Guest Post: Research by Deborah Coonts, Author of Wanna Get Lucky?

I bet I am the only taxpayer who used a night at a male strip club as a business deduction. Well, okay, me and several politicians, but mine was legit. This writer gig has its upside, I can tell you that. Who knew research could be this much fun? I wish I could tell you that I based my novels in Las Vegas because I wanted Uncle Sam to cover some of the cost of great nights out, but I wasn't that smart. And to be honest, while digging around Sin City can be wildly amusing, it does have its downside:

As with most of life's lessons, this one was learned the hard way. And here is what I've learned: USE THE BUDDY SYSTEM!

Right out of the gate, for novel number one, WANNA GET LUCKY? I needed to experience a sex toy trade show. As with most things, I didn't really think it through. I mean, people go to these all the time, don't they? It was a trade show, for chrissake! With vendors and everything. So, picturing the Home and Garden Show I attended at some point in the past (I know! What was I thinking? Apparently I must have been channeling Donna Reed -- that's the only excuse I can come up with.) I launched off, blissfully clueless.

My head started to swim after the fourth or fifth row of battery-operated boyfriend exhibits. I'm from the South, please, we don't even discuss sex, much less have it thrust in our faces -- I thought I was made of sterner stuff, but apparently not. So, even though as a Texas girl I can ride bareback, shoot dinner on the wing, gut a deer, converse fluently in china patterns and silver place settings, identify this season's Prada from last's, and break the nose of any guy who calls me "Honey," I found myself totally out of my element. When Oprah admonishes us to challenge ourselves everyday, I don't think this is what she means. I started to hyperventilate. I needed help, and a change of plan.

After two glasses of liquid fortification at the bar, I headed into the movie theatre. Big mistake. You see, when I'm nervous, I laugh uncontrollably -- doubled-over, tears-rolling-down-my-face, gulping-lungfuls-of-air kind of laughing. And I really hadn't recovered my composure.

I discovered two things that day: porn stars take themselves very seriously, and I can outrun over-siliconed twenty-somethings . . . if they are wearing six-inch heels. As a woman of a certain age, I already knew I could outrun any guy preoccupied with his wanker, so that was no biggie.

Now, when I go off on a research expedition, I gather the posse. There is safety in numbers. At least that's what my mother used to say, but I don't think she ever envisioned the places I have to see, the sacrifices I'm called upon to make for my art. Once the girls gather, we fortify ourselves with liquid courage, check to make sure the EMTs are on speed-dial and we have the names of several reputable bail bondsmen (assuming that isn't an oxymoron), then we're off.

Our first foray into the dangerous world of research as a group was a night out at one of the few, if not the only, remaining true male strip clubs. The club occupied the second floor of a ramshackle old building in a part of town that had lost even then the faintest memory of respectability. Emaciated, disinterested young women writhed around poles on the lower floor. Like ants following a trail of pheromones, a single file of women snaked through the bar to the back staircase. We fell in as I meticulously tucked my receipt into my wallet -- business expense, you know. At the top of the stairs we were assaulted by a coven of naked young men wearing only a tiny sack over their privates. One brazen, doe-eyed, long-haired kid, started running his hands over me. "Don't." I snapped. I was in no mood to play -- as I said, this was business . . . and he was . . . not appealing. He reared back as if I'd hit him with a Tazer. "I can't touch you?" he asked, clearly incredulous. I narrowed my eyes at him and he slunk off. Smart boy.

One of my friends, who had decided to "dress slutty" in honor of our outing, attracted the most attention, as I skooched into a booth enjoying the show. And what a show it was. The music started. A guy dressed as a Marine strutted out and started doing his thing. As I watched, all I could think of was "What ever happened to the Village People?" I was clearly having trouble going with the flow.

Women beat their open palms on the stage, stuffed the Marine's tiny sack with dollar bills, while one Adonis straddled my "slutty" friend and began grinding into her chest. She looked around his perfect set of cheeks that were aimed in my direction, and raised her glass while gracing me with a huge grin. I flagged the waiter down and ordered a double.

That's about all I think I can tell you. I know truth is an absolute defense to libel, but discretion is the glue that binds female friendships. However, to this day, I wake up in a cold sweat that somewhere there is a grainy photo, hastily taken with a camera phone . . .

