Darlene Panzera writes sweet, fun-loving romance and is a multi-published author whose career launched when her novella, THE BET, was hand-picked by NY Times best-selling author, Debbie Macomber to be published with Debbie’s own, FAMILY AFFAIR. Darlene says, “I love writing stories that help inspire people to laugh,  value relationships, and pursue their dreams.” Visit her on Facebook or www.darlenepanzera.com

How did you get started in writing?

 I have always loved to write. When I was little I would write on the underside of a dresser with a piece of chalk. When I was in 5th grade I stared in awe at the creative writing prompt pictures in the booklet handed out by my teacher. And at age 14 when a friend showed me her romance novel written in a spiral notebook I decided I would write one too! I bought writing magazines and how-to books to improve my work. After I married and had children I wrote while the kids napped. I wrote whenever there was free time before or after work.

 Then, when the kids grew older, I decided to take the next step and signed up for the Writer’s Digest Novel writing course. The Advanced Novel writing course followed. I also signed up for the Christian Writers Guild Apprentice Program. These were correspondence courses which had me working with a published author. I attended my first Romance Writers of America Chapter meeting and found out about a large conference scheduled for the following month. I told my husband that editors and agents were flying in from New York and that I had to go.

Over the years I continued to pitch my work, connect with other writers, and learn the business side of writing and publishing from industry professionals. Year after year I went to classes and conferences. I volunteered in my local writing chapter and eventually became president—which connected me to even more industry professionals.

My manuscripts were sent back and forth to various publishing houses and gained repetitive interest but no contract. Then when one of the manuscripts came back to me once again, my friend told me about the Avon Books/NY Times Best-selling author Debbie Macomber “Make Your Dreams Come True” contest and I decided to cut my book down to a novella and send it there. I was feeling down on my luck, like I would never be published, when Debbie Macomber herself picked my novella, THE BET, to be published alongside hers in FAMILY AFFAIR.

As if this wasn’t glorious enough, when the editor found out the novella had originally been a full-length novel she offered me a second contract. The full book was re-titled BET YOU’LL MARRY ME and released December 2012. BET YOU’LL MARRY ME is currently a finalist in the Booksellers Best Award sponsored by Greater Detroit RWA.

Most recently, Avon Books, a division of HarperCollins, offered me the opportunity to write a 3-novella series about 3 women who open a cupcake shop in Astoria, Oregon and find true love. THE CUPCAKE DIARIES: Sweet on You, Recipe for Love, and Taste of Romance released May 2013 and hit the top 100 on the Barnes & Noble Nook on pre-orders. The next day, the first book—Sweet on You—reached the #7 spot on the chart. Now a special edition is scheduled to release November 26th 2013, THE CUPCAKE DIARIES: Spoonful of Christmas featuring a modern-day Grinch who is trying to sabotage Christmas (and the women’s love lives!) at Creative Cupcakes.

It’s been a long but exciting ride. There were so many times when I considered giving up, just like my fictional ‘cupcake shop girls’ but somehow I just can’t stop writing. I love it. And the key to success in any field is perseverance. Never give up.

Don’t you just love these covers? Reading one of Darlene’s books is like eating a delectable cupcake. They’re sweet, fun, and oh so delicious. And, they are calorie free! Enjoy.

We also had a rule that there were certain movies our kids couldn’t watch until they were twelve years old—specifically PG-13 movies. This rule lasted through about three children and then got stretched and broken as we got older and our kids got more persistent. My second daughter was indignant when we let our youngest watch Lord of the Rings at age ten when we didn’t let her watch it until she was like 45 or something.

My, oh my, how the tables have turned. I can’t decide if our kids have just been too well taught, or if they see my husband and I as overly sensitive—after all, we are part of the older generation—but our children now feel the need to warn us about inappropriate movies.

My daughter saw The Impossible several weeks ago. She recommended that I see it but made sure I knew that it is really graphic and realistic with a glimpse of Naomi Watts’ chest. She warned me and then let me decide for myself.

