Lara Zielin

When I was a high school freshman, I played on the tennis team. I was terrible. I was certainly one of the most inexperienced players out there, and I lost every game I played. I remember thinking at the time, “I should have started this sport in junior high. THEN I’d be a good player.” I didn’t play on the team the next year.

I’ve been at writers’ conferences where the same thing has happened. Not tennis — I mean, this feeling, when everyone shows their pages and I look at the other writing in the room and I think, “If I’d started getting serious about this sooner, I’d be okay right now. Everyone else smokes me.”

Except, that’s the whole point, isn’t it? That we don’t start out perfect, but that we inch toward being better. That we do it when we’re not awesome so that one day we can be sort of awesome. Or really awesome if we’re lucky.

I hear this a lot at the place where I work out and where, now, I teach indoor cycling classes. “I’d come but I’m afraid I’ll look stupid. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Dude. You know what? We all look stupid. And we all didn’t start out knowing what we were doing.

So, here’s a picture I both love and hate, and it illustrates what I’m talking about. It was taken at Elvis Fest in Ypsilanti last year. And I remember I saw it and I was like, “THAT’S how big my arms are? That’s what I look like from the side? Uuuggh, kill me now.” (Okay, but I also love the photo because, hello, hilarious Blues Brothers impersonators and, um, is that tattooed Elvis or something? Who is that guy? This photo cracks me up and horrifies me all at once.)

I love and hate this photo. Blues Brothers and tattooed Elivs? Yay! My body from the side? Less than yay.

The point is, the body in that photo above didn’t look awesome on an indoor cycling bike. Or running down the street. Or whatever. My body STILL doesn’t look awesome doing those things all the time. Better, sure, but I’m not THAT different than I was in the picture above. Ten pounds, maybe. But I feel different. And if I don’t do this stuff when I’m not awesome, then I can’t get to … anything better. It’s something I’ve learned about exercise and writing — two of my fave topics evvaaarr — but it applies to everything, I think.

Do it when you suck. When you look fat with Elvis. When you’ve gotten a thousand query rejections but you keep on writing anyhow.

Just so you don’t stay in the same place.

Uhthankyouvaaarmuch. Elvis has left the building.

[This post includes a rad video. I just wanted to let you know that up front.]

There was a time in my life when I liked to think of myself as a storm chaser.

Because, see, I’d been on a tornado tour in tornado alley — which is a lot like whale watching, only instead of paying a guide to get you close to marine mammals, you pay a guide to get you close to dangerous storms — so OF COURSE I knew what I was doing.

When I was driving near Saginaw, Michigan, a few years ago, I got the perfect opportunity to chase. Like in Twister the movie! When they’re all in their cars, jouncing over back roads to get near a storm! I was on the trail of a huge system that was definitely going to produce. (<– See that? I even knew the lingo.)

I was getting really close to a dark, churning sky.

It was so exciting!

The wind was picking up. The temperature dropped. The whole sky took on that eeire green/black vibe.

And then the sirens started to go off. And I realized I was pretty much in the middle of the space a tornado was likely to touch down. And I thought to myself, “This is real.”

And, okay, maybe I thought about some swear words too. Probably I even said those swear words.

Because this wasn’t Twister, this wasn’t a tour with a guide who held a Ph.D. and a sophisticated Doppler. This was me being the biggest dumbass ever, and I had to get out of there.

Except that’s when the wind hit.

And the hail.

Did I mention I was in a new car?

It was getting bad. Oh, and the sirens were STILL going off.

I managed to get back on the highway, but cars were slowing down and pulling off left and right. The hail was REALLY bad. And people knew the twister was right behind us. So many of them were covering their heads against the worst of the hail assaults and heading for the ditches alongside the highway.

Oh, but not me. I floored that brand new car and booked out of there as quickly as I could. I thought, “I can’t chase a storm, but by god I can outrun it.” And I did. Best decision of the day, right there.

It was scary, real stuff. And I still feel my face burn every time I think about it. Because for crying out loud, what was I thinking? Chasing storms like this is about the stupidest thing an untrained weather enthusiast can do.

But it wasn’t a total loss. My good friend Rhonda Helms (Stapleton) thought my into-the-storm story was so funny, she made up a song about it. It’s called “Lara Zielin, Intrepid Girl Reporter.” And I made a video to go with the song. So at least we got that out of the whole debacle.

Stay in school, kids. And don’t chase twisters.

I don’t believe any dentist has ever actually said, “brushing your teeth is fun,” but if he or she had, we’d all know it would be a lie. Sticking things in your mouth and generating foam is NOT COOL. I mean, normally, though there are — oh, nevermind.

The point is that Rob and I have actually made brushing our teeth fun.

We invented a song. Inspired by Batman. It’s called “Tooth Cave.”

Now, getting out our toothbrushes actually feels like we’re fighting off the baddies. Even if the baddies are plaque and gingivitis and not, like, the Joker. And Big Oil. But still. Pow! Blam! Tooth Cave! Nanananananana …

Have you ever pulled off the perfect prank? The one that has you laughing so hard you cry and maybe pee your pants a little? One that’s both funny and cheeky — but doesn’t hurt anyone or damage any property? I can only think of one time I pulled off a prank that met that criteria. I was at the mall with friends, and I was sixteen.

