It's time to unplug



Early morning at the camp site...
I can only hear the sounds of nature

About a month ago, Robby asked me what I wanted to do for my birthday. After a little thought and an outdoor cooking class at Oatland Island, I decided I wanted all of us to go camping. We settled on Ft. McAllister State Park which is about 15 minutes from the house and began compiling our gear.

I wasn’t sure how the camping trip was going to mesh with my school schedule. I try to get all of my homework finished during the week so that my weekends are free, but it doesn’t always work that way. Luckily, my homework load was light and I was able to spend the weekend “unplugged.”

I don't remember the last time I got to read a book
and take a nap in the middle of the day.

I use the term “unplugged with the kids. It means they have to spend the afternoon or day or weekend without turning on a computer, gaming device, or television. They have to be creative and find alternate ways to entertain themselves. They used to hate being “unplugged” but now they have come around to the idea.

We spent Friday and Saturday night at the campground. That was almost 2 full days of being “unplugged.” The kids explored the woods, we took walks, read books in our tents, skipped rocks on the river, and fine-tuned our outdoor cooking skills. I even left my cellphone in the car and ignored my email.

Being a mom, I see the importance and making the kids “unplug.” But it’s hard for me to understand why I need to take my own medicine sometimes. Being “unplugged” forces me process memories and “think about things” that I can normally push to the back of my mind.

Mmmm...biscuits and bacon taste better
when they are cooked on an open fire

But this weekend was different for some reason. Putting up the tents and cooking on the camp stove brought back a lot of memories from the early part of my marriage. My ex and I used to camp a lot. When we were 18, we drove from Texas to Yellowstone and camped out the entire trip. When we moved to Alaska in 1997, we camped at almost every park from Georgia to Fairbanks. We set up our tent in places like the Yukon, British Columbia, and Montana. We camped on the banks of Valdez and caught some amazing salmon that we cooked on an open fire.

But it made me sad to realize that we never shared those types of camping trips with the children. We camped a few times in Disney World with the kids, but it was different. Veronica and Jude never got to see us when we were young and happy—they only got to witness a very sad and frustrated couple trying to make everyone believe that everything was okay.

But I realized this weekend, that it doesn’t make me sad any more to think about those fun times we used to have. As much as I would like to write off my past as a total mistake, I have to admit that it wasn’t all bad. As a matter of fact, some of it was pretty amazing. I mean, how many people can say they camped at the Article Circle or woke up to a family of black bears catching spawning salmon a few feet from the door of their tent?

I’m glad I had the chance to “unplug” this weekend and allow myself the time to let these good memories flood my head and not push them to the back of my mind. I’m glad I took the time to accept that it’s okay to admit that my past wasn’t all tragic.

Skipping rocks and breathing fresh air...

I’m glad Robby is comfortable with me talking about my past—even when I’m not badmouthing my ex. And I’m glad I had all those camping adventures even if they were with someone that I don’t like to think about anymore. But most of all, I’m glad that I didn’t refuse to go camping again in an effort to not be reminded of my past. I realized this weekend that it’s okay for me to think about my past and smile a little—I guess it wasn’t all bad after all.

I want more for my birthday...

I turned 37 today. Birthdays are always weird for me. I try to sit back and think about how much my life has changed over the past year and I try to get excited about what will happen before my next birthday.

It’s hard to believe that this time last year I was single. Now I’m engaged and I almost forget that there was in a time in my life when I didn’t know Robby.

I’m almost finished with grad school and I’m looking for a job. I’ve been given so many wonderful opportunities to start a new career through my studies at SCAD. I’m actually hopeful about my future job prospects.

The kids are doing awesome. Veronica survived 2 surgeries this past year and is doing better than ever with her walking and dressing herself. Jude is growing into this really unique young man with great manners—not sure how that happened but I’m anxious to see what he becomes.

So, why do I feel a little emotional today? I have that “I’m so bummed” feeling and I don’t know why. I guess I’m feeling a little more nostalgic than hopeful. I’m worried that these birthdays keep coming faster and faster each year and I won’t get the chance to enjoy this new life that I love so much.

I went for a run this morning, and of course I was listening to Foo Fighters. The lyrics of “These Days” caught my attention.

One of these days the ground will drop out from beneath your feet
One of these days your heart will stop and play its final beat
One of these days the clocks will stop and time won't mean a thing
One of these days their bombs will drop and silence everything

But it's alright
Yeah it's alright
I said it's alright

Easy for you to say
Your heart has never been broken
Your pride has never been stolen
Not yet not yet

As much as I try to tell myself that I have no regrets in my life, I know I do. Some days I wonder what my life would be like now if things had been different. Will I ever shake that broken feeling?