Here are a few other warnings I have received from my concerned children:

Warm Bodies is cute but has a few gross parts. You might not like it.

Batman 3 isn’t as violent as Batman 2, and you should be able to handle it.

Mom, if you’re going to see The Perks of Being a Wallflower, watch an edited version.

Do not see The Ring. It is too scary for mothers of all ages.

The Bridesmaids. Absolutely not, Mom.

Why don’t you stick to The Apple Dumpling Gang and Chitty Chitty Bang Bang? Who doesn’t love a classic?

I believe we have come full circle.

I can relate. I often feel bad that I’m not the perfect mother.

I’m the mom with the shrill, piercing voice at tennis matches whose son finally asked her to quit cheering. I embarrass my children? Oh. My. Heck.

I am the mom whose toilets sometimes have strange mold growing in them and whose storage room hasn’t been dejunked since the Bush administration—that’s Bush #1.

I am the mom who feeds her kids (or rather lets her kids feed themselves) Hot Pockets for breakfast, after-school snack, and before-dinner snack and makes them Nutella and peanut butter sandwiches for lunch. I forget about the spinach in the fridge until it gets slimy and starts to smell bad.

I am the mom who says the wrong things at the wrong times and makes my kids mad and sad and confused. And sometimes they laugh at me.

A few years ago, I went camping with a group of young women from my church. As a part of the camp adventure, they gave us the opportunity to run a challenge course. Part of the course involved climbing up to and walking across a high pole and then riding a zip line to the ground. Well, I am afraid of heights. Ridiculously afraid of heights. I got about six feet off the ground and froze. I couldn’t climb up, and I couldn’t climb down. The young women looked on in horror as one of the camp volunteers tried to talk me down while I bawled like a baby.

Once I managed to make it down to the ground, I was so embarrassed that I continued crying for half an hour. Trying to console me, one friend told me that she didn’t mind heights, but she was deathly afraid of public speaking. I have absolutely no problem performing in front of a crowd. I thrive on it.

That conversation made me think of all the mothers I know. Some are great cooks. Some have immaculate gardens. Some think up darling hairstyles for their daughters. Others manage to vacuum more than once a month. Some have compliant sons who wouldn’t dream of growing hair on their faces. And some can eat all the junk food they want and stay skinny. We all have different strengths and weaknesses.

The problem is that we compare ourselves to each other mercilessly. We are envious, even threatened by other people’s talents. And we usually compare our weaknesses to other people’s strengths and wonder why we can’t seem to get our act together to pull off a Martha Stewart Thanksgiving.

Well, you know what I think? I think comparison is Satan’s little trick to get us to be jealous of others and down on ourselves.

“There are going to be times in our lives when someone else gets an unexpected blessing or receives some special recognition. May I plead with us not to be hurt—and certainly not to feel envious—when good fortune comes to another person? We are not diminished when someone else is added upon. We are not in a race against each other to see who is the wealthiest or the most talented or the most beautiful or even the most blessed. The race we are really in is the race against sin, and surely envy is one of the most universal of those. Furthermore, envy is a mistake that just keeps on giving. Obviously we suffer a little when some misfortune befalls us, but envy requires us to suffer all good fortune that befalls everyone we know!” Jeffrey R. Holland

So, the challenge today is to be happy about who you are and to be happy about who Martha Stewart is and don’t beat up on yourself because you are not Martha Stewart. Be grateful that whole prison thing didn’t happen to you. Be happy to be the mother or father or aunt or friend that you are. No one is exactly like you. You are unique, and because of that, you can uniquely bless other people’s lives.

Deep down, my son loves to hear my piercing voice cut through the crowd. Yep, I’m going keep on cheering at tennis matches and soccer games. I haven’t been kicked out yet. Martha would be so proud.