You might think this prank takes place IN the mall, but oh no. It takes place just OUTSIDE the mall. As we were leaving, we spotted some yellow caution tape cordoning off a part of the sidewalk (I think they’d just repaired the sidewalk), just outside the main doors. Here, let me set the stage for you.

(Side note: I have NO IDEA why it was called London Square Mall either. This was Wisconsin, about as far from Piccadilly Circle and Her Majesty as you could get. But props to them for trying to be creative.)

We were all staring at the caution tape. And I think we were all thinking about the sidewalk chalk we’d just purchased. A whole, huge tub of it, just waiting to be opened and used.

And so you can imagine what we did. We drew a crime scene behind the yellow tape.

My friend Cara, brave soul, actually laid down on the sidewalk so we could get the outline right.

We were fast. Exacting. Ninjas of chalk, really.

And then, when we were finished, a bus pulled up. A whole, huge bus full of old people being taken to the mall on an outing. And through the glass, I could see their eyes as they took in the (crime) scene we’d just created. And it looked something like this:

And then? We nearly couldn’t make it to our car because we had lost it with laughter.

Later that afternoon, we returned to the, uh, scene of the crime, and there was a huge puddle of water where someone had washed away all the chalk.

To this day, I love thinking about the complaints that prompted that cleanup.

So this one time? There was this half marathon. It was in Wisconsin. And it had LEINENKUGEL’S in the name! And I thought to myself, “There is no better half marathon in the whole world.”

And I signed up for it.

Except, I’d never done a half marathon before. And I didn’t read the fine print. Which said, and I quote:

Half Marathon course: (Challenging) Nice mix of hills and flats. One major climb at about the 4.5 mile mark. Finish with a taxing 1,000 meter gradual climb.

Before I knew it, I was running by myself and bawling my eyes out because I wasn’t just tired and overwhelmed. I was also last. Dead last by about a half mile. I mean, the water stations were closed down by the time I got there. I was humiliated beyond belief. And so I stopped. At about mile seven I threw in the towel. I said screw this race, and I gave up.

Until now.

I might be slow, but I think I can do this race now. In fact, if I have to crawl over the goddang finish line, I’m going to do it and I’m going to beat this stupid course. I didn’t have many New Years resolutions, but this was one: I am going to finish the Leinenkugel’s half marathon.

And, here’s the other thing. When I did this race before, I was in a pretty unhappy place. I was in a struggling relationship, I felt hopeless about my career prospects, I believed I was fat, and I thought, “If I could just finish this race, I’ll be worth something.”

And when I didn’t finish, I just felt six thousand times more hopeless about myself.

Now, though, I know the truth. It doesn’t matter what I weigh, where I work, how fast I run — nothing. I matter anyway. I wish that, before, even if I had been dead last, I would have felt proud for even being out there. But I just wasn’t in that kind of a head space. Things are different now, though, which means this course and I are going to meet again. And even if I’m dead last, I’m going to finish. And then I’m going to celebrate among people I love, and who love me back.

And that is going to be a major, major victory.

Ever wonder if there are guidelines for texting? Well there are! I made them up just now.

I’m not sure I really have a point here, other than to say a.) this was fun and b.) sometimes texting is downright scary.

I’ll talk to you when you butt-dial me later, k?

I have a problem.

A carved, painted, chicken-shaped problem.

Exhibit A

See, I found this chair the other day at an antique store. And I sent it to Rob all like, “Bahahahaha! You see this chair?! Isn’t this the craziest chair evaaar?”

And Rob? He fell in love.

Hard. He freaked out. He texted, and I quote, that if I got this for him “I would never want anything ever again! I would walk [the dog] every day and you would never have to do it again! I would read the Bible every day! And make you plain bran muffins all the time!”

I love plain bran muffins.

But still. A chicken chair?

I tried to distract him with other things. I was like, holy crap, look at this seriously creepy painting! I mean, is that PUBIC HAIR?

*shudders*

“Tell the chicken I love him,” he wrote back.

Okay. Time to try again.

Look! A hilarious crab made out of license plates!

“Tell the chicken his home is with me.”

Except, that’s not even the half of it. Here’s the real problem. You see, in trying to dissuade Rob from the chair, I sort of told him it was  … $2,500. To be fair, I was in a really high-end antique store. And things were crazy pricey. But I have no actual idea if the chair is $2,500 or $250. And if it’s the latter … then I would sort of HAVE to buy it for him. I mean, he’s in LOVE.

But how can we own a chicken chair? And how can I tell him I just made up that price so that we wouldn’t have a chicken chair?

I mean, he’ll read this blog post. He’ll know. But still. I feel really badly.

EXCEPT NOT REALLY BECAUSE IT’S A CHICKEN CHAIR.

Arg.

I think we are going to own a chicken chair.

Sigh.

I discovered the more time I spent on my bike, the easier it was for me to run. And that got me thinking: What other areas in life benefit from cross-training?

