I wrote this post as a guest blog post over this on book blog. The blogger also wrote a lovely review on my book. Check it out! http://snowdropdreams.blogspot.com/

Every year, I have to force myself to love Valentine’s Day.

It’s not that I’m bitter. In fact, I love love. Heck, I’m a romance writer. It’s in my blood. I think it’s fantastic that we have in our culture a day set apart to make people feel special and loved. But when you’re single on Valentine’s Day, as I almost always am, you have to make a conscious choice to not be a miserable spinster on February 14.

I employ a variety of anti-spinster initiatives. For example, on Valentine’s Day I will put on a pretty pink shirt instead of wearing my typical black. Yes, I will forgo the magically slimming qualities of a black garment just to prove that I support love and those who have it. One year, I made chocolate covered pretzels and strawberries sprinkled with tiny heart shaped candies and brought them to work to share. A bitter woman wouldn’t do that, right? And as a rule, I never, EVER, refer to Valentine’s Day as “Singleness Awareness Day”.

But even with all of my efforts, I am always bombarded with reasons to feel sorry for myself. I’ll be working hard in my office (ok fine, I’ll be online shopping in my office) and I’ll hear the squeal of a coworker down the hall as she receives roses from her loving and thoughtful husband. Or I’ll walk to the break room to get a cup of water, only to encounter another coworker talking about the restaurant her boyfriend is taking her to tonight and what she’s going to wear and how she thinks it’s about time for him to pop the question, but it couldn’t possibly be tonight because he’s not that cliché. And as I hide my grimace, I think about how my plans for the evening consist of a cheap bottle of white wine, a block a cheese, and a movie that I know will most definitely torture me, like Sabrina or Notting Hill or When Harry Met Sally.

The other day I saw a Hallmark commercial. It followed couples doing various fun couple-y things, like cheering at a hockey game, watching TV, holding hands while taking the dog for a walk, and going bowling. The tagline is something like “Valentine’s Day isn’t about saying I love you – it’s about saying I love us.” When I saw this commercial, I cursed at my television.

Then I saw another Hallmark commercial that made me have a completely different reaction. It follows a mom as she creeps around her house early in the morning while her daughters are still sleeping. She sets a little Valentine’s gift beside each of their beds, and it just makes you think about how when these girls wake up, the first thought they are going to have is that they are loved. And…I started crying.

Talk about bipolar.

So here’s my choice – I can choose to curse at the happy couples, or I can celebrate the love that I am blessed with. We all have an us. Lots of us-es, actually. I love the us of my Game Night group crying with laughter over a game of Catch Phrase. I love the us of my mother sending me a card to say she loves me just because. I love the us of going out to eat with a dear friend and having a deep and vulnerable conversation. I have so much to love, and I am loved so much, and I choose to delight in those truths.

So this year on Valentine’s Day, I’ll put on a cheerful color. I’ll make some tasty treats. I’ll probably still go home, drink my cheap wine, eat my block of cheese, and shed a tear at a romantic movie. But, at the very core, I will be so thankful for every “us” I have in my life.

I’ll probably still curse at the TV if I see that commercial again, though. It’s just annoying.

WHOSE IDEA WAS IT TO LEAVE ALL MY FRIENDS AND MOVE TO THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE??????

Seriously, I have come positively unglued. I’m walking around with permanent red and puffy eyes from crying. Can I pass it off for allergies? Doubtful.

(It should be pointed out that I cry at absolutely everything, so the fact that I’m crying a lot at these really big changes in my life is not as extreme as it sounds. But still, if you hand me a puppy, I’ll lose it. So don’t.)

I just had to say goodbye to one of the most influential people in my life. My college choir (and orchestra!) director played such a major role in my spiritual development through college. When I went to college, I was lost and broken. When I left…well, I was less lost and less broken. He taught me how to worship, he taught me how to be vulnerable, and he taught me how to be a valued member of a team. I’ve been singing for him at church for a few years now, and even though I officially left the church in December, he asked me to come to rehearsal tonight to help out with sight-reading some new music. So I went, and I had to say goodbye, and I came unglued.

