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April 11, 2008

Katie & Armando, Part II

Sarah Everhart had lived two houses down from Katie and Ernie for five years. She’d felt envious on more than one occasion of Katie’s childless freedom, jealous of the tiny convertible she drove.

“That woman will not appreciate that car until she has a baby of her own and can’t find room for the car seat and the diaper bag,” she told her husband, as Katie tore off with the radio blaring some unintelligible Spanish ballad. “She better enjoy it now.”

Three weeks later, as Sarah fixed her makeup for the KABC news interview, she wondered what awful criminal had found Katie in her car, top-down, music loud. She wondered if the ten pounds added by TV cameras was a myth. She said aloud to her husband, “If there’s anything good to be said, at least they didn’t have children. Can you imagine?”

- - -

While Sarah Everhart was readying for her close up, Katie was lying on a double bed in a beachside motel in northern Mexico. She stretched, slowly, feeling each muscle. She liked the burn, the deep down ache, that came with every stretch. It had been a good night, a crazy uninhibited night, and she rolled over into the empty place where Manny had been and rubbed her face into his pillow. She could still feel him, male and warm, and their smells mixed together on the rumpled sheets and pillows.

Her kidnapping had gone exactly as planned. Armando had met her at 9:30 a.m. in the parking lot of a West Los Angeles mall. Her two duffel bags, both new, carried the only reminders of her past life. That’s how she thought of it now -- her past life. She had gone shopping for a few new things, some T-shirts and shorts and a backless dress that Ernie would have been embarrassed by. He maybe would have remarked she ought to hit the gym a few times before wearing that dress in public.

Armando had told her exactly where to park, the structure was old and the only security cameras were at the front entrance. She had thrown the duffel bags into the back of his waiting truck and kissed him on the neck. They both acted like it was a little weekend trip, no big deal, just park your car in that spot right there, OK?

As she pulled herself into the passenger seat of Armando's truck it crossed her mind that Ernie would just now be getting ready for his 10 a.m. staff meeting. The whole day was just beginning, really.

She pushed that thought out of her mind, shut the truck door and pocketed her old car keys. She’d get rid of the keys somewhere else.

They had missed the worst of the morning commuter traffic and Armando pulled the truck onto the freeway headed south towards San Diego. They didn’t talk much, didn’t stop even for gas. Manny had been as prepared as she was.

Even if Katie had backed out at the last minute you could always use a full tank of gas.


Poor Katie, she has NO IDEA what she's gotten herself into. She's a coward, really. But a romantic coward I guess. It's hard to like her sometimes.

When I first introduced Katie & Armando, I was talking about how at some point "Katie & Armando" had become synonymous in my life with "Someday." As in, "someday I will have a life that is perfectly settled and then, when that ideal time arrives, I'll have the time and energy and know-how to make my dreams come true."

I was surprised how many people emailed me or commented that they related to my craziness. And even more surprised by how many people confessed that they had a Katie & Armando of their very own -- they wanted to write their own book or build their own proverbial ark or travel somewhere or organize their craft room or decorate the house or plant a real garden or find a new job, but were also putting it off until "someday" when conditions were just right.

Some folks said "someday" stayed far away because they were too afraid of the problems that might happen or situations that hadn't yet transpired. It was interesting and surprising to me to hear it because you know, I thought I was the only one who worried about that stuff.

One evening last fall I was driving home from work in my Jeep. It was late, I'd been working some long hours to complete a project and the bus only runs until 6:30, so I'd had to drive for two weeks in a row. Traffic was bad and I was grumpy and hungry and I was really angry. I'd had a bad conversation with someone and we'd argued and I was crazy upset about it.

That night I spent the entire drive home having an angry and cutting conversation with the offender. She wasn't in the car with me, mind you. We weren't on the phone. I was completely alone, and I gave her a piece of my mind, oh you know I did. I carefully rehearsed how I'd say each verbal bombshell and when I thought through her every response I got angry all over again. I felt betrayed and misunderstood and I kept on and on at it, saying and re-saying everything I wished I'd said the first go around.

