What I Don't Do Enough Of

There are a lot of things I do not do enough of. I don't exercise enough. I don't pick up the phone enough to call my friends as much as I text or email. I don't visit museums enough. 

Most importantly I don’t write and read enough.

The definition of enough is nebulous -  “as much or as many as required.” What is enough for someone  is too much for someone else and too little for yet another. Which means that while I may think I don't do something enough - from where you sit it may look like exactly enough.

Enough is a judgment call. While I like to think I don't judge, I do. Mostly myself, for not doing enough.

Over time I've learned to recognize the symptoms of not enough for me.

I know I am not writing enough when my soul feels hollow. When there are words caught in my throat and my energy wanes. When I feel I am not being heard and I know it is because I am not  saying anything. When all I want to do is lay on the couch and watch something mindless on television - including the commercials.

I know I am not reading enough when I am left uninspired and disconnected and when I can't or don't  write. Reading used to hex me into not writing until one day it began to inspire me to write more - to be as good as the author whose book I finished and sometimes to recognize that - yes - my writing is just as good as theirs. 

My writing does not yet garner enough income to pay all the bills. Yet being the operative word. But when I am busy with my other stuff -  the stuff that does pay the bills, I label reading to be a luxury I have no time for. Writing is something I start fitting in as opposed to prioritizing.  While I am aware on some level that I am not feeding myself enough of the fuel I need to be my best and most passionate self, the dance sustains itself. 

Until something happens to break the pattern.

I read. 

And when I say read, I don't mean Facebook posts or Tweets. I mean books. Fiction. Non-fiction. Like the one I just finished by Claire Cook. 

I mean reading something that matters.

I've followed Claire's path since I left corporate. For a long time I wanted to be Claire. Even though Claire’s married with two grown children and living in Atlanta life and writing is nothing like my own. 

I wanted to have Claire's success. I aspired to have my novel made into a movie and walk the red carpet. 

I no longer want to be Claire. I want to be me. But I would still like that success. Yet it won't happen - it won't have a shot in hell - if I am not writing.

Every time I read Claire’s very simple formula for turning out as many novels as she has (which she very wisely repeats throughout the book in case you are not paying attention) I heard the little aHa in the back of my brain.  Two pages, every morning before anything else. Times Roman. 12pt. Double spaced. Seven days a week.That’s roughly 500 words of which I have already exceeded here.  Not that hard to accomplish if one is disciplined enough not to let Twitter get in the way.

It's not like I had never heard that before. I have. I've done morning pages. I read The Artist’s Way. I know the power of discipline. In fact I have written about it in my own book on creating time. I also know that discipline to what is most important to fuel our souls - requires discipline.

Claire's book did not tell me anything I did not know already. Yet that did not make it any less worthwhile to read. Books like this one are meant to inspire and remind you of the things you've let yourself forget. Just like the characters in her novels do - the easy, breezy beach reads that transport, make you smile and just when you least expect it make you go aHa!

Claire inspired me to start today writing first - before anything else. Right here in this Starbucks on Broadway and 63rd Street, as the morning crowd forms around me.  She reminded me that reinvention - like just about everything else in life is not a destination but an ongoing process of tweaks and turns and is not for the faint of heart. Most importantly she made me see that somehow in this crazy, circuitous path of reinvention I have created these last years, of late I have not been doing enough of the things I love and crave and need to sustain myself the most. 

It may not yet be enough (there goes that word again) to pay the bills, but it is necessary to fuel my soul and free me for what does. 

Claire's latest book and first non-fiction is Never Too Late: Your Roadmap To Reinvention. An inspiring and anecdotal account of her own and continuing journey of reinvention, complete with good advice and useful tools. #recommendedreading

What I Learned When The Room Started Spinning

I haven't posted a new blog in a couple of weeks. It's rare but when that happens it causes me angst. I preach consistency in content creation. And I get mad at myself when I don't walk the walk.

But this time I had my reasons. For starters I have been running a full schedule and working on some exciting stuff that has been commandeering my creative process. More to come on that later.

But the most important reason is I had one of those moments. You know those moments. When something happens to cause your world to spin out of control. 

