This week I was on vacation, and most of my talking was done with beach denizens like the one pictured above. But I also had a few conversation with family members. One of the best was with my niece, sitting at the very bench this mutt is occupying. My sister asked me when my book, Twisted, would be out, and my niece Leyla, who is 11, asked in some awe, “you wrote a book?” When I told her I had, she said:
Leyla: That’s so cool. I want to be a writer. But I know I need another job, too.
Me: That’s probably true. It’s hard to make money as a writer.
Leyla: I thought I could be a teacher. But that’s a hard job, too.
Me (having been a teacher for many years): Yes, it is. It doesn’t leave you a lot of time for writing.
Leyla: I could write in the summer.
Me: Well, that would be fine, depending on what kind of writing you want to do. But what if you have a deadline? For example, when I got my contract for the book coming out in November, it was for two books and I’d only written one of them. The other one is due September 1.
Leyla: And how’s that working out for you?
[After much laughter from the adults]
Leyla: Did you like writing your book?
Me: Sometimes. Sometimes not. Like when my editor said, ‘this stuff here doesn’t work at all. It has to go. Needs to be rewritten.’
Leyla: My teacher does that, too. [In her best “adult” voice] ‘Leyla, this part doesn’t flo-o-w.’
So, yeah, she’s well on her way to being a writer!
If you’ve checked out my recipes you may have noticed that they’re gluten free. Several months ago, I discovered that if I didn’t eat gluten, I didn’t get hives or the little blisters/ulcers I used to get in my mouth all the time.
At first it was hard. I mean, you’re talking to a girl who pretty much never had a meal that didn’t include either bread or pasta. But as time has progressed, it’s gotten easier for me to avoid gluten–I’ve given up most bread, and gluten-free pasta is common enough that not only can I get it at home, it’s even available in many restaurants. (Though now that softshell crab season is here, it’s hard for me not to go out and eat them–everyone wants to dredge them in flour or breadcrumbs or both before sautéing, and my husband doesn’t like them so it’s hard for me to make them at home.)
Needless to say, home cooking is much easier than eating out.
But here’s a problem I’ve run into a few times in restaurants. I say, “I’m allergic to gluten.” They say, “No problem. <Whatever> doesn’t have gluten in it.” And yet, once I’ve eaten, I feel the blisters inside my mouth showing up and pretty soon I break out in hives. Now, neither of those is a deadly reaction. Some people have it much worse than I do. But it’s still darn annoying.
I don’t believe waitstaff is inconsiderate or malicious. I believe there are two problems
1) They don’t really understand what I mean
2) Communication fails between waiters and the kitchen
So I’ve made up some business cards. They tell people the problem in the most common languages in my area–English, Spanish, German, French, and Portuguese. This makes things a bit easier as I can hand it to a waiter if I have any doubts whatsoever and he can turn it right over to the kitchen, which solves the problem of French waiter, Portuguese chef, etc. I’ve attached the document here in case anyone else wants it. Gluten Allergy cards.This one is in Word 2011, but it’s easy enough to make your own in whatever word processing program you use.
Many people get an immediate picture in their minds when you say “romance hero.” Great hair, great teeth…and plenty of rippling muscle. Whether businessman, mercenary or kilt-wearing historical Highlander, the image is always one of broad shoulders, tanned skin and, oh yeah, did I say rippling muscle?
Oddly enough—or perhaps not so oddly, if you’ve studied male and female psyches—the ones for whom the clearest “Fabio image” comes to mind are men, not women. Not to say women don’t appreciate beefcake, because they most certainly do (there’s a reason those hotties are on the covers), but women know there’s a whole range of sex appeal out there.
Plus, men are more visual than women. Women are more apt to care that you try to keep yourself in shape than that you actually manage to avoid the chip aisle. But you do have to try, so, unfortunately, the fact that women are more likely to be interested in your mind than your body doesn’t let you off the hook.
