The Ides of March

Sixteen years ago today, my oldest niece Freya was born on the Ides of March, which means soon she will getting her learner's permit and taking to the roads. Happy Birthday Freya--we love you!

Freya at the wheel, 1998

The phone call I got announcing her arrival sixteen years ago makes it easy for me to remember that the same night, J and I had our first date, by which I mean to say, engaged in some drunken dance floor moves at Rumheads Nightclub. I remember Coolio's "1-2-3-4" was played more than once.

Way back when

I'm not sure which is scarier--to think of my niece all grown up at the wheel, or that J and I made a connection that set the course of our future in the bar underneath the World Gym on the Caribbean island of Grand Cayman when we both barely old enough to drink in the United States. Sixteen years ago!

What a long strange trip it has been. In my essay, A Wedding Planner Hangs Up Her Headset, I wrote about the practical applications of our relationship, what love has come to mean to me as an adult and what I wish new brides could know from a vantage point a little farther down the road.

In some ways, we were musing in the shower this morning, it seems like we have always been together, and in others, like sixteen years have flown by. How did we get this far? I made a list of a few things that have made this relationship, which is also a deep friendship, feel easy.

1) we both consider ourselves equally lucky to have each other--by this I mean to say, there is no quiet one-upmanship. Which is not to say that I don't think how damn lucky he is when I tote the garbage and recycling cans back and forth to the curb twice a week, a stereotypically male job. But I also acknowledge how fortunate I am to have a guy who can fix almost anything, who gets up in the frozen pre-dawn stillness on Saturday mornings all winter long to coach the boys' hockey teams, who never lets a day go by without telling me I am loved and desired. 

27 May 2000

2) we take turns holding each other up. And we take turns falling apart. You can let life's knocks break you, or shape you. 

(You can read more about this in the essay about the birth of our son Hayden and our baptism by fire into parenthood)

3) we adopt a teamwork approach. This applies to everything from parenting to yard maintenance to hockey weekends to shaving the dog, which you may see more of in a photo essay called "Shearing Season" in an upcoming dog blog. 

2005 4) he makes me laugh Usually by saying all those things I think but might not say. He tries to whisper them, but he's not a very good whisperer. It runs in the family. Did I mention he also makes both the best coffee and mojitos I have ever tasted?

5) we try to shower and/or have coffee together daily to catch-up. This has been important in keeping us connected during the busier stages of our lives. Sometimes I drive him nuts by bringing notebooks and day planners and agendas to these get togethers. Well, not in the shower. 

 6) we have a commitment to being each other's port in the storm. We make our home a place where people build each other up and expect this of the kids as well. 

7) we travel separately. This doesn't mean I am turning down opportunities for us to go away as a couple in favor of spa weekends with the girls. (Although, wait, that sounds really great right now.) But with three little kids and an enormous, slobbery dog, there are few people willing to take on our brood for extended periods of time. This means that when we need to recharge, we drop each other off at the airport and look forward to hearing via Skype about how it was kiteboarding in the Bahamas or visiting with friends and family in the Caribbean or the Rockies, and checking in on the chaos that ensues when one of us is single parenting at the Hoffstead.

8) he is willing to be married to a writer. This comes up all the time when I am a guest author at book clubs--how does your husband handle your writing? Or let's be honest, people want to know: how does he feel about the character of Dan in CHOSEN? Truth of fiction: Is J the inspiration for the character Dan?

The writer and blogger extraordinaire Julianna Baggott has a standard question in her writerly half-dozen interview about advice for those seeking a long-term relationship with a writer. The answers are painfully, honestly hilarious. Actually, pretty much all of her stuff is great. You should check it out.

For the long answer, you have to invite me to your book club. But the short answer is that J handles it beautifully and he lets me post sappy blogs about how much I adore him (sixteen years later!) on the internet. I also include photos of him doing awesome, sporty things, where he looks really hot. 

9) we have similar passions. Wanderlust, the ocean, family, sports, reading, words and nameplay, and most importantly, a dedication to the nurturing of all things Hoffspring--be they pink or furry or scaled or feathered. See, I said feathered. Don't get me wrong. Things aren't perfect. I'm still working on him about the chickens. 