It’s not that I’m questioning my decision AT ALL. I actually feel so much peace about it, and I know it’s what I need to do. But the reality of leaving everything I know and hold dear is pretty painful.

I got an email from a fan (We’ll call her a fan, even though I know her in real life. Let me believe I have fans, ok??) who read my book and also follows my blog. She asked me a question that I thought would best be answered by a blog post. So instead of asking for permission, I’m just gonna go ahead and put her question out here for all the internets to see.

I was struck by a phrase you wrote recently in post, “figure out what I want and how I am going to get there.” And I want to ask you, how did YOU get there? What made you say “More” to your own life. I am stuck in friend/supporting actress mode and I am looking for advice.

Girl, I hear you. Ladies, can we give her an amen? YOU are the audience of women I was trying to capture with my book. Those of us who feel alone, ignored, and forgotten. And she really nailed it – I am moving because I want more for my life. And I’ll tell you how I got there.

Well, I got horribly depressed, that’s how I got there! Not that I’m recommending it. But it’s true. I got to a place where everything looked bleak and pointless and everything was an unending pit of nothingness. Cheerful, ain’t it? But there was always something there, telling me that life didn’t have to be that way.

I honestly think what gave me that big push of motivation was visualizing what I want my life to look like. And when I compared that with my life now, I didn’t see a road to get to where I want to be. So I’m being a bit more intentional about finding it.

Look, I know that God performs miracles, but I also think that we humans need to work for what we want. I don’t want to work in an office all day long until I retire – but HELLO, I went and got a masters degree in Business. Brilliant, dummy. So I’m going back to school to get certified to do something I can do from home. No miracle there, just hard work. I am not able to fully love myself because of a whole host of reasons that I won’t even get into, so I’m going to move home where I have a loving family who can support me while I work on shedding those reasons. Well, that will be more of a miracle if it works out, but it’s also the only way I can open myself up to be fully loved.

It all boils down to this: I believe that I am worth more than I currently give myself credit for.

That’s the best way I can explain it. Does my plan guarantee that I’ll find the perfect job or meet an amazing guy? Nope. But it is the straightest path that I know of to the life I want.

I couldn’t sleep last night. I was tossing and turning, my mind totally tied up in knots. And I wasn’t dwelling on one thing in particular – it was more just general turmoil over the life of a woman pushing 30. I was trying to psychoanalyze myself, and this idea popped into my head. It was the idea of a pie chart. A life pie chart. The Happiness Pie, if you will. (And why wouldn’t you? It’s pie!)

Although I am a very creative person, I also have a very practical and logical side. I’m not always controlled by my emotions, ok? *Dramatic sigh* I’m also very visual. And I like dessert. So the idea of a pie chart just works for me.

I really think I’ve got something here. I think I’m going to write a nonfiction book about my quest for the perfect Happiness Pie. Because I will find it by the time I’m 30. Well, 31. Let’s not push it.

This idea is by no means completely fleshed out yet, but let me see if I can get the general principle down on paper. Errrr…on…internet. And don’t steal my book idea, anyone. That would be rude.

Life needs variety
When you think of a pie chart, you think of many different categories represented by different colors. Some pieces of the pie are bigger than others. Some are just a little sliver. But there is definitely variety. (Because really, why even do a pie chart if you only have 2 or 3 categories? Do you really need a visual aide for that? I hope not.) I think in order to have a balanced life, you need to try to have some variety within your Life Pie.

It’s like eating a balanced meal. They say that your plate should be very colorful. And I don’t think they mean colorful with Cheetos, Skittles, and brightly frosted cupcakes. You need the rich greens of spinach, the bright reds of berries, etc. Same with your Life Pie. You need a rich array of colors in order to turn your Life Pie into the ever elusive Happiness Pie.

Yes, you can have too much of a good thing
Even if you do have every imaginable color in your Life Pie, that doesn’t mean you’ve found the secret recipe for Happiness Pie. Would you want to eat a pie that has 5 cups of sugar, 1/16th of an apple, 2 grains of salt, and 1 drop of vanilla? (Ha! Clearly I’ve never made pie before, because I have no idea what the ingredient are. I just stuck with the basics for this analogy. I think.) No, that pie would be straight up nasty.

