Writes in the City

Because I'm kind of a dork

2011-03-09T10:22:00.000-08:00

I like this. You might, too:

Awesome Possums

2011-03-07T17:00:00.000-08:00

I'm surrendering the blog to my friend Jen K. Blom today--her middle grade book comes out this month. Got any kids? Well, what are you waiting for? Preorder! Take it away, Jen:

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Welcome to the POSSUMS ARE AWESOME blog tour for the middle-grade book, POSSUM SUMMER, coming out IN SEVEN DAYS HOLY COW! (Have you preordered yet?)

It's surprising that we're still doing this and nobody's chased me off, but there's always today, right, Wendy? Darling woman. Lets me come by and still talks to me, even after P had at her.

First off, a little about the book:

a lonely kid.

an orphaned baby possum.

a dad that says no way.

how do you keep that kind of secret?

and what happens when you’re found out?

Here we go!

WC: What do you hope your readers will come away with after reading POSSUM SUMMER?

JKB: Well, I think I'd like two things:

1. It's okay to second-guess your parents. They aren't always right; a lot of the time they're flying by the seat of their pants as well.

and

2. POSSUMS ARE AWESOME. :-D

WC: What are some of your favorite MG books?

JKB: Ooooh! Cool question! I love Wilson Rawls' books SUMMER OF THE MONKEYS and WHERE THE RED FERN GROWS, Sterling North's RASCAL, and WHITE FANG by Jack London. Animal-y type books. Obviously.

WC: What kind of advice would you give P as she grows into her tween years?

JKB: That sometimes, more than sometimes, people can be mean on purpose. Especially if she doesn't march to the same beat they march to. To ignore them as best she could, celebrate who she is and reach for her dreams. I think that's the best I can do.

P: I don't have dreams yet! Hey, Miss Wendy! How are you today? What do you like to eat?

WC: I'm a simple girl when it comes to my favorite meal. I like my dad's famous barbeque ribs he makes in the smoker, my mom's deviled eggs, and I'll need some baked beans and cornbread to go along with that.

P: Ribs are good! Eggs...not so much. But on a whole, you're doing good. What do you like to do?

WC: It sounds so smaltzy I hesitate to answer...but my favorite activity is spending time with my kids. They are at such a great age (9 and 11) and are so funny.

P: One word: Iapprove. I like it! Kids are super more funny than adults ever are! What's something funny about you?

WC: I was once hypnotized at a comedy club and I sang like Madonna.

P: Wow, really? I bet that was the most embarrassing thing ever! *looks at JKB* *JKB shoots glare* *P tries to look innocent* Look, I drew you!

P: Have you ever seen a pronghorn antelope? They are so pretty! They look like a showtune kind of animal, don't you think? I saw a picture of Madonna once, she had cone-things on her that looked like those horns...why, one day, I --

**scuffle**

JKB: Wendy, you rock. :-D Thank you!!!!

Jen K. Blom writes about animals, the land, and kids, not necessarily in that order. Her debut, POSSUM SUMMER, is available March 2011.

Just the thing to give to a kid to start their summer of reading off right! (Available from your local indie, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Borders, or Book Depository!)

Seen the book trailer yet?

Want more POSSUMS ARE AWESOME blog tour tidbits? Go here and knock yourself out!

Novel fodder

2011-01-21T07:57:00.000-08:00

I recently started a new novel. Well, not so recently. I just haven't made as much progress as I'd like. I'd been flailing around with it and for many weeks I couldn't figure out why. I loved the premise. It had a strong plot. I could even weave in some interesting themes without being intrusive to the story. So what was the problem?

I haven't been paying attention, that's what. Blame it on this crap winter weather (and today in NYC it is, once again, crap) or a busy life, but there it is: I haven't been people-watching. And that, my friends, is a key part in developing my characters.

No one is outside! And if they are, they are bundled and angry and STEALING MY CAB, dammit. If I needed a pissed off New Yorker character, I'd be all set. Forget going out on the street, I could just look in the mirror.

