Betsy Horvath

Blog

  • Diabetes and Addiction

    I have type 2 diabetes. I’ve had it for about 7 years. There was a point, soon after I was diagnosed, when I was able to control it with food and exercise. I lost pretty much weight. My a1c (the diabetes blood test) was pretty much normal. I was pretty arrogant about it. I always get arrogant when I lose weight (I’ve lost a LOT of weight three or four times in my life). I always think that I have the weight thing beaten. I always feel pretty full of myself. I always think that THIS time, it will be different. And I’m always wrong.

    After a year or two of eating very strictly, I decided to let myself eat some of the things I had eaten before. What could it hurt? Hadn’t I been good? Didn’t I deserve it? Plus, I didn’t indulge all of the time. Just once in a while. Except that “once in a while” quickly came more and more and more frequently. And before I knew what was happening, all hell had broken lose.  Again.

    I don’t know how to explain it, but when I’m in that unhealthy eating pattern, I don’t think about stopping. All I think about is the next fix. I don’t see what it’s doing to me – mentally, physically or emotionally. Listen to me – it just DOES NOT OCCUR to me that I need to stop eating the way I’m eating.

    I gained all of the weight back – and then some. My a1c climbed higher and higher. Instead of feeling arrogant, I felt stupid and hopeless. That just made me want to eat more. Because, what the hell.

    And here I am. Left with the consequences of my own actions in a body that has tried so very hard to deal with the crap I’ve poured into it.

    Does this sound like addiction to you? It does to me.

    There are some people – perhaps some people reading this – who will not agree. They will say that this unhealthy eating pattern is just a lack of willpower. They will say that I don’t want to stop. They will say that I’m indulgent and lazy and whining. It might be that they are correct, at least to a certain extent.

    Part of the reason for all of this soul-searching is that I have a doctor appointment tomorrow and I’m nervous about what he’s going to say. Part is because I’m afraid of the consequences of my actions. But maybe part of the reason I’ve been thinking about this stuff is because I’m getting ready to accept that I’m an addict and sugar is my drug of choice.

    Now all I have to do is change.

    You might want to wish me luck.

    Changing sucks.

    Diabetes kills.

    Guess I’m changing.

     

  • Snowy Evening

    In celebration of the first significant snowfall since October at The Palatial Horvath Estate, I thought I would share one of my favorite snow poems, “Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening” by Robert Frost.

    The thing I love best about Frost’s poems is that on the surface they sound all folksy and wholesome, but if you think about them a little more, they go so much deeper.

    I hope you enjoy it!

     

    Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening
    by Robert Frost
     

    Whose woods these are I think I know.
    His house is in the village though;
    He will not see me stopping here
    To watch his woods fill up with snow.
     

    My little horse must think it queer
    To stop without a farmhouse near
    Between the woods and frozen lake
    The darkest evening of the year.
     

    He gives his harness bells a shake
    To ask if there is some mistake.
    The only other sound’s the sweep
    Of easy wind and downy flake.
     

    The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
    But I have promises to keep,
    And miles to go before I sleep,
    And miles to go before I sleep.
     

     

  • Goals, Dreams, and Remembering My Father

    I was thinking about my father as I drove into work today, and it made me feel kind of melancholy. We’re coming up on the third anniversary of his death, so he’s been in my thoughts more than normal, I guess.

    The reason I was feeling melancholy was not because he died. He’d suffered for a long time and saw death as a release. But I was thinking about the dreams my father had, his goals for his later years.

    They were simple dreams, really.  He wanted to buy a little truck and go around working as a handyman. He wanted to care for his house and lawn. He wanted to take long walks.  He wanted to travel.

    Then I thought about my own life, and my participation in it.  I have goals too. I have dreams. But what have I done to work towards them? Yes, I have a book published. Yes, I have written other things, some published, some which aren’t and never should be.  But I’ve known for years and years that I want to be a writer and it’s only recently that I’ve been committed to working towards that goal.  I’m stalled in a lot of other areas as well.  Why do I hesitate?  Why am I afraid?  What am I waiting for?

    It’s so much easier to devote your time and attention to the demands of ordinary day-to-day existence than it is to become extraordinarily “you.”

    Thinking about my father today reminded me that we don’t know what life is going to bring us. We can try to drop out of it, but life will always come in and sweep us away – whether we want it to or not. The illusion that we have all of the time in the world is just that – an illusion. My father did not imagine that he would die in a nursing home, trapped inside his own body. He thought he had time.

    Although I am feeling a little melancholy, this is not really a melancholy post. In my mind it’s a  hopeful one. Because we may not have all of the time in the world, but we do have today. The future will be what the future will be, but the choices we make today are what set it in motion, at least to a certain extent. So the important thing is to remember all of the things that are important. And to do the best you can. And to work towards your dreams.  Today.

    “You are never given a dream without also being given the power to make it true. You may have to work for it, however.” – Richard Bach

  • What’s In A Name?

