I will be doing promos during the preorder. Regular price after launch will be $10.99. Right now the discount is down to $4.99. During preorder, I will vary the price every two months until launch date of February 14, 2021.
The book has a lot of narrative in it, telling how to plan a wedding through story. I interview several people and tell my story. Then there is the data I gathered from the interviews and the practical side of it.
I worked with someone at my wedding, who I’ve known a very long time who graduated from an art program at my alma mater, to do my book cover. And she swung real hard and made it happen. I love what she did with Wedding Planning for Spoonies. It’s gorgeous.
Wedding Planning for Spoonies also made it through an editor, and I’m basically ready for launch except I’m going through a marketing phase that will last until the last week of April, right before everyone gets engaged. I need ARC readers, so if you’re interested, give me a shout. Throw your hands up and shout! Don’t forget to say “I do.”
I understand I’ve been missing these past few months. I’ve been struggling to find a way to be useful and not self-destructive with this blog while suffering from difficult emotions, and I have to say that while my posting regularity may not be up to speed yet, I’m happy to interact with people again.
I am working with an editor on the book, Wedding Planning for Spoonies, and an old family friend with a degree in design is working on my final book cover. Both iterations of the project should be done by January and I hope to release the book six months from that time (with preorders!).
I’ve also created a Facebook page for the book if you’d like to give it a like and a share.
When I first became engaged to my husband, I ordered all the wedding books, researched, and meticulously planned until I ended up in the ER with nerve damage. I was also pulled in all sorts of directions by my in-laws and family, who paid for the event. My planning season was an emotional rollercoaster, but I loved the planning part. I designed so many things and perused so many websites I can now call myself a wedding connoiseur.
After my wedding, in the 12 hour timeslot before I left for my honeymoon, I felt despair. I didn’t get exactly what I wanted. I didn’t even have a real wedding dress, but a white prom dress, because of low funds due to my medical situation. During this time I had become obese, and I felt I was no longer beautiful. I dreamt of being beautiful on my wedding day. Instead, I had a pixie haircut, a round face, acne and pale skin. There was, also, well, my new walking stick. During my planning season I had gone from abled to disabled.
The honeymoon provided another high, but immediately after coming home things turned south. Why didn’t I get to be gorgeous on my wedding day? Why had my husband never told me he thought I was beautiful during the wedding? Where was the romance? And most importantly, why couldn’t I walk on my own?
Growing up I was the little girl who played wedding in diapers. I was the ultimate wedding dreamer. But the bubble popped and here I was, married, unemployed and disabled. I was going to grad school in the fall after having to drop out due to developing lupus three days before my wedding. I felt worthless as a housewife.
When COVID hit I had a giant brain worm: a wedding planner for disabled couples. I wrote about 100 pages of it in two weeks, then fleshed it out with interviews from the community.
In trying to cope with the post-wedding blues, I turned back to weddings (one of my favorite things) to try to help people. It works best when I’m coming hard at it on the weekends or discussing it with my professors, who have taken an interest in the book.
The beauty, purpose, and creativity involved in weddings lit my brain up like a live wire. To see it POOF out of thin air, after its most important culmination, drove me to writing more seriously. I wrote about fashion, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, and my experiences as a newly disabled wife facing an unknown world.
If you found this because you’re feeling guilt about the post-wedding blues, you aren’t alone. You’ve definitely got a friend in me.
I wrote an article for URevolution a while back and was paid in the form of a T-Shirt via a $30 gift card. As my weight fluctuates I always need new clothes, so I welcomed the opportunity to amp up my wardrobe. The designs URevolution has are also cute and minimalist.
I ordered a 2XL, and it fits me like a T-shirt dress, which is what I wanted. I especially like this shirt due to pride month.
When I was in high school, in my tiny rural town, I had a gay friend, out of the two gay people in that entire village. His dad found out and he had to run away. He’s doing great now, but at the time I was really upset and full of righteous indignation.
If I write for URevolution again, I plan on getting this shirt:
I really like URevolution’s disability focus and intentional inclusivity of all types of disabled people across races, genders, and sexual orientations.
They are new and a little disorganized, but they will communicate with you should you have a problem receiving your gift card like I did. I found them to be cordial and kind.
URevolution also ships fast. I had my shirt in 3 days.
If you’re interested in branching out and getting your first paid gig, I recommend writing for URevolution.
While writing my book, Wedding Planning for Spoonies, I realized how ableist I was despite having a disability. Even the subtitle of the OG cover shows that.
I have had a debilitating mental health disorder for 17 years, and chronic pain for 1 followed by extreme GI issues for 4. Each night I would vomit. But the doctors all said that nothing was wrong.
Because I had experienced discrimination throughout my life, I assumed I wasn’t ableist. But I slowly recognized, especially in the past few months, how I had internalized that prejudice and let it define myself and others.