But, if it’s all the same to you, I'd rather take in a male strip show.

© 2011 Deborah Coonts, author of Lucky Stiff

WANNA GET LUCKY? By Deborah Coonts

A young woman plunges from a Las Vegas sightseeing helicopter, landing in the Pirate’s lagoon in front of the Treasure Island Hotel in the middle of the 8:30 Pirate Show. Almost everyone writes her off as another Vegas victim.

But Lucky O’Toole smells a rat. She’s head of Customer Relations at The Babylon, the newest, most opulent mega-casino and resort on the Strip, so she’s got a lot on her plate: the Adult Film industry’s annual awards banquet, a spouse-swapping convention, sex toy purveyors preying on the pocket-protector crowd attending ElectroniCon…. Still, Lucky can’t resist turning over a few stones.

When a former flame is one of the snakes she uncovers, Lucky’s certain she’s no longer dealing with an anonymous Sin City suicide. To top it all off, Lucky’s best friend Teddie—Las Vegas’ finest female impersonator—presses to take their relationship to the next level. Leave it to Lucky to attract a man who looks better in a dress than she does.

Lucky must manage the Babylon’s onslaught of outrageous festivities, solve a murder, and struggle to keep her life and libido from spinning out of control… not to mention keep her balance in six inch heels.

Author Bio

Deborah Coonts, author of Lucky Stiff, says her mother tells her she was born in Texas a very long time ago, though she's not totally sure -- her mother can't be trusted. But she was definitely raised in Texas on barbeque, Mexican food and beer. She currently resides in Las Vegas, where family and friends tell her she can't get into too much trouble. Silly people. Coonts has built her own business, practiced law, flown airplanes, written a humor column for a national magazine, and survived a teenager. She is the author of the Lucky O'Toole Las Vegas adventure series.

Her first book, Wanna Get Lucky?, was released in 2010.

For more information please visit http://www.deborahcoonts.com/, and follow the author on Facebook and Twitter

Much thanks and appreciation to FSB Media for providing copies of both Wanna Get Lucky? and Lucky Stiff and this original article, all by author Deborah Coonts.

Guest Post: The Little Black Book of Big Red Flags by Natasha Burton, Julie Fishman and Meagan McCrary

What chick lit novel would be complete without a girl chasing boy story and a bunch of dating disasters along the way? Here Natasha Burton, Julie Fishman and Meagan McCrary, authors of The Little Black Book of Big Red Flags share their take on one of the perils of dating men and give their advice on the woman who stands in the way of every woman getting her man!

What His Bond with His Mom Says About Him: Maternal Instincts

By Natasha Burton, Julie Fishman and Meagan McCrary,

Authors of The Little Black Book of Big Red Flags

Ah, men and their mothers. It's a bond we may not fully understand until we birth sons ourselves. In the meantime, we'll keep busy by examining how the men in our lives interact with their mothers, in order to glean more info on their overall character. Here's a guide to help your guy analysis.

1. He Calls Her Daily. If your man and his mom are always chatting, then he likely tells her everything. . . including intimate details of your relationship. Not only will she be privy to your private moments with her son, but she probably also weighs in on every argument the two of you have. And guess whose side she'll be taking.

2. He Needs Her Input. There's something emasculating about a grown man who can't make a decision without his mother's guidance. Sure, we'd like him to respect her opinions, but when he uses his mom as a crutch, it's a sign that he's too insecure to stand on his own two feet. If he doesn't trust himself to make a decision, then how are you supposed to trust him to?

3. He's Not Appreciative. A guy who takes his mother -- the woman who gave him life -- for granted probably doesn't give props to any of the peeps in his life, including his girlfriend. This type of man typically has an inflated sense of self and feels entitled: He doesn't thank people, because he thinks they're just doing their required duty, whether it's as a lover, a mother or a friend.

4. They're Just Not Close. While there are legitimate reasons for a man to become estranged from his mother, some guys just don't have the patience, time or heart to stay close to their moms. If he doesn't value his relationship with the first woman to love him, then chances are that he won't make his relationship with his lover a priority. . . and the same goes for his eventual family.