When I pulled into my neighborhood I noticed my house looked weird. It looked weird because it wasn't my house! I was so wrapped up in my mental dramatics that I had turned onto the wrong street. That's when it dawned on me -- I must have spent a good hour and a half having an imaginary confrontation with someone who was most likely already home and having dinner, blissfully unaware of me and my emotional tsunami. I'd not only re-hashed the event twenty times, I'd conjured up an entire NEW argument and given us both speaking parts in a play of my mind's making (my speaking parts were far more eloquent, of course.)

I'd wasted all that energy on one thing that was past and something new that hadn't even happened yet.

And in fact the big, eloquent and acerbic confrontation of my imagination never happened. The next day I woke up and shrugged the whole thing off. The person I'd quarreled with left me a conciliatory voicemail and in time the entire event just washed away, all that energy wasted on nothing. Crazy.

I'm glad I pulled into the wrong driveway that night. It woke me up a little, snapped me out of my head. I try to catch myself before I get too far inside my head with stuff like that anymore, like spending three days before my dentist appointment already feeling the pain. I try not to waste two weeks before a vacation worrying about the stuff that could go wrong. Sometimes I can't stop the chattering in my brain so I get out a pen and a piece of paper and I write it all down, every worry and every fear and every possible scenario of doom. Then after I record every free-floating anxiety (and it can take some time you know, I've had five pages single-spaced, back and front of worry!) I write down exactly how I wish the event/trip/conversation would go. After I'm done, I fold the whole thing up and put it away in a shoebox. One day after I die, someone's going to find that shoebox and have a hearty laugh at Ye Olde Crazypants. But it helps me in the moment to get all the worry out of my head and into some one else's capable hands. In this case, it is the shoe box's capable hands. Whatever works, you know?

I get a lot of emails asking about how to write, or get published, or get past the fear and anxiety of what might happen "when..." I never have all the answers. Everyone is different and I'm certainly not an expert anyway. I've addressed as many questions as I could in other columns, and I'm happy to do what I can, I know how good it feels to complete something and see it through and if you want it then I want it for you, too. I want you to have your someday.

A few folks who specifically mentioned book-writing as their own personal Katie & Armando talked about the fear of failure ("someone will reject my submission...") and conversely, the fear of success ("I might have to go on book tour and people will be disappointed to meet me...") Having been in both places, all I can say is that these fears pretty much have zero to do with the work, which is writing the book. Once it's written, once it's completed, then you can start to worry about the next step. And then after that, the next. If you try to worry about all possible problems and roadblocks and failures and successes and reviews and readers and events at the very beginning, you will never put pen to paper. And without writing the actual work, none of your fears mean squat anyway.

I know people want me to be able to give them details, a plan, the specific bullet-points and mechanics of exactly how to get published. A powerpoint presentation would do nicely! But I can't give it to you -- I don't have the answers. I don't know what will work for you. I don't know where you are in your head or your plan or your book. I do know that worrying about all the what if's will keep you far away from your goal. All that wasted energy on something that hasn't even happened yet.

When you do have questions about the mechanics -- how to get started or where to go once you've got a manuscript -- there are plenty of great resources out there far more knowledgeable than Ol' Crazypants. Spend a few hours in your bookstore or library looking at the bazillion guides for aspiring writers. Go up and down the shelves and find books like yours, see who your competition would be and see who publishes them. Then go online and find out if they take submissions. But even if you know all that you still need something to submit. So put your fears in a shoebox and write. If you find you need external motivation to write, there are tons of groups you can join and workshops and classes and online this and that.

There's professional help available, too. My friend and publicist Kim Weiss has a whole business devoted to helping people along the process, her website is called Help Me With My Book.com (I love that name!) and Kim and other professionals like her can help steer you in the right direction and coach you on things like platform and proposal and marketing.

I hesitate to give advice on this or anything, I think advice is probably the one thing truly more divine to give than to receive. But I get asked for advice a lot when it comes to writing. All I know for sure is that if you worry so much about things that haven't even happened yet you can worry yourself right into paralysis. Don't get so worked up about a future that hasn't happened that you stop making progress right now. Right now is pretty much all you got.

I still catch myself sometimes having those imaginary conversations, trying to re-say something in just the perfect way, or worrying about the future. I try to stop myself before it goes on too long. I sometimes have to write a letter to the shoebox. Then I breathe and try to remind myself that all I have control over is this very minute. Worrying about the ending is silly. No one knows how it ends! The ending isn't here yet -- all that's here is this one moment, this one paragraph, this one conversation.


