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A former Buddhist monk, Jay Shetty, asks, what advice would your 10-year-old self give you? What advice would your 80-year-old self give you? He says your answers to these two questions will help you find your highest path.

Today is my 46th birthday, and these questions feel especially relevant.  

I have regularly pondered the answer to that first question because I think my 10-year-old self would think her future turned out darn near perfect. I am living the life she dreamed of. I became a television reporter, wrote 4 books so far, and had two awesome children with whom I share a tight bond. I’m also dating a smoking hot man who treats me like a queen and I own a townhouse near the ocean in Southern California. Throw in a few other things I never even dreamed of, and my younger self would be so very pleased.

I don’t say these things to brag. I say them because I’ve spent a lot of time these past 6 years feeling ashamed of my life and worried about my future.

Somewhere between ages 10 and 46, my values and desires veered toward things I thought I “should” be doing at my age. I should be happily married. I should be living in a proper single family detached home with a backyard. I should have a sizable retirement account at my age. I should have a solid career that is guaranteed to always pay the bills every month, forever.

 
Looking at what my 10 year old self dreamed of, reminds me I am in alignment with my deepest desires, not the desires I interpret as socially acceptable, and that is something to feel good about. 

Which leads me to the harder question to answer; what advice would my 80-year-old self give me on my 46th birthday?

After giving this a whole lot of thought, here’s what I came up with. I think she would say; you broke your rules to create something bigger. It’s done, no take backs. Look forward.

Celebrate this one life you have by continuing to serve your passion, because in doing so, you are best serving your loved ones, and even more importantly, yourself.

Every single day on this earth is valuable, it’s not just about where you land at 80.  I can not tell you the ending, but I can promise you this – you are going to be okay.

Blow out your candles, eat your delicious cake, dance with your children, stay in bed with your man, revel in the sunshine, and keep doing you. You got this, Blossom – keeping blooming.

Go party like it’s your birthday. 

LOST GIRL, A Shelby Day Novel, RELEASES TODAY!!!

Thank you so much for following me on this journey to publication. It is because of each of you, my readers, that I am able to make my greatest passion a career.

Of all my books, I think this is the MOST excited I’ve ever been for a book release. I am so proud of this YA Murder Mystery. It’s a fun read with suspense and romance, but it’s also filled with important messages. When woman share their stories, they can change the world!

I can’t wait for you to finally meet Shelby Day!! She is complicated, courageous, flawed, and caring. Shelby makes mistakes and keeps getting back up to fight for the people she loves and the justice she believes in.

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Before I share any other news, please note:

For the month of February, I am going to select a winner for a $20 AMAZON GIFT CERTIFICATE. To win, post a review on Amazon or Barnes & Noble by February 15th and email me the review.  You can purchase your e-book, paperback, audio, or hardcover online at:

Amazon

Barnes & Noble

Kobo

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So who won the free signed paperback copy of Lost Girl, A Shelby Day Novel???

Dozens of you entered to win. To keep it fair, I went old school and put all of your names in a hat. It took up two full pages of lined notebook paper. I was rooting for each of you.  But there could be only one. The winner of this contest is…  Pamela M.

Congratulations Pamela!!!  Please email me your best mailing address and I will get your signed copy out to you right away. 

What’s Next???

Starting tomorrow morning at 7 am Pacific Time, I will be posting videos on FB and Instagram of me reading a page of Lost Girl, A Shelby Day Novel each hour. Please tune it at:

https://www.instagram.com/hollykammier/

https://www.facebook.com/hollyyoumans

Goodbye summer, my most favorite of seasons.

A time often reserved for travel, lounging on picturesque white-sand beaches in a haze of yellow sunshine, and maybe even experiencing your wildest adventures.

For me, this particular summer didn’t match any of those romantic notions. Instead, this was a season for GROWTH.

I spent the boundless days and deliciously warm nights; revamping Acorn Publishing’s website, updating author documents, leading speaking engagements at various writing events, and polishing off my YA murder mystery, LOST GIRL, A SHELBY DAY NOVEL.

I also mothered my boys, started writing my next book in the Shelby Day series, and dove head deep into a killer fitness challenge.

Not the type of endless summer I’ve wistfully followed on other friend’s Facebook and Instagram pages, but big dreams require big commitment.

My hope is that this past season, and the ones that follow, will be ones I look back on with pride, and say to myself, I did that. I dug deep with a perseverance that bordered on ferocious. I believed in my myself. I kicked some ass.