After halting a lot of my regular exercise routine in a desperate attempt to finish novel number four (which I did, praise Baby Jesus), I got enough out of shape that it was a bit of a struggle to jump-start my workouts again. Running was always a challenge, but it had become absolutely grueling. I wondered if I’d ever get back to where I was.

And then something happened.

While vacationing in the Keys, Rob and I put major miles on our bikes. We pedaled long distances every day. And I discovered that the day after a long bike ride, if I tried to run, it was easier. A lot easier, actually.

It was cross-training. And it was totally working for me.

So that got me thinking, if biking makes running better, what other areas might cross-training apply? I could think of a few right away:

Reading always makes your writing better.

Trying new foods can make your cooking better.

Listening to music can enhance your ability to play an instrument.

Rob says skateboarding made him a better snowboarder, and that being an actor has made him a better filmmaker.

Showing vulnerability makes friendships better.

These were just a few I thought of off the top of my head. For me, it was a reminder that there isn’t always a straight path from A to B. Like, if you want to be a better writer, definitely practice writing — but also allow yourself to read, to watch movies, to put away the iPhone and just let your mind wander.

Anyone have cross-training thoughts, or ways in which one area in your life benefited from exploring something supposedly unrelated?

As 2011 draws to a close, I suppose I could do a wrap-up of the places I’ve visited, and the games of Words with Friends I’ve won, and whatever else kind of summary I usually do this time of year.

But, no. I am going to tell you the truth.

Which is that as 2011 wraps and I look to 2012, I have no idea what to do. And that notion is more than a little unsettling.

See, I’ve wanted to write books ever since I could hold a pencil. I’ve had lots of goals in my life, but publishing books was #1, top of the pile, the thing above all things that I simply had to do. And I did it.

I reached my goal. Four times, actually, with one of the best publishers in the world.

I’ve achieved the thing that I dreamed of since I was a little girl. And now, as I look at the space comprising my future, I’m starting to wonder, What’s Next? The truth is, I have no clue.

I mean, I could keep writing books. That’s totally an option, and I’m confident I will keep doing it to some degree. We writers have a hard time making due if we’re not … writing. But the motor driving me to publish books has lost some of its horsepower.

Okay, a lot of its horsepower.

And I’m just sitting here wondering — what do you do when you’ve achieved the thing you’ve dreamed of since you were little?

I don’t know how many childhood dreams a person ever gets to watch come true. And when they do come true, it’s both awesome and a little bit of a lonely place. Because it’s not like you can reach back into your past and conjure up another dream. I got what I wanted most. I don’t have another thing scratching at me, giving me purpose, driving me forward.

So then .. I just … AM?

I can’t imagine I’m the only person to have experienced this. Women who long for nothing but a family their whole lives — what do they do when the kids grow up and move away? How about career-minded people who put their whole lives into obtaining a job and once they secure it — what’s next?

Maybe some of you are reading this thinking, Sure, Lara, you reached your goal to a degree, but why not stop until you’re the next J.K. Rowling?

The truth is that being Ms. Rowling, or getting your book on Ellen, or even being a New York Times bestseller is such a far-off star. And I’m not sure I want to spend my time aiming for it. Frankly, it’s exhausting. There are so many wonderful, wonderful books that just sit on shelves and never get their due. The marketplace is packed. Jam packed, actually, at a time when people are reading less and less. With each book, I’ve constructed my wings and gotten as close to that “bestselling” sun as I can, but in the end, the wax melts for 95 percent of us, and we come crashing back down, sometimes never even earning out our advances.

But in the end, this isn’t about the industry. I love stories, and I’ll keep writing, no matter if I sell one book or one million books. I’m just trying to say that I feel a little lost simply because I have done it. List checked. Goal achieved. Thanks and come again.

So now I have to figure out how to a.) live without that publishing motor roaring inside me, spurring me forward and b.) dream bigger, and imagine what could be in store for me. I look at someone like Brad Meltzer, a writer who turned his books into a History Channel show, Decoded, and I think, awesome.

At the same time, I don’t want to just shove more goals onto my list. I think there’s value in living in the scary place, the quiet place, where it feels so … un-American, frankly, to not have a to-do list and a thing to conquer and a flag to plant.

Who are we when we turn off the phone, when we close the laptop, when we just STOP? More to the point, who am I if I’m not striving to complete another book?

That’s a crazy scary question. But in 2012, I think I’d like to answer it. Or, if not answer it, at least be brave enough to really, really look at it.

[Image source: ShatteredMermaid.blogspot.com]

Sometimes people ask me: How can I buy your book?

I get asked this so much, in fact, that I’ve started to wonder if people need advanced book-buying aids. Especially around the holiday season. So, I’ve crafted this handy-dandy book-buying guide. I hope it’s helpful.

This graphic was inspired, in part, by the recent article on Gawker.com about how Amazon is screwing local businesses and indies. So please, before you tell me I’m being waaaay harsh on Amazon, read the article. You’ll change your mind. Swearsies.

Caveat: I’m not a graphic designer. This is obvious, but still probably worth mentioning.