Sarah Everhart sat down with the reporter from KABC. She hoped the news crew in her living room only noticed the antiques, not the coffee table from IKEA.

"Will the coffee table be in the shot?" she asked the photographer.

"No," he said. He was adjusting the light, moving it into the right position. "Can you turn just a little to your left please?"

Prompted by the reporter, Sarah gave a character description of her neighbor Katie. Sometimes she trembled while talking about the day Katie had gone missing, and at one point she started crying. Just a few tears, though, not enough to really make her mascara run.

"I just want her to be OK," she said. "You never hear about stories like these turning out very happy."

That part of the interview was used to promote the story on the ten o’clock news.

- - -

"A local southland woman is missing this evening, and police and searching for leads in the case."

Cue soundbite.

Posted by laurie at April 11, 2008 11:10 AM

Comments

Oooh, Laurie, what you said! So totally true! You have a way of expressing thoughts and emotions that are in my head. I, too, have those imaginary conversations either reliving arguments or inventing new ones. I have to stop myself when I do that and realize it does no good whatsoever. Only the moment is what counts. Sure, we can make plans for the future but to worry about things that haven't happened yet or might not even happen is to take away from the moment and like you said, that's really all we have.

Well said!

Posted by: Leeny at April 11, 2008 11:32 AM

is it a woman thing to stew like that? when i worked with a team of all men, i would go home all pissed off at some thing while they had moved on with their lives.

at the same time, giving voice to your anger (even if you are the only one to hear it) seems pretty important too.

Posted by: smokeyJoe at April 11, 2008 11:38 AM

My God How well. said. that is my lifes dream now is to meet you in person if not to just say hello or fall in love for a brief moment in time

Posted by: Brian Hurley at April 11, 2008 11:40 AM

"I spent the entire drive home having an angry and cutting conversation with the offender." Too true! And I don't have these conversations SILENTLY -- lips move, words come out, people in other cars look at me like I'm, uh, talking to myself.

Posted by: Jill of the 7 cats at April 11, 2008 11:44 AM

I can so relate to spending wasted hours in solo mind-bending confrontations with good and evil-hearted folks whose only commonality is that they have no idea they made me so damn mad!! But, there does come a point in your life, maybe you just get filled up, that you empty all that out and stop doing it. One thing I adore about being a middle aged woman is now I tell people out loud and in real time. Saves a lot of time and energy. I mean, I could be knitting, or reading, or drinking wine!

Posted by: holli at April 11, 2008 11:48 AM

I'm sorry to say I have one-sided conversations like that with my ex-husband all the time. But he really is an arsehole.

Posted by: Jeannie at April 11, 2008 11:48 AM

Laurie, fantastic as always. Thank you. I have conversations with myself where I get so worked up I swear my blood pressure rises to unhealthy levels. But for what? Not a daggum thing. Thanks for the perspective. Love from Minneapolis!

Posted by: Laurellee at April 11, 2008 11:50 AM

I'm off now to find a "big" empty shoebox.

Posted by: amy at April 11, 2008 11:52 AM

You are magnificent. Truly.

Posted by: Liz R at April 11, 2008 12:25 PM

Oh I loved this post. I'm a multi-published author and sat here nodding my head the entire time. When people ask me for advice, I always squirm. I don't know how *I* even got published, but I do know one thing. You have to write, write, write. Just sit your butt in the chair and do it. And if you do it long and hard enough, and want it bad enough, it will happen.

Love your blog.

Posted by: Jill S. at April 11, 2008 12:52 PM

"I sometimes have to write a letter to the shoebox."

Best line ever. :)

And well said all around!

Posted by: Anonymous at April 11, 2008 01:00 PM

I agree! Getting the crazy out of your head helps enormously.
Have a great weekend!

Posted by: suetreiber at April 11, 2008 01:14 PM

I'm so glad to know I'm not alone in my one-sided conversations. I've rehashed things that happened in elementary school!