That's what happened to me.

Literally.

One minute it was just another Friday. People to see. Places to be. The next I was at the gym, stretching out on the mat, listening to Bruno Mars when I turned from right to left and everything in the room started to move. No matter where I tried to focus a piece of gym equipment was in a tailspin.

I knew what it was. It's happened before - but I hadn't had a real episode of vertigo in years.

If you've never experienced vertigo, at first it feels like a very bad hangover complete with nausea. All you want to do is stay in a darkened room and sleep.  Except that even the worst of worst of hangovers is more manageable.

Luckily my gym is in my building so I didn't have far to navigate my off balance self into the elevator. 

Once inside my apartment I fell onto my bed and did what one does when they get vertigo. Try and find the one position that does not make the room spin, close your eyes and don't move. Not one fraction of an inch. The slightest little shift the wrong way and you are back on the Ferris Wheel at top speed.

I was dizzy. I was nauseous. But I was also angry. I did not have time for this.

I tried to will it away. I tried to convince myself I was more powerful than the vertigo. I wanted to control it instead of it controlling me.

But it wasn't happening.

There was nothing I could do but just be. 
Be still.
Be quiet.
No Internet.
No television.
No conversation.
A lot of sleep.
A lot of time to think.

Before you know it Friday had turned to Saturday and I was still in my bed. The worst of the vertigo had passed, but I felt fragile. I was functional but I was far from off to the races again. 

It was clear the furthest away from my bed I was going to get for the rest of the weekend was the couch. 

The really good news was I could focus enough to read. I picked up the book I had started earlier in the week. Thrive by Arianna Huffington. And everything started to make sense.

Arianna talks about these kinds of moments in her book. When something happens that causes you to step back and reassess what you are doing. Sometimes they are truly life altering and sometimes they are more nudges and reminders you have fallen off track. 

Mine was a big reminder. I suppose my vertigo could have been spurred by a virus or inner ear congestion. But I think differently. My body was reacting to the pace I've been keeping. I had let myself disconnect with my core. So much so that it did what it does when it wants to make sure I pay attention. It gets very Greek and does something very dramatic.

And just in case I might still have refused to see the obvious, it made sure that the book I just happened to have started reading was about well-being, wisdom, wonder and giving. 

I finished the book that weekend and have been regrouping ever since. 

Which explains the lack of blogging.

I'm still moving slowly. Vertigo likes to linger after it comes to visit. But that's okay. Especially in this case. It wants to make sure I don't forget too quickly the message it came to send.


Note - If you haven't yet, make sure you get a copy of Thrive. This is a wonderful and important book you don't want to miss! 

EXTRA SPECIAL NOTE - Register for the Thrive event in NYC on April 24-25 and  use the discount code Rep99 at checkout. The $299 tickets become $99!  It's going to be a powerful and inspiring conference - one you don't want to miss!

My Green-Eyed Monster

Here I sit with no shortage of topics to write about or projects to delve into. It is snowing outside with no signs of letting up until early tomorrow morning - or so says the weather report. Which should mean that cozy in the confines of my home/office this should be a very productive day. But if you ask me how many words I have written (it is now after 1PM) the answer would be to count back to the first word in this paragraph.

Eighty-five.

Not very impressive.

But that - I have come to realize - happens.

That is part of the struggle of being a creative.

That is the angst of being a creative with enough left brain tendencies to be annoyed with myself when not accomplishing what I think to be a day's work.
That is what will reoccur no matter how many times I  have gotten to the other side of this quagmire.

I am always surprised when I am in this spot. I wanted to believe the last time was - the last time. I am no less frustrated than I was before. I know all the tricks to get past this. 

Set the egg timer. 
Sit. 
At my desk.
Don't move until it goes off. 

But that does not mean that any of them are going to work.

The Resistance - as Steve Pressfield has so eloquently described it - is my green-eyed monster. 

Everyone has one. Mine comes equipped with little gray pellets it shoots at me than make either want to take multiple naps or do a lot of laundry. And sometimes - just when I think I am about to rise above it - my monster shoots another set that sends me off to Facebook or Twitter so I can read all the great stuff other people are writing or doing while I am just making my list. Rather than inspire me or egg me on - it makes me want to take- yet another nap.