5. He Bad-Mouths Her. While not all mothers deserve a Mom of the Year award, regardless of how terrible a guy's mom was or even still is, his propensity to diss the woman who birthed him is a poor reflection of his personality. A jab once in a while is understandable; constant bad-mouthing (or worse, whining) shows a lack of respect for women and a serious need to grow up.

6. He's Not Respectful. Even if she was pretty awful in the past, if your guy is nasty to his mother in front of you or other people, then he's tactless and insolent. And if he's capable of treating his mom with such blatant callousness, then chances are that he won't hesitate to berate you in public, either.

7. He Thinks She's His Maid. If he still expects his mom to clean up after him, then this over-coddled dude likely relies on other people to handle all his adult responsibilities, like filling out job applications and scheduling appointments. The fact that he hasn't taken ownership of these tasks shows that he's immature and lazy.

8. He Still Adheres to Her Rules. Men who live by their mother's edicts long after they've left the house don't have the cojones to establish their own set of values and standards. If every sentence out of his mouth is “my mom says,” then it's not only annoying, but also a signal that he's afraid to live his own life.

9. He Puts Her On A Pedestal. When Mom is god's gift to the world, whatever she says, does or thinks will always be superior to what you say, do or think. Even if you're brighter, prettier and kinder than his mother, you'll never quite measure up in his book.

10. He's Close With Her. A guy who's close with his mommy isn't necessarily a momma's boy. Actually, a man who has a good relationship with mom is generally more sensitive, communicative and understanding toward women's emotions than one who barely speaks to his mother.

© 2011 Natasha Burton, Julie Fishman and Meagan McCrary authors of The Little Black Book of Big Red Flags

Author Bios

Natasha Burton, co-author of The Little Black Book of Big Red Flags: Relationship Warning Signs You Totally Spotted . . .  But Chose to Ignore, is the Relationships Editor ofGlo, a women's website partnered with MSN.com. Her work has appeared in People, Glamour, WomansDay.com, FHMOnline, and Outblush.com. When she's not grilling her friends about the most intimate details of their love lives, she's most likely in the kitchen whipping up some Italian food.

Julie Fishman, co-author of The Little Black Book of Big Red Flags: Relationship Warning Signs You Totally Spotted . . .  But Chose to Ignore, is a humor writer who works in screen, print, and web. She currently teaches at a college in Hollywood, pens a weekly cocktail column for Glo called "Hump Day Happy Hour," and dreams up irreverent sitcom ideas. Aside from writing, she's either hanging with her pooch and drinking wine, or talking about hanging with her pooch and drinking wine.

Meagan McCrary, co-author of The Little Black Book of Big Red Flags: Relationship Warning Signs You Totally Spotted . . .  But Chose to Ignore, is an L.A.-based yoga teacher with an adventurous spirit for romance who has written about health and wellness for a variety of local lifestyles magazines. While she spends most of her days teaching Anusara yoga and giving private lessons to her various clients, she finds time to work on "being present" (and her tan) at the beach under the California sun.

Natasha, Julie, and Meagan are all Santa Monica -- dwelling Pisceans who met while earning their Master's of Professional Writing degrees at the University of Southern California.

For more information please visit http://www.BigRedFlags.com and follow the authors on Facebook and Twitter

Thank you so much to Natasha, Julie and Meaghan for their hilarious guest post and stopping by Lip Gloss and Literature. Also, I want to thank Rubyna and the people at FSB Media for sending me a copy of The Little Black Book of Big Red Flags: Relationship Warning Signs You Totally Spotted . . .  But Chose to Ignore. Stay tuned later this summer when I review The Little Black Book of Big Red Flags and hopefully I will be well-versed enough to share more advice with you on how to avoid dating disasters like these.