And maybe next summer, I can throw in a white-sand beach or three…

My story is not a new one. Not even a little bit unique. I turned 45 this summer (I seriously can not believe that actually happened), and with it came something I haven’t had to worry about since high school. WEIGHT GAIN. (How Rude!)

It started about 6 months ago. Since I rarely wear jeans or anything else that requires a tight band to be buttoned around my waist, the tiny creep of extra girth went somewhat undetected. That is until I tried to shimmy into my formally perfect pair of heather-gray yoga pants and it felt difficult to breathe. I tried to blame it on an accidental trip into the dryer. But my seven different black yoga pants and even my favorite lavender pair, all seemed to be experiencing the same unsettling shrinkage. So, I did what must come next, I dragged out the dreaded scale.

You know where this is going. After stripping off every item of clothing, including my socks, and peeing, that treacherous tattle-tale reported an extra six pounds. SIX POUNDS!I

My eavesdropping cell phone must have been listening to this devastating tragedy, because moments later I got an ad on Facebook for a trial membership to Fitwall, a boutique gym with highly specialized strength training classes. I clicked “heck yeah!” I’m there.

Two weeks of sweat later, I saw a big difference. Fitwall’s classes worked!! My booty slid back into my yoga pants.

I wanted MORE.

But how to justify “me time” at an upscale gym in Solana Beach that hands out eucalyptus-infused towels after each workout? Since I’m a writer, and a big believer in writing what you know, I realized the obvious solution was to make one of the main characters in my next novel a personal trainer at an upscale gym in Solana Beach that hands out eucalyptus-infused towels after each workout. I’m kind of brilliant like that every once in a year.

And now, I have the perfect excuse to do research on the second book in my Shelby Day series AND take a 30-day challenge to fine tune my body back into WARRIOR MODE.

I’ll be posting updates on social media for the next four weeks. If you live in the area and want to join me, send me a pm. It’d be great to do this with friends.

I posted on International Women’s Day, that when women write their stories, they help shape the narrative of how we see, think, feel, and interpret the world around us.

But the truth is, writers don’t just write to influence others, we write to transform ourselves. We write to understand whatever subliminal conflict we are battling to resolve. We are driven to figure out exactly how to best interpret our own inner worlds.

Currently, I’m editing my latest manuscript, Lost Girl.

The protagonist, Shelby Day, is twenty-one. She’s an angsty young woman struggling to find herself, her meaning, what defines her. While Shelby is taking big risks to solve a double homicide, she is also doing her best to navigate her love life, specifically with her cameraman and best friend, Jack Miller.

I didn’t recognize what I was trying to work out in my head while I was writing the first draft of Lost Girl. I didn’t grasp the unconscious intentions steering my writing. But now that it’s over, and I’m editing, I can see it clearly.

I was nailing down what defines a healthy relationship between a man and woman. What ought to make a man desirable and worth fighting for.

The millennial woman’s definitions of masculinity and femininity have evolved from what I learned and internalized coming of age in the 80’s and 90’s.

I believed the men who were a little dangerous, more aggressive, and quick to anger, were REAL men. The guys who were gentle, always put the woman’s needs first, allowed the woman to take the lead in romance, were wusses.

I can’t hang this all on my generation, goodness knows my own personal life experiences played a role. And, obviously, back in the days of 90210, there were plenty of girls who proclaimed themselves Team Brandon. Not me. The good guy on that show made me want to hurl. So boring. So NOT cool.

Surprisingly, this attitude did not serve me well. When I started consciously dating after my divorce, my therapist advised me to go against my basic instincts. WHAT?!

She said, if I immediately wanted to take a man home, that was not the right man. If I actually enjoyed getting to know him and liked him as a friend – that was a person I wanted to make space for, to focus on.

This was sooooo NOT easy for me.

It was a challenge to push away the bad boys, and I wondered if I would end up alone, OR WORSE, settle on someone BORING.

But my therapist was right. I practiced my mantra… I acted as if I was the woman I wanted to become… I made decisions based on how THAT WOMAN would choose… and after dating what felt like half the single male adult population in San Diego, IT CLICKED. I landed a ‘good’ guy, who I found FUN and EXCITING.

I fell in love. Good love. I thought I had evolved.

But after writing this latest novel, I realized I was still struggling with my basic instinct. Shelby Day pushes aside the good guy, in favor of bad boys, until she finally gets a CLUE.

