Pub Day!

21 Apr

img_0874Well, my big day is here. And during a pandemic, too. When I started this blog almost nine years ago, I never truly believed I had it in me to actually write a novel, let alone publish it. Well, to hell with that woman who had so little faith!

Here’s a link to my story, although if you’ve been reading this blog for all these years, you already know it.

Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU, dear readers! You’ve been with me this long journey and I am so grateful for you consistent support. Here’s a link to my story:

Women Writers, Women’s Books

I truly hope you enjoy reading Lost in Oaxaca! 

Now on to the next book. Lord help me.

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Book Spotlight: Lost In Oaxaca by Jessica Winters Mireles

17 Apr

via Book Spotlight: Lost In Oaxaca by Jessica Winters Mireles

Postponement

8 Apr

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Two weeks from today, Jessica Winters Mireles’ novel, Lost in Oaxaca will be released. This is a pretty big deal for Mireles, a middle-aged piano teacher who dreamed of being a published writer from a very young age.

Lost in Oaxaca was born over seven years ago, when Mireles sat down to write a paragraph about a young woman who finds herself stuck on a bus in the mountains of Oaxaca. During this time, Mireles experienced some fictitious bliss, but, like most writers and artists, faced her demons of insecurity on a daily basis. Ultimately, she was gratified that not only did she actually finish Lost in Oaxaca, but that it evolved into an uplifting story of love, adventure, and cross-cultural identity.

Mireles’ long labor of literary love was going to be celebrated with a book signing/launch at Chaucer’s, the beloved Indy bookstore cherished by Santa Barbara locals on Wednesday, April 20, 2020. No doubt the event would’ve been a huge gathering of friends and family, and Mireles would have been the reigning queen from approximately 7:00-9:00 p.m. A great lover of attention, Mireles would have certainly been in her element.

Unfortunately, an unexpected and devastating pandemic has caused Mireles’ big day to be postponed to a later date. While disappointed, Mireles realizes that her problems are nowhere near as dire as what others are facing at this current time, so she will gracefully accept her fate. She trusts that her friends will support Chaucer’s Bookstore by ordering a copy of Lost in Oaxaca for themselves, and maybe an additional copy for a friend or relative. She promises to sign each and every book should someone request it.

Mireles, a piano teacher for over thirty years, also knows that the best way to keep a business growing is by word of mouth. She is hoping that if you enjoy her book, you will spread the word by suggesting to your friends that they order a copy from Chaucer’s, who will even ship it to your house! Mireles is crossing her fingers that you will consider helping her with her publicity by posting on Facebook, Twitter or Instagram about how much you loved the book. Share away! And if you’re feeling really generous, a five-star review on Amazon or Goodreads would be greatly appreciated.

Mireles certainly understands that her book may not be everyone’s cup of tea. Some may even dislike it intensely. If this happens, she requests that the dissatisfied reader please keep their displeasure to themselves, and attempt to refrain from reviewing it in any way, shape or form.

Mireles also wants her readers to know how very much she loves and appreciates them. It’s been a long road, and while she may have hit a temporary road block, she’s bound to be on her way again shortly. In the meantime, there’s plenty of time to read these days!

You can absolutely count on Jessica Winters Mireles to keep you posted on the date of her rescheduled book signing!

https://www.chaucersbooks.com/

chaucers 2

The Story I Choose to Believe

29 Mar

 

img_0720Life is different now. The mundane has abruptly become meaningful. Today, a trip to the Starbucks drive-thru actually made my heart flutter with anticipation. My ten-second interaction with the girl at the window was almost exhilarating.

I don’t know about you, but my moods are swinging like I’m in a hammock when a sudden windstorm hits. One moment, I’m serene and relaxed—the next, anxious, agitated, and holding on for dear life. I try to act like everything is okay, but I can’t get comfortable in my mind, because I have no idea how long the storm is going to last. I can’t even laugh at my kids’ jokes without feeling a sense of guilt, thinking about the thousands of people suffering—even dying, from this insidious virus.

My heart hurts for the people who have lost their jobs, many of whom already live on the edge. The weight of not being able to pay their bills or put food on the table will undoubtedly make them feel suffocated with a sense of despair. I feel so sorry for all the brides and grooms, graduates, and those with upcoming birthdays who will have to cancel their celebrations.

Every day, I try my best to look for the good. And there is so much good to find! People have shown their true colors during this Covid-19 crisis. So many have stepped up—especially those who are on the front lines: the health care workers, the first responders, the food service employees. I’m so very thankful for them. They have demonstrated what true grit and selflessness is all about; they’ve put their own lives at risk to help us. In my book, they are the true Americans.