The Little Black Book of Big Red Flags: Relationship Warning Signs You Totally Spotted . . .  But Chose to Ignore By Natasha Burton, Julie Fishman and Meagan McCrary will be Released June 18, 2011

Star Book Review and Contest: The Map of True Places by Brunonia Barry

The Map of True Places by Brunonia Barry takes readers and listeners on a psychological journey through the eyes of Zee. Zee was born and raised on the North Shore of Massachusetts, frequenting the towns of Salem and Marblehead. Zee is the product of the estranged marriage between her Parkinsonian-afflicted father, Finch, and her late mother, Maureen, who suffered from bipolar disorder. As you might imagine, Zee’s parents, especially the death of Maureen, have greatly affected Zee’s sense of self her entire life. Although she’s a well-respected psychological counselor in Boston today, Zee, at one time, had given in to her inner rebel and had an obsessive passion for stealing boats. She was very good at it, careful to always cover up her tracks, but like all things in life, her bad behavior eventually caught up with her and it was time for Zee to face the music, so to speak. In The Map of True Places, we find Zee at yet another crossroads in her life, dealing with the death of a client and the progressive illness of her father, and once again, Zee must grapple with a hard reality and learn to grow from her experiences.

          I would not consider The Map of True Places to be a traditional chick lit novel, but with its overarching theme of self-growth, I would classify it as women’s fiction. Like many novels of this genre, we meet our heroine at a place in her life where she is essentially backed into a corner or hitting rock bottom, as some might call it. Zee is faced with several difficult dilemmas that upon first glance seem to be rooted in various dramas involving her family, love relationships, and career. However, upon more careful inspection (and a lot of introspection), Zee realizes that she must do a lot of soul-searching before she can even begin to contemplate any of her outward problems. Zee embarks on a journey of self-exploration, learning that you can nerve be too old to grow.

          I enjoyed the set up of Zee’s character and the back and forth between the past and present during the opening prologue and first two parts of the novel. For me, it became harder to pay attention to the audio during Zee’s scenes with her father, Finch and his partner, Melville; but I must say the intertwining characters and intersecting storylines was very intriguing and worth your full attention during the entirety of the audio. As a psychology graduate student I especially loved the sneak peak I was given into the world of counseling as well as the deeper exploration of characters. I think this novel also hit so close to home with me because I am from Massachusetts and could picture the places Zee visited.

The Map of True Places takes risks that other novels do not, approaching the often taboo and difficult subjects of bipolar disorder, homosexuality and suicide. Brunonia Barry proves her talent as an artist of words, crafting articulate chapters and dividing the book into several sections. She is also the bestselling author of The Lace Reader. This was my first listen to narrator, Alyssa Bresnahan, who succeeds in creating a lovable heroine in Zee and fulfilling her duties as a variety of other, memorable friends and family.

3 STARS

For more information on Brunonia Barry, check out her web site at http://www.brunoniabarry.com/.

She also hosts two sites specifically for her bestselling novel, the Lace Reader, a story about a woman who can foretell the future in patterns of lace, and The Map of True Places. Visit http://www.lacereader.com/ and http://themapoftrueplaces.com/ for the book trailers, information on where to buy and more.

If you want to learn about the writing process and how Brunonia Barry was able to accomplish writing such a complex and popular novel, please check out the guest post she did at Lip Gloss and Literature back in April:

To WIN your very OWN COPY of THE MAP OF TRUE PLACES BY BRUNONIA BARRY, simply enter below.

You need not be a follower or re-publish this contest. Comment and be sure to include an email address where I might be able to reach you should you be the winner of one (1) paperback copy of The Map of True Places by Brunonia Barry.

Open to US/CANADA RESIDENTS ONLY. This contest will be active today through next Wednesday, May 25. The winner will be chosen at random via Random.org and announced the next day. A big thank you to Anna at FSB Media for providing a copy of The Map of True Places to the winner at Lip Gloss and Literature. Comment today to enter!! GOOD LUCK!!

Special Guest Post with Brunonia Barry, Author of The Map of True Places

I just started to listen to The Map of True Places, via Amazon’s Audible application on my iPod and I’m so glad I downloaded it. I have only listened to about 20 minutes of it, including the prologue and a bit of chapter one, and I am hooked! Maybe because I can relate to the main character Zee, who hails from Massachusetts, just north of Boston (like the author, herself) and her profession as a psychologist also mirrors my education background. When one of the author’s representatives over at FSB Media offered me an article from Brunonia Barry on the subject of her writing, you can imagine my delight. As you may know, I have been diligently working on my own novel, my first chick lit work of fiction and I am a bit of a stickler for organization. Like Ms. Barry describes in her article, she too, organizes her story before putting pen to paper. I found her process to be very interesting and reassuring, especially for a new writer, like me, who can easily get “stuck” in the mess in the middle. Read on and be on the look out for a future post on Lip Gloss and literature when I review the unabridged audio of The Map of True Places and offer a fabulous giveaway for the paperback version of Brunonia Barry’s book.!

