You’re kidding, right?

Posted on May 5, 2013 by Jennifer Karin

I am practically immune to advertising. From Tony the Tiger cereal boxes to McDonald’s Happy Meals to J Crew pop-ups and Zappos sponsored facebook posts, I am a child of the advertising generation, born in the Mad Men era of the sixties. I also worked in advertising for close to a decade, so when an ad stops me in my tracks, it’s either for a good reason (thank you very much, VW and Little Darth) or a very, very bad reason: True & Company’s MILF campaign. If you haven’t come across it yet, welcome to this year’s installment of “You’re kidding me, right?”

Because I read about True & Company and love following fascinating retail companies, I liked them on facebook and took their online quiz, which, of course, put me on their email list. And here’s the stink bomb that arrived in my mailbox last week:

“Hey MILFs: What’s in your lingerie drawer?”

Excuse me? A modern, forward-thinking lingerie company did not just ask me that.

The email went on to say, “Are you a MILF? Trade in your to-do list for the natural lift you and your girls deserve.”

Great. My boys and their friends will be thrilled.

It turns out MILF is True & Company’s new, pervasive advertising campaign. But here’s the kicker: it’s not really a MILF they’re promoting, because (snort, snort) it’s “Mothers I’d Like To FIT.” Get it? Fit not Fuck. Hysterically clever, don’t you think? Like getting Betty White to say the word lesbian 20 times in a 30-second skit or watching Jackass…ever.

Cleverness is hard. Cleverness takes brilliance. Cleverness is not buying into a MILF campaign that’s not really a MILF campaign even though it seems like it is.

I’m not saying there shouldn’t be ads about moms wanting to feel pretty in their bras. Sure. Why not? Like Leslie Nielsen wearing pink, fuzzy slippers in a Coors commercial, “Sometimes I want to feel pretty.” Advertising doesn’t have to move the feminist agenda forward. I worked in advertising when this famous ad with Cindy Crawford was created, and for the time and the moment, it worked. It really worked. But advertising shouldn’t push us back, either.

Unfortunately, when I wrote to True & Company asking them not to call me a MILF, they responded with a pat apology and then listed off the accolades the campaign had received from the advertising community.

Um, dude, your customer is the only ad community that matters. Mind if I call you dude?

Besides, there’s only one MILF.

The Graduate; United Artists

WOW!

Posted on April 4, 2013 by Jennifer Karin

I’m very excited to be speaking at this year’s WOW Conference, a day of leaders and champions. Will you be in the area? Come join us at the Blue Ocean Music Center in Salisbury, Massachusetts on April 5 and learn how you can become an Olympian gold medalist, a world-class leader, a successful entrepreneur, and a spousal serial killer (I mean, fiction writer!).

That’s what I’ll be talking about, my path to writing fiction, and tips and words of encouragement for you to find your own path to killing your significant other (I mean, to becoming a fiction writer!).

Read all about the conference here. It’s presented by the Greater Haverhill Chamber of Commerce, and I’m so grateful they asked me to join the fun. Who knew so many women are interested in killing their partners? (I mean, writing fiction!)

Hope to see you in the audience!

credit: morguefile

The unfinished novel

Posted on January 5, 2013 by Jennifer Karin

I’ve written 260 pages of a story for middle-grade girls. This is the third novel I’ve written, and I usually stall around page 260. So, instead of writing page 261 and beyond, I’m pausing at this precipice. I’m standing on my tiptoes, with my arms stretched wide, like I’m in some ridiculous tampon commercial, feeling the pull of gravity and the push of the wind.

I’m here and it’s scary as hell.

They say it takes writing several novels before getting it right. A fellow writer, talented and hard-working, wrote 12 novels before landing an agent.

The wind is picking up at my back.

And even if you land an agent, there are no guarantees a publisher will take on your novel.

I’d list the stats here, but my legs are beginning to wobble.

So I back away from the cliff, and think about the story, not the statistics. I love this story, and right now, I’m at the most special place a writer can be.

It’s where every writer is when they stop, when they procrastinate, when they doubt and say, this is total shit.

It’s that place on the page where anything can happen.

p. 261

Weighty Matters; from the Zen Mother archives

Posted on November 26, 2012 by Jennifer Karin

Now that we’ve all overindulged during the Thanksgiving holiday, it’s time to give yourself a break from all that self-loathing. Honestly, a turkey leg never hurt anyone, and we’re coming up on Christmas cookies and New Year’s champagne. Isn’t it time we women gave ourselves a break from the images in the magazines, and accepted ourselves for who we are?