Stanalei is in my romance writers group, and she is the go-to gal for chapter rules, website problems, and procedural conundrums. Stanalei is a mentor to many aspiring writers, including me. She was one of the first people who willingly and cheerfully read my manuscript when I was a newbie hoping to get noticed by agents. You will never meet a more giving person than Stanalei. Plus, she’s a black belt, so don’t mess with her. Stanalei has two books in print and you can find her blog at http://www.stanaleifletcher.com/

The rules of the Sunshine Award are as follows:

Thank the person who gave you the award in your blog post.
Answer the questions below.
Pass the award to 10-12 deserving and inspiring bloggers, inform them, and link to their blogs.

So, here are the questions:

Favorite color: Too many to pin down. I wear blues and greens. I decorate with blues and greens. My website is a mixture of blues and greens. Maybe it’s blue and green.

Favorite animal: Little puppies

Favorite number: Pi

Favorite non-alcoholic drink: Water (I rarely drink anything else.)

Facebook or Twitter: Facebook

Your passion: My family, writing, reading, musical theater

Giving or getting presents: Getting–I am not a good gift giver.

Favorite flower: Red roses

And now I’d like to nominate the following bloggers for this award:

Janiel Miller: http://threegnomes.blogspot.com/p/janiel.html

Nicole Thorpe: http://mylifewithaustin.blogspot.com/

Mary Ellis: http://maryellis.net/

Amy Lillard: http://amywritesromance.com/

Amy Clipston: http://www.amyclipston.com/

Amanda Flower: http://www.amandaflower.com/

Jen Turano: http://jenturano.com/

Michelle McGuire: http://kmdreaming.blogspot.com

Something magical happens when you become a grandma. At first, I wasn’t sure about the whole grandma title. I mean, grandmas are old. I’m not even 50 yet. I was afraid being a grandma would add twenty years to my age. But then I held that perfect little baby in my arms and discovered that I could love someone as much as I loved my own children without having to go through diapers and sleepless nights.

My mother’s mother passed away before I was born. My father’s mother passed away before I was old enough to talk. Since my mother was so close to her own grandmother, she regretted that her children didn’t get to experience that kind of bond. So she tried to be the most terrific and bestest grandma there ever was. She still does. My kids love their grandmas. Going to Grandma’s house is like celebrating a holiday.

I want to be that kind of a grandma. I want every visit to Grandma’s house to be as magical as a day at Disneyland, without the long lines or the expensive concessions.

So I’ve made a top twenty list. (I’m all about the lists.)

I want to be the kind of grandma who:

• Doesn’t mind if her grandkids rifle through her purse in search of Tic Tacs.
• Cherishes that smudgy handprint on the sliding glass door and won’t let Grandpa scrub it off for at least three weeks.
• While on vacation, only buys souvenirs for the grandkids.
• Reads story after story to her grandchildren and falls asleep midsentence during book number eight.
• Lets her grandkids stay up late to watch “The Apple Dumpling Gang,” “The Court Jester,” and “Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.”
• Makes a batch of cookie dough and doesn’t mind if it gets eaten before it makes it into the oven.
• Tries hard to limit herself to three grandchildren posts a day on Facebook.
• Listens to her grandchildren recount dreams and nightmares, even the long ones.
• Plays catch in the backyard and lets aspiring pitchers practice their curve balls.
• After practicing curve balls, doesn’t complain about a dislocated thumb.
• Buys adorable dresses with lace and ruffles before she even knows if the baby is a girl.
• Never loses her temper.
• Changes diapers and hands out advice with no expectations that it will be followed.
• Serves Poptarts for breakfast.
• Doesn’t care if a toddler empties all the drawers in her kitchen.
• Gives embarrassing hugs and kisses.
• Attends ballgames and dance concerts and takes a hundred pictures.
• Puts on her play clothes when the grandkids come over.
• Thinks a messy house is part of the fun.
• Loves her grandkids so much that her children begin to feel ignored and unappreciated. Heehee!

My daughters also, for the most part, are comfortable with themselves and their bodies. I am grateful for that because I am troubled by the messages the media sends to our young people these days, specifically our teenage girls.

Victoria’s Secret is now marketing a “college line” of provocative underwear to high-school age and younger girls, many of whom are just entering their teenage years. Abercrombie and Fitch regularly uses barely-clad children and teenagers in their catalogs—ironically to sell clothes while their models aren’t wearing them.

Recently in the USA Today, clinical psychologist Jill Weber said, “The message is loud and clear: The more a girl hyperfocuses on her external appearance, the more accepted she will be, most notably by men.”

I always told my girls, “If you dress immodestly, you WILL definitely get attention from the boys, but it is the wrong kind of attention. You don’t want boys to look at you as an object. You want them to appreciate you as a person.” I hoped they understood.

When my girls were growing up, I was adamant that what they wore reflected the people they were on the inside, not just what would attract boys on the outside. Sometimes my modesty rules created conflict because my daughters could see that it was the girls who dressed a certain way who got the attention at school. But my children found friends, boys and girls, who appreciated them as complete people instead of just a set of body parts, and those are definitely the kinds of friends worth associating with.

Stores wouldn’t exploit teens the way they do if girls and their moms didn’t buy their products. Retailers make billions of dollars by telling our girls that their value is tied up in their appearance. A bigger lie was never spoken.

It’s time for us to send a message by how and where we spend our money. I, for one, am going to spend it wisely and definitely not Secretly.

When my son T was younger, I had him tested to see if he was color blind because he put the most outrageous colors together to wear to school. He never grew out of this. The other day, he wore an oversized purple shirt with a pair of orange basketball shorts. He looked…colorful.

Last week, Z wore bright green socks with his maroon and gold tennis outfit during a tennis match. When I commented on his socks, he said, “Mom, I’m making a statement.”

I asked, “What statement are you making? That you have no taste?”

This style disability is not limited to clothing. One day, Z was late for work, and he rushed downstairs to shower. When he reappeared dressed for work, his hair looked like it had been involved in a freak blow dryer accident. I said, “Is that your hair?” hoping he would get the hint that he looked like Christopher Lloyd in “Back to the Future.” He didn’t seem concerned that his hairdo might stop traffic. Z must have patted his hair down before he arrived at work because his boss is a careful monitor of style violations. If Z shows up in a wrinkled shirt, he’ll usually get sent home to iron it.

Perhaps I’m the one with the fashion impairment. I can’t grasp the appeal of pants with the crotch to the knees or leggings or headphones the size of dinner plates. And don’t even get me started on skinny jeans. Maybe I’m too old to know what true fashion is.

Every mother has those moments when she beats herself up for all the mistakes she’s made with her children. I have been forced to do some soul searching. Where did I go wrong? Is it my own doing that my sons have grown up with such a blatant disregard for good taste? Have I failed in my duty to teach them properly?

As I write this blog in purple pajama pants and my orange fleece sweater, I know I don’t have all the answers to life’s most pressing questions. Do you have any advice for me?

If you could ask Heavenly Father for one personality trait or one particular talent, what would it be? This is a hypothetical “if,” because we can ask God for anything. What do you ask him for and what do you do with the answer?

When a child asks his mother if he can play the piano, his mother doesn’t wave her magic wand and give the child the ability to play. She signs him up for piano lessons. After a few days of practice, he might say, “Hey, wait a minute. I wanted to know how to play the piano, but this practicing thing is too hard.”

Two weeks ago, one of my daughter’s friends did something hurtful to my daughter. My daughter told me that before this incident, she had been praying to have a more forgiving heart. She realized that her present challenge and her prayers had a connection. She prayed for the ability to forgive others, and the Lord sent her someone to practice on.