As I have, perhaps you’ve noticed that you’ve been growing closer to your family and friends—virtually or in reality. Being home has allowed you to eat meals together again, or maybe you’re sharing cocktail hour through FaceTime. The art of conversation has returned. Reading books is “in” again. We are certainly more present with each other.

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Virtual Family Togetherness!

We haven’t faced something like this before, but I have faith we will get through it. Our routines will be different for a while, and it be a struggle, but our lives will eventually go back to normal. Hopefully, when the chaos and confusion has lessened, our fear will subside. Perhaps when we are able to gather together again, our mutual joy will be the thing that is infectious.

This virus does not discriminate. It affects every single one of us. I’m hoping that this shared experience will teach us to view each other in a more positive light. Maybe—just maybe, the animosity we’ve felt for such a long time will be replaced with love, gratitude, and a deep sense of appreciation for each other.

In any case, that’s the story I choose to believe.

 

 

Change of Plans

19 Mar

 

img_0633With all that’s going on in the world today, my problems are insignificant. I have comfortable shelter, enough food, and I can try to keep my piano teaching business going by working remotely. My husband, who is a school teacher, will still be paid even though he can’t go to work. We have medical insurance. So far, no one in our household is sick. For all of this, I’m extremely grateful.

But I’m still a bit sad. I’m disappointed that after so many years of hard work, all the exciting hoopla planned in my community for the release of Lost in Oaxaca probably isn’t going to happen. At least not in the near future. The novel will still be released and available on April 21, but unless a miracle happens, my book signing at Chaucer’s Bookstore in Santa Barbara on April 29 will most likely be postponed.

I’m not the only author with this predicament. Many of my fellow debut authors are facing the same challenge: How to drum up excitement for your book when you can’t gather in large crowds—or even in small crowds? Let’s just say no crowds.

I must now come up with new ways to promote my book online. Trust me, this is not easy for a middle-aged boomer such as myself. I’m learning as I go, but it’s pretty daunting.

I’m not giving up, though. I’ve worked too hard and for too long. And it’s really not about the celebration, it’s about reading the book. And all I really want is for you to read my book and connect to my story. That’s pretty much it.

I also want to support Chaucer’s, our local Indy bookstore. If you’re so inclined, visit their website: https://www.chaucersbooks.com/ and preorder a copy of Lost in Oaxaca. They are still open! Or you can preorder a copy on Amazon if you prefer.

Maybe this isolation will get us reading again. I mean, your brain is eventually going to need a break from binge-watching all that Netflix, right?

Be safe, be well, and take care of each other. I’m sending out virtual hugs to all of my friends, family and to you, dear readers. We will get through this.

Below is the beautiful postcard designed by my daughter, Leah, and son-in-law, Jeff. Even if it doesn’t happen, I may still send them out, just to support the post office by buying postage!

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Liar, Liar

11 Feb

img_0434Writing is not fun. The people who tell you, Oh, I love to write so much that wish I could spend all day doing it are lying. Because if they had the time to write all day long, they would use every distraction at their disposal to avoid actually writing something. I know this, because I am one of those liars myself.

Right now, while I may actually be writing something, it’s not what I’m supposed to be writing. I’m supposed to be starting my next novel. In fact, I should’ve started it ages ago—or at least created a substantial outline of what I want it to be. At this point, even a completed paragraph would be good.

Unfortunately, when you complete your first novel, and it’s about to be published, it’s assumed you’ve been at this writing thing since you were twelve, and that you have a minimum of two or three completed manuscripts in the bottom of a desk drawer somewhere that you can pull out, polish up a bit, and send off to your publisher.

Insert eye roll emoji here.

I really do want to start my next book. And I actually have a general idea of what I want to write about. It’s just that it’s a sensitive subject that’s close to my heart, which makes it that much more scary and overwhelming. I’m not afraid of expressing vulnerability, but I do worry too much about what others think of me. Especially since I’m a two on the Enneagram scale (truly weird how accurate this test is) which means my personality makes me only want to please. https://www.enneagraminstitute.com/type-2.

While the topic of my next novel may not please everyone, maybe it will help others, which is also part of my personality type. So I ask myself—which is more important—pleasing, or helping? With all the hate and division going on in the world these days, I think I’ll stick with helping.

Okay I’m done. I’m posting this, and then I swear, I’m not getting up from the computer until I write an entire page. Or maybe a paragraph. Or at least one really great sentence.

I’ll keep you posted.