Until something happens.
Like now.
And I get to hit publish.




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What Happens When You Take The Shades Off

I wear sunglasses every day. Every season. They keep the sun out of my eyes as well as the wind.  They block all the nasty things that can fly into your eyes when you live in New York. Soot. Dirt. Dust. Falling objects from buildings. 

Yesterday I didn't.

I didn't plan on it. It looked overcast when when I left my apartment. And I was in a rush. So I forgot to take them out of my purse.

A few blocks later, the sun came out. 

The reds and oranges of the leaves that had fallen to the sidewalk appeared more robust than usual. The sky a more vibrant shade of blue. People looked a bit more alive to me.

It took me a few blocks before I realized that my world was looking brighter not just because of the sun, but because I was without my protective eyewear.

I started to reach for them. To cover my eyes with the tint of my lenses that shields me from those unexpected flying objects and the not so friendly rays of sun. 

But I didn't.

It hit me that they were also distorting how I view the world.

I continue walking, feeling a bit naked without those shades but also reminded how the slightest bit of change in routine can color the way we see everything.

And vowing to inject more of that into my life.

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25 Things I've Learned From The Experiment - Day 30 !

So here we are. The last day of the great experiment. 30 consecutive blogs later - mission is accomplished! For those of you who have followed my every word, a great big thank-you for your encouragement, your comments and your sharing with friends.

I've learned so much! So for my last post on this leg of my journey I've compiled a list of the 25 things that are - at the moment - my biggest take-a-ways. Some of this is brand new information. Some a reminder of what I had forgotten. I'll leave it to you to figure out which is which. 

1-The more I write, the more I write.
2-The more I write, the more I have to write.
3-The more I write, the more other stuff gets done.
4-Nobody reads as many blogs on the weekends.
5-The more honest and vulnerable I am, the more the reaction.
6-The subject of bragging as a good thing is apparently quite controversial.
7-Publicly announcing your intentions is a good tool for accountability.
8-Those moments where I don't want to hit publish because I think my writing is just not good enough, never go away - no matter how much I write.
9-Inspiration does not come when you are looking for it and worried if something will stand the test of time or not.
10-Inspiration comes when you observe and take notice.
11-Inspiration comes when you are in a groove.
12-It's never just about the writing. It's about the listening.
13-Anything I set my mind to can be achieved. The key is to not over think the process.
14-I have a lot to say about a lot of things.
15-Trying to predict what will get a lot of page views never works. Nobody cared much about Jerry Seinfeld's new video series. 
16-My egg timer theory does work.
17-Deadlines are a good thing.
18-Lists are fun to write. Tips are great to share. But writing story  that resonates - like the day I left the building for the last time- is the best.
19-When someone tells me that when they read my blogs they feel like I'm having a conversation with them, my day has been made.
20-Writer's block does exist, no matter how many people want to tell you it's a myth.
21-Forcing oneself to get one's butt in the chair, and shut off all possible electronic distractions is one way to get past it.
22-So is taking a break, going for a walk and trusting the muse will arrive and with her the words.
23-My voice is what works best here. Trying to make it popular, to please others, to write something that gets all sorts of new traffic to my site is not what this blog is about. Never was supposed to be. If that goes against all the old and new rules of marketing, so be it.
24-That I am still in awe of those who manage to post every day, 365 days a year.
25-That it's possible for me to do it too - if I so choose.


I'll be back soon - just not tomorrow - with my next blog. Until then.

Will This Stand The Test Of Time? - Day 22

There are literally 838,000,000 search results when you Google "how to write a great blog" - at least as of this morning. One question that many of them will tell you to ask yourself is this -

Will this stand the test of time?

On the one hand I like the idea of taking a moment to step back, look at what I wrote with a fresh perspective and ask myself - is what I wrote good enough, interesting enough, smart or funny enough to stand the test of time? 

It seems like a very good gauge for posting quality work - not limited to blog posts. One that obviously is not being considered in the case of Honey Boo Boo.