Posted by: Stephie at April 11, 2008 01:15 PM

It's freaky how what you write so often is right in tune with what I'm thinking, doing, struggling with, whatever the case. (Apologies for the very bad grammar). I'm reading Eckhart Tolle's A New Earth and learning a lot about how we humans are ruled by that thinking voice in our heads, the one that re-lives arguments and worries and disappointments over and over again and blocks us from living in the present moment. I think that is what you are talking about too. So, thanks Laurie, for another wonderful post. And Katie and Armando? Love 'em. Please keep the story coming!

Posted by: Lisa at April 11, 2008 01:23 PM

I'm about to make some big moves in my life, quitting my job and going to grad school in a new city and I am terrified of all the things that could go wrong. I was thinking about doing the very thing you mention here, making a list of everything that scares me about this big leap just so I can maybe let it go. I think I'll make that my weekend project. Thanks for the encouragement not to let my fears overtake me.

Posted by: Elise at April 11, 2008 01:43 PM

You are seriously in touch with the zeitgeist, C.A.P. As for Brian Hurley, quick arrange a meeting b/c if you don't I will! Seriously, '... fall in love for just a brief moment of time.'

Posted by: trashalou at April 11, 2008 01:50 PM

Been there, done that. To death. Wish I didn't, but it's hard to turn off, sometimes.
On the writing/publishing side, there are indeed lots of sources of assistance out there, books, websites, etc. etc. Having summoned up from somewhere the guts to submit my first book many moons ago, I'd tell all aspiring writers to remember that the worst they can say is,"No." They can't say you're a worthless human being, or a bad housekeeper or any of that, all they can say is that they don't want to buy your book right then. Maybe they just bought a book about a woman taken hostage by central American terrorists. Maybe the editor has PMS. Maybe--you fill in the blank. The worst they can say is, "No." That's all. And how bad can that be?

Posted by: Julie at April 11, 2008 01:57 PM

Growing up, my mom's mantra to keep me from being too crazy in the head (or to just shut me up) was, "There are no shouldas, couldas or wouldas." It probably shut me up, but I'm still crazy in the head!

Posted by: BigDPeggy at April 11, 2008 02:12 PM

I always have these conversations. I will walk down the street and talk about the things that made me angry or have an argument or anything and it's really just me usually working myself up more than I was before. When I do this, I tend to go in circles and just get more and more angry (something I'm unfortunately good at).

I know why I'm not published. I'm too scattered and too lazy at the moment to sit down and write. I just don't want it enough even though I have these ideas in my head.

Posted by: Seanna Lea at April 11, 2008 02:19 PM

I think we are all just a little crazy. Well, if we are 'normal', anyway.

Well said, Laurie.
.

Posted by: The Other Ruth at April 11, 2008 02:32 PM

Dear Aunt Purl,

You write letters to your shoebox and I write letters to Dear Abby in my head. The challenge is to fit in only the necessary details and keep it short enough to be published in her column. I have never written one word on paper (or computer), but the exercise helps me focus on what the problem is and clear out all the junk associated with it. By the time I've finished the letter, I've sorted out the answer.

Signed, Clear headed

Posted by: Lynn at April 11, 2008 02:42 PM

Oh, great, I get to come right after spam. Getting on with it anyway... I think the imaginary conversation can be part of getting past it. Sometimes it works for me, but only sometimes. And I think the worrying about what if can be a way of avoiding closing your eyes, holding your nose, and taking that leap, because you know that at least for a second or two the water will be COLD.

Imaginary conversations can also be part of the book. Have you read any of the Spenser books by Robert B. Parker? He always, always says the right thing to deflate all the hot-air balloons he deals with. If I ever write a book I will put in all the conversations where I said the wrong thing, only I will fix them. Author's perk.

Anyhow, thanks for the nudge.

Posted by: Lucia at April 11, 2008 02:59 PM

One of the greatest writing tools I found was NaNoWriMo. I've been reading about it for years and finally worked up the courage to try it last November. I hit my 50,000 word mark and never looked back.

http://www.nanowrimo.org/

Posted by: Texas Heather at April 11, 2008 03:39 PM

What a relief to know I'm not the only one who wastes time and energy on imaginary conversations. Although, after a divorce and two years' of therapy, I'm getting better - those conversations used to wrangle on for a week or more and now I'm down to about 24-48 hours (less if I make the time to write about it and therefore get it OUT of my head). The writing is an amazing help with this problem. I get to say everything I need/want to say, but don't actually have to have the confrontation. I'm SO NOT BIG on the confrontations ;-)

One day, in the middle of the divorce, I covered the front and back of about 5 pages just writing "I HATE HIM" over and over and over. Felt like I'd run 2 miles when I was done, but at least I slept well that night for the first time in days!