Lost in Oaxaca

Shutting Her Up

7 Feb

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When my youngest daughter was diagnosed with leukemia almost thirteen years ago, my life changed profoundly. In the middle of all that fear and chaos, I somehow found me. I discovered just how strong I was; I learned to focus on what was most important in life—family, friends, finding joy in the little things. I began to ignore that malevolent voice who was always telling me I wasn’t good enough to pursue my dreams. With her silenced, I found my true passion: writing.

So now, over a decade later (where the heck does the time go?) I’m about to make a really big dream come true—publishing my first novel. And I should be over the moon excited about it, but instead, I’m nervous. More like petrified. As my publishing date approaches, that nasty voice that I told to shut up all those years ago has sensed my vulnerability and she is on the attack. She’s bitchier than ever—telling me how stupid I am to think to anyone will read my book; that I’m a total fraud, and what makes you think you’re an actual writer?

Lately, I’m wondering why I allowed this bitch to get into my head again. Most of my advanced readers have loved Lost in Oaxaca. The Book Club Cook Book loved it. https://www.bookclubcookbook.com/galleymatchbookclubsrecommend-copy-2-2/  So what am I afraid of? Rejection? After 150 outright NOs from publishers and agents, I don’t think that’s it. Criticism? Maybe. Perhaps it’s because I feel like I’m about to give birth to a child that I’ve spent seven years creating, and I want everyone to love her unconditionally. Yet I’m savvy enough to know this is not going to happen.

So the voice scolds and rebukes me; tries to get me to believe that I won’t be a success. But if there’s one thing I know—it’s that I won’t ever stop writing. I love words and stories and books too much. I love colorful characters who are flawed and scared. I want them figure it all out, just as I’m figuring it all out. And writing is my pathway. It allows me to share my doubts and fears with you, so that maybe in our shared vulnerability, we can connect on a deeper level. That’s what really makes me want to write.

Thirteen years ago, when I was at my lowest, I somehow got that bitch to shut up.

I can do it again.

 

I’d love to see you at Chaucer’s Bookstore on Wednesday, April 29, 2020 from 7:00-9:00 p.m. for my book signing!

Long Overdue

16 Jan

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If not for my college roommate and dear friend, Kay, my novel, Lost in Oaxaca, would have never been written. Kay and I have been close friends since seventh grade, when nine twelve year-old girls from different elementary schools merged together and formed a friendship that is still going strong almost fifty years later.

You can read about us here if you like:

https://allegronontanto.wordpress.com/2011/12/18/my-girls/

Kay was the one who always did everything first. She cut her hair before it was a thing, rocking a Dorothy Hamill haircut like nobody’s business. She wore espadrilles before there were popular. She painted her bedroom walls a dark chocolate brown, listened to depressing Barry Manilow songs, and wrote deep thoughts down in a leather-bound journal. I borrowed her clothes, hoping that some of her specialness would rub off on me. It didn’t take.

Kay was (and still is) an incredible actress and singer, and she decided to apply to the theater department at USC. I quickly followed her lead and applied to the music school. I know I got in on my own merit, but being the anxious and insecure teenager I was at the time, I don’t think I would have taken the initiative to apply to USC without her doing it first. We were both accepted, and the following fall, we headed off to LA together.

We were too cool to live in the dorms. Somehow, we managed to rent an adorable two bedroom apartment in Santa Monica that had hardwood floors, crown molding, and magically, a sliver of an ocean view out the upstairs window. We drank cheap wine, watched SNL reruns and dreamed of becoming famous. We acquired a cat and named her Cressida. During the summer before our senior year, Kay got a job waitressing at an upscale hamburger restaurant on Wilshire. And because I followed her everywhere, I got a job there, too.

At that restaurant, I fell in love with one of the line cooks responsible for making all those fancy, gourmet hamburgers. He was an indigenous Zapotec man from Oaxaca, Mexico, and not only was he handsome, he was kind. Two years later, I married him. For our honeymoon, we traveled to his hometown in Oaxaca, Mexico. There, the seed for my novel, Lost in Oaxaca was planted. Being the late bloomer that I am, that little seed took an awful long time to germinate. But this coming spring (April 21 to be exact) it’s going to blossom into something pretty big and beautiful.

Jessica Winters Mireles

After thirty-five years, it’s long overdue, but thank you, Kay, for letting me follow you all those years ago, so that I could eventually learn to find my own way.

 

Nesting

3 Jan

img_0264During the past three decades, I’ve been fortunate to have given birth four times. Each time, right around a month before each birth, I would find myself knee-deep in a frenzy of cleaning that would put Marie Kondo to shame. Nothing would escape my attention. The contents of drawers would be dumped out and  rearranged with categorical precision. Closets would be cleared out, baseboards scrubbed, and lampshades vacuumed. Bags of discarded items would be carted away to Goodwill. By the end of the day, my muscles would ache from climbing up and down the step ladder to swat at the lace cobwebs hanging from the crown molding—cobwebs that I hadn’t noticed since before the birth of the previous child.