The problem of having too much of a good thing is twofold.
First, there is a limit to how much can fit in the pie tin. So logically, if you have more of one thing, you’re going to have less of another. I have this friend who hates it when people say they are going to give 110%, because it’s not possible. You’re not going to be able to put 110% into your pie tin. You’ve got a limited amount of space and time in your life to work with, and obsessing over one thing won’t leave you enough time to devote to others.
Second, we don’t always have control over the ingredients we’re using to build our Life Pies. Say I’m devoting 75% of my pie to a relationship, or to my job, or to watching reruns of The Real Housewives on Bravo. What happens when those things go away? What if you lose that relationship? What if you lose that job? What if The Real Housewives are no longer syndicated on Bravo? (Well, then you’d buy the DVDs. Bad example.) You’re left with a Life Pie that is mostly empty.

This doesn’t mean that you can’t devote large portions of your pie to certain things. In fact, I think you should. I don’t think your pie should have a bunch of equal pieces. But take caution when choosing how to distribute your time and your commitment. Certain things deserve a bigger slice of the pie, for sure. And you don’t have to live in fear that your bigger slices will get taken away from you, that’s not the point at all. Just know that there’s more to life than that one person, that one addiction, or that one episode where Sheree pulled Kim’s wig.

God deserves a big ol’ slice
There are no certainties in this life, except for God. Sure, most likely you’ll live a fairly happy life, you’ll buy things, you’ll have family, you’ll do things that make you happy, and you’ll die. But what if that doesn’t happen? What if, heaven forbid, you lose everything? Your pie tin will never be completely empty as long as you have God. So doesn’t it make sense to give him more than just a little sliver?

This reminds me of a scene from a Friends Thanksgiving episode that I quite enjoy. Joey had just succeeded in eating an entire turkey on a bet and was complaining about how full he was, and it was time for dessert:
Joey: What you got there? Pie?
Monica: Yeah, you want some?
Joey: Just a sliver
Monica starts cutting a small piece
Joey: Little bigger … mmmbigger … what, are you afraid you’re gonna run out? CUT ME A REAL PIECE!

That had nothing to do with anything. I just like quoting Friends.

So what is The Happiness Pie?
I think The Happiness Pie is achieved when you find the perfect harmony of all of the elements of your life. Your pie will look colorful, unique, well-balanced, and it should excite you. You should be proud of all of the ingredients in your pie. It should represent hard work, discipline, your talents, your personality, and the things you hold most dear. The recipe should be constantly adjusted and refined. It should make you feel fulfilled, productive, and happy.

I’m doing a crap job at living a life that reflects the perfect Happiness Pie. And I’m going to fix that. And I’m going to write about it.

In closing, a pie chart for you:

Merry Christmas, dear ones! I am sitting up in the spare bedroom at the tip top corner of my parents’ house, because that’s where I can plug my laptop in to get internet. I am still in my pajamas. I am covered in cat hair from petting the cats all day. Well, really just Daisy. She’s a sweet cat and loves to cuddle, but boy is she spoiled! She was curled up in my lap a little bit ago, and every time I would shift positions a bit she would lift up her head, turn it towards me, glare at me as if saying “How many times must I tell you that you are to remain perfectly still while I am trying to sleep on you?”, and go back to sleep.

Oh my gosh. I’m starting to sound like the mythical crazy cat lady that I refer to so often. Someone save me.

Christmas consisted of my stepdad pounding on my door at 5 am to wake me up, getting my stocking, pouring a cup of coffee, and eating chocolate and gummy worms from my stocking for breakfast while we watched the 2nd half of It’s A Wonderful Life (because we fell asleep early last night.) By the way, did anyone see the parody they did on SNL last weekend of It’s A Wonderful Life? They showed long lost footage of the movie in its original form as a Hanukkah movie. “THEN GET THE LEAN! THEY HAVE LEAN!!!” I was dying. Let me try to find a video of it…boo beep boop bop bwah. <–internet noises.