The Mess in the Middle

By Brunonia Barry,

Author of The Map of True Places

One year into a two-year book deadline, I have reached page 165 in my manuscript. So far, my characters have obediently done everything I've asked of them, but today something changed. This morning, they couldn't seem to take a step without tripping over their feet. So they decided to stand still. I couldn't make them go forward, and I couldn't make them go back. When I asked what the problem was, they told me they were confused.

I'd be panicked about this situation except that I've been here before. Twice. And even more if you count the screenplays I wrote when I lived in LA or the books I've written for ‘tweens. While I don't like it, I have come to expect that there are times when characters just won't move.

For me, this always happens in the same place, maybe not always on page 165 but some place close to it. It's always in the middle of the book. "What was it you wanted me to do?" seems to be the question my characters ask, and when I tell them, they become skeptical. Since I trust characters over plot every time, I tend to listen when a character tells me "I wouldn't do that kind of thing." And the middle of the book is always where they seem to doubt their motivation.

There's a name for this. It's called the mess in the middle. It's an expression I first heard when I was enrolled in one of Robert McKee's screenwriting workshops. I was writing a comedy called Sluts, a sort of West Coast Sex in the City with an edge, when my characters refused the adventures I was trying to send them on and threatened to infect me with a case of writer's block if I persisted in giving them directions. They were angry with me, and who could blame them? As a relatively new writer, I was lost and confused.

Confusion, in itself, doesn't bother me. I honor it as part of the writing process, a byproduct of communing with the muse. It is a frequent ailment, but not a serious one. Unfortunately, the mess in the middle is a different illness. If left unchecked, it can be fatal. I'm willing to wager that this midpoint is where most writers abandon their projects. I know it has been true for me. I have several unfinished manuscripts sitting in drawers, including that screenplay. One day, knowing what I know now, I may open the drawer and dust off those stories. Meanwhile, I'll tell you exactly what the mess in the middle is, and what you can do about it.

I'm sure you've heard that old story about the mountain. You are climbing a tree lined mountain trail in an effort to see the view from the top. You've been walking for quite a while. About halfway up, you realize that you don't have any idea where you are. You can no longer see the bottom of the mountain, and you cannot yet see the top. You begin to panic. If it were up to you, you'd just quit, but you can't. You're halfway up the side of a mountain for God's sake.

So what do you do? If you've prepared for the hike, you've been smart enough to bring a map. Though it's an exercise in blind faith, you have no choice but to follow it.

In writing, my map is my step outline. Though I write free form for quite a while when I'm starting a project, I am not a pantser. I believe very strongly in outlines. Once I've captured the voice of the characters and know them well enough to ask that first what if question that propels them forward, it is time to create a step outline.

My outline is simple enough. It contains only the major steps of the story. Sometimes it's a sentence or paragraph, sometimes a list of bullet points. I spend more time on it that any other aspect of my writing, because it's the only tool that allows me to see the big picture. It particularly helps with pacing and with the progression of character changes. If I follow it, I seldom get into trouble.

The problem is, sometimes I don't follow it. I am moving along so fast, and the story is going so well, that I just keep writing. This is exactly what I discovered this morning when I went back to look at my outline. A few days ago, I was writing so furiously that I skipped a step, and, as a result, my characters missed an important turn. If they had reached the impasse immediately, I might have spotted my omission. Unfortunately, the dead end hadn't come until the following chapter, several turns later.

If I hadn't taken the time to create my map, I might never have found my mistake. The manuscript might have ended up in that drawer with my screenplay. Luckily, with my step outline and just a bit of work, I was able to get my characters back on track. They are now happily moving forward.

How are your story maps constructed? Do you outline? Have you experienced the mess in the middle?