What I need are people who spark ideas, like these characters:

1. I once had a dentist who was drippy-sugar-sweet. He spoke in sing-song and had this weird whoop of a laugh. All was fine until his assistant came in the room and he yelled her with such anger (hatred, even!) it was as if he could grab her by the hair and slit her throat any second. Then he'd turn to me and do the sing-song again. Yikes. What was going on in his head? I don't know for sure, but he snapped in the middle of a crowded shopping mall. At least in one of my short stories.

2. A character in a book I recently finished up came to me while I was listening to Amy Winehouse. What might it be like to be her BFF? Challenging, I'd bet. So I started with that idea and worked from there. I ended up with one of my favorite (albeit difficult) characters.

3. You know how preacher's kids are supposed to be the wildest? In my experience, not only is that true, but their charismatic dads are great for inspiration.

Now, I never lift someone completely from life. Every character is unique, has a little of myself sprinkled in them, and is a composite from many sources, even snippets of conversation on the subway.

But they usually start from something external. So it's time for me to pay attention again.

How about you? Do your characters originate from observations? Or do you make them up from scratch?

Stuck in the snow

2010-12-27T08:04:00.000-08:00

Argh! Stupid blizzard. Instead of shushing down the slopes in Colorado -- and regular blog readers know how much I love to ski (Not. It scares the hell out of me.) -- we are victims of the East Coast Snowmageddon and unable to leave our fair city.

Luckily, we were able to find some fun sledding this morning and a reporter from dnainfo.com was there to snap the evidence. Look, I'm actually smiling! In the snow! Amazing. Read all about it here.

On turning 40

2010-12-05T11:37:00.000-08:00

Although my grandmother wouldn't find it very "ladylike" to announce my age to everyone on the internet, this particular milestone has taken up a lot of space in my brain lately, so I'm going to go ahead an (over?)share. Besides, it's not like information is private anymore. It would take someone all of 4.2 seconds to find out what I ate for dinner last night, never mind my DOB. (I'll save you the trouble. Pizza.)

My husband threw a little shindig for me this past weekend and I have to admit, it did soften the blow of such a, uh, grown up birthday. Forty. Four to the zero. The big 4-oh. Yikes. I really can't pretend to be just a kid anymore, can I?

As much as I'm going to hate no longer being thirty-something, it's an excellent time to recount where I am in life, and where I want to be. I couldn't be more happy about my husband and friends. Truly. And my girls...oh, did I mention that they wrote and recited poetry in my honor in front of a room full of people? No? Allow me just that one brag.

But my career. Well. That area needs some work. I admit I'd hoped to have a book published before The Great Day of Reckoning. That would've made the day perfect. Instead, I'm still trudging along. Making progress, yes, and not giving up, but continuing to swim slowly through a vast ocean of publishing molasses.

Still. I'm determined to get there. My craft has improved, and I'm more confident about how to go about actually finishing 300 pages of fiction in a somewhat organized fashion. I started a new project after weeks of hemming and hawing (my agent refers to this as "percolating" which sounds much more productive) and I'm excited to be working on a novel again.

The goalpost might've been moved, but I can still see it.

How about you? Any goals for the upcoming year?

The ebook smackdown

2010-11-20T08:00:00.000-08:00

Now that I've owned my Kindle for almost a year, I thought it might be interesting to tally up the war between paper vs. ebooks. I've mentioned my love of paper books before, and I'll admit I came to the ereader world with much reluctance and consternation (it was a gift.)

The takeaway? As much as I love to hold a book in my hand, I clearly buy more books on my Kindle. It's just too easy. I'll finish a book in bed and still be wide awake, so zipzapzoop, I'll buy and start another one. I carry my Kindle in my (ridiculously giant) purse, so I'm reading more on average. I finished a book last night waiting to pick up my daughter from fencing. The lesson ran long, so I bought another novel.