Meh, I’m too lazy to embed it. So here’s the link. http://www.nbc.com/saturday-night-live//video/It’s-A-Wonderful-Life/1265916

It’s been a rather quiet Christmas around here. Things are a lot different now that my grandmother is gone. Simpler, yet emptier. But the three of us have been enjoying each other’s company. After cooking a meal of smoked turkey, caesar salad, garlic sautéed squash, and rice pilaf, we went to the Christmas Eve service at the church where I grew up. Besides EVERY CHILD IN THE MOUNTAIN COMMUNITY WHO IS TAKING BEGINNING PIANO LESSONS getting up to play a Christmas carol, and besides the monster child behind me who kept sticking his foot through the chair to kick me directly in the right buttock, and besides the well-meaning worship leader who struck a wrong chord every 4 seconds or so and forgot the words to some of the verses of Silent Night after they turned off the projectors so we could leave in pitch blackness with our candles…besides those things, I thought the pastor had a pretty good message.

He talked about the way God performs miracles. Sure, sometimes he gets showy. He parted the Red Sea, he healed lepers, he restored sight to the blind…awesome. Yay God. But so many of God’s miracles are done on a smaller scale. not to diminish the birth of Jesus or anything, but it definitely wasn’t showy. God didn’t send down some golden Adonis with rippling biceps to woo the world – he sent a baby into the most meager of circumstances. And that meager birth was no smaller miracle than my fictitious Golden Jesus would have been.

Think about all of the miraculous things God has done in your life. Even the small things. Think about your health. The things you have that bring you joy. Be thankful for small miracles, like being able to get out of bed in the morning, or having enough money to buy a cup of coffee on your way to work, or being able to send a text message to a loved one just to say hello. Think about things that could have gone wrong, and the ways in which God guided you so that they would go according to His plan.

I, for one, rejoice in all the little things.

And now I need to get in the kitchen and rejoice over the dinner I am making. Ham, red potatoes, broccoli puff, and fruit salad.

Ah, reviews.

Reviews are a good thing. They mean that not only are people reading your book, but they are also taking the time to write about your book. I am thankful for reviews. Reviews help other readers know what to expect. Reviews remind me why I write.

Reviews are a bad thing. They remind me that not only are people reading my book, but they dislike it enough to take the time to write about how much they hate it. Reviews scare people away from reading my book. Reviews make me feel like a terrible writer.

I’m actually pretty happy with the reviews that I’ve gotten on the iBookstore. I have about 50, which is fantastic since the book has only been on sale there for a month! The majority of them are good, and the book is currently at 4 out of 5 stars.

People have told me that the book has made them laugh out loud and made them cry; that they can identify with the main character; that it’s their new favorite book and they are telling their friends to read it; that they couldn’t put it down. I’ve actually gotten quite a few emails from people who have gone into detail about why they loved the book and how it made an impact on their lives. While I did write the book to be entertaining, it means the world to me that people are connecting with it on an emotional level. If people, especially women, who read the story feel a little less alone, then I’ve done my job. A million thanks to those of you who have blessed me with your kind words.

But then there’s the bad reviews. Look, I’m not delusional enough to think that everyone in the world is going to fall in love with More. Books have genres for a reason. Not everyone is going to like every genre. So when people call the book cheesy, I wonder if it has more to do with me or with the genre. Because…it IS cheesy! Romantic comedies are cheesy! So do you not like cheesy, or do you not like my particular brand of cheese?

Here’s what I think about a few reviews:
-I feel like I could have written this book.
Great. Maybe you should write a book.
-The main character fell in love too fast and should have known better.
DUH!! Of course she should have!! That’s part of the story!
-This book does nothing for the feminist movement.
I didn’t realize I was writing for the feminist movement?
-If you’re a single girl who focuses much time looking for the perfect guy, you may enjoy this book.
Thank you. You just described my target audience.
-No! This is not good at all!
Um…sorry? Also, this review is not constructive at all.

But on the other hand, some reviews have been incredibly constructive. It’s incredibly helpful for me to learn what people like and what they don’t so I can become a better writer.

