The second book from Crescent Creek, All Those Miles I Walked, is ready!

New edits, and a brand new cover !

A little backstory and some insights.

The first book in the series, All Those Miles I Walked was easy to write because of how much the characters were like people I know. Specifically, like me and my husband. 

Scott and DJ’s couple dynamics are a lot like Vivi and Marco’s. Not good on paper, our differences are actually why we work. 

Today, though, I want to spend a moment talking about a specific aspect of the dynamic: living with the Anxious Man.

DJ is a woman I like and understand. We both like to travel, and we both are open and hungry for everything that’s new and different. She’s way more sociable than me, but she’s still a person I feel close to. And now that she’s with Scott, we share one more common trouble, the Anxious Man. 

Let me tell you a bit about him. 

The anxious man is a highly intelligent, self-made, strong man who got where he is by sheer stubbornness and work.

Maybe exactly because he’s used to controlling his own universe, he’s also someone who needs reassurances on your well-being whenever he decides to check on you, with no regard whatsoever for what you might be doing.  At any given time of the day, a thought (“Is she alright?”) crosses his mind. He acts upon that thought, and he texts or calls you. From that moment, you have from 5 to 20 seconds to reply/answer. 

Problem is, maybe you can’t because you’re, I don’t know, using the restroom, cleaning the ceiling with a long-handled brush, or trying to get your toddler out from the lake-size puddle of mud the last rain created in front of your house.

Maybe you forgot to turn on the ringtone, and you’re peacefully filing your nails oblivious to the poopy about to hit the fan. After an average of 10 minutes from the first text (and at that point, you’ll have an average of 150 of them and at least 300 calls) (yes, the Anxious Man can defy time and squeeze all those messages and calls in just a few minutes) the police, fire department, an ambulance, and possibly the FBI and the National Guard will barrel down through your door.

Poopy, meet the fan.

And there we go.

I’ve been with my husband for 23 years and let me tell ya, that cool, self-controlled man anyone knows can go bat-shit crazy if I don’t answer the phone in .3 nanoseconds. (So does Scott in the story.) And you know what? I get it (mainly because of the over 20-year experience in the front line), and now I’ll tell you why.

The Anxious Man doesn’t do that out of the need of controlling you. There’s no jealousy or will to tell you what you can or can’t do. He’s not throwing you any alpha crap or Neanderthal-like claim.  

Literally, he only needs to know you’re well. He doesn’t have time or inclination to hear about your shopping day or whatever else you’re doing. Nope. No need to keep it long. A simple thumbs-up emoticon would do.

The fact is, he might be busy, his head might often be somewhere work-related, and he probably will forget some anniversary, but the Anxious Man loves, and loves deeply. So deep that he needs to make sure the most important thing in his life, more important than work, more important than his wellbeing, is ok.

That thing is not that you love him, miss him, think about him.

That thing is to know that you’re alive. 

Which means you can’t get mad. Or overly mad, at least. Sometimes I do get annoyed (okay, pissed). So, because I learned from personal experience that people like me and DJ will never be reliable with our phones, I have a word of advice for all the people dealing with guys like Marco and Scott, and for the relationships that followBuy an iWatch or any device like it. Tired of the constant heart attacks, my husband gave me one for our anniversary a few years back and now I never lose a call or text. I can reply anywhere with the littlest time and effort. It’s pretty, and it gives him peace of mind, and me the freedom from checking the phone or (the horror) having to turn on the ringtone. 

You’re welcome.