Why? Because lack of attention to your health and welfare shows a lack of respect for yourself. And if you don’t respect yourself, no woman will respect you either.
So what’s a poor schlub to do? You’re forty, you’ve never worked out a day in your life, and you can’t afford a gym membership. You’ve got a spare tire, you like beer too much to give it up, and you’re not looking to give yourself a hernia. Well, as any self-respecting trainer will tell you, the first thing to do is get a physical. Find out what you can and cannot do.
Once that’s done, maybe you should get a dog. Not only are dogs great companions for romance heroes (heroines can’t resist their furry faces), but they require exercise. Get out and walk. Heck, get out and run.
But perhaps your lifestyle isn’t exactly dog-friendly. You travel too much, or your landlord doesn’t allow pets. That’s a shame, but it’s not an excuse. When it comes to fitness and self respect, there are no excuses!
Consensus is that cardio helps you lose fat while working with weights helps you gain muscle. You need to do both. You won’t like both. Nobody does. Generally, people are built for one or the other—weight work or cardio—and forcing themselves to do the other is a major chore.
It’s definitely harder for the average Joe than it is for all the hot romance heroes who inhabit novels. After all, those guys spend their lives running through forests dodging bullets from cartel villains, captaining pirate vessels, and turning into wolves and dashing across the countryside.
But just because you aren’t fighting off raiding neighbors and kidnapping a bride doesn’t mean you can’t stay in shape. Here are a few tips:
Start every meal with vegetables. Lots of vegetables. If you eat plenty of veggies, you won’t be as hungry for the other stuff.
Take the stairs whenever possible.
Walk whenever you can, whenever it’s an option.
Back in the second lesson, I mentioned that joining your local volunteer FD was a great way to become a reformable rake. It’s also a great way to get in shape. Join up with local guys and train. You aren’t going to be doing the caber toss or anything, you just have to get rid of some of the flab. (Plus there’s that whole “man in uniform” thing. But that’s for another lesson.)
Next, think about the things you do have room for in your living space. Most cardio will be taking place outside unless you have room for a bike or stair stepper or similar in your living space. For cardio, you’ll walk or run or the like. But for weight training, there are plenty of things you can do in a small space.
First, consider going to “back school.” Something like 75% of Americans experience back pain in their lifetime and for a large number of them, that pain is chronic. But “back school,” which is a combination of exercises generally prescribed by physical therapists, strengthens your core muscles to prevent back strain. (Plus, for the lazy among us, most of back school is done while lying on the floor.) You don’t want to lift your new heroine into your arms only to drop her on her butt when your back spasms!
You don’t need to do this!
Back school isn’t a one-time thing. It’s ongoing. You don’t need special equipment, though a balance ball and some light dumbbells will help. And you should invest in a trainer or physical therapist once or twice to show you the correct form—form is the most important thing when it comes to exercise! Don’t be fooled by all those people throwing massive amounts of weight around. That’s not necessary and it can hurt you more than help you.
Beyond back school, there are all kinds of things you can do using your own body weight. Pushups, squats, stretches, crunches…none of them require any equipment at all. With those light dumbbells and that balance ball, you can enlarge your workout and shrink your waist. You’re not trying to gain bodybuilder status, so don’t worry about the gigantic dumbbells—you’ll likely look like a gigantic dumbbell if you try to use them anyway.
More reps, lighter weight, concentrate on form and on keeping all your core muscles tight.
Most romance heroes don’t work out without a point; they need to be in shape to keep up with the demands of their lives. The high-powered businessmen frequently work out to relieve stress or because physical exertion helps with mental clarity. The cops, firefighters, and military men depend on their muscles every day. The Vikings need to be able to command respect and to fight off their enemies.
You should consider what you want to do once you lose the flab and gain the muscle. Maybe you’d like to be able to play sports with your friends. Maybe you’d like to gain some of that mental clarity (remember to put away your phone when you exercise—workouts are “you” time). Maybe you’d simply like to be able to walk around without your knees complaining so much. Remember that romance heroes don’t work out to attract women. They stay in shape for themselves, and that’s what you need to do, too.
