that I did five years ago. I’m still hanging out with the women I met at a new moms group, even though
our babies are nearly grown. I’m still living in Indiana, the state I moved to when I was a toddler, even
though I’ve always dreamed of living somewhere warm in the winter.
A few years ago I found this Question a Day journal that I thought was so cool. It asks me a question
every day such as “Should you have a Plan B?” or “When’s the last time you went swimming?” and I will
write the answers each day for five years. This allows me to see what I wrote in the past to the same
question and see how I’ve changed. After a while, I realized I would’ve enjoyed this journal much more
in my twenties when my life was in flux. Oftentimes I write the exact same answer year after year:
“What’s your favorite food?”: pizza and my Grandma Ruth’s chocolate chip cookies. When it asked what
I wished I could buy, I wrote more than once that I needed a new wool coat for work (the silk lining had
ripped and been mended repeatedly). Finally, I broke down last winter and treated myself to a new coat
only because my journal showed me how long I had been ignoring this simple desire. Somehow I forced
myself to buy the coat in a cocoa color instead of my favorite (navy blue). That was really hard.
Another example of how I like things to stay the same is illustrated by my television viewing habits. One
of my favorite shows to watch is Dateline. I’m not sure why (even though I’ve tried to explain it to my
husband many times.) There’s something comforting about hearing how a couple fell in love, while
smugly knowing it’s going to end badly. I enjoy trying to guess who did it—the husband or the boyfriend.
It couldn’t be anybody else. And I don’t want it to be anybody else. Whenever one of these true-crime
mystery shows covers an unsolved kidnapping or a random serial killer, I turn it off. I don’t want to be
reminded that I could be a victim, that a stranger I meet on the street could be a murderer. I have to
say, I’m not happy that it seems like Dateline lately is trying to break out of its mold by doing something
besides romance gone wrong stories.
So it makes sense that the main character in my latest book hates change. After all, Mark Twain said,
“Write what you know.” The fun part about writing for me is starting with a seed of truth then making it
better. That’s what I feel like I’ve done in “A Season of Change.” It opens with:
“Kimber Foley hated change. She hated when the IT department forced her to change her
password every three months, she hated it when Kroger stopped stocking her favorite chai latte, and
she really hated that fifteen years ago her husband went out for a drive and never came home. Just
walking across Summit College’s campus with her teenage daughter made Kimber’s stomach twist in
knots. Of course she wanted her only child to go to college, but she wasn’t ready. Not yet.”
Throughout the book Kimber struggles to let go of her daughter (who’s on the spectrum) while dealing
with her own panic attacks and a former crush. Ironically, I started this novel while living in the same city
I’d inhabited for 18 years, but I wasn’t inspired to finish it until I’d switched jobs and moved to a new
town. Just like Kimber, I realized that the status quo was no longer making me happy. Although I was
very hesitant, I’m glad I took the risk.
I often tell my daughter when she’s struggling with something new that “Change can be uncomfortable.”
Even though I watched Dateline last night and will no doubt buy another Question of the Day journal
when this one is filled, I treated myself to apple cinnamon oatmeal this morning and enjoyed tasting
Here’s hoping that you can push through the discomfort and discover that sometimes change is exactly
what you need!
A Season of Change is available on Amazon for $2.99.