As originally published on "Writer Unboxed"

© 2011 Brunonia Barry, author of The Map of True Places

Author Bio

Born and raised in Massachusetts, Brunonia Barry, lives in Salem with her husband and their beloved golden retriever, Byzantium.

Barry is the first American Writer to win the Woman's International Fiction Festival's 2009 Baccante Award (for The Lace Reader). Her second novel, The Map of True Places is out now.

For more information please visit http://www.brunoniabarry.com/, and follow the author on Facebook and Twitter

A sincere thank you to Anna Suknov at FSB Media for providing a text copy of Brunonia Barry’s article. Sign up for email alerts on Lip Gloss & Literature to be informed when the Audio Review and Contest to Win your OWN Copy of The Map of True Places goes live!!

Star Book Review: Tales from the Yoga Studio by Rain Mitchell

Tales from the Yoga Studio was the first of a new series of books on yoga and friendship in Southern California by Rain Mitchell. Ms. Mitchell has shared a few articles on her writing process and the difficulty with which it was and the strength she gained from it. Fittingly, then, her series tackles the topic of yoga as a meditative practice for letting go and how a group of Southern Californian friends use it to get through some of the toughest times in their lives.

 Lee is the go-to guru of all yoga teachers in sunny L.A. and that’s just who friends Graciela, Stephanie, Imani and Katherine go to every week as they head over to Lee’s studio in Silver Lake for a workout that helps them sweat out all their demons. It’s not only the four friends who are aware of Lee’s special talents as a yoga instructor and sure enough, yoga empire, “Yoga Happens” seeks out Lee for one of their new chain studios opening up in LA, making her a bountiful offer, hard for any working mom, to refuse. Along with their lush offer, Yoga Happens has even guaranteed Lee a spot for her husband, Alan at the posh studio, where he can play his music for yoga goers. Like any offer that appears too good to be true, Yoga Happens contract is exclusive and if Lee accepts, she must close down her own quaint studio in Silver Lake.

Lee’s followers and close friends, Katherine, Graciela, Imani and Stephanie also have their fair share of issues going on at the moment. Katherine, newly sober, is having a difficult time allowing herself to trust others, especially one guy in particular. Will she give him and herself a chance at love or will she be too afraid to get close? Stephanie is battling her own demons while trying to keep her writing career alive. Will the script she’s currently working on be accepted or will she burn out before she can finish it? Graciela, a gorgeous hip hop dancer, has the chance of a lifetime to be in a video for Beyonce but will an unfortunate injury hold her back? Finally, Imani wasn’t so sure that yoga was for her, but as she begins checking out local studios with bff and paparazzi magnet, Becky, she starts to realize that it may be just the calm she needs to help her weather her own heartache.

I love yoga but still didn’t know what to expect from a contemporary women’s fiction book on the subject. I thought it started off somewhat slow, but something kept pulling me back into the story. I don’t know if it was the fluidity of the writing that was reminiscent of the peace and relaxation of child’s pose or the characters that highlighted the creativity and togetherness of female friendship; but by the story’s end I was hooked on SoCal’s soothing yoga practice and Rain Mitchell’s writing.

I will definitely be checking out the second book in this series when it comes out.

3 Stars

For more info on Rain Mitchell or Tales from the Yoga Studio, check out her web page:

http://www.talesfromtheyogastudio.com/

For one of the articles I posted by Rain Mitchell, check back to this post in March:

http://lipglossandliterature.blogspot.com/2011/03/writers-wednesday-with-rain-mitchell.html

***I received Tales from the Yoga Studio from FSB Media in exchange for an honest review. The thoughts and opinions of this review are my own.***

 

Writer's Wednesday with Rain Mitchell, Tales from the Yoga Studio

  Writer's Wednesday

     Back when I hosted my blog under a different title, Where You Wish Upon A Star, I used to try and post a writing topic each Wednesday as a part of a series called Writer’s Wednesday. More often than not, I wrote about things related to writing that I was going through, thinking of or was inspired by something I had recently read or saw. Even more so though, I love learning or even just reading new things on writing from the authors themselves, especially from women who write in my favorite genre, chick lit. Like the genre itself, topics on writing are so varied and limitless, the resources and ideas to pull from go on forever. For this first edition of Writer’s Wednesday at Lip Gloss & Literature, I’ve chosen an article by a new author, Rain Mitchell who, like many, incorporates much of herself into her writing and has been so willing to share herself with readers as shown here in this article she wrote reflecting on the hard work, time and effort she put into her first novel, Tales from the Yoga Studio.