Have you ever noticed that when you pray for patience, your son throws his wet towel in the bottom of the clothes hamper or puts a dent in the car? This is the Lord saying, “If you want patience, I’ll give you chances to practice it.”

Perhaps a prayer for humility will produce an experience where I get my feelings hurt or where I realize I’m not as smart as I think I am.

Asking God for forgiveness calls to mind the people I need to forgive and the people I need to apologize to.

If I ask Heavenly Father for greater love, he might put someone unlovable in my path to see if I am willing to offer His love.

One thing I have discovered is that sometimes the thing I need the most is the thing I am reluctant to ask for. I’d rather just be able to play the piano without practicing, thank you very much.

I have a hard time letting go of my control and trusting God to run my life. I mean, if I turn the reins over to God, will something really bad happen to me? So, tonight I’m going to pray for more faith, more trust, more stillness.

Stillness.

There is probably a rock band practice coming soon to my living room.

My grandson, wearing his Captain America t-shirt

My son-in-law is really into comic books and super heroes. He is a fine upstanding high school teacher who thinks Superman is cool. I asked him if he could have any super power, what it would be. His super power of choice is the same as Wolverine’s: the power of regeneration.

I must admit, this is a very appealing super power. If I had this super power, I would never have to worry about ingrown toenails or gum disease. But, I would probably be expected to fight bad guys, because no matter how many times I got shot, I would get back up again. Hand-to-hand combat with bad guys does not sound like an appealing way to spend my golden years.

I asked my sons and some of their friends what kind of super powers they would like. Both my sons, independently, said they would like to be able to control time. Since both my sons said this, I have been wracking my brain all afternoon trying to figure out if I, as their mother, have created some sort of psychosis. Are they worried they won’t have enough time to do all their jobs after school?

I wouldn’t mind being able to control time, except then invariably one of my sons would say, “Hey, Mom, you have tons of time. Could you clean my room and fix me some mac and cheese.” It might get kind of annoying. Or if I possessed the ability to fly, “Hey, Mom, would you fly some lunch money over to school for me?”

Other super powers my son’s friends mentioned are: the power to read other’s people’s thoughts (that would be extremely painful), the power to control water (no more overflowing toilets), and the force (as in Luke Skywalker).

As we all know from Spiderman, with great power comes great responsibility. So if I actually had an amazing superpower, people would want me to use it for the greater good. I’d have to listen to the police scanner every night and chase robbers and get shot and miss my son’s tennis matches to fight for world peace. It’s sounds like an exhausting existence—unless I could regenerate myself—then I would never get tired, but then scientists would want to do experiments on me.

The whole superpower thing just doesn’t sound all that attractive to me. That’s why if I were choosing a super power, I would choose one that would be really cool, but wouldn’t require getting shot or swallowing armed nuclear weapons. I’d choose one I could use without much fanfare and without attracting a lot of attention. Here is my top-ten list of desired super powers:

The power to:

NOT grow hair on my legs

Clean a toilet without using my hands

Get my sons to clean their rooms

Eat anything I want and never get fat

Grow beautiful roses without having to weed

Know all the solutions to my son’s Calculus assignment

Kiss my elbow (According to “No Flying in the House,” that would mean I’m a fairy.)

Open really tight jars

Bleep all the bad language out of the television

Sense when my son has had his first kiss. Yeah, that would be priceless.

You’re turn. What super power do you want?

On the other hand, they can drive themselves places and I miss out on some of the best bonding time in the world.

When my kids are in the car with me, they are my captive audience. I turn off the radio and start asking questions. Today it was “How was soccer practice?” and boy, did I get an earful. When you pick your kids up from somewhere, they are usually fresh from the trenches and ready to vent or rejoice over something that just happened to them. I try to make the most of the time and say more than, “Finish your homework,” or “Pick up your socks.”

So, my kids feel deprived because I don’t often let them listen to the radio when they are in the car with me. They have to sit and listen to the silence or think of something to say to their nosy mother.