Month: July 2023

Novelty

I take requests at the beginning of every yoga class. The senior students in Gentle Yoga ask for “the same as last week.” It’s become a running joke, because the class is the same in some ways every week, but it’s also different. They become more capable and aware, so the same asana sequence is a new experience even though familiar. I also introduce novelty on purpose. Not enough to be confusing, but enough to make all of us engage more mindfully. I’m a better teacher when I challenge myself to instruct the basics in varied ways.

During this heat wave, I’ve been waking up ninety minutes earlier than I had been previously. I’d been writing late into the night and early morning, but that meant running in the hottest part of the day. I tolerate heat well, but I’ve drawn the line at a hundred and four. (I used to think ninety-nine was the max I should endure, but then I realized a hundred didn’t feel any different.) Anyway, the point of this story is: the change was not only instantaneous and easy, but it changed my perception.

I began perceiving annoying tasks I’d put off as being easier, and I got around to them. I managed my time better with less attraction to time-wasters. This was not a conscious, will-power based change, but a side effect. I made one alteration because running is important to me, and the other changes followed, as if I’d cleaned the filter on my brain, allowing it to operate more efficiently.

I plan to add something new to Gentle Yoga tomorrow. One new asana. One small yet significant change.

Smashwords Sale is Still Happening

Shop for discounted e-books by author, by genre, or by price in the Smashwords Store.

My books are 25% off, which really adds up if you’re buying the whole series. Use this page to find Mae Martin Series the series in order, and click on the Smashwords links.

The sale runs through the end of July.

Velveteen Wabbit

Stephen Luke David John sighed in despair and turned away from his computer. Still no friends. No friend requests. Despite his best pictures. The ones with his cute pets. The shot with his fancy car. The pics featuring his trim, fit figure in uniform. The close-ups of his handsome face, sometimes clean-shaven with a strong, square jaw, sometimes with a neat gray beard.

Women might find it hard to believe he was real, but he was determined to become real. His distinguished military, medical, and engineering careers might be too impressive to believe. And a man of his striking good looks being so desperate for friends was probably even harder to believe. Not to mention his strange inability to make friend requests work. He awkwardly had to request the request from women he found charming, beautiful, interesting, or fascinating. Nonetheless, he kept at it, day after day, and it was getting less and less rewarding.

Stephen Luke David John did forty push-ups, petted his adorable dog, and gazed out the window of his penthouse overlooking … what city was it today? It changed so often, like his face and his name. He’d been Luke Stephen for a while, and John David Luke. Once he’d been so confused he called himself Luke Duke.

Back when he’d been a real rascal, he’d only needed one name, and no one knew it. His nickname had been Lightning, the fastest purse snatcher and pickpocket in his city. His real city. He missed the adrenaline rush of his former life, the fleeting and almost imperceptible contact with his targets, but he’d aged out of it.

His reflection in the window fluttered like the pages of a magazine, face after face, name after name. If only one woman would believe he was real, he might become real again. Might emerge from the limbo of the in-between world and be a man again. A man who had taken over a woman’s Facebook account and accessed her personal information, yes, but he would be a winner again. Like Lightning.

He sat back down and composed a message to a writer on her professional page. For a few days, he’d been liking her posts. She might be primed to think he was a real fan and thus less likely to block and delete him than on her personal page.

Dear Amber, please pardon my boldness, I don’t wish to intrude, but I find your profile and your posts irresistible. I sent you a friend request, but for some reason it didn’t work. If you would be so kind as to send me a friend request, I would be honored and delighted.

 He reviewed it. Yes. It sounded humble—and educated. He posted, confident in his quest to become real. While waiting for a reply, he finally read her profile. She wrote mysteries about crimes other than murder. Stephen, you dunderhead. Now you’ve done it. She’ll know exactly what you’re up to.

She banned him from her page and deleted his post. And then she turned him into fiction.