The stories that came before her, and the story she has the potential to tell, can shape a stronger, healthier narrative of how we see, think, feel, and interpret the world around us.

THIS, is why women must write.

Not all that long ago, I felt broken. I’d made choices I was ashamed of and found myself in a place so dark it hurt to be alive.

I needed to transform if I was going to RISE.

A heaping handful of supportive friends and family were there to hold my hand (My mom and Danielle Foerster top the list), but I also had to draw internal strength. So, among other things, I came up with a mantra, something I could repeat to myself each day. I held these words close to my heart:

Each morning I make a choice. I choose to love myself. I choose to act as if I am the woman I want to be, and moment by moment, decision by careful decision, I am becoming the kind of woman I admire most, one of the battle-strong who has overcome hardships and nourished her own dreams. A woman who can save herself. I’ve had the power all along, and now I know it.

I am choosing HOPE.

I imagined a woman who was strong and confident. I pictured someone who maintained her femininity and nurtured her children while growing her own company rooted in integrity. I willed myself to make the daily choices THAT woman would make.

A little over a month ago I sat down with Julia Badei, a photographer I have come to recognize as a member of my tribe.  I’d hired her to take family pictures along with ‘couples photos’ of Julian and I. In addition to the photo session I’d asked for, Julia told me about her Mother’s Day special. She offered free makeup application by a professional makeup artist along with a complimentary picture of just MOM.

I was thrilled about having my makeup done for our family photos. I wasn’t so excited about getting a picture of just me. What did I need a glam pic of myself for? I had author shots. Anything more seemed frivolous. Unnecessary.

Julia insisted. 

When she finished the photo shoot, I let Julian pick one of the more revealing shots for just him. I didn’t purchase any of the pretty pictures Julia had taken of me in the beautiful green silk dress. I wasn’t even sure if I liked them.

Then Julia posted one of those green silk dress pictures on my Facebook page, and I realized something important. That woman, the one I’d been “acting as if I was,” the woman I was striving to become – she was looking back at me.

I don’t nail it every day, and I will surely fall again, but in this moment, in this picture, Julia captured something I worked so hard for. I decided to revel in my accomplishment.

Life is not just about looking forward and pushing for bigger, better, next, MORE. Life is sweeter when we fully appreciate and give grace to our hard-earned triumphs. Honestly, what’s the point of scaling mountains if we can’t take a long deep breath and celebrate our journey?

I designated that powerful picture of The Woman In The Dress as my Facebook profile picture. Sometime soon, I’m also going to buy a professional print of this photo to frame and hang on a wall in my home. Because SHE, is The woman I willed myself to become.

Hemingway did it. Paul Bowles did it. Even my most favorite writer of all, Joan Didion, did it.

All these creative geniuses adhered to the philosophy: Write What You Know.

It’s so much easier and can be a whole lot more authentic to spin stories about the people and places you’ve experienced firsthand. Crafting my first bestseller, Kingston Court, and then penning Choosing Hope, was relatively easy in that I wrote about what I lived or observed in my everyday world.

 

Fortunately, as an artist, I recognized it was time to push myself out of my comfort zone.

 

 

 

 

 

My new journey began when my nine-year-old goddaughter, a girl born on my birthday, asked me to write a book about her. I started imagining. I pictured her at twenty-three and then I mixed in my own childhood DREAMS and EXPERIENCES.

What if my little Shelby R. became Shelby Day? What if she blossomed into a driven, talented, brave woman who left her home in Los Angeles and moved to small-town Ashland, Oregon to pursue her dream of becoming an investigative reporter? And what if, when she got there, she found herself tracking a brutal double homicide with a mysterious killer who seemed to be following her every move?

The clock would be ticking. If Shelby didn’t solve the crime soon, she could become the next victim.

I told Shelby yes, I would write her make-believe story.

But if I was going to set aside creating romance novels about Southern California women my own age, and venture into a romantic thriller involving murder and millennials living in the Pacific Northwest, I needed to research.

And so it began. I called my old television station in Oregon, the one I haven’t worked at in nearly twenty years! The powers that be at NBC 5 News welcomed me.

I can’t thank Patsy Smullin and Robert Wise enough for allowing me to visit after all this time. They even called Shane Bishop, the national producer for Dateline, and he agreed to meet up with me at the station and answer my questions.