I'm not sure if you can answer this, but I was wondering how you went from just starting a blog to growing such a large readership and if you have any tips you feel comfortable providing on that topic?

Posted by: KJ at April 11, 2008 04:25 PM

Great post. I was clicking on your blog in bloglines thinking, "I hope she has some thoughts in here today." My lucky day! :) I relate to your stories so much, and I often do the same conversations-over-and-over thing. I also try not to think too hard about Someday, but I don't always let myself think about things that I want so that I don't have to try to get them. ;) I'm getting MUCH better though.

The tough thing for me is that I'm not a writer. I never think about grabbing a pen and paper when I've got thoughts to get out. It always seems like such a good thing to do (and I have felt better the times that I've tried it) but it's just not my go-to method. After reading your post, I'm willing to give it another go.

Posted by: Brandy at April 11, 2008 05:28 PM

I love you.

In a that's-exactly-what-I-needed-to-hear-right-now kind of way. Not in an I'm-going-to-stalk-you kind of way.

Posted by: readeriffic at April 11, 2008 06:16 PM

thanks crazypants - i feel better:-)

Posted by: shawnty at April 11, 2008 06:29 PM

This is so timely for me, too. I had the biggest hissy fit of my 20+ year career yesterday. I had to storm out of my OWN office, saying "This discussion is OVER."

(I had to storm out because I was so frustrated I felt tears welling up, and I didn't want THAT to happen.)

Anyway, I'm sure the guy I was so p1ssed at just shrugged it off. Me, I fumed about it all night. So.... I feel you.

Posted by: rb at April 11, 2008 07:40 PM

I love that you write letters to the shoebox. I write rants on the computer. One of these days, someone will find my Rants folder and be horrified. LOL!

You are correct about the what-ifs. When I ponder the possibility of actually pursuing my dream career, I wig out. There are a lot of fears I'll need to overcome in order to get there. Skills I need to learn that I'm not completely sure I can learn--and that terrifies me.

Recently I had an epiphany. Trying to take in the entirety of the journey is too overwhelming--good thing we don't have to live it like that! How we live is one moment at a time, in sequence. When we look back... how far have we come? All we can do is take one step at a time, keep putting one foot in front of the other and address each "thing" as it arrives.

I'll bet we'll be surprised at just how ready we ARE for that moment when it gets here. Trust the process.

Posted by: Jeanne B. at April 11, 2008 09:04 PM

If my bathroom mirror could talk...

Posted by: Allyson at April 11, 2008 09:29 PM

I WANT TO READ MORE...I hope you are really writing this book!!!!

If it helps, I'm totally crazypants in that same way!!

Posted by: Angela at April 12, 2008 05:25 AM

Yep, getting those voices (imaginary arguments, fears about moving forward, etc.) out of my head and into the light manages to kill 'em most of the time.

I don't know if it's correct blogger etiquette (blogiquette? bletiquette?) to talk about someone else's blog on yours - but I *love* Christine Kane, and her takes on putting yourself out there, living your life fully. She's a singer/songwriter (I bet you'd like her songs, too! Try out "Four Legs Good, Two Legs Bad" for a laugh. You can get it on iTunes) She has also healed her bulimia. I get SO much from her blog. Here's one entry I loved:
http://christinekane.com/blog/shine-anyway/

You can click around her archives - there are TONS of great articles.

OK - commercial over.

I love you both - I guess your other readers can, too!

Posted by: Dharmamama at April 12, 2008 05:30 AM

What do you mean imaginary arguments? Next you be telling me that wine has calories and that there is no shoe god.

I reject your reality and insert my own.