No, I am not religious, though I was raised in a variety of faiths, but I have always thought this was one of the most beautiful songs in the world. If you recall it vaguely but not completely, here is the poem, written by Henry van Dyke in 1907 to accompany Beethoven’s Ode to Joy, the final movement of his 9th Symphony:
Joyful, joyful, we adore Thee,
God of glory, Lord of love;
Hearts unfold like flow’rs before Thee,
Op’ning to the sun above.
Melt the clouds of sin and sadness;
Drive the dark of doubt away;
Giver of immortal gladness,
Fill us with the light of day!
All Thy works with joy surround Thee,
Earth and heav’n reflect Thy rays,
Stars and angels sing around Thee,
Center of unbroken praise.
Field and forest, vale and mountain,
Flow’ry meadow, flashing sea,
Singing bird and flowing fountain
Call us to rejoice in Thee.
Thou art giving and forgiving,
Ever blessing, ever blest,
Wellspring of the joy of living,
Ocean depth of happy rest!
Thou our Father, Christ our Brother,
All who live in love are Thine;
Teach us how to love each other,
Lift us to the joy divine.
Mortals, join the happy chorus,
Which the morning stars began;
Father love is reigning o’er us,
Brother love binds man to man.
Ever singing, march we onward,
Victors in the midst of strife,
Joyful music leads us Sunward
In the triumph song of life.
I originally wrote this as a comment on a post over at Heroes and Heartbreakers, but I felt as if it deserved a post of its own because so many people in my personal community are talking about NA. This post is slightly modified from that, for both clarification and elaboration.
I can’t deal with NA fiction as a genre because it seems so much a part of the infantalization of America. I didn’t read much YA fiction as a child with the exception of The Outsiders. I went from kids’ books to adult books with no transition…and no problem. But I also got my first job at 15, a job I maintained through high school, and I worked continuously all through college, so when I got out of college, I wasn’t a “new adult,” I’d been an adult for several years.
Lots of people focus on the sexual aspect of NA. I’ve heard it called “YA with sex,” and Laurie Gold, who wrote the post on H&H that prompted this one, mentions that
In all the initial articles I read about New Adult Fiction, eroticism and Fifty Shades of Grey were always mentioned, which struck me as incredibly sad.
Well, yeah, that would strike me as sad, too, but mostly because it sounds as if NA is all about the sex. Sex and women who are doormats, waiting for a stalker/abuser to walk into their lives. Women with no personality of their own.
But plenty of people I respect say NA isn’t just YA with sex. They say it’s a different genre, and, frankly, I couldn’t care less about the sexual aspect. The adult stuff I read in my early teens, or even as what they would now call a “tween,” had sex in it. If kids want to read about sex, that’s between them and their parents. My parents didn’t care and it didn’t scar me forever…and even after reading all the non-consensual sex in the 1980s bodice rippers, I knew rape was wrong. (And reading all that sex didn’t mean I was *having* it…I was, among my crowd, late to the sexual party.)
In the 90s, almost all the romance I read would now be classified “new adult.” The heroines were rarely older than 27, the heroes never over 30. In fact, it got very irritating to me to be reading about them because they fell into one of two categories:
no real life experience, so they were just starting out all wide-eyed and innocent
far more life experience than any 25-year-old could possibly have–you know, the MD, PhD and three years with Doctors Without Borders type.
But now, we seem to have entered an era where people aren’t considered “adults” even in their twenties. They still live at home. They are still trying to figure out what they want to be. And that’s okay. It’s so okay, they even have a literature all their own. It’s true that romance in general seems to have aged up a tiny bit (and thank goodness for that) so that heroines who are doctors are realistically aged for their field, but there are still plenty of books out there for those interested in reading about 20-somethings.
I just feel as if encouraging people not to explore literature beyond their age group by saying “look, here are books specifically for you” does a massive disservice to both readers and the society at large.
