Mandy Mikulencak

Category: Blog

  • Life’s Short — Eat Cheetos

    Life’s Short — Eat Cheetos

    My fingers are stained orange as I type this because I ate crunchy Cheetos for lunch.  You’ll see why later.

    None of us knows the exact time and date of our deaths. Mortality statistics give us the impression that we’ll live to a ripe old age (76.3 years for males; 81.1 years for females).  Without a firm idea of the time we have left, some of us put off doing things (saying things), believing we have all the time in the world.

    That’s why I read obits. These stand out in my memory.

    • the vivacious 19-year-old woman who suffered a fatal seizure
    • the 45-year-old woman who died after a recurrence of breast cancer 
    • the 52-year-old father who had a heart attack while sitting in front of his home computer
    • the adventurous 23-year-old who died in an avalanche while snowboarding

    I don’t know any of these people personally. But I wonder how they spent their lives. Did the 45-year-old woman always skip dessert thinking the calories weren’t worth it? Did the father regret how often he brought work home instead of playing catch with his sons? Did the 19-year-old have a fight with her dad and didn’t have a chance to say she was sorry?

    Whether we live 20 years or 100 years, life is short.  And regrets are a bitch.

    • Call the estranged relative.
    • Take the vacation.
    • Write the book.
    • Retire at age 55.
    • Buy the house (or new chair, or bicycle, or shoes).
    • Eat Cheetos for lunch.
  • The Critique Sandwich: Tough to Swallow?

    The Critique Sandwich: Tough to Swallow?

    Most writers partake of (choke on?) some version of the Critique Sandwich (whether they are aware of it or not).  It goes like this:  to avoid completely demoralizing a writer, the critique partner (editor, loved one, etc.) says something positive first, then follows with what needs improving, then ends with something positive.


    When we’re lucky, the ‘filling’ on the critique sandwich isn’t so thick as to overwhelm the ‘bread.’

    I’ve been an editor for too many years to count. When I was younger, I was often guilty of throwing a whole lot of filling at writers without softening the critique. I thought I was being direct, saving everyone time, getting to the point.

    Well, ladies and gentlemen…during those years, I missed the point completely.

    People matter. People’s feelings matter. And there are always nuggets of gold buried in what we may think of as the worst essay, book, short story, poem, song or painting. 

    The life of a creative is hard enough. We battle our own inner critic and self-doubt daily. Encouragement of any kind can make the difference in someone forging ahead or giving up her creative dreams.

    Today, I received the nicest rejection from a literary agent. Just the right amount of bread and filling — definitely not a Dagwood special. Instead of being utterly disappointed, I’m feeling pretty upbeat.

  • Comfort in the Tangible

    Comfort in the Tangible

    My friend, Christi, posted on Facebook this amazing photo of a young boy reading in a bombed-out bookstore in WWII London. The powerful image stirred up a bit of emotion.
    I write and edit for a living. But on a day-to-day basis, I don’t appreciate the importance of books — or hell, any written type of communication. Words transport, inform, inspire, incite, enrage. I shudder to think of a world without written communication. While I love television and film and YouTube and vlogs (yes, you, Lizzie Bennett diaries), I like the permanence of the written word. I like referring back to books, to links on the web, to my own journals. Life is fleeting. Tangible is comforting.

    And yet, it was an image that inspired all this emotion I’m feeling. Hmmm…even more to think about.
  • Your Biography — Courtesy of Google

    Your Biography — Courtesy of Google

    I saw a tweet from a publisher who warned writers that agents and publishers always Google prospective clients. I mean, they have to make sure you’re not a crazy-pants, raving lunatic or a highly opinionated person with cringe-worthy views on politics, religion or the like.

    I purposefully don’t post my views on politics or religion on Twitter or Facebook or in this blog. I’m not trying to hide anything. But I’m aware that polarizing views can make publishers leery – after all, I could be alienating a whole segment of potential readers.

    I Google myself from time to time. You can piece together a good bit of my history if you bother to keep reading to the 7th, 8th and 9th pages of results.