Overall, let’s not take things too seriously, people. I did not write Gone With the Wind. Or Pride and Prejudice. More will not go down in history as the greatest piece of literature of our time. But it will touch some people, and that’s okay with me.

It will also touch my bank account, which is very very okay with me.

My mom has this saying. Whenever you have one of those slap-your-forehead moments where you do something really stupid or something just goes horribly wrong, she says “Well, you might as well laugh about it as cry about it!”

I had one of those moments, and I’m choosing to laugh about it.

When I decided to epublish, I did a lot of research about the process of converting a word file to an epub file. A LOT. There’s lots of services online where you can pay $100 to have them do it for you, but who needs to spend a $100 when you are computer savvy and perfectly capable of doing it yourself? Not this girl!

Let me back up. During the writing process, I thought I’d be super organized with how I saved my files. If I was working on the file on May 20, 2009, I would save it is More122009. And I’d save all previous versions under their respective dates. Well, when I was “done” with the book, I started changing the files to various things. More Final.doc. More FINAL.doc. More FINAL FINAL.doc. More for Lulu.doc. And on and on and on.

Ok. So I had my final file, and I was converting it to an epub. AND IT DROVE ME CRAZY. Seriously, it was so hard. I ended up having to learn how to manually edit the css stylesheet. And I HAD TO USE THE TERMINAL. Do you know what the terminal is, people? Well, it looks a little something like this:

I just want to make an epub, not hack into a secure CIA database! Sheesh!

Anyway, I can’t begin to explain to you how long this process took me. Ok, I’ll try. Days and days and days of spending HOURS trying to convert the file correctly. About 100 failed attempts. Back and forth between different types of documents, different programs, different message boards to get help – I swear to you, the dern thing almost broke me.

But I finally did it. I loaded it on iBooks on my phone, and it looked GREAT. I sent it to a friend, who loaded it on his iPad and it looked GREAT. But then…both he and I read through the entire thing and found a boatload of typos.

Now, I had already edited the book several times and fixed uh-plenty of typos. Typos are like weeds. They pop up in undesirable places when your back is turned. So I went through my document with the list of typos we had found and made all changes, made a new epub (now that I knew how to do), and published it. Hooray!

In the reviews I’ve been getting on the iBookstore, amongst the “this is my new favorite book”s, and the “I couldn’t put it down”s, and the “I laughed; I cried”s (What? It’s still exciting to me, ok?), comments kept popping up that said something like this:

“I really enjoyed the book, besides it having quite a few typos.”

And I would get annoyed every time I got a review like that, because I had TOILED over fixing the typos. I thought to myself maybe there are one or two small typos in it, but no way are there tons of typos. It’s just not possible.

So last night I decided to go through the book slowly with a fine-toothed comb. I downloaded a fresh copy onto my phone straight from the iBookstore and started reading. One misplaced comma in chapter one. I went to my document, and the misplaced comma wasn’t there. Hmm, that’s odd. Keep reading. One phrase where I left out a word, but I specifically remembered finding that error and changing the sentence completely. And in my document, it has the edited version. What the…?

SOMEHOW, WHEN IT CAME TIME TO DO MY FINAL EPUB CONVERSION, I MUST HAVE CHOSEN THE WRONG FILE. THE FILE WITH ALL THE TYPOS.

YES. I AM YELLING.

I went in last night and made a new epub and uploaded it to all the sites where I’m selling it through my mortification. I mean really, Heidi. What. A. Moron.

When I told one friend whose name SHALL NOT BE MENTIONED (but rhymes with Barren Blueshirt), he had these soothing words for me: Don’t worry. It’s like not 15,000 people have a copy of your book full of typos or anything.

Ahhhhhhhhh! They totally do!!!!!!

But, whatcha gonna do? You might as well laugh about it as cry about it.

If you do have one of those copies and would like a clean and fresh copy, comment or email me and I’ll get one to you.

And now I have to go slap my forehead.

But I guess the good news is that from the comments, reviews, and emails I’ve been getting, people are still falling in love with the story, despite the massive pile of typos.

I am a massive pile of moron.

If there are typos in the blog post I don’t want to know.