I think it’s easy for people to tell me, “Now you can put all that bad stuff behind you and move on.” But inside my head I always think, “That’s easy for you to say. You have no idea what I have been through.”

I do believe that I never would be as happy as I am now if I hadn’t hit rock bottom 3 years ago. I do know that I had to go through hell to find myself and conquer my demons. But there is a part of me that wants to say, “Yes, I’m happy now, but a part of me is still really bitter that I wasted so much of my life with the wrong person and living a fake life.”

I want to turn the hands of the clock back and get more time to live this life. I want more days as a better mom. I want more days to spend with my soul mate. I want more days to prove to the world that I can compete in the workforce with my peers. I want more restful nights. I want more summers on the beach. I want more time to restart my savings accounts and retirement plan. I want more.

I want to take this 37-year-old self and put it into my 27-year-old body. I want to relive my past with the knowledge I have now so I can make better choices and not allow my heart to be broken and my pride to be stolen.

So, am I happy? Yes. Do I have regrets? Yes. Can I get a redo for a birthday present? Probably not. I guess I have no other choice but to suck it up and live my life like it is a redo—my second chance to get everything right. I’ve got the guy, the children, the career, and my health—I just hope I get time to enjoy it all before my heart stops and plays its final beat.

Taking Stephen King's advice

So, it’s been a while since my last blog—I don’t think I have ever gone this long without posting something. It’s been quite a week. I have to sit and look at the calendar so I can remember what all I have done these past several days.

1.     Valentine’s Day

2.     Savannah Book Festival

3.     Veronica’s audition for art school

4.     Stephen King

And of course I had my normal course work with school, delivering the hundreds of boxes of Girl Scout cookies Veronica sold, and sending out resumes for an internship.

Everything about this week was completely surreal. I think it was because there were so many events taking place that I have anticipated for over 3 or 4 months-- to finally see them take place made me feel like I was dreaming.

Robby and I got to spend our first Valentine’s Day together. He took me out on Saturday night to an upscale restaurant in Savannah known as the Mansion. I had never been there and I have wanted to go for years. Robby arranged for the sitter on his own and made all of the plans. We even dressed up.

When Tuesday rolled around, we were both giddy with the fact that we finally had a special someone in our life for Valentine’s Day. There is no doubt that no matter how much you try to tell yourself, “I don’t care about Valentine’s Day. It’s just a made-up holiday,” it is still hard to be alone. It doesn’t help when people call you on the phone and say, “I just wanted to check on you because I knew you were all alone today.” Thanks for the reminder.

After 3 months of constant tagging, posting, liking, sharing, and tweeting, I finally got to see my efforts as the social media intern for the Savannah Book Festival pay off. The event lasted 5 days this year…5 full days of sitting at the computer answering people’s constant questions on Facebook like “Where do I get tickets? Do you still have tickets for Pat Conroy? Can I see Stephen King without a ticket? Where can I park? Where is the festival? Do you know of a hotel that still has rooms?”



No zoom needed, I was really this
close to Stephen King



I got some cool stuff out of my internship though. I got 2 VIP tickets to see Walter Isaacson speak about his best-selling biography on Steve Jobs. I got to finally meet some of the authors face-to-face and say, “I’m the crazy person who has been stalking you on Facebook for the past 3 months” which would lead into some nice conversation that I wouldn’t have had otherwise. I’m happy with the work I did and the connections I was able to make.

Veronica had her first audition as an artist on Saturday, too. We are trying to get her into the art magnet school here in Savannah. Since she will be in 6^th grade, she had to present her art portfolio and draw a picture in front of the school officials. Luckily she inherited my dad’s art skills and not mine.

Sunday ended with my visit with Stephen King. I mentioned in a past post that I was one of a handful of writing students chosen to have a private meeting with the master of horror. Before the meeting with King, Robby and I stood in line with about 500 other people waiting to see King at another venue for the book festival. For about 2 hours, I was able to hang out and talk with some of King’s biggest fans. It was a great way to gear up for the rest of my afternoon.

The meeting with King was surreal. When I describe the event, it sounds like one of my typical weird dreams--I was sitting next to Dr. Lough, the head of the writing department, talking about SCAD stuff with my classmate Jason and my former classmate Amy. Then 2 more of my classmates arrived and waved at me as they sat a few rows back. Then Stephen King walked in and sat in a big leather chair about 5 feet away from me and talked about writing.

King described the moment when he was standing in his rundown apartment alone on the phone with his agent and he told him that the publishers would pay him $400,000 for Carrie. “My knees gave out and I just slid down the wall,” said King. “If you want to be a writer, you just have to fucking write it, man.”