    • I’m the author of quite a few nursing articles because I was editor of The American Nurse newspaper for the American Nurses Association in Washington, DC.
    • I edited publications for the United Nations – so my name is connected to tuberculosis, HIV/AIDS, and other UN priorities, sometimes in French!
    • I was executive director of the Women’s Resource Center in Durango.
    • I teach continuing education classes (writing, marketing, graphic design) at my local college.
    • I have a communications and marketing business on the side called mlm communications.
    • I drink a LOT of McDonald’s iced tea and post about it way too much.
    • I have a cat (and post about her way too much).
    • I have a blog!
    • I have a Pinterest board on cake decorating.
    • In 1982, I was crowned state queen of the Slavonic Benevolent Order of the State of Texas because of my rousing speech on What Fraternalism Means to Me. (This deserves a whole post!)

    My life is an open book, so to speak. And so is yours, yours and yours because of social media. But is your book one you’d want the public to read?
  • Ditch the Expectations and Watch Out for the Good Stuff

    Ditch the Expectations and Watch Out for the Good Stuff

    I recently watched a movie called The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel. An exchange between two actors has stayed with me all week.

    Evelyn: Nothing here has worked out quite as I expected.
    Muriel: Most things don’t. But sometimes what happens instead is the good stuff.

    This couldn’t be more applicable for my writing journey. Many authors write multiple books before ‘the one.’ I was certain the first book I wrote was the next “Secret Life of Bees.” (It wasn’t.) Then, I was inspired to write my first young adult novel — which featured a ghost just as the market was getting oversaturated with ghost/paranormal stories. Then, my cozy mystery flowed so effortlessly (well, not that effortlessly) and was so well-received that I sensed I’d have a career as a mystery writer. (I didn’t.) 

    Somewhere along the way, I went back to an idea that had been niggling at my brain for some time… a story about a high school girl whose face had been burned in her stepfather’s meth lab explosion when she was little. I had even purchased a couple of books on burn survivors for research purposes.

    This week, that book (titled Facing Fire) is featured in two different online contests whose purpose is to get book excerpts in front of literary agents. My book is doing well in BOTH contests. One agent loved my excerpt so much, he asked to see the full manuscript immediately. In the second contest, my excerpt was chosen one of 60 entries that 15 agents will review next week. There were 427 total entries.

    It takes some faith (and tears and chocolate) to keep writing, to keep revising, to keep querying. But when I put away my expectations for what a writing life should look like, opportunities opened up. I need to remember this feeling for the tears/chocolate times ahead.

  • Rescuing the “Self” from Selfish

    In late February, I spent more than 37 hours in the air or in an airport during an eight-day period. (One travel day was 17 hours because of snow delays.) I can’t even describe the exhaustion I felt upon my return. (Let’s just say there were tears involved.)

    A family function I felt I had to attend in Texas piggy-backed a stressful business trip. The family thing was important, and I’m glad I did it. But it brings up some issues for me related to self-care. I kept telling myself “I have no choice! I have no choice!” That’s a steaming pile of horse manure.

    I always have a choice. To stay in my current job or venture into something new; to exercise regularly or watch more TV; to eat more protein or stress-eat with sugar; to foster nurturing friendships or guilt myself into staying in one-sided relationships.

    The crux of the matter is that taking care of myself is the harder choice because most of us are conditioned from an early age to think that self-care is selfish. And the first baby steps we take to put ourselves first often results in guilt.

    I’m convinced it just takes practice. What do you think?

  • Easy is a Four-Letter Word

    Easy is a Four-Letter Word

    I bought a beginner’s yoga DVD about two years ago. As of yesterday morning, it was still shrinkwrapped and unopened.  I’ve been sick for about three weeks with a lingering cold (and haven’t exercised in much longer than that) so I thought I’d give it a whirl. Surely, it’d be easy! What a gentle way to ease back into exercising.

    So, yeah. Today, I can’t lift my arms over my head, my knee is tweaky and the bones in the top of one foot ache. So much for easy.

    From time to time, don’t we all make assumptions that something will be easy?  How many times have you uttered, “How hard can it be?” only to then utter, “Damn hard.”

    One of my resolutions is not to make assumptions.  Another is not to give up on something that isn’t as easy as I thought it was going to be. Like writing daily. Like staying connected with friends even though I have hermit tendencies. Like exercising often, even if it’s just a walk around the block.
    Is there something you’ve stuck with even thought it was harder than you thought it’d be? (I mean, besides marriage.)
  • Fighting Extinction

    Fighting Extinction

    First the demise of the Twinkie and now this! Hasbro has eliminated the beloved iron token from the Monopoly set and replaced it with a cat.  A cat! I know, right? And they let the PUBLIC vote via a Facebook page.  Do they think that’s a representative sample of the Monopoly-playing public?

    Okay, that’s not the reason I’m irritated. I’m irritated by change. It unsettles me. I feel a part of my worldview is altered. I feel less and less connected with people born before 1990. (Let’s forget for a moment that I write young adult fiction.)

    I’m not against progress. Hell, I experienced the horror of “Sun In” hair lightening spray. It’s just that whenever I meet someone who doesn’t remember something I remember, it feels like another part of me has gone extinct.

    So, today is my tribute to outdated things that hold a place in my memory…and will until said memory falters with old age.

    • Interchangeable IBM typewriter balls for different fonts
    • Tab soda
    • The smell of mimeograph paper
    • Push-button transmissions (like the one on my ’64 Valiant)
    • Flashbulbs for cameras
    • The old Monopoly set that had wooden pieces
    Feeling nostalgic? Check out the book Do You Remember Technology? Geeks, Gadgets and Gizmos.
  • The Delight is in the Details

    The Delight is in the Details

    For some time, I’ve wanted to find out why there’s so much hub-bub about the British television series, Downton Abbey. Its fans are downright obsessive about it.

    So, the flu and I decided to spend Saturday watching … 11 STRAIGHT EPISODES. Yeah, obsessive is the right word. The multiple story lines and interesting characters were engrossing. As a writer, I was most fascinated by the way the smallest details told the most powerful story.

    For example, the staff ironed the newspapers each morning before his Lordship and family read them. A subtle detail like this said so much about the expectations of the upper class in 1910s and 1920s Britain. The show’s writer didn’t have to hit the audience over the head with an explanation of the class distinctions of the time. The day-to-day workings of a household said it all: female servants couldn’t serve in the dining room and never answered the front door; bad news was often kept from the ladies of the house because of their delicate natures; a hierarchy existed among the staff as well; some servants felt genuine loyalty and sometimes love for their employers, as if they were family.
    I recently finished a novel called The Language of Flowers. In it, a very minor character often dyed her hair wild colors like hot pink. But the reader found this out by the stains on her pillowcase.
    Other viewers and readers may not notice precise details as I do. After all, it’s often the sum of the details that sets the mood of a television show, movie or book.
    Still, I delight in writers who say so much with so few words.

    Perhaps the smallest details of our own lives tell the biggest story as well.

  • Forget the Timetable: We’re Not a Swiss Train

    Forget the Timetable: We’re Not a Swiss Train

    I’m pissed off. DO YOU HEAR ME, BLOGOSPHERE? PISSED OFF! Here’s why. I was on Twitter (yes, when I should’ve been writing) and ran across this tweet by the online editor at Writer’s Digest.

    If you can’t carve out at least a short portion of your day to dedicate to writing,
    then you aren’t serious about finishing a manuscript.


    My first thought was “Where do you get off?”
    My second thought was that he was trying to pick a fight.

    Finally, I decided he was channeling my subconscious, which knocks, knocks, knocks daily with the same message. “You’re not a REAL writer if you can’t get up at 5 a.m. and write for an hour, or come home after work and write instead of watching Wheel of Fortune. You should’ve finished the damn manuscript weeks ago. Remember your plan to write throughout Thanksgiving break and instead, you baked!”

    So, maybe I’m mostly pissed at myself. More like disappointed. But enough finger-wagging.

    Here’s the rub: a lot of writers feel this same way. And we make it worse by reading about other writers and their craft and their writing schedules and their successes. We refuse to believe that it’s okay to write a book in six months by only writing on Fridays and sometimes a Sunday or two. We find any reason to belittle our “process” because it makes the sting of rejection feel justified.

    So, let’s rewrite that editor’s post using a different shaming example.

    If you can’t carve out at least a short portion of your day to dedicate to exercise,
    then you aren’t serious about being healthy.


    Can we agree that’s a load of hooey? Then let’s agree that we all have our processes, our timetables, our high-energy days and our low-energy days. And the sweetest freedom is choosing when we create.