    I’ve been listening to the audio books of “The Bride Quartet” by Nora Roberts over the last couple of days. It’s been a long time since La Nora has written a series of straight-up contemporary romances without mystery, suspense, or woo-woo stuff, so I was listening to learn.

    I have various reactions to the books themselves, but what really blew me away were the number of named characters. Not only do we have the four female leads and the four male heroes, not only do we have important secondary characters, but we have a positive plethora of brides, grooms, wedding party members, and others who show up throughout the four books as minor characters. The number of names needed for this series dazzled me.

    Naming characters is one of the hardest things I have to do when I’m writing a story. I know you find this hard to believe, because I’ve already demonstrated my expertise in coming up with baby names. But naming a character is different. The name of a character can be a useful tool and a clue to personality. Finding one you’re comfortable with can be fraught with difficulty.

    Not only does the character’s name have to fit, but there are other considerations you have to worry about in fiction. For example, do you know someone with that name? Will that person be offended if you give their name to a particular character? On the other hand, will they think it means more than it does? (especially in a romance novel – LOL)

    Does the name conjure up bad memories? Does your boss have that name? Is the name pronounceable? Will the readers stumble over it every time it shows up? Does something catch your attention and draw you away from the story? In my book, two of the male characters had last names that sounded very similar. It caught my attention when I was reading, so I changed one of them.

    Then there are all of the things names are shorthand for – like ethnicity, background, and age. Are the names you want to use stereotypes? Are they cliches? Are you using them as a way to get out of developing the character, as opposed to a signpost leading to that character?

    In the “Bride Quartet” books, Nora uses the names of the minor characters to create brief images with the single stroke of a pen, like a line drawing. Not enough information to get confusing, but enough to create different personas for the brides and grooms trouping through the busy wedding business portrayed in the books. I can’t even imagine naming that many characters.

    So, hats off to Nora Roberts. Again. I listen, I learn. And I’m reminded how much the character names help support the story.

    I think my next couple will be named “Chip” and “Bitsy”.

    Or not.

     

  • A Few Things About Cats

    Oliver

    Cats:

      • Do not help with the household chores.
      • Occasionally use the rug as toilet paper – especially if the rug is light in color.
      • Watch to see where you habitually walk with bare feet.  Then they cough up a hairball in that exact spot.
      • Enjoy nibbling on a houseplant now and again.  Then their stomachs rebel.  Violently.  In the path where you habitually walk with bare feet.
      • Can fly if they really want to reach a high perch, catch a bug, or are determined to pull down a stack of books and magazines.
      • Can be immovable if they so choose.
      • Can have a hundred arms, legs, paws, claws and teeth when you try to stuff them into a carrier
      • Seek out the fabric-covered surface in your house that is the hardest to clean and the exact opposite in color to that of their fur.  Then they lay upon it routinely.  And shed.
      • Call for you when they want you to come to them and become impatient if you do not obey quickly enough.
      • Enjoy grooming your hair and face in the middle of the night when you are asleep.
      • Like to stand on your lap and stick their butts in your face.  Especially if you are eating something at the time.
      • Lay on the computer keyboard to get attention.
      • Purr
      • Love you.  Mostly.
      • Rule.

  • On Reviews and Responses

    Yet another broohaha in Romancelandia over reviews and the author’s response to said reviews has prompted me to examine my own responses to the reviews I’ve gotten on my book. I would prefer not to be stupid as I pick my way through the minefield which is publishing.

    Sometimes it’s hard to know the right thing to do. You’ve written this thing, you’ve poured your heart into it, given it your time. Then you release it into the wild and not everyone sees it the same way you do.

    If you get a bad or lukewarm review, it might be that your first response is to take offense. Maybe all you want to do is defend the book. But you have to resist the impulse, and that’s really hard.

    When I read some of the less-than-kind reviews I’ve gotten, I wanted to defend myself. That would have been a mistake. The reviewer is entitled to his or her opinion. And they usually made some good points that let me see my work from a different perspective.

    Obviously I want everyone to love my book, and I’ve been fortunate that most people seem to like it. But a few (hopefully very few) bad or lukewarm reviews or ratings are only to be expected. They’re part of the price of admission.

    So when I see kerfluffles where authors attack reviewers for their opinions, I shake my head. I mean, we want reviewers to post about our books, right? How does attacking them help anything?

    I admit, it’s easier for me to shake my head because I’m new. I don’t have the community (yet) to generate a lot of attention. It’s probably easier for me to take a deep breath and move on.

    When I read my own reviews, I try to remember that, whether it be a good review or bad, the reviewer is not writing for me. The reviewer’s job is not to prop up the ego of the author. That’s my mother’s job and my sister’s job and the job my friends are supposed to do. The reviewer is writing for his or her own community of readers. The only thing the reviewer owes me is an honest opinion and the respect we all owe to other human beings.

    As I continue to write and publish, I’m sure it will be harder to take the high road when faced with a bad review. The longer you’re out there, the more varied opinions you attract. I just hope that I will handle whatever comes halfway decently. And I hope I won’t be stupid.