After that, I walked across Broughton St. to the Trustee’s Theater and sat next to Robby and we listened to King talk for another hour. He read us the first chapter of his sequel to “The Shining” which hasn’t been published yet. He talked about writing and how much he hated Stanley Kubrick’s film adaptation of The Shining and how he thought people would hate “Pet Cemetery.”   

I was able to get my book signed and I walked out of the place feeling inspired. I needed this week. I needed to completely immerse myself in the business of writing and remind myself why I put my life on hold for 2 years to set myself up to be a “real” writer. I wonder how long it will take for these moments to not feel so dreamlike.

Maybe one day I will be able to hand someone my business card which reads “Kim Wade, writer” and not feel like a poser. Maybe one day my agent will call me with a book offer that will make my knees buckle and open up a new world for me. But until then, I just need to take King’s advice and “just fucking write it, man.”

It's time to bring home the bacon

Last year's "career" fair

Well, it’s official, I’m looking for a job again. I am going to my first real job fair in 2 weeks at SCAD. My stomach hurts just thinking about it.

When I was an undergraduate in 1997, job fairs weren’t as big of a deal as they seem to be now. Jobs were plentiful and you just had to send out a few resumes and then you got a job. At least, that is how it always worked for me. Maybe I just had more self-confidence back then?

Promoting other people and businesses has always been easy for me—perhaps that is why I have decided to go into public relations. But I am probably the worst person in the world to be in charge of promoting myself.

I am lucky with SCAD. They are very career driven and I even have a career counselor. Her name is Nancy and she is a doll. I sat down with Nancy yesterday to hammer out the final details on my resume and to get some help with my job fair prep. But I have to admit that I almost threw up in my mouth a little when she looked me in the eyes and said, “Tell me exactly what you plan to tell the companies you are applying to. Tell me exactly what job you want, why, and how you are qualified for the position.”

My response was simple, “Um, I’m not prepared to do that just yet.”

She lowered her head and looked at me over the edge of her glasses and said, “Now, Kim, you really need to work on that before the job fair.”

My inner-monologue replied, “No shit, Nancy.”

I’m not sure why I have such a hard time “selling” myself. I am finally beginning to believe that I have a pretty impressive resume considering the fact that I have been a stay-at-home-mom for over 11 years. Even when I wasn’t “working,” I was busy with volunteer duties. I organized and lead groups, raised thousands of dollars, coordinated large events, designed promotional materials, and received awards.

But the hardest things I have done I cannot put on my resume. I’ve raised two children mostly on my own—one of which is disabled. I fought with insurance companies, hospitals, and physical therapy centers on an almost monthly basis for the first 6 years of Veronica’s life. And I won every time. I even had my own personal insurance referral person that I called and said, “Make it happen.” And she knew she had to. That was no easy feat.

I have spent every day for the past 11 years researching doctors, therapy treatments, surgical procedures, and therapeutic gadgets for Veronica. And when I’m not doing that, I’m driving her to appointments or I’m working with her at home so she can be independent. And I can’t forget about Jude who attends karate twice/week and likes to sit in my lap and have me read to him every day.

I maintain a home, manage a budget, and get the children to and from school and all their activities on time. I am also a nice person who doesn’t break the law or write bad checks. I have maintained my good credit despite being married to an addict and later divorcing that addict. I keep my house clean and I keep up with the laundry. I also cook dinner every night and make my children sit at the dinner table and talk about their day.

And despite my already over-booked life, I decided to find a way to support my children and myself and enrolled in grad school. Luckily, I can put the school stuff on my resume, but I just feel like I should have the words (she is a single mother of 2!) next to my 3.85 GPA.

But that’s the beauty of a resume. It isn’t supposed to elicit sympathy from others. It’s supposed to give people a glimpse into your professional life. Which is good for me, because I don’t want sympathy—I want respect.  And to be honest, I’m tired of having to explain my personal life. My professional life is much easier to explain and I am beginning to realize that my professional life is much easier to “sell."

It took years before I ever believed a man would be lucky to have me. And now I just need to believe that an employer would be lucky to have me. I know that all the bad things from my past have happened to me for a reason. I also believe that those events made me stronger—I think they made me a better person, too. Now I just have to find a way to wrap all the really great things about me into a neat little package and sell it to the highest bidder.

The King of All Mysteries...

Back in October, I heard something interesting—Stephen King is coming to the Savannah Book Festival. I was even more surprised to learn that it was true. And then my surprise turned to disappointment when I learned that tickets to hear him speak were already sold out.

I have to admit that I was bothered that I missed the ticket sales, but something else began to bother me. It is a question that continues to loom in the back of my mind and it’s a question that no one else has asked—why would Stephen King agree to come to Savannah?