J and the kids at Barkers Beach, 2012

So there you have them, my off-the-cuff Nine Commandments for 16 Years of Happiness. But I am sure there are more and from those far more seasoned in the game than I am. So I'd love to know: What do you and your partner do to ensure a happy relationship? 

MONDAY MUSING -- catching up

These days (or dark early mornings), I am a product of mismanaged caffeine and too much on my mind. Up since 3:25 am, having great fun checking out my revamped website and getting a little silly with the tagging feature for my blog. 

And then in the darkness, little Pip snuggled in beside me, I did something I haven't done in a long time--I wrote in my journal for two blissful hours. So much going on, so many things to say, so much to catch up on now that my frenetic working pace (the writing of my second novel) is slowing.

There is the good... so many exciting things happening for CHOSEN as we near paperback release date, like the Sutter Home Wine Book Club contest (please take a second to vote), selling the Brazilian rights and most recently, the nod from Target, selecting CHOSEN as an Emerging Author pick. I get so tickled about the idea of riding up the escalator in my local store and seeing my novel in the endcap... In fact, I will probably go spend some money there today to show them my gratitude (and pick up birthday gifts for the upcoming kid parties.) It is a huge testament to Maya Ziv (paperback) Sally Kim (hard cover) and Maria Massie (agent) that this book is getting good legs the second time around and I look so forward to talking about it again at upcoming book clubs and events. Stay tuned for information about stops on CHOSEN's blog tour this November/December as well as radio interviews and new reviews.

Remember all my worries about education this year, how after a year of homeschool, book tour and travel, we finally chose traditional school for all three kids? Good news: Hayden is thriving, Max is hanging in there and making me proud, and Pip is blossoming. And I am getting boatloads of writing work and even some running in those twelve hours a week when they are all there. Though J and I still toss around thoughts of next year, of more travel, alternative education, this is working for now.

Then there is the tough... two recent deaths--a father who leaves behind twins the same age as Hayden to cancer, and the loss of the lovely Brazilian man who baptized our children and charmed us at gourmet group dinners with his sparkling eyes and irreverent wit. The anniversary of the loss of dear Matty G looms large. An upcoming surgery for Hayden and Max's tricky transitions to academic life (see above, on the making me proud.) 

And there is the hopeful... a second novel, a love story, off to my agent last week. With that, a chance to return to other writing, to blogging, to reading, to revising and editing with friends. There is also a baby, a new niece, due in a matter of weeks. And of course, Sampson, who continues to challenge and charm us all. You'll be hearing more from me on all of these fronts soon... 

Please let me know if you would like to take a turn on the WRITERS ON WEDNESDAY series, or the DOG BLOG or if your book club would like to chat about CHOSEN. 

Monday Musing... SHARE THE LOVE

Dear Readers,

  The newest book I am working on is a love story, something I dreamed all in one night while I was on tour in Santa Monica last October and had the window open so I could hear the carnival at the pier and smell the salt air of the Pacific. It is a departure from some of the grittier, more realistic stories I have done in the past. The story I dreamed is a testimony to the mysteries and transcendental nature, the incredible power of love. Very Nicholas Sparks. The trouble is, as I am writing, the reality of relationships keeps finding its way into the story. All I see are the obstacles, the challenges, the everyday.

  I want to be swept away by a love story again. I remember in the week leading up to our wedding an incredible giddiness, a goldenness, feeling like our feet didn’t touch the ground, that we were both the essence of love, in large part because we were surrounded by it. Everyone we held dear was in one place, friends from all corners of our lives meeting and mingling. Meals magically appeared, and disappeared. (thanks Mom!) My aunt arrived from Boston with boxes and boxes of lily of the valley from her garden packed in damp paper towel and its incredible spring-like scent filled the air. Every moment that I was not with J was bittersweet with the anticipation of seeing him again. When we were near each other but not actually touching, it felt like magnets, a pull to be closer.

We didn’t have to do anything that week except go through the carefully orchestrated steps of my dream wedding week: rock climbing with all of our friends, then sushi and champagne and dancing in the city for the girls while the boys went to surf and rock the night in Atlantic City, then spa day, and down to the Victor Café by bus for incredible Italian and opera. The morning of the wedding there was a fun run, and golf, and 27 May 2000everyone decorating the reception tables with buckets and buckets of flowers, and people fussing over my hair and makeup, and then the ceremony, where I cried actual tears of joy.

