Good Habits

It's weird to realize I have some?

My wrists hurt, but first…

Dear Readers,

Oh my GOSH I hope you saw my previous email or the article on Paste, but I am so thrilled to announce In Her Spotlight, the final book in the Out in Hollywood series. This is a book I talked about so much, vaguely, when I was drafting and researching last year, and now I get to talk about it in great detail! I am SO PROUD of this book and SO EXCITED to share Tess and Rebecca (and Rosie and Aisha and Andy and Kathleen and Kevin and and and) with you.

There’s going to be so much more about this book coming, but for now just a note that every “preorders really matter to authors” post is true AND NOT JUST EMOTIONALLY SPEAKING so if you like my work and want to encourage my publisher to put out more of it and for bookstores to stock it, the very best thing you can do is preorder it! If funds are tight, remember that it still helps authors to request books from your local library systems, and that’s absolutely free to you!

Another tiny piece of business: a heads-up if you are attending Steamy Lit this year: I am taking preorders to be picked up there! You’ll get bonus swag, etc., so I highly encourage you to do so if you’ll be there.

Lately I catch myself working at my laptop on the sofa (or, more likely, playing Spelling Bee or Candy Crush) with my hands/wrists/thumbs in the most painful bad positions. I try to correct myself but like it just goes back like bad muscle memory. Then I go to bed and curl up with my hands like little kitty paws under my head, atop my mattress cooling pad that does nothing to NOT make my joints all creaky by the time I get up.

I know I could sit differently. I know I could play less computer games. I know I could work on how I hold my arms out and seek more ergonomic solutions. I know OK that I could do something about ALL OF THIS but no matter how much I resist I always find myself sliding back toward sitting like a praying mantis and sleeping like a lithe feline WHICH TO BE CLEAR I AM NOT.

The other day I mentioned something about weight-lifting, a thing I do every Thursday morning with an amazing trainer, and a coworker commented that she was impressed I’d been doing it for so long at this point. Which, OK, I have. Over a year now! I can lift more than I used to at the gym. At first, that’s where I noticed it; out in the world things felt the same. And then the other month I bought so many heavy things at the grocery store and I steeled myself for the terrible walk up to my third-floor apartment, and it was just sort of… regular. And I realized how much the work had given me in making my life better, which is the whole point of me going.*