Then I dialed the lovely Julie Cortez, communications manager for the Oregon Shakespeare Festival, and she arranged for me to come watch a play, take a backstage tour, and pepper her with questions about her awesome job (one of the girls who will be murdered in the Shelby Day story is a former beauty queen who works as the communications manager for the Oregon Shakespeare Festival.)

My love, Julian, offered to drive me NORTH. Lucky for us, it turned out to be so much more than simply a working trip thanks to the wonderful people we met and places we visited, not to mention the best traveling companion a woman could ask for.  And it was all in the name of research.

Because, one must study, experience, and if at all possible, immerse themselves in a culture, in order to write it well.

Here’s more  pictures from my research:

 

Shelby, Aunt Holly can NOT wait to see what your request inspires. Thank you for the great idea!!!!!

Almost a year ago I started talking with a man I’d first met when we were kids. Way back in the 80’s he seemed too darn awesome to be interested. I was the shy studious girl afraid to make eye contact with Mr. Tall, Tan, and Sexy.

When we reconnected last summer, not only did I still think he was handsome and kind, he paid so much attention I felt bold enough to look at him eye to eye. As we got to know each other, I found comfort in our shared history – childhood homes in the same working-class neighborhood, friends in common, favorite local hangouts, overlapping school teachers.

I knew and genuinely liked his first real girlfriend. He remembered with fondness the white bobby socks I favored in the 8^th grade.  

There were added bonuses as well. He was a great listener, super supportive, patient, handy and helpful around the house, a great dad, and occasionally funny.

We’ve moved quickly these past eleven months. Julian Smith sleeps in my bed most nights. We bought one another commitment rings. Then, just a few weeks ago, we took another BIG STEP. We had professional pictures taken together by the incredibly talented, Julia Badei. How’s that for serious?!

 

After some initial concerns on my end, because I freak out at least a little bit about EVERYTHING, the cliché that life is short spoke louder than my anxieties over making a mistake. Julian felt right. Neither of us wanted to press the breaks on something so JOYFUL.

Next month is our one year anniversary ( Yes, I should have waited to post this until our actual anniversary, but I got the pics back today and I have low levels of self-control.) I’m hoping for a lifetime of more. Fingers and toes crossed.

I turn 44 in about two weeks. It’s once again a time for reflection. What am I doing right? What have I done wrong? What can I do better?

Naturally, I see the mistakes first. MISSED career opportunities, a FAILED marriage, a serious LACK of retirement FUNDS. If I look at the day to day, I often see a stressed out working mom who struggles with depression and chronic anxiety. 

When I step away to look at my life through a different lens, I pretend I’m TWENTY, or SIXTEEN, or TWELVE, and I ask that younger self, what do you see.

 

My twelve-year-old self couldn’t care less about the size of my house or the scratches and dings all over my car. Sixteen-year-old Holly isn’t embarrassed I take naps or feel tired all day long. Me at eighteen rolls her eyes that I worry I don’t spend enough time with my kids, or that I think burning dinner is a big deal worthy of self-castigation. She doesn’t judge me for letting the laundry pile up for a week or for letting my children wear the same pair of pants to school two days in a row.

Nope. She sees a woman who really has her shit together. She views me as someone who is raising boys, writes novels, runs an indie publishing company and works from her king-sized bed in her comfie cozies. Oh yeah, AND she sees a woman dating the raddest guy she knows, JAY SMITH!

Mini me thinks I’m pretty freakin’ awesome. I suspect for most of us, our younger selves would say, hey, you turned out pretty cool. You’ve done good. Thank you.

 And if not, we can ask ourselves what we can fine tune. Or, maybe we simply need to step back a little further and take a gentler peek. The daily challenges it takes to live can blind us to all we do right.

And don’t we each deserve to take pride in our accomplishments?

La Valencia invited me to paradise.

The Pink Lady, or La V,  as the deliciously pink hotel is affectionately referred to by locals, is a stunning Mediterranean-inspired La Jolla landmark. A place that has personified luxury and old-Hollywood glamour for the past nine decades.

Caroline Kennedy and her daughter stayed at La V just days ago. And if John John’s sister chooses to stay here when she’s in town, well, I want my next main character in a fictional story to stay here too!

I first approached the PR Department about a month ago as research for my next novel. I’ve set all my stories in my hometown and wanted to feature an important scene for novel 3 at the best hotel in San Diego. Pink, charming, and commanding the bluff above the sweeping La Jolla Cove, La Valencia was my only choice.

