once a week since the beginning of September and each week it’s become a bit easier. I’m doing somewhere around two miles, but on technical trails with plenty of asshole hills along the way.

Running commands our full attention, with no room to think about the usual to-do list that often plagues our busy minds. The one time I wasn’t truly present on the trail last month—you guessed it—I ate shit.

trail running crash

Fortunately, I had a cat nurse to help me out. Unfortunately, I earned a new nickname by Mr. H after the June pothole bicycling accident and now this.

Hi, my name is Crash.

As I learn to love the thing I hated forever, I’m learning so much about myself along the way. When I used to try to run, I didn’t like it when it got too tough so I’d stop and give up. Now I embrace the tough, I keep going.

I’m just starting out with this new adventure. I don’t know much, I don’t wear any fancy running gear, and I’m not fast.

It’s not about goals, like beating my best time or training for a marathon one day.

It’s about running free among the trees. It’s about breathing and being. It’s about finding love when things get hard.

What about you guys…anything you hated that you’re learning to love?

The Lovers Bench Is Gone

The other day I learned some sad news when I went on my favorite hike. At the viewpoint, the lovers bench was gone. Forever.

Back in May I wrote a post called The Bench Where Lovers Had Been.

I usually do the same hike every week, about two hours round-trip from my house. Toward the end of the uphill hike, there are countless switchbacks to really make you work for it.

But at the top of the hill is the greatest reward, a downtown Portland and Mount Hood view enjoyed from the comfort of a weathered bench. The lovers bench.

I played a little fiction game each time I went up there. I’d pick out a couple carved in the bench, then make up a boy meets girl story in my head before heading back home.

Over the past few months this bench even inspired me to consider writing my first short story. (Consider, meaning I haven’t started a damn thing. But I intended to after more quality time with the bench.)

Anyhoo, this was the bench then…

Carved Bench

Bench Carving

This is the bench now…

bench pittock mansion

bench with roses

So many professions of love tattooed on the decrepit wood had vanished. This strange, smooth wood no longer held stories of romance, foolishness, and hope.

The fresh and shiny bench didn’t woo me at all. To tell you the truth, this guy was kind of a son of a bitch…um, bench.

Yep, he was a real son of a bench.

I preferred the refreshingly true one from before, all genuine and battered, even if it was a splinter in the butt waiting to happen.

Reluctantly I sat down on the impostor and sipped my water in silence. The city continued on below, as if it never had a single thought about that bench on the hill above.

My fingers ran across the perfectly even surface, searching for the charming grooves that were once embedded in the wood. Craving those carvings of love.

Then I looked down at the brand new black armrest and smiled.

There it was…the very first one. And, a new lovers bench was born.

love graffiti