On the other hand it is also one of those questions that can stifle my creative flow. The kind that can make me look and look again - in search of perfection - before I hit the PUBLISH button. The kind that can leave me in doubt, wondering if anything I have to say is worth posting. 

This experiment I've been running never promised quality. It was partly a challenge to myself to see if indeed I could come up with something every day - in a row - for thirty days - that I felt comfortable enough with to hit publish. It was also partly a way for me to gain perspective on the last five years.

I wanted it to be fun. Most days it has been. Although I admit to days when I wish it was done already. My only hope was and is that whatever of my own gems I was thrusting out into the blogosphere might also resonate and make a difference in someone's day.

But I am sure that had I started torturing myself with that question - especially in those first few days, I would not be writing this post - day 22. 

Sometimes you have to not ask the big questions. Sometimes you have to just press forward and go with it.

Will this one stand the test of time? Only time will tell.

note: This is Day #22 of the 30 Day Experiment.   Here are the details on how it all started.

In Search Of Perspective - Day 21

There is a film I ask my NYU students to watch called The Powers of Ten. Written and produced by Charles and Ray Eames, better known to the world for the design of the Eames chair, the film was made in 1968 and re-released in 1977. It's since become a bit of a classic and in 1998 was selected for preservation in the United States National Film Registry by the Library of Congress.

Why you might ask, would I ask a class of digital marketing students to watch a film that from a technical standpoint is from the dark ages?  That's okay. They don't get it at first either. In fact, some of them need to watch more than once to understand what I want them to see.

Which is pretty simple. Things are not always as they seem. Depending on the vantage point from which we are watching our perspective will change. If we want to be good marketers we need to look at things from more than one angle and more than one distance.

As I've been on this blogging experiment these last weeks I've been in search of perspective as well as inspiration for these posts. So I've been changing up my morning routine.

I tend to be a creature of habit. Walking the same blocks to the gym or the Park when there are a variety of ways I can go. Forgetting I can also walk along the River. Frequenting the same Starbucks when there are literally eight I can choose from. 

What I've discovered is that each time I walk a different way or order my coffee from a different barrister I am newly inspired. The neighborhood I've lived in for many years looks fresher, more interesting.  And Starbucks - turns out a chain that looks identical from the outset, each has its own unique flavor once inside.

I invite you to give it a whirl. Walk a different way home today. Try a block you've never been on it. Let me know what you see.

note: This is Day #21 of the 30 Day Experiment.   Here are the details on how it all started.

The Right Way And The Wrong Way - Day 20

"Humans now create in two days the same amount of data that it took from the dawn of civilization until 2003 to create." 

Eric Schmidt, Google Executive Chairman

A pretty staggering fact.

In all that "stuff" we try to mine through lie countless individuals telling you the right way to do something. Or the wrong way.

• Ten proven steps to fix your career.
• Five things not to tell your boyfriend if you want to get married. 
• Three sure fire tips that will make you never, ever, ever gain another pound.
• Seven tricks guaranteed to land you a promotion

It bothers me. Too many people believe there is a secret formula. That there is 100 percent of the time a right way and a wrong way to get what you want. 

And then they get disappointed when they find out life is not like following with precision the steps in a Martha Stewart recipe to make the Best Ever Meatloaf. 

Here's what I know for sure. 

There is no right or wrong way. There is only your way - which might include more than one bump or detour along the way. That doesn't make how you got there wrong. Or right. It just means you got there.  Which now that I think about is not the right way or the wrong. It's the only way.

note: I can hardly believe this is Day #20 of the 30 Day Experiment and I have not missed a day!   Here are the details on how it all started.

The Ocean - Day 6

I've always had a thing for the ocean. Lakes are nice. Pools can be delightful. The bay can be a  close second. But for me nothing compares with the sounds of the waves crashing on the shore.

An astrologer once told me its because I have a disproportionate amount of water in my sign so I naturally feel more comfortable close to the water. I prefer my own explanation which is the story my Uncle Nick used to tell me.

He and my mom's sister, my Aunt Dorothy were babysitting for me. It was the first time my parents had left me overnight with anyone. It was hot. Blistering hot. The kind of hot that makes you want to turn up the AC and stay indoors watching a good movie.

Except when I was a baby air-conditioning was still considered a luxury - one my Aunt and Uncle did not have.

It seems that I was born with my aversion to extreme heat. Not yet able to talk, the only way to express my displeasure was to cry. So I cried. And I cried and I cried. At the top of my lungs. Nothing was going to get me to stop. Which is about when my Uncle drove us to Long Beach. It wasn't illegal back then to be on the beach at night without a special permit. It was just what people did when there was no place else to cool off.

He loved getting to this part of the story in which he played hero because he had solved the problem. You see as soon as I heard the waves crashing and felt the cool ocean breeze I fell asleep. 

I was far to young to remember any of this. Long ago I created an elaborate picture in my head of what it looked like - a black and white photo of a stylish young couple, sitting on a bench on the boardwalk under the night sky, taking turns holding their new niece as she slept in their arms.

But I do remember the feeling. Each time I set my toes into the sand and feel the spray of salt water on my skin. I am at peace. I am restored. I am relaxed. And sometimes I  still go right to sleep.





note: This is Day #6 of a 30 Day Experiment. Here are the details on how it all started.

The Real Reason It Won't Work

If you have ever tried something new and different, gone off on an unconventional path, endeavored to make a difference in something, big or small, you'll notice one recurring theme. 

Most people won't tell you why it will work. 

They'll tell you why it won't.

They'll say something like:

• It's too soon
• It's too late
• It's too big
• It's too small
• It's not sustainable 

• It will take too much time

• No one will care in a year

• It costs too much
• It doesn't cost it enough
• It's too obvious
• Someone else is already doing it and they'll do it better
• Why bother? No one will care.

They'll roll their eyes. They'll add a huff or two. They'll change the subject to something more interesting to them. Like how they've given up on ever losing those ten pounds or how much they hate their boss because really, there is just nothing they can do about it.

My very practical advice is to stay away from those people.

Especially if you want to: 

• try something new and different
• are ready to take an unconventional path
• are endeavoring to make a difference in something, big or small

You see the thing they forgot to tell you is the real reason it won't work. 

You believe them instead of you.

The Real Secret

Everyone is searching for it. That secret. The one that will solve all their problems. That magic key that will fix whatever they find lacking in their life.

The only people who seem not to be searching are the ones that tell you they are in possession of it. They know what you don't. They want you to believe the secret lies in their hot little hands. All you need do is sign up for their newsletter and you'll get the free video or PDF that gives it away. The one simple secret to earning a seven figure income and never having to work more than three hours a day. Or buy one of those glossy magazines that still fill the walls of the store where I buy my lottery tickets. The one that promises the secret to a flatter stomach without ever doing a sit-up. You might be encouraged to click on this link and find out the one fool proof secret to making your skin never age.  Or watch tonight's News at Eleven and discover the secrets your airline pilot will never tell you.

We are all so hungry for that secret that we buy into it. We click, we turn on, we scroll Twitter and Facebook and Pinterest. We are so sure someone else has the answers. Someone else knows more than we do that it's hard not to be disappointed when we get to the bottom of the article and find out we knew that already. Or we try what they suggest and it doesn't work.

I googled "Top Ten Secrets" yesterday and came up with 57,900,000 results from great sex to success to mastering your brand to having a happy family! Apparently we are spending a lot of time searching for our secrets of choice.

I know that if I share advice and  include the words tips, tricks, or secrets in the title my post gets more page views and/or is more likely to get picked up by an aggregate website. I openly admit I have done that and probably will again. Even though I know the real secret.

Which is this. There is no secret.

Yes, there is lots of information dancing around. That's why we call this the Information Age. Some of it is very good (my intention is to fall in that category, more often than not) and some of it is just a way to get you sign up for a newsletter or click a link so that website's impressions are increased and the owners can charge someone else more money to run an advertisement.  Or simply get you to plunk down your credit card and buy whatever it is they are selling.

You can read every article. Pay tens of thousands of dollars in course fees. Surf the Internet while you are watching a television show that promises if you just do this, this one secret thing, everything will shift. But nothing will, unless you stop.
And listen.
To you.

If you do, you will discover that the real secret lies within. You have all the answers to whatever is lacking in your life and the direction you need to go to create your change. But only if you dare, dare, dare to get quiet enough to listen. To your heart. To the messages your body offers. To the essence of yourself.

But most of us don't.  Or won't.  The excuse being you just don't have time to do that. To stop. To breathe. To be. To listen. We're too busy wasting time. Searching. For that secret.

A Dream Come True !!!

Last week I realized a big dream. I became a best selling author!   Me. Joanne Tombrakos. My 3-Day Free Kindle promotion had taken my book, It Takes An Egg Timer, A Guide to Creating the Time for Your Life, to the #1 position for best selling free Kindle books in the Time Management category. For three days only. Just like the sale.

It was a heady, free-floating few days spent glued to my computer, watching my Twitter feed, sharing Facebook and LinkedIn posts while emailing for help and assistance far and wide. For seventy-two hours I got to feel the experience of what it means to say I am a best selling author, that dream that every writer who has ever thought about writing dreams.

I became addicted to my Amazon reports, tracking the number of downloads by hour. Even more so, to my ranking.  By mid-day of Day 1, my book moved into the #1 spot  in the time management category and stayed there for the duration. It went to #2 in Business/Life and as high as #5 in overall Business. I'm not sure what to compare this to, but 1584 downloads in three days was something that I was pretty proud of. Especially considering how I had struggled with the possibility that no one would download it, even if I gave it away for free.

I made myself a best selling author by  pushing out of my comfort zone. I agonized over this “free” thing for a long time. In the world that I come from of radio and television advertising sales, free is only given when attached to cold, hard cash. And while I never wrote the book just to make money, I am a for-profit entity. I had read all about how free promotions could be of benefit, but I had resisted.

I did it anyway. I jumped, knowing the worst thing that might happen was I would fail.

I’m not sure just yet what this all means in the long term for the sales of my book. I'll be back to you on that.  But right now, this is what I know for sure:

• My book is in the hands of 1584 people who did not have it before.
• The Internet is an extremely powerful tool, that if used properly can make a big difference in a short period of time, even if you are an entrepreneur working out of your house.
• Every step of your journey thus far can help you moving forward. I applied my sales background and advertising expertise to the new tools of social media.
• People are basically good and so very generous in helping and sharing , if you just stretch enough to ask.
• People are kind, and will take the time, unsolicited to drop you an email and tell you they read the book  and loved the message and then spread it among  their tribes.
• We live in a global world. Because of this promotion my book now has its first 5-star Review on Amazon UK!!  
• Networking today happens on-line and off-line. I picked up a lot of new followers on my social nets  and made many new connections over the course of three days.
• On-line connections can meet off-line. On the last day of the promotion I attended the S.H.E. Summit at 82 Mercer. A woman waved at me with a big smile as if we were long lost friends as she announced,  “I know you! I just read your book!”
• Dreams can come true, not necessarily exactly as you imagined, but true nevertheless if you are just willing to leap out of your comfort zone and experiment.

I made myself a best selling author. I didn’t wait. I figured out a way to do it. For three days. 

What will you do today that takes you out of your comfort zone?

What dream are you willing to make come true?

Not Practicing What I Preach

I hate when I don't listen to me!

There I was. Tuesday afternoon. I set my trusty egg timer. Ready to get to some serious work. The space was set, or so I thought.

It was as though I'd forgotten the basic rules and I was the one who wrote them!

I didn't shut down my email program. Worse I didn't turn the sound off my mobile so I wouldn't hear  the lovely little chime it makes every time someone texts me. That day it was as though I was the most popular person on the Upper West Side. The texts kept coming. And as though channeling my demons, I chose not to shut it off. I could have. But I didn't.  An hour later I wondered why the project I was trying to complete still sat unfinished.

Duh? Did I not just write a whole book about this? Have I not been tweeting and Facebooking its arrival all over cyberspace? Isn't the reason I suggest good old-fashioned analog egg timers instead of digital devices to eliminate those intrusive distractions? To form a safe and quiet space to focus on creating?