In November, I was offered an opportunity to work with the Savannah Book Festival as a social media intern (i.e. create/maintain their Facebook page). I quickly jumped at the chance to have a link to the “inside” of the book festival and hopefully get a chance to see King. I quickly learned that my new position didn’t come with any free tickets or super-secret passes that could give me access to King. Again, I was disappointed.

But, somehow things always seem to work out for me. This internship has turned out to be an amazing experience for me as a writer. I have had to study all of the 40+ authors we have coming to our quaint little city. All of them are amazing—I have a stack of books by my bed that continues to grow as I learn more about these writers and their stories. I’ve been able to personally connect with some of them through my Facebook and Twitter posts—just this morning I had two authors Tweet me about how they are looking forward to meeting me at the festival. And for a small town girl, that’s pretty freaking cool.

One of the perks of maintaining the Facebook page for the festival is that I get to play “gatekeeper” to personal posts people submit. One evening a girl named Kimberly posted a note that she wanted to sell her Stephen King ticket for the $10 she paid for it. My heart leapt when I saw the post and I immediately took the post down and told her I wanted the ticket. She and I are now Facebook friends and fellow book lovers. Although we still haven’t met in person, we comment on each other’s posts and she even ordered Girl Scout cookies from Veronica. I love social media.

A few weeks after I scored the elusive ticket, I learned that I was chosen as one of ten SCAD students who get to meet with King at a private venue for local writing students. For a small town girl, that’s beyond freaking cool.

So, now I have the chance to see and meet my new favorite authors like Libbie Summers, Amy Hatvany, Jamie Ford, Lulu Powers, Walter Isaacson, Virginia Willis, and Jeffery Deaver. I also I get to meet with Stephen King. But I’m still not satisfied. Why? Because in the back of my mind I still can’t put the puzzle pieces together—why is Stephen King coming to Savannah?

I have to find the answer. So, I began making a list of reasons why he would come. My first rule in solving this kind of mystery is to follow the money.  But I mark that off my list immediately. Stephen King doesn’t need money and I can’t imagine that the book festival has enough money to make King do anything he doesn’t want to do.

Then I look at the next obvious answer—King must know someone at the book festival. Jack Ramanos is on the board for the book festival. He was also a chief executive officer for Simon and Schuster for over 20 years (King publishes with Scribner who is an imprint of Simon and Schuster). Before his gig with them, Ramanos was with Bantam books—so was King. I’m guessing they most know each other. For whatever reason, Ramanos settled in Savannah when he retired from the book publishing business. I think his presence has a huge impact on the fact that the book festival is able to recruit big-name authors, and I am curious about the extent of his relationship with King.

So, maybe the Ramanos connection has something to do with King’s visit, maybe it doesn’t. So, then I have to think, “What else would draw him to Savannah?”

There are a couple of other authors at the festival who have a connection to King. First, Stewart O’Nan is coming to promote his latest book. O’Nan wrote a non-fiction book with King titled “Faithful.” Maybe King wanted a chance to hang out with his old buddy?

Then there is the author Spencer Quinn who is coming to the festival to promote his book series about Chet the dog. Through my research I learned that Spencer Quinn is also Peter Abrahams—a bestselling thriller writer and “Stephen King’s favorite suspense novelist.” I wonder who signed on first?

Then there is the John Mellencamp connection. Mellencamp reportedly has a home near Savannah and folks see him at Tybee Island every so often.  King and Mellencamp teamed up and wrote a musical titled “Ghost Brothers of Darkland County.” Fans have been anticipating the debut of the musical for quite a while. The venue for the release was finally moved from New York to Atlanta, because King says Atlanta “feels like home.” Why would he say that? I’ve never been to Bangor, Maine but I imagine it doesn’t “feel” like Atlanta.

Maybe King has followed suit with Mellencamp and bought a home here in Georgia and that’s why it feels like home? I’m beginning to wonder what other authors and publishing house gurus own a home around Savannah.

King and Mellencamp at news conference in Atlanta

Perhaps King is drawn to the creepy vibe that “America’s most haunted city” puts out. Is he planning to write one of his scary stories based in Savannah? Maybe, maybe not.

But at the end of the day I have to admit that none of these reasons seem like the obvious choice to solve my question. The answer that seems to fit the best is the first answer I was given when I first asked, “Why is Stephen King coming to Savannah?” Because it’s a cool place—who wouldn’t want to come here?

There is something about Savannah that is contagious. I know I fell in love with the city when I first came here in 2003. And for writers, this place is paradise. There are so many interesting people and events here and then there is the ghostly, creepy vibe, too. It’s a city full of beauty, mystery, and stories. So, it should have been obvious to me that Stephen King would want to come here. And perhaps, like me, he may decide to stay for a while.