The term for this behavior is called nesting. Usually, it’s the expectant mothers who do the nesting as a preparation for the coming baby, but I’m sure some expectant fathers do it too. It’s a chance to put the house in order before the chaos of a newborn turns everything upside down.

Well, the odds are that a fifty-eight year-old, post-menopausal woman isn’t pregnant, so why is it I’ve spent the last five days manically cleaning and organizing my entire house from top to bottom? I believe it’s because I’m about to give birth again, but this time, to a different kind of baby. And I’m as terrified and excited as I was thirty years ago when I had my first human child.

The due date for my new baby, Lost in Oaxaca, is April 21, 2020. And after a seven year confinement, I am so ready to relieve myself of this heavy load and launch her out into the world. (Okay, Jess—enough with the pregnancy metaphors.)

And I’m sorry to admit that like most new mothers, I’m going to start talking about my baby a lot. You’re going to see many photos of me and my baby on Instagram and Facebook. I’ll be writing so many blog posts about Lost in Oaxaca that you’ll start wishing that I’d just get lost in Oaxaca.

Here’s the dilemma: in this current era of publishing, it’s really up to the author to be responsible for promoting their book, which means I’m going to be doing some plugging. I’ll try my best to do it well and not too often. Luckily, I have three Millennials and a fifteen year-old Gen Z to help me navigate the complexity of posting on social media, so I’m hoping that my incessant promotion will turn out to be stylish and tasteful. In any case, my youngest will grudgingly help me. She’ll roll her eyes and call me “Boomer,” but since I gave actual birth to her when I was at the ripe old age of forty-two, she kinda owes me a favor.

Oh—and by the way—you’re all invited to the christening for Lost in Oaxaca at Chaucer’s Bookstore in Santa Barbara! Book signing is Wednesday, April 29, 2020 at 7:00 p.m.

And don’t worry about forgetting the date—you’ll be getting a birth announcement in the mail.

Now, if you’ll please excuse me—I’ve got to go scrub the inside of the water heater.

 

I’d love it if you’d stop by and visit!

www.jessicawintersmireles.com

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/jessicawintersmireles/

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/jessicawintersmirelesauthor/

So Legit

14 Oct

slang photoI’ve reached a point in my life where I’ve mostly become irrelevant when it comes to my fourteen year-old daughter. It doesn’t help that I had Isa when I was 42, which pretty much makes me a geriatric mother. Now, that is a scary thought for both of us. These days, I’m lucky if she even talks to me. It’s not that she’s mean, or rude (well, sometimes she’s rude)—it’s mostly that she’s indifferent about what I have to say. She will speak to me when she needs a new dress for the homecoming dance, or to tell me she has absolutely no shoes, and can we please run out to Rite Aid because her is skin is so dry that if she doesn’t GET THAT PARTICULAR FACE CREAM RIGHT NOW her face may fall off.

Mostly, what I’m having trouble with is her vernacular. I often have to concentrate really hard to understand what she’s talking about. Honestly, if I hear her say low-key, legit, or chillax one more time, I may scream. And don’t get me started on the memes:

Scene One (of many)

Isa: laughing uproariously with her phone five inches from her face.

Me: (smiling) “What’s so funny?” (This question is usually asked three times before there is any verbal response.)

Isa: “You wouldn’t get it, Mom.”

Me: “Yes, I will. Just show me.”

Isa: (rolling her eyes) shows me a disjointed video of something that moves by so fast I can’t even register what it is. I watch it three times before handing the phone back to her.

Me: (frowning) “You’re right. I don’t get it.”

Isa: (letting out an almost imperceptive sigh while continuing to scroll through Instagram) “Tol ya.”

Now, I don’t mean to diss my kid—(is “diss” still acceptable?) She’s actually an extremely lovely child who gets good grades, has a robust social life, and is wittily hilarious when we do have the occasional convo (hey, give me a little credit—I’m trying.) And if I’m lucky, she’ll open up and actually tell me what’s going on in her life. I’ve found that the best way to get her to talk is when we walk the dogs or ride in the car together. Initially, if I just shut up and don’t ask questions—the conversation will start to flow. Before long, we are legit talking to each other, and it is da bomb.

Maybe, the next time we talk, I’ll throw in a little of my own 1970’s slang. I’ll say that something’s bad when I really mean good. I’ll end each description with to the max or tell her that the situation is totally bogus and that dude is bitchen.

Then again, maybe I’ll just be quiet and let her do the talking. . .

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Isa, then. . .

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And now. . .