In the last 11 months, I bought 26 ebooks and 15 (more or less, I don't keep the best records) real and true physical books, mostly from indie bookstores. I wouldn't have predicted those results last December.

So, what do you think? If other people are anything like me, is this bad or good news for authors?

MWF seeks BNI

2010-11-01T07:35:00.000-07:00

No, I'm not placing an ad for a Brawny Nude Intern, as interesting as that sounds. Rather, I'm a married writing female searching for a brand new idea. For another novel. Got one?

In the past couple of weeks I've thought of six: two turned out to be short stories now sitting on my hard drive. The other four, well, they have potential. But they need to prove themselves to the judge. So this week I'm working on pitches.

I would guess most people write pitches under duress, with the goal of finding an agent or publisher. I'm writing four this week with the intention to pitch...myself. Perhaps that makes me masochistic. I don't know.

See, I'm a planner. I just HAD to know both my kids' genders before they were born. I research vacation destinations for months and months before making a single reservation, mulling over all possible scenarios. I like to know where I'm going before I start. Plans can change, of course, but I'd rather punch in a GPS destination and have it re-route than just get in the car and drive.

My four contestants will rehearse and make themselves pretty for my own personal American Idol: New Novel Edition. They must be nervous. I'm much more like Simon than Paula.

How do you vet new ideas? Do you just jump in?

No journalists from Kansas

2010-10-13T08:57:00.000-07:00

Last week, as I sat nearly comatose in a waiting (and waiting) room, I rifled through a stack of weeks-old magazines. Brides--no thanks. Golf Digest--bleh. I finally found a tattered Newsweek and flipped it open. Inside was short article about the Kansas Department of Education cutting all funding for high school journalism classes.

"Earlier this month, the state’s Department of Education decided to stop funding high-school instruction in the subject. Schools are free to raise their own money, but that’s not a path officials would recommend."

Um, what? How is this not all over the news? It seems the Sunflower State has deemed journalism a "dying industry unfit for public funds." Maybe they are partly right: headlines about the profitability of newspapers and magazines aren't exactly full of good cheer. But won't we always need professional journalists to report accurate information? Or are we okay with relying on bloggers to tell us what's going on? (For heaven's sake, don't rely on ME.)

Disclosure: I was a journalism dork in high school, and although I went into advertising instead of reporting the news, my experience on the yearbook and newspaper staff helped me define myself. I was a writer. My words made it into print. Peers read my articles, and commented. Journalism was the one class that made the biggest impact on me; I'm a news junkie to this day. Two of my fellow editors *did* go onto J-school at MU and make their living as journalists even now.

I get that money is tight and institutions are pressured to cut where they can. Believe me, I sit on the board of a non-profit and witness good programs getting axed. It stinks. However, I'm guessing they still have plenty of bucks lying around for their football team and other sports programs. And wow, I can see how *that* is a booming industry for most graduates. I mean, really, if I had a dime for every professional football player who came from my high school, why, I'd have...zero dimes.

Priorities, though, right?

I'm weird when I'm writing

2010-10-05T08:44:00.000-07:00

My goal this year is to try not to be so odd.

Let me explain. When I'm deep in a writing project, working out the details of a story can be all-consuming. So much so that tasks in the life outside my head get sacrificed. Like errands. And housework. Feeding the dog. And, once, I'm ashamed to admit, picking up the kids. I've stepped into traffic because I was writing dialogue in my thoughts. I've looked directly at people I recognize on the street and never have it register because a plot point was taking up all the space in my brain. Compartmentalizing is not my strong point.

And when I'm forced to interact with anyone after hours of writing? Forget about it. I'm sure there's a sizable contingency of moms in my daughter's class who think I'm brain addled. Conversations frequently go like this:

Normal person: "Hi, Wendy. What's going on?"

Me: (Blank stare.) I really either need to kill that character off or give him more of a purpose. I like him, though. Okay. I'll go with purpose. Wait, someone's giving me a funny look. Wake up. "Oh. What? Hi."

NP: "Um. I said, 'What's going on?' You know. 'How are you?'"

Me: "Yes. Sorry. Er, I'm okay." But what can he do? That's like a whole other subplot, and I'm probably long on subplots anyway. Hello? Why is she still looking at me? I guess I need to say something. "Oh. And how've you been?"

NP: "Fine." (Looks around for polite escape.)

This is not good.

So. I'm focusing on interpersonal skills this fall. You know, that talent that used to come so easily? I was the girl in school who had to be moved all around the classroom for chatting. A teacher once even remarked, "I'd move you next to the wall, but you'd probably talk to that, too."

I joined a writing group (in person!) I'm becoming more involved in community service (with people!) I signed up as a tour guide at my kids' school (45 whole minutes of talking per tour!)

Hopefully I can become a people-person again. At least, when I need to be.

How about you? Do you often live inside your head?

My dog needs a shrink

2010-09-20T04:00:00.000-07:00

My poor dog. Ever since we returned to Manhattan, Truman has spent every day slumped on the floor, looking very much like a old pot roast someone dropped and left behind. You see, he lived in a yard all summer, hanging out with my parent's yapping terror. I always thought he found their dog annoying, biting his ears and running in circles and all that, but it seems he misses Miss ADHD.

He gazes at the wall, lost in despair. I've been throwing the tennis ball. Nothing. Dangling his favorite smelly sock in front of his face. Not even an eye flick. How about a treat? Meh. When I take him out of a walk (drag), he's not even interested in sniffing a single butt.

Help! I don't know what else to do! He used to love being a city dog, what with all the smells and activity. I guess he secretly longs for the suburbs.

We'll be visiting my parents soon, but it's not like I can reason with Truman in the interim.

Any advice?

Warning: blog hijacked by middle schooler

2010-09-08T04:08:00.000-07:00

Hi! My name is Naomi and I'm hijacking my mom's blog to talk about NIGHTSHADE CITY by Hilary Wagner. My mom is friends with the author and got me an advance copy. So cool! But now anyone can buy it. Here's my review:

NIGHTSHADE CITY is a fast-paced and intriguing story about a once-peaceful, underground city of rats that are very intelligent. High Minister Killdeer and is loyal helper Billycan are murderers who command respect from all the other rats. But there are some rats that are starting to fight back.

Three young rats named Clover, Vincent (my dad’s name!), and Victor must team up with the rebels to bring every rat to the new Nightshade City and away from Killdeer forever.

I think the best thing about NIGHTSHADE CITY are the characters. You start out thinking of them only as rats but eventually they become like humans. NIGHTSHADE CITY has some adventurous themes like rebellion and redemption, plus some quieter, more unexpected themes like love.

If anyone says this is a book for only boys, they are wrong! Without the heroines in the book, nothing would be as fascinating or as exciting. NIGHTSHADE CITY truly is a good book!

Blog owner's note: tomorrow, stop by Dorothy's blog to visit the next stop on the tour.

Hurricane Earl excitement

2010-09-03T12:20:00.000-07:00

We went out to the beach before high tide today to check out the waves. These were taken at 2:00 pm in Water Mill, NY.

Lost a couple of steps already.

Splashing up to the dunes. The beach has been wide this year. Until today.

Watch out, photographers.

We left when the waves hit the top step. Time to go!

Climbing Mont-Metaphor

2010-08-28T14:30:00.001-07:00

We took a trip last week to visit friends in Mont-Tremblant, Quebec, who were nice enough to host all four Cebulas for a few days. I, being not at all outdoorsy nor terribly athletic, decided it would be such the great idea to climb the mountain while were there. I even went out an bought new (cute!) hiking shoes.

"You sure?" said my very outdoorsy and athletic friend. "It's a pretty good climb."

Of course! Can't let a good shoe go to waste. 4 miles straight to the top? That's like walking from the Upper East Side to, what, Soho? Totally doable. Except, like, up.

But what the hell, I'd set the treadmill elevation to 10 before, and I didn't die. Surely I could do this. Plus, you know, the shoes! They were cute and sporty and made me feel official.

Standing at the base of the mountain, my friend pointed to a teeny tiny observation deck at the summit. It was like an ant house. "That's where we're going," she said. And...wow. That was a loooooong way up a steep incline.

"Don't worry," she said, heading up the trail, "there's only one part that's scary*, right at the top."

Well, blog friends, I did pretty well most of the way up. My husband and youngest daughter came, too, and we took it in small steps. I tried not to think about how far I had to go. Just up to that ridge, just across that little stream, we'll take a break at the rock. Much like when tackling a new novel. I'm a slow writer, and if I think too much about how many pages I have to go, forget about it. I freeze. Surely I don't have the chops to write 300 effing pages of story? I'm a short form person, not a novelist--that's too much work. Turns out I can if I just chug along.

And that's what I did.

We made it!

So, how about you? Have you accomplished anything great or small lately?

*OMG. Scary. I almost cried!

Controversy

2010-08-18T04:15:00.000-07:00

My daughters and I are reading the book SHABANU by Suzanne Fisher Staples. It's been around a while--about 10 years now. It's about an 11-year-old girl growing up in the Cholistan desert in Pakistan. I'm not sure why my daughter picked it out at the bookstore, but it couldn't have come at a better time.

I'm sure you've heard about a little neighborhood issue we are having here in Manhattan? Certainly lots of people have chimed in. I was pregnant with my second daughter on 9/11, and I'm not going to go into the whole experience of living through that day. I'll only say that it took many New Yorkers into a dark, dark place for a long time.

We read the newspaper every morning, and my 8-year-old always has strong opinions. I generally have to issue a mass apology to the other mothers in her class for some of the death-and-destruction stories she brings in. She seems to think it's her job to corrupt young minds. Yesterday, I was discussing the mosque issue with my dad and things got heated (with most of the heat coming from me, to be honest.) Later, in the car, my daughter and I had this conversation:

Daughter: But, why are people mad about the mosque?

Me: They think it's disrespectful to build it so close to where all those people died.

D: Like (redacted)'s dad?

M: Yes. Where he died.

D: Is (redacted) mad about the mosque?

M: I don't know. I'd rather you not ask her. It might get her upset. Okay?

D: Okay. (pause) But what does that have to do with a mosque?

M: Well, the men who hijacked the plane were Muslims, and Muslims worship at a mosque, and some people think it's wrong to worship there.

D: But they were bad guys.

M: Yes. And not all Muslims are bad guys. Most are living their lives, just like anyone else.

D: Like Mrs (redacted).

M: Uh huh. And grandpa's doctor you met last month. And daddy's friend from L.A. And Shabanu, from the book.

D: She's not real.

M: I know.

D: I still don't get why people are mad that they want to pray there. They didn't do anything wrong.

M: I don't know, honey. I don't agree with those people.

D: You don't agree with Grandpa.

M: I don't. But he still loves me.

I think I'll close this one for comments. No offense, regular blog readers.

ETA: Since posting, my dad has come around to my way of thinking, sort of. He still sees it as insensitive, but he does NOT agree with the other side's bullying, ugly, bigoted tactics to get them to move.

Life has a strange habit of getting in the way

2010-08-03T08:33:00.000-07:00

My dad hasn't been well lately, thus the long period of blog silence. It's tough to feel all lighthearted and writerly when you are shuffling around a hospital all day, prodding your very stubborn dad to do his therapy. (He's much better now, thank goodness, and out picking tomatoes in the garden.)

The post-op floor has a habit of stripping away all the non-essentials (Should I sign my daughter up for dance class? I'd really like to re-tile the deck.) Its inhabitants were forced to focus on what's important in life. Some families were joyous and others somber, but everyone there was facing mankind's greatest fear: death, and the avoidance thereof.

I can't stop thinking about the 33-year-old mother with 3 months to live and what her family must be going through.

Anyway. I didn't get much writing done, but perhaps the next project I tackle will be all the richer for it.

Jeez, that was a downer.

Things I learned in Alabama

2010-07-17T12:16:00.000-07:00

You'll find pretty things down country roads.

Someone told me to "drive up there on a HEEL (hill?) and look daauuwn (down?)"

So I did.

Fried pickles (yum), fried okra, fried chicken, and deep fried peanuts "so good, you can eat 'em SHELL-N'ALL."

Piggly Wiggly!

Five New York girls and two New York boys will have a fantastic time at SPACE CAMP.

Two moms will drink a lot.

I haven't died

2010-07-10T14:06:00.000-07:00

Just drowning under pages of revisions (which I actually like to tackle. I know! Weirdo.) and dealing with kid and life commitments. In the meantime, check out Lisa Brackmann's NYT Book Review! I've recently started reading ROCK PAPER TIGER and it's great so far. I hope you sell piles and piles of books, Lisa!

Any good/bad news on your end?

Tiny dogs, pot pipes, and body art

2010-06-30T16:42:00.000-07:00

...Otherwise known as "research." While the books I write aren't research intensive like historical fiction, I still like to get things right. Sometimes the research is dry, like reading all I can about the California gubernatorial election process. A bit of a yawn, but necessary.

Other times, it's much more fun. A quick glance at my laptop's history folder would reveal some interesting searches:

--Sailing / pirate terminology (Arr!)

--What breed of dog might fit inside a trench coat pocket?

--Jim Jones/ Kool-Aid/ Hale-Bopp comet cult

--Narcissistic personality, symptoms of. (No, not me.)

--Tattoo parlors in Venice, CA. (There are lots.)

--Is it possible to make a bong out of a kazoo? (Answer: yes, and this young man will demonstrate.)

Ah, I love the internet.

Have you run across any weird facts while researching a project?

Revision Cafe, table for one

2010-06-26T09:54:00.000-07:00

My agent has given me a lot to chew on with regards to my shiny new manuscript, and Moonrat's recent post on the importance of the first page is a good reminder as I re-work my opening.

Anyone care to babysit? The (wonderful! supportive!) hubs has taken the girls out all day*, but since he can't exactly leave his job that pays, yanno, actual bills, I foresee a bit of Wii in my kids' future.

How's your writing these days?

*Related aside: I've been sitting here revising for so long, I fear my butt is square.

We have a winner!

2010-06-21T14:36:00.000-07:00

If your name is Vicki Lane and you entered the query contest with the entry below CONGRATS to you! You will be contacted by someone who is not me shortly.

Vicki said...

I'd love to be entered in this contest. Congrats on your book and your query

is awesome!!

And a huge THANK YOU to everyone who entered!

A crisis of hair

2010-06-20T15:29:00.000-07:00

Remember way back in March when I cheated on my hairdresser and paid a dear price? To recap, an emergency cut before a big party resulted in stylish bangs like these:

The back was too long as well, and it looked almost...almost...mullet-y. Zut alors!

It took me until June to work up the courage, and the length, to go back and admit my transgression to my regular stylist, B.

B was not amused, blog friends. Not one little bit.

B: "Ah, I zhe how you ahhre. You come in wits zhis mess and you want B to fix, yes?" (B is from Aix-en-Provence, and if my rendition of his (very awesome) accent is off, well, it's zhe best I could do.)

Moi: "Yes. (bows head) I'm sorry. If if makes you feel any better, I had to go to a black-tie event with terrible hair, so I've learned my lesson."

B: "It does NAUGHT. (picks up strands) Ugh. She cut zhis wits a RAAZORRRRE, didn't she? Your HAAAIIIIRREE is too FIIIