Tips on Public Speaking: A List by Kate

It's probably in your best interest when your beloved makes you dress like an adult for the speaking gig. Even if you'd feel better in your Superman pajamas.

Take your shoes off if you want—but at the very beginning of your talk. If you're lucky, the crowd will be so offended they'll ask you to leave, thereby relieving you of the stress of having to talk. If they don't care, then you can proceed in total comfort.

If you say you're going to have finger puppets, make sure you don't forget them on your nightstand. If anyone does read your website (shocking as that may be), they'll give you a hard time about not having them.

Never say you're going to sing or dance at a talk. They might actually hold you to it.

If it's the first time you're speaking on a particular topic, don't expect to get it perfect. First of all, there's no such thing as perfect. Second, go easy on yourself—the first time is a learning experience to find out what works for other people.

If your intuition says you should do something visual and an activity in addition to orally presenting, do it. People learn differently. Appealing to different learning styles makes the talk fruitful for everyone. And what are you doing not listening to your intuition?? Intuition is always right.

Make people hold their questions till the end, even if you don't care if you're interrupted. Apparently other people do care, and you don't want irritated people on your hands.

If you're nervous, keep in mind it'll be over before you know it. Besides, when someone walks up to you and says your talk was inspiring, the humongous butterflies you wrestled won't signify.

My Bad

My sister called me last week. I'd barely said hello when she cut me off and asked, "You know how whenever you mention Diego, you add a note to Afra so she doesn't get jealous and bent out of shape?"

"Yep." Afra, Diego's wife and one of my oldest friends, was a little sensitive about stuff like that.

"Well, I noticed you mention Erik on your What I'm Reading page. Erik is spelled with a k, by the way. Not a c."

I shrugged even though she couldn't see me. "It's not my fault he doesn't spell his name correctly."

She huffed. "That's not the point."

"What is the point?" I asked with great patience. After all, she is my favorite sister, and I like to listen to what she's saying. Or at least pretend that I'm listening.

"The point is you should mention me too."

"But I did mention you."

"Only to say he was my boyfriend. You need to say something more about me."

I could feel her pouting over the line. "Um—"

"Do it," she commanded in her best Ben Stiller/Starsky imitation.

Scratching my head, I got off the phone and tried to figure out if I'd actually done something wrong. The more I thought about it, the more indignant I got. This is my website—I could write whatever the heck I wanted. If I didn't want to mention someone, I wouldn't, gosh darn it.

But I love my sister. She supported my insane idea to become an author from the beginning. She's read first drafts, helped me brainstorm, and listened to me whine when things weren't going the way I wanted them to. To correct this small thing that means so much to her (which I still don't really get) seems the least I can do.

So I'm publicly apologizing to Parisa for failing to recognize her in my What I'm Reading area. Because if she didn't start dating Erik (note the correct spelling) and bring him to stay with us for two weeks at Christmas last year, I would never have read that book.

Note: please do not contact me and ask why I didn't write about you (you know who you are). Nate would say you're lucky to be under the radar—count your blessings.

Infidelity

I want to make a confession. A deep, dark, from the root of my soul confession.

I'm considering being unfaithful.

My current manuscript and I are having problems. It started out like any beautiful relationship. I fell in love with the idea of what could be, and I jumped in wholeheartedly—excited about our future. I worked on it every day. I made an effort every day. This was The One.

But somewhere along the way I started noticing its flaws. And they got on my nerves. Then doubts crept in. Was this the right manuscript for me? Maybe there was a better one out there...

Now I'm having full blown fantasies about other manuscripts.

Sexier ones that seize me in their grip. Ones with more promise—more allure. More mystery and passion.

And, to tell the truth, there's already one in particular I've had my eye on. Okay, I admit it—I've even flirted with it. Shamelessly. Without regret.

If this is playing with fire, I say burn me, baby.

So I'm tempted to stray. I keep telling myself my current manuscript won't find out, but I think it already suspects. I know I should try to salvage our relationship. I am trying.

However, I still lust.

Oh, How the Mighty Have Fallen

No, your eyes aren't deceiving you. You are where you think you are, and this is what you think it is.

I've turned to the dark side.

Actually, I was lured. Nay—shoved. But I'll get to that in a moment.

From the very beginning, I swore I wouldn't do a blog. I mean, I could only come up with one reason to do one: to make it easier for stalkers around the world to see what I'm doing. But there were plenty of reasons not to start one.

But then my friend Misa Ramirez began publicly harassing me, insisting that I start one. To which I said, "No way, dude. And nothing you say will change my mind." So her eyes narrowed and she replied, "Don't underestimate the power of the force."

I underestimated. And now, here I am, my destiny forever dominated by this dark path.

So I hope you're happy, M. You've opened Pandora's box, and there's trouble inside. Trouble, Kate is thy name. Evil grin.