I remember leaving the church feeling like I had just taken a deep breath, that I was diving into something huge and hopeful. I love the photo (left) that captures this moment. And then I remember the weather clearing so that we could walk from our ceremony to the reception in a wooded path lit with fairy lights and luminaries… It was the happiest day of my life.

I need more of this in my story, to remember the love as I write this. I love my husband now, (see A wedding planner hangs up her headset) so fiercely. More than I did that day, more honestly and deeply. I appreciate all the things that he does, how hard he works for his family, the way he brings me coffee or tea just when I need it, the power of two. Every time the phone rings, I hope it is him, even if we have just hung up.

This week, he took each of our children on a special date—Hayden downtown to the DaVinci exhibit at the Franklin Institute, Max to Dave and Busters where they hit it big in the arcade and came home with armloads of pixie sticks and ring pops, and Piper, out to lunch where they split a trough of Nicoise salad and lemonade and rode the carousel twice. And for me? J speaks my love language. My favorite part of this weekend was Saturday night, while the kids were watching a movie, J and I worked side by side on our basement, him muttering curses and hammering in the subfloor, me painting. That’s modern romance, fifteen-years-in romance.

While there is no denying we make a good team, there is nothing romantic about holding up my side of the garbage bag while we drain the stagnant vomit water from Max's barfed-on linens out of the broken washing machine.

Here's where you come in. Here's the SHARE THE LOVE.

This story I am writing is about that new love, about tumbling into love, that kind when your feet don’t touch the ground. I need a little inspiration here. Recently, SheWrites and the Huffington Post Divorce editor ran a writing contest for people to share the moment when they knew it was over. (Incidentally, my friend Kelly Simmons was one of the winners—see here.)

I want to try something else. I want to hear from you the moment you knew this was The One. Celebrate your love story—flood me with the happiest moments of your relationship, of the 'A-ha, I want to spend my life with this person'. Or simply tell me the most romantic thing your partner has ever done.

You can share them by commenting below, or send them to me privately at chandrahoffman @ mac dot com.  And just so we're clear, if it's really good, you might see hints of your love story in my upcoming novel. 

With thanks and love, 

Chandra 

"CHOSEN" on sale today

I wrote my first novella at age five, illustrated in crayon, on the white cardboard inserts that came folded in my dad's dry-cleaned dress shirts. It was a turbulent love story, of course, between a babysitter (the most gorgeous, glamorous person I could think of) and her boyfriend, as told from the point of view of the little girl she babysat.

Plot: The boyfriend wasn't sure if he loved the babysitter, who rode horses and made chocolate chip cookies, or the Other Girl, who was so obviously a bottle blonde with her yellow hair and thick black eyebrows, shown walking past a bleeding kitten.

Dialogue and interior thoughts were revealed in caption bubbles. The narrator's angst and loyalty were revealed by her presence in a little boxed corner on every page. Fortunately,  it had a happy ending. A kiss under the porch light with half of the young narrator's face peering over the window ledge. Hearts littered the air. 

At age five, I bound the seam of this book titled "And So They Kissed" with yarn, dreaming of the day when I would write a 'real' book.

Thirty years later, that day is here. Hearts are littering the air. 

Blog vs. Essay

I have just completed an essay about my marriage that is close to my heart. (We use that phrase a lot around here, from years ago when Hayden's most-precious and still-AWOL possession was a scratched up die cast police car he'd named "Special-Po-Po-Close-To-My-Heart", since that is exactly where he clutched it.)

But I can't tell if this is a blog entry or an essay. My publicist is submitting it for article publication, so that smells like Essay. (Each time an essay sells, it will disappear from this site here and I'll post a link to its new, syndicated home.) But the topic is so personal, so... close to my heart. Feels bloggish.

It's about why I closed my event-planning doors, hung up my wedding planner headset, (okay, I never had one; we used cell phones) and devoted myself to motherhood, writing and my marriage full time. 

Anyway, you can read about this here.