When they said please join us for an extended visit, I did a little happy dance and called my mom to share the good news. The most charming hotel in San Diego had just welcomed me and a guest for the kind of world-class treatment one hopes for when planning the ultimate romantic getaway. I would bring my guy, Julian, and we would escape our boys for a Valentine’s Day retreat. The very best combination of work and play.

For 3 weeks I counted down the days and envisioned various scenarios of excellence in my mind. It would be EPIC!

And let me tell you, it started off just as awesome as I hoped for.

Julian and I parked his car with valet, checked in, and were escorted to a luxury villa complete with a private balcony, fireplace, living room, sitting room, HUGE bathroom (double sinks, separate marble shower and tub!) and a separate bedroom. I was beyond excited about our spacious bungalow accommodations. With no children claiming starvation or dropping their dirty socks on the floor, the place felt more welcoming than home. Way more welcoming.

Then it got better. Julian sent me off to take a bath and pulled out a secret stash of  goodies. Apparently he’d been planning out his own surprise. He bought special tea lights in the shape of peach blossoms (his nickname for me is Blossom.) He’d gone to a flower shop and picked out the freshest roses. He even went online and studied the bedroom layout to plan how he would set it up.

While I bathed and wondered what the heck he was up to, Julian lined the blossom lights around the headboard, floor, and overhead fan, and placed fragrant pink petals in the shape of a heart on the comforter.

Seriously?!!  What man does that?! I know I’m supposed to let go of my Prince-Charming-Really-Does-Exist Complex, but….

 

 

He blew me away. This was more romantic than even I, with my fairly decent imagination, could have dreamed of. After some alone time and drinks at the La Sala Lobby Lounge overlooking the Pacific at sunset, we made our way to dinner.

THE MED, is a restaurant reminiscent of a Spanish villa overlooking the Mediterranean Sea, only it’s better, because it’s in San Diego, and because Heath was our waiter. He knew about everything on the menu. When he told me that Japanese divers hand catch the perfect scallops for their menu, I was sold. Scallops, fig compote, brussel sprouts, butternut squash puree. Crunchy, salty, sweet, succulent. Absolutely delicious. I’d rate it as one of the top ten meals I’ve ever eaten.

 

THEN CAME the phone call.

Our babysitter was leaving…immediately. We could either return home, OR, three of our kids and the dog needed to come to Paradise with us.  This was not part of the plan. What romance novel includes three teenage-ish boys and a Jack Russell crashing their Valentine’s Getaway?

My plans don’t ever work out as I expect. Ever. But we are adults. And in all honesty, stories are more interesting when they aren’t perfect.

Disappointment led to the quick realization that parenthood has long tentacles. We needed to embrace the crazy. Smile at the beauty in the beast. And so we did.

Fortunately, La V honestly treats their guests like valued friends. A dog? No problem. Just sign this waiver and bring her on over. Does she need a special doggie bowl? An extra 11, 13, and 15-year-old? No problem, your villa is 1200 s.f. with a pull out couch, chaise lounge, comfy cots, and the doors to the masterbedroom close shut. 

When the boys walked in and saw the flower petals and lighting along with the chilled bottle of champagne and chocolate dipped strawberries, my oldest declared, “We really shit this one, didn’t we?”

“Yes, son, you kinda did, but this is good too. We’re happy you’re here.”

“No you’re not.”

“Ok, we’re not, but you’re all here now and we are going to enjoy our special family time. Have some strawberries, enjoy the fireplace, free wifi, even the TV. Just don’t touch the Champagne. That’s for Julian. He needs it.”

The boys devoured the treats and partied it up until sometime around midnight before they FINALLY passed out.

Julian and I went on a 1 am walk along the ocean. My surfer boy talked to me about how the shape of the reefs determines the shape of the waves. They break where it’s most shallow first. It was beautiful, it was romantic, it was real.

In the morning, we were treated to a delicious breakfast with La Valencia’s managing director, Mark Dibella, an incredibly upbeat, sweet-heart of a guy, who shared some of the hotel’s best-kept stories… like the one about the lovely South-African woman who lived there for thirty years until she passed away at 103-years-old. Flirting, fun, and her loving children kept her young. I’m guessing that living in paradise at La V probably added to her joy factor as well.

Thank you La Valencia for a glorious escape. And for adjusting to our family’s shifting needs.

I can already see the scene for my next novel shaping in my imagination. It’s going to be spectacular!