Yes, I know better. But I slipped. And like all modern day tech addicts, it can be hard to restrain oneself once those nasty intrusions have infiltrated one's space. They are, after all like crack. It's as if you are rendered helpless to their power. As though they are the ones who have strapped your hands behind the chair in some new variation of Fifty Shades of Grey keeping you out of  reach of all those buttons that say OFF.

It happens. Even to the best of us.

You let the distractions mire your thought process. You are unable to focus on anything but what you might be missing. And not only do you get nothing accomplished, but the hangover that ensues in the aftermath, that mixture of guilt and lack of productivity. It will make you swear on whatever tickles your fancy, never, ever to stray again.

But you will. It happens. Even to those of us who literally wrote the book. Sometimes that's okay. Sometimes it all works out. Point in case, this blog is a direct result of my going off the wagon. So I was, after all that, actually accomplishing something.

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That Thing You Have To Do

I'm the first to admit it. I didn't buy the tickets because of her music. I bought them because I have had a desire since I first published, The Secrets They Kept for Rita Wilson to read and love my story of a Greek-American family and make it into a movie. My expectation was not that my $12 bar stool seats at Joe's Pub would afford me a face to face moment in which to pitch away. Rather that I was getting closer. I knew a copy of my book had made it to her office. And then there was that twist of fate in which my cousin who produces the Mark and Brian show in LA met her the day she was on their show. So it seemed like the energetically right thing to do.

What I didn't expect was how good she would be. Really good. This is not a vanity act, although I am sure many reviews will want to tell you that. She really does have a great singing voice, not to mention a great stage presence. And the songs that she sang from her new release,  AM/FM took me on a trip down memory lane that at times brought tears to my eyes.

You see, not only are Rita and I both of Greek heritage, we are almost the same age. Which made the music she grew up with, the music I grew up with.  Granted in those days there were geographic differences. New music did not necessarily break nationally. Disc jockeys on the radio stations had the ability to play what they liked and occasionally "break" new songs. They were not beholden to the computer generated list provided by their program director. Unlike today.

Nevertheless, she was spot on with some of my all time favorites. It was hard not to sing along with her. So I mouthed the words I knew by heart from years of practice. Better anyway as singing is not one of my talents.

I was moved. The music and her performance transported me in that way the music of one's younger days has the ability to. To another time and place. I listened as my own personal series of film clips of first loves, broken hearts, dreams, possibility, laughter, right turns and wrong turns flashed by. Of a time when  doing nothing but getting lost in the lyrics of a song was an activity that did not include a mobile device and headset.

There was something else that also moved me.  Rita Wilson demonstrated on stage what happens when you figure out a way to do that thing you always wanted to. That passion that you kept locked away for whatever your reasons until you couldn't anymore. Until you had to figure out a way to make that happen. She exuded happiness. The kind that makes you look younger than your years. The kind that grounds you.

I know that feeling. For me it has been writing.

Singing apparently was the one thing she always wanted to do, but never thought she was good enough to do. Until now.

Lucky for us.

Test Driving My Time Theory

I’ve been in absentia. Tucked away writing my next book, a part guide and part manifesto on how to create the time for your life. If I said that left little space for me to write much of anything else, that might seem a bit hypocritical to the premise of my book. But it’s not. It’s called triage, a tool I use in assessing what needs to be at the top of my to-do list. My newsletter has not been there, nor this blog, until now.

In a case of what can only be life imitating art, or is it art imitating life, I have been thrown curve balls in the last week or so that challenge the very core of what the book is all about. And so I found myself in the last days before this book hits Amazon, forced to test drive to the extreme what happens when the really big curve balls hit. I had to listen to my own advice on managing, organizing and creating the time for everything I both wanted and had to do.

This is where I was last week.

It Takes An Egg Timer: A Guide To Creating The Time For Your Life has been written and edited and is with my very brilliant interior book designer, Jamie Kerry. The cover is under construction with the extraordinarily talented cover designer, Wendy Bass. My official release date of May 15, auspicious in that it happens to be my brother’s birthday is two full weeks away. More than enough time to read through, yet again and again this short, inspirational, motivational, informative, and at times entertaining guide/manifesto in that way authors do as they strive for perfection.