Embrace your curves, love yourself unconditionally, and accept what each day brings you.

BAH, HAH, HAH!

Just kidding! Suck it in, girlfriend! Buy Spanx, duct tape, OSHA-certified steel scaffolding – anything to hide that awful middle-age midsection. It’s so unfair, isn’t it? One day you’re running around in a little red bikini (okay, so you were five) and the next, well this happens…

I got behind the wheel of my car the other day and was stunned to see a roll of fat growing up and over my seatbelt. I exclaimed, “What the hell is this?” alarming an elderly man in a silver Toyota parked next to me.

“I’m eight pounds,” it answered.

“What the . . . Are you talking to me?”

“Yes, Robert De Niro, I’m talking to you.”

“Well, you can’t stay.” I unbuckled my seatbelt, opened the door to my minivan, and pointed to the sidewalk. “Get out!” The elderly man sped off, with a worried look.

“I’m afraid it’s not that easy.”

“Why’s that?” I huffed. “I didn’t invite you here.”

“Oh, like you didn’t. Ben & Jerry’s at one in the morning, cheesecake, sausage piz-umph!”

I wrenched the seatbelt tight across eight pounds to shut it up, and drove furiously through town. But everywhere I stopped, eight pounds was there. At the bank, eight pounds was there. At the supermarket, eight pounds was there. At school pick-up, eight pounds was there. I drove everywhere, hoping to leave behind eight pounds.

“Get away from me!” I yelled into my lap at a stoplight (unfortunately, the elderly man in the silver Toyota was in the next lane and was now convinced I was having an argument with my crotch).

“There’s no reason to be rude,” eight pounds replied.

“Is there anywhere you are not?” I asked, exasperated and desperate for a solution.

“Sure,” replied eight pounds.

“Tell me! I’m running out of gas.”

“The gym. I hate the gym. I never show up at the gym.”

It was at this point I embraced my curves, loved myself unconditionally, and accepted what each day brings me.

“C’mon eight pounds,” I said, giving the roll a loving little pat. “Let’s go buy some Spanx. Would you like a donut?” The traffic light turned green. I winked at the elderly man in the next lane and drove off.

A previous version of this column appeared in The Newburyport Current.

The Next Big Thing – Week 9

Posted on August 22, 2012 by Jennifer Karin

Thanks a million to Aine Greaney for tagging me in the “Next Big Thing” blog hop, where bibliophiles can hop around from author blog to author blog checking out their works in progress. Be sure to visit the talented Aine, and the authors I tag at the end of this post the week of Aug. 29.

Here goes:

What is the working title of your book?

Asunder (make sure you say this in a hushed, but determined tone, as if you are Matt Damon saying something important and zen right before he gets shot and falls into the East River)

Where did the idea come from for your book?

A dream. Or maybe the shower. Or maybe the supermarket in aisle 3, by the two-for-one diced peaches.

What genre does your book fall into?

After I do this to the current draft…

it will be a book for middle graders.

Which actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie rendition?

Complete unknowns who will become so successful from the movie version of my book that they will develop lifelong cocaine habits and end up penniless. (Hey, it’s not like I didn’t warn them.)

What is the one-sentence synopsis of your book?

A physical and emotional journey toward freedom for a young son and his perfect mother. (You caught that, didn’t you? OK, she’s far from perfect.)

Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency?

It will be printed at Staples and delivered in torn-out sections to unsuspecting neighbors. They’ll need to get over their petty snow-blower jealousies and come together to get the whole story.

How long did it take you to write the first draft of your manuscript?

Two years – off and on…and off…and off…

What other books would you compare this story to within your genre?

To Kill a Mockingbird (What? It could happen!)

Who or What inspired you to write this book?

Just my inner demons, thank you very much.

What else about your book might pique the reader’s interest?

The mom reads a copy of 50 Shades of Grey while they’re on the run.

Tag, you’re it, brilliant writers! Post something Aug. 29 for week 10 of the blog hop, if you’re game.

Kristin Bair O’Keeffe

Julie Long

Meredith Mileti

Suzanne Marie Dewitt

Rules:

***Answer the ten questions about your current WIP (Work In Progress)

***Tag five other writers/bloggers and add their links so we can hop over and meet them.

It’s that simple.

Ten Interview Questions for The Next Big Thing:

What is the working title of your book?

Where did the idea come from for the book?

What genre does your book fall under?

Which actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie rendition?

What is the one-sentence synopsis of your book?

Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency?

How long did it take you to write the first draft of your manuscript?

What other books would you compare this story to within your genre?

Who or What inspired you to write this book?

What else about your book might pique the reader’s interest?

Tricky and Not So Tricky Tips to Encourage Reading & Writing, Especially Among Boys

Posted on March 3, 2012 by Jennifer Karin

Let’s keep this simple:

It starts with storytelling: at the table, in the car, at bath time, at bedtime.

Turn off electronic games and television – no excuses.

BUT, don’t fight the digital revolution! Smartphones and tablets may give reading a cool factor.

Give kids a fun flashlight, and tell them it’s okay to read after “lights out.”

Get kids their own library card; go to the library on a regular basis.

Use visualization early on; help your child picture the story. Ask them what they see in their mind.

Read with your child; make it a participatory activity, not a solitary one.

Read what your child is reading, even if it’s Captain Underpants. Discuss it often.

Select a book that’s part of a series.

Ask kids to bring favorite scenes/passages to the dinner table. Do the same.

Help them write to a favorite author – social media makes this easier than ever.

Make journals together – with leather, bark, cloth.

Ask kids to write one more scene after the ending – type it for them.

Ask kids to draw a favorite character from their book – tape it to the fridge.

Read in a tent, fort, barn, tree with your kids. Setting matters.

For older kids, select from banned books—nothing cooler!

Your attention is the best reward.

Next post: Great books for boys ages 6-12

Newburyport Today Interview

Posted on February 9, 2012 by Jennifer Karin

Many thanks to Feature Editor Kathy Downey, and the wonderful folks at Newburyport Today, for this interview…

and making me feel like her:

And her:

But definitely not her:

And there goes the cat

Posted on January 10, 2012 by Jennifer Karin

So, last week I attend a writer’s workshop at Boston’s premiere watering hole for authors. Before leaving the house, I shower, brush my teeth, and floss, per usual. I floss vigorously. I lose myself in flossing. It isn’t until my jaw lands in the sink that I realize I am more than a little nervous.

After walking up and down the Boston street, thinking I have the wrong address, I finally discover the entrance sandwiched between two buildings. Not having the correct Harry Potter spell to widen it, I squeeze through and proceed up the narrow, dingy stairwell last used by Irene Cara in Fame.

But the upstairs, thankfully and appropriately, is a clean, well-lighted place. I take a deep breath, remembering that the workshop is for all writing levels, and I, as a first-time novelist, will be right at home.

The room is buzzing with graduate-degree angst and SAT words. The writers share a camaraderie that can only come from having unprotected sex with each other in 1985. Intimidating, for sure.

No problem. I will picture everyone in their underwear.

I scan the room.

I try not to picture everyone in their underwear.

I ask where Irene Cara is filming her porn movie, because I think I’ll be more comfortable with her.

A young intern tells me I’m in the right place, and leads me to the kiddie table. She puts a handful of Cheerios in front of me. “Have fun with those. Don’t choke now,” she says.

The students settle into their seats and smile at each other with a warmth that can only come from having safe sex with each other in 1992. They pull out their works-in-progress, and update each other on the literary publications they’re soliciting. I ask the person next to me to pass me my sippy cup.

The instructor enters the room, and quickly acknowledges all the familiar faces. He knows this pool of talent well.

I picture my “Hang in there!” kitten poster from 1968.

We each take a turn reading (out loud) the first couple pages of our manuscripts. The 12 women in the room have written about pain, and the monumental journey they have taken to embrace it. The 12 men in the room have written about their penises; one, a Vampire penis.

It’s three hours into the workshop, and the kitten from my poster is losing its grip. I am the second to last person to read.

I finish, and the instructor says, “Wow!” The room is filled with a hush that can only come from everyone wondering what it would be like to sleep with me. I smile.

“That was the most confusing opening I have ever heard,” the instructor says.

The kitten falls to the ground.

“I mean, did anyone else get any of that?” asks the instructor.

Vampire penis says, “No, not at all.” Others shake their head. My neighbor scoops up my Cheerios, because, clearly, I can’t handle them.

The tree slams to the ground, on top of the cat.

“You need to back away from this narrative, and rewrite it, so we know what the hell is going on,” the instructor adds.

The bus-size NASA satellite expected to plummet near Germany changes course and lands on the fallen tree.

He looks at me for a response.

“Hey, I flossed for you!” I say.

The penises wilt; the women consider writing about my pain, and the monumental journey I’ll need to take to embrace it.

I get up and search for Irene.