Posted by: Poppy at April 12, 2008 07:59 AM

Now, this is just weird...could it be that writing is contagious? My 65th Birthday Resolution is to Finally Publish (my short kidstories)! And it's clearly TIME; I took a writing class, which wasn't so hot BUT!! The teacher invited me to join her writers' critique group, only six people, all published, mostly kidwriters, mostly interested in history as I am -- coincidence? I don't think so. And may I say, when I think of you I get a real charge of grouping myself with you: I *too* am a writer and knitter! (Not great at either, perhaps, but enthusiastic -- you're an inspiration to me.) This is The Year!

Posted by: dale-harriet in WI at April 12, 2008 09:17 AM

The whole "Someday I'm going to...." thing is why I enjoyed the movie ONCE so much. Have you seen it? I might have guessed the title had something to do with "Once upon a time" but instead it is more along the lines of "Once I save enough money to...." or "Once I move out of this place..." or or or...It is about not waiting for Once I do this or that I can finally do what I really want to do. It is about just doing it. Hey, that would make a good slogan! Just Do It! Anyway, I loved that movie and now I totally love Glen Hansard! What a voice. This is why you, CAP, are such an inspiration to all of us. You have taken the bull by the horns and you are actually doing some of those things you really want to do. Writing a book. Traveling. Getting a new coffee table. Thanks, Purl Gurl.
Jan

Posted by: Jan at April 12, 2008 11:15 AM

I have the worst fights with my Mom and she never even knows.

Posted by: Anne at April 12, 2008 06:24 PM

I wonder if maybe those rehashed, imaginary arguments are a way for some of us to relive the incident ON OUR OWN TERMS, dammit! And we'll make it turn out OUR way this time around!! (reliving the whole thing until it does and throwing in some fabulously snarky comeback while we're at it).

Posted by: Sue F. at April 12, 2008 08:37 PM

I really needed this post. I read it first on Friday and then spent all weekend working on my novel that I am terrified of getting rejected. It was really helpful what you said about the fear of rejection having nothing to do with writing the actual book, because in my head it did. I always sit and write and tell myself "this has to be perfect or it will be rejected" but I'm going to try altering my perspective and not worrying about that until the book is done.

On a happier note, last summer you posted that Chicken Soup for the Soul was looking for stories and I sent one in and they picked it! All because of you! So thanks for posting that because otherwise I never would have known to send it to them or how to submit to them. Having a story published in Chicken Soup is a really big deal to me.

Posted by: Wide Lawns at April 13, 2008 01:19 PM

Oh, those imaginary conversations! Or, really, arguments. And even while I'm in the middle of doing them, I know how stupid it is. I'm gradually getting better at stopping it and letting go, but I have to be careful or I start it all up again.

And you know what? Your blog, among others, inspired me to start mine. And I wrangled Lyda into it because I knew it would be more fun and I'd be less likely to let it slide. And now I'm at least writing every week, if not yet every day. So, step forward for me! And thanks.

Posted by: Anna-Liza at April 13, 2008 03:10 PM

Laurie, thanks so much for being so open with us your loval and devoted fans. I too have had the imaginary conversations and while they are great stress relievers, I have found that actually directing my point of view to the offending party (there are snarky ways of doing this without being vulgar) helps even more. Standing up for myself always makes me feel better.

P.S. : Please, please turn the saga of Katie and Armando into a book. I PROMISE I'll buy a copy. Love your blog, you are awesome.

Posted by: Teresa L at April 13, 2008 05:07 PM

Oh my . . This made me remember one day when I was driving by myself having a HUGE imaginary blow-out with my ex-husband. A man drove by me and gave me a horrified look and I realized I was gesticulating wildly and was flipping "the bird." I was mortified and felt like a freak. I'm so glad to hear that other people do that too.

Posted by: Molly at April 13, 2008 07:19 PM

You are totally not alone in doing that. But my boyfriend swears he leaves work at work and never thinks about it when he's home. He _says_ that but the reality is sometimes different, but even still he doesn't seem to worry about it to a tenth of what I do.

And I tend to live my life in the past or the future. It is very hard to give up my fears and just DO. I try and repeat Yoda a lot: Do, only do. There is no try.

Posted by: Sarah at April 13, 2008 07:27 PM

Julia Camerons The Artists Way is a fantastic tool to get past fear of being creative. Its even better if you do it in a group.

Posted by: m at April 14, 2008 04:10 AM

love the story. LOVE IT

Posted by: Beth at April 14, 2008 07:55 AM