I am walking rather proud. This is after all my second self-published work. And I am feeling pretty good how ahead of schedule I am this time and consequently much less nervous. Well maybe. I don’t think I will ever not be on the edge before a new book is birthed into the world. But confident enough that I was able to relax and enjoy a four-day weekend spent in a Robert McKee Story Seminar from 9A-7P every day.

And then the calls started. From my mother. My 89 year-old, fiercely independent mother who still lives alone, an hour and forty-five minutes south on the New Jersey Turnpike, and yes, on occasion still drives to the grocery store. Her leg is bothering her, but this time it is not just the osteoarthritis and absence of all cartilage. This time she says she can barely walk and the pain is excruciating until I suggest she call 911. Then the pain subsides.

My brother goes to her apartment. Things settle for a bit. He leaves. In between I am trying to concentrate long enough to read as well as prepare for all that marketing and outreach that goes into a book release. Yes, I use my trusty egg timer in sixty-minute windows just as I suggest in my book. It is the only hope I have of getting anything done. The ticking sound really does calm me. 

I clear my schedule and on Wednesday take Exit 6 to the Pennsylvania Turnpike to find my mother crawled in a ball in her bed. She is in too much pain to walk. She has not been drinking enough water because she is too afraid she will not be able to get herself to the bathroom. She wears her medical alert necklace, the one she has never been afraid to push to get help. Until now.

I don’t ask, I tell her I am taking her to the ER. Except I can’t get her out of bed to get dressed. We’re going to need the rescue squad but not, she informs me before I help her dress and she puts on some lipstick. To some this might seem like a good sign. To me, it is just my mother’s vanity, her elixir to staying young.

I mask my worry in crisis management.  I’m good at that.  All those years of working in a corporate office and having to draw on my testosterone reserve while squashing my feminine energy to survive come in handy at moments like this. I compartmentalize the excitement for my book. My attention and my time are nowhere else but with her.

At Abington Memorial Hospital they start running tests, drawing blood and ordering x-rays. A team of doctors and nurses in what might be the nicest ER I have ever been to, attend to her. There is some sort of infection in her blood that they need to get to the source of. It was good, we are told, that she got here when she did.

I sit in the chair next to her, and she looks frail. Once standing at five–five and three quarters she has shrunk to five-two. I want to burst into tears but I save them for later.  Seeing me cry will only make her more afraid.  At this moment she needs my strength.

I worry that maybe this is it. That maybe this infection has taken hold of her and we are at the end.  Her time. But could it be? Just two weeks from my brother’s and the book’s birthday? A book on how we have more time than we think we do? Why do beginnings always have to be so inextricably connected to endings?  It’s all too much to think about. So I force myself not to. Not until the results are all back and we know what we are dealing with. I close my eyes and concentrate on the movement of my breath. I am so grateful that breathing and meditation are no longer foreign concepts to me.

I watch her fall asleep. She is tired. A combination of meds and all this attention and excitement. I see a tiny opening here. A few moments for me to be there for me. And I seize it.

I find the PDF in my iPad and I open my new book. It is dedicated to her, my mother and her ever-faithful egg timer, the one she showed me how to use. I read and I can’t help but smile.  I ground in my own words, transported to the original egg timer in the kitchen I grew up in. My worry shifts to profound gratitude for this woman I have been lucky enough to call my mother for all these years. She will like this book. Like that she and the egg timer were the original sources of inspiration. I know she will stay at least long enough to celebrate its grand entrance to the world.

I am right. I love it when I am right. By the next day the infection is under control. The swelling has subsided. A therapist is helping her walk.  A few days in the hospital and she is home, this time with a walker as her personal assistant as well as the help of visiting nurses. And of course,  an advance PDF copy of my new book.

I know her strength and her will. I have after all inherited that.


She is not ready to go. Not just yet. Not before a party. For her son and this book. Neither of which would have been possible without her.

It Takes An Egg Timer, A Guide to Creating the Time for Your Life will be available on Amazon, in print and Kindle on May 15. If you wish to be added to my mailing list for updates, please click here.