Toxic Language

By Rain Mitchell,

Author of Tales from the Yoga Studio

I spent pretty much all of last winter huddled over a desk in my local public library writing the first draft of my novel, Tales from the Yoga Studio. When that was done, I went back to page one and rewrote every word of it. And just to clarify, by "pretty much all of last winter," I mean every day of it. Sundays included. Month after month, I hit the library as soon as it opened, and usually left around six or seven o'clock at night.

Don't get me wrong: I'm not a workaholic, and I never have been. (I wish!) The truth is, I was so involved in the lives of the characters, I just couldn't wait to sit down, open my laptop, and figure out what was going to happen to them next. It was weirdly atypical of me to be able to sustain the feverish routine.

When I completed the last page of the final draft, I felt an enormous sense of relief and happiness. Two days later, my whole body collapsed. I don't think I've ever felt so exhausted and drained, and as icing on the cake, I got a sinus infection. Whenever I come to the end of what feels like a Herculean task to me, I get sick. Not in the middle, but as soon as I stop.

Given the topic of my novel, it's probably no surprise that I do my share of yoga and have for many years. One thing I had been noticing for months is that most studios I visited were advertising a "Spring Cleanse," a kind of fast that supposedly rids your body of all those miserable-sounding "toxins" and leaves you with glowing skin and boundless energy.

If you do even a little bit of yoga, you quickly become conversant in the language of "toxins." I've always been skeptical of the whole discussion, mostly because it seems so vague. What toxins specifically? And if they're so terrible, is doing a headstand really going to rid your body of them? Going into a twist will "wring out your liver?" Tell that to Amy Winehouse.

But at that exhausted post-book moment last spring, nothing sounded better to me than somehow giving my body a chance at a fresh start. I saw the cleanse mostly as a symbolic gesture, a way to end one period of my life and welcome in the next.

To that end, I sent a check for $150 dollars to a local yoga studio and enrolled myself in their one-week spring cleanse. A few days later, I was emailed a packet of information about what was expected of me. The essence of it was this: seven days of nothing but fruits and vegetables. No coffee, no black tea, no salt, no sugar, no dairy, and no prepared food of any kind. No wheat, no condiments. A little millet and a bit of quinoa, but that was it. No bread! No cookies! Three support group meetings and voila -- cleansed!

I'd been flirting with vegetarianism and health foods for long enough to believe that this was going to be pretty easy for me. It was different, but not that different from my usual diet. I'm not a Big Mac kind of person and never have been.

I went to Whole Foods and stocked up on as much organic produce as I could carry. I dug out my blender and borrowed a friend's vegetable juicer. Ready, set, go. By five pm on the first day, I was feeling great. Energetic, light, and healthy. I had a big fruit salad for dinner and went to a friend's reading at a bookstore. I had this whole thing under control.

Somewhere in the middle of my friend's question and answer period, I started getting a headache. Caffeine withdrawal, I figured. No big deal, especially since I only drank three or four cups a day. How bad could it be?

By the end of the reading, I had trouble holding my head up. Somehow or other I was able to drive home, but by the time I walked in the front door, the pain in my head was so bad, I started to throw up. After an hour of that, I crawled into bed. Tomorrow I'd feel better, I was sure.

Wrong again. The next day, I had such a bad headache, I couldn't open the curtains. On top of that, my muscles ached, and I felt as if I had a fever. I called the cleanse organizer, and she told me I was having caffeine withdrawal and on top of that was obviously (you guessed it) "releasing a lot of toxins." I would have made myself a cup of coffee, but I was so sick, I couldn't do anything but go back to bed with a wet facecloth on my forehead.

Later in the day, a friend called to ask how I was doing, and when I told her, she said, "This is ridiculous, Rain. If you don't feel better tomorrow, I'm coming over there and getting some coffee and bagels into you."

