Book Buying Freeze

It’s almost June, RWA conference is coming up in a couple months, and I already have more books in my TBR pile than I can read by July. Now is the time to declare a book buying moratorium.

I always overspend at Nationals so I came up with this process a couple years back. I would stop buying books a couple of months before conference in order to save up a bit. Plus the RWA literacy signing is for charity so they do encourage you to buy books there and not drag in your bookshelf from home to be signed.

It’s killing me this year. Sherry Thomas’ His at Night is coming out…Joanna Bourne’s next book is coming. I can buy them all at Nationals, but…but…

Another thing about the buying freeze is it also frees me up a little to finish whatever imaginary deadline I’ve given myself before Nationals. This year the goal is to finish the first draft of my paranormal, Sorcerer’s Daughter.

Speaking of deadlines. I suppose they’re no longer imaginary…*shudders*

So the freeze starts…now. 🙁

P.S. I am making two allowances for two category books that come out in June that I really, really want. Now that I know how category sales are time sensitive, I have to buy these two books to support the authors. But that’s it!

P.P.S. I’ve decided checking out books from the library is still okay.

Getting in Shape


“Let’s talk about your goals,” my physical trainer says. “What do you want to achieve?”

“I need to look good by July.”

I know this is very shallow. I should be trying to stay healthy all year round and I should be more concerned with having a strong heart than a firm middle. *Hangs head in shame*

“What’s in July?” he asks.

“I have to look good in front of hundreds of women,” I say, shame forgotten. “Everyone goes shopping for cute clothes and shoes. It’s the gathering of the year.”

I tried to explain the historical fashion show I’m a part of and how I’m presenting a workshop…let’s just say I don’t want to suck it in for four days.

I should have been warned by the gleam in his eyes.

“Oh, we can do July,” Mr. Strange says. (That’s my trainer’s name. Strange. I wish I wrote contemporaries so I could write him into something.)

So I woke up this morning barely able to walk after jump roping. I popped two Advil and dragged myself to the gym anyway. At one point in the workout he laughed diabolically when I was limping from the exercise bike to the mat. I swear, there was diabolicalness to it.

Then I ended the workout doing a fitness drink taste test because he insisted these were the ones that “tasted good”. I nodded politely and tried not to make a face. The grape one was better than the fruit punch.

“Take the whole bottle with you,” he offers.

“No, no.” I force a smile. “You can have it.”

He wants to start looking at a food journal starting next week to which I agreed. It’s really hard to trim down when you’re 5’1. There’s very little wiggle room. But I’m going to look good in July, darn it.

Maybe I should add a daily fitness goal to the Fast Draft goal?