For example, the word “crazy.” I had always adopted this moniker to try to mask my severe mental health problems instead of addressing them. I very badly wanted to be a “normal” person. Later I realized that disabled people, mentally ill included, are normal. We are our own normal. Disabled people are human beings like everyone else.
Maybe I never stopped to question what a human being was. It isn’t someone who drives a car or has a career. I was so focused on achieving that I never stopped to think that all people get sad and angry sometimes. We all get hurt. Maybe we don’t all have identical experiences, but we all feel the same feelings. There isn’t a person on this planet who never felt anger or grief.
In this regard, perhaps I was lucky to end up disabled. I had to slow down and reevaluate myself and work hard on myself to change bad thought patterns that blinded me to fundamental truths. I’m not saying I don’t want things to change – I would love to be healthy again – but this season of growth was spurred by losing total control of my life.
Perhaps when we are forced to “let go and let God,” we find ourselves and others in the eye of the storm.
I am back in the saddle again with my book, The Disability-Friendly Wedding Planner, and I’m telling you, it’s gonna be a long road.
The book’s purpose is to help disabled and chronically ill individuals plan their weddings, but I’m not entirely sure it’s doing that right now. I’m talking to one agent who hasn’t gotten back to me yet after submitting my manuscript, and I nervously await the next steps.
Additionally, or not additionally rather, the book has been slashed a bit. It no longer covers as wide a net of disabilities as I had once liked to. Now it only covers mobility, chronic illness, and chronic pain, which when you think about it is pretty huge. There are lots of chronic illnesses and chronic pain conditions out there, and lots of varying degrees of mobility.
I have lots lots lots of research to do, and if you’d like to help, email me.
I haven’t had a regular Monday morning since November of 2018. At the time I was a receptionist for a seedy car lot and trying my hardest to keep up. Every morning I woke up at 3am for my strenuous 1 hour morning routine, followed by my hour commute to start work at 5am down I-35 in ridiculous traffic. My car was a 25 year old clunker with no airbags. In short, it was a dangerous journey.
I didn’t get along with the folks at the car lot. I was too genuine, and too disabled. This was year two of my chronic vomiting, and one Wednesday I ran from the receptionists’ desk to puke for about five minutes. There was another receptionist at my post. When I returned, I received a harsh reprimand and was promptly fired. The whole incident was so jarring I haven’t interviewed for a job since and have decided to make it on my own freelancing.
That’s not to say I don’t want a job. I long for a typical Monday morning with three cups of coffee, doing my hair and makeup, putting on cute clothes and rushing out the door into the chaos of traffic. I know it sounds insane, but as someone that’s been homebound for two years now, there are some “awful” things I wish I had in my life. Some tethers of normalcy to give me the crown of worthiness.
However, there was a time I hated my morning or night commute. There may be certain things we hate in life or dread, but they serve a purpose. Our commutes in our little cars take up little spaces in the world and show us where we fit in society, seamlessly and dangerously, knowing one crash could take us out forever.
A commute’s potential purpose is to gain insight about the world. That asshole who cut you off – have you ever considered you might have been the asshole? Or maybe they were rushing a baby to the hospital?
Another is to gain insight about the world. We are cars on a road part of a system that crosses continents. We are so, so small part of something so huge.
What about gaining insight about yourself? What do you do in the car to stay calm? Do you listen to angry music? Soothing music? Podcasts? Do you feed your mind, your emotions, or your soul?
Whether you make it to your destination or not, I’d say your Monday morning commute is thankful for you. Negative experiences – or experiences we think are negative – are grateful for you because they get to serve their positive purpose: to allow illumination in their darkness.
Yesterday, my family helped my husband and I build a pergola. It’s beautiful, and I only have a few awkward photos, most of which involve the garbage can. It’s red cedar, and small like our little misshapen patch of concrete.
My husband labored over the perfect pergola plans for months. I mean months, ever since we bought the house in November. His grand scheme for the yard is finally beginning to come to fruition. I was getting so annoyed with his obsession over the pergola that I would refuse to look at his pergola design books and his drawings. As an engineer, he knew how to build things. And build something, he did!
A few years ago my parents thrifted the patio furniture for my first grown up apartment. It’s a pretty Parisienne set, at least to an American. Bear and I intend to have a Provencal Potager garden. My father lived in France for some time and I always wanted to visit. So Bear is bringing the French countryside to our backyard.
We will have two rose teuteurs (French trellises) in our tiny garden, as well as two raised vegetable beds made out of red cedar fence pickets so I can have easy access to the garden. In the photo you can see the accessible herb garden, and there will be another on the left side past where we are growing a lemon verbena and a moon garden.
Our backyard is the smallest we’ve ever had, but I wanted it that way. I wanted it to be low maintenance, low stress. But my husband is a civil engineer and knows how to plan spaces. I’m pretty excited about the garden. Does that make me old?