I’ll come right out and say it – sometimes I feel depressed. Not a deep, droopy, dull-eyed, “what’s to become of me” despondency, but the more shallow sort, lurking on the surface. This is what happens when I shift into slacker mode and stop writing. I do write fairly consistently. But what’s sent me into this dip is that I’ve yet to finish my second book. It should have been done by now. I’m halfway there. The manuscript sits in my full view daily; I’m not blind (only very near-sighted), yet I choose to ignore it. All I have to do is complete it, take the pages, clean them up, give them a scrub, and polish them till they glitter. But I don’t.

Could I have indolenza? You know, that affliction that combines laziness and indolence, meaning my teacup is full, and I lack the drive to look for more (excuse me, while I give my fingers a rest from typing).

It’s no fun to stand still. As my heroine says in my novel, “We’re not here for compromise or small victories. We’re here for complete victory.” For the win.

Many people, including experts, have trouble following their own advice. Is not one’s greatest enemy oneself (or at least one’s thoughts)? Did Dr. Wayne Dyer ever want to beat the heck out of anyone? I think so. I can read between the lines. Don’t get me wrong – I’m a big fan of Dr. Dyer’s, but I think we fall off the wagon sometimes, and it’s not always easy to chase the rickety thing down and leap back inside, especially while it’s moving.

What’s preventing me from completing my book, you might ask? Well, there’s the windowsill in the kitchen that hasn’t been dusted all week. And I haven’t written a thank you note to Geico for the insurance information they send me each and every month. But ultimately, I think it’s some sort of a fear. A ridiculous, ludicrous, nonsensical fear of what will I do once it’s done? Or what if I do a half-cocked job? Or what if I fail? Or (insert your own convenient “what if”)?

When I find I’m hiding beneath my excuses instead of standing atop the pile, I know I need help. I try to find another writer and discuss what ails me. Last night, I found my friend whose third book is coming out any minute, and who exudes motivation and gives a natural boost to all in her presence.

May I suggest that if you find yourself dragging in any undertaking, grab someone who embodies the attitude you should have and tell him/her how you feel. Talking it over may give you the direction you need and the motivation to do what you should.

At the moment of commitment, the entire universe conspires for your success ~ Goethe

I recently attended my first Conference as an author – Left Coast Crime. I had a fantabulous time! It was far better than I’d anticipated. A few pointers that worked for me:

Swag (to giveaway at Author Speed Dating and to handout to potential readers and anyone within spitting distance): I created pens displaying my book cover and website, attached with a ribbon to my bookmark. The pens were a huge hit. In fact, I found a few bookmarks sans pens.

One minute talk: I had the happy challenge of explaining my book in one minute or less during the New Author Breakfast. Nerve-racking? Yes, but oh so much fun! I found it helpful to have my book in hand while on stage. It’s a confidence booster and reminder of what one is capable of accomplishing with a little (read between the words: a TON of) work and determination; a dream come true. My speech went something like this:

“I’d like to invite you on an adventure with me. In and around Southern California. With a heroine who lands a dream job in a movie studio, and is blackmailed into investigating a co-worker’s suspicious death. And, is persuaded to look into a catnapping, a possible alien abduction, and a low speed car chase. All because she’s the daughter of a renowned private investigator and together they cracked a few high profile cases. This is a recipe for disaster. MURDER AND OTHER UNNATURAL DISASTERS, which is the title of my book. I hope you’ll enjoy reading.”

I also mentioned the award my book won and my Conference panel (which was later on in the day). Much to my surprise, I wasn’t as nervous as I’d anticipated. No fainting spells, no stammering, no heart leaping out of my chest and landing with a thud in an unsuspecting audience member’s bowl of oatmeal. I survived! And it felt satisfying. But my survival wasn’t the best part. We new authors had assigned tables with our names posted. I was thinking who in their right mind would sit at my table? I was a nobody or maybe a very small, if not microscopic, somebody. But my table was full! And I made some marvelous friends, two of which bought my book. I got to meet the lovely Ruby from Victoria, Canada, and her equally wonderful friend, Anna. I sat next to another author, Annette Mahon, who, after my one minute babble, said that my book was one of four she’d starred to be read. Who could ask for more?

To top it all off, I won a beautiful quilt signed by four big-name authors in attendance. Hard to believe that the day before the Conference I’d wavered about going, worried that I couldn’t handle it. I would have missed a special opportunity packed with many happy surprises. Courage is to know that one is afraid, but to go forth and act anyway. So glad I did.

In novels, the setting can breathe life into fiction and make the book world real. My setting is Southern California, a sprawling, mostly metropolitan, densely populated area, known for many things, including ever present, intimidating traffic. I once overheard two men aboard Boston’s rapid transit system, bemoaning that they were visiting So Cal soon and how would they ever contend with the assertive driving? My heroine encounters freeways, frantic driving, a low speed car chase and horn-honking, the latter of which plays a small but significant role in daily driving. Here’s an example from my real-life:

I recently walked in a well-marked, clearly designated crosswalk on Wilshire Boulevard. Even if you were blind, you’d feel its very presence. Before making a right turn, a Ford Mustang patiently waited, at a red light, for pedestrians to complete their trek to the other side. Smog was light. Shopping was plentiful. Life was good.

Suddenly, a silver Lexus stopped behind the Mustang and leaned on its horn for about the length of time it takes an average person to peel an apple. In Los Angeles, people don’t just tap or beep, they lean and blow like contestants vying in an Olympian horn honking competition.

I once read that a car horn should be used the same way as you would use your voice. Just what was the Lexus telling the Mustang driver?

“What the hell are you waiting for? Turn those peds into pancakes already!”

The lengthy ear-splitting honk made me want to plant my feet firmly to the confines of the crosswalk and take up the stride of a three-legged tortoise. Somehow, I managed to cross without incident.

Minutes later, at an entirely different intersection with different cars, I heard it again: this shrill blare took so long that I considered the possibility that the automobile sound mechanism went haywire. The horn must have either broken or been part of some sort of alarm. But in fact, a car was stopped at a red light. Behind it sat a queue containing four vehicles. Motorist number four was doing the honking. The lead car had failed to press the accelerator petal during the .05 seconds allotted to move once the light turned green.

Where I live, in the northern tip of So Cal, people do not use their horns. Yesterday, I sat behind two cars, waiting to make a right, onto a highway. When the light turned green, the motorist upfront dozed comfortably and unaware. I could almost make out the pillow behind his head. Quail quietly crossed the street, squirrels took their sweet time posing on hind legs in the middle of the highway. No one honked. Not even me, the former Angeleno. Eventually, the motorist awoke from his dream-state and moved.

The napping driver had stepped away from reality for a moment or two or three and returned the moment he realized his mistake. It was not for us to punish him. Using the horn is a deliberate choice. In this instance, we simply chose not to.

Honk-happy L.A. motorists lack the necessary survival virtues of patience and awareness. They regard their cars as suits of armor. While wearing the suit (or in this case, sitting in the car,) they maintained an air of false bravado. Remove them from the vehicle, and it’s a different story. A reminder for this author to exercise patience and awareness in life…and in writing.