Miraculously, I did feel better the next day. Still shaky and achy, but better. I went to one of the support group meetings and learned that several other people were experiencing a milder version of the same symptoms. It was helpful to hear that. Misery really does love company, I guess.

The highlight of the meeting, at least from a comic point of view, was when the group leader lay down on the floor and demonstrated (a sort of pantomime, thankfully) the proper way to give yourself an enema. Since this was the first day in a while my digestive system had felt halfway normal, I decided to skip that option, thank you very much.

By the fifth day, the headaches had subsided, and I was starting to feel energetic enough to resume my usual routine. I found myself heading back to Whole Foods and buying all kinds of fruit I rarely purchase -- mangos, coconuts, papayas, and fresh figs. The amazing thing to me was how intense all the flavors were and how good almost everything I ate tasted. Fresh, juicy, and clean. I didn't miss bread, dairy, or sugar. And having gotten over my horrible withdrawal from caffeine, even the thought of drinking coffee made me cringe. When I walked past a Starbuck's, I got a little queasy. I went to two work-related parties that week, and wasn't even tempted by the trays of cheese and greasy hors d'oeuvres.

I'm not a cynical person, but I've always tried to maintain a healthy amount of doubt and ironic distance. As a writer, I consider myself a satirist. I went into the cleanse thinking it would be interesting mainly as a metaphor, but doubting the whole process. Almost one year later, I still haven't had coffee or dairy. And believe me, I'd be embarrassed to say how much money I've spent on blue cheeses over the years. I eat about 80% less bread than I used to and about 90% more fresh fruit. Breakfast everyday is a tall glass of freshly juiced kale and carrots and a bunch of other veggies things that taste a lot better than they sound.

I won't say I never get sick anymore, but I have noticed that when I've gotten a cold, it's lasted only a day or two. I'm not sure I have the kind of laser focus a lot of people describe, but it's true that I have more energy and a greater capacity to work my way through difficult tasks. I'm now writing the second book in the Tales from the Yoga Studio series, and while I'm finding it as much work as the first, I am far less stressed out and exhausted by the process.

Last April, on the final day of the cleanse, I met up with a friend I hadn't seen in quite a while. We went to a movie and then out for (herbal) tea. She looked at me closely and said, "Your eyes look really bright. Are you taking vitamins or something?"

I assured her I wasn't. I bit my tongue and told myself that I didn't want to sound like all those people who'd made me roll my eyes with their vague jargon and unsubstantiated "medical" claims. But finally, I couldn't hold it in: "I think I just got rid of a lot of toxins that had been building up," I said.

"Toxins?" she said. "What are those?"

"I have no idea," I said. "But I'm pretty sure they're gone."

© 2011 Rain Mitchell, author of Tales from the Yoga Studio

Author Bio

Rain Mitchell, author of Tales From the Yoga Studio, began practicing yoga as a teenager and is currently at work on the second novel in the series.  Rain's favorite pose is corpse.

Tales from the Yoga Studio: A Novel by Rain Mitchell

A sparkling new series introducing five unforgettable women who flock to yoga at turning points in their lives and find the gift of lasting friendship.

The yoga studio is where daily cares are set aside, mats are unfurled, and physical exertion leads to well-being, renewal, and friendship. An aggressively expanding chain of Los Angeles yoga "experience centers," has Lee and her extraordinary teaching abilities in its sights. They woo her with a lucrative contract, a trademarked name for her classes, and a place for her handsome musician husband. But accepting the contract means abandoning the students at the homey studio Lee runs in L.A.'s Silver Lake district- and leaving behind four women whose friendships are suddenly more important to her than retirement benefits and a salary increase.

Tales from the Yoga Studio is an insider's look at the current obsession with yoga, told with enough humor, wit, and warmth to charm and delight readers, whether or not they've ever done a Downward Dog.

For more information on Rain Mitchell, Tales from the Yoga Studio or where to buy her book, visit her web site at http://www.talesfromtheyogastudio.com/. Also, stayed tuned for her second book in the Yoga Studio series.

Tales from the Yoga Studio is next on my TBR list. Look out for a review to be posted on Lip Gloss & Literature soon after!!

*Synopsis and Cover image provided by Goodreads. Rain Mitchell's article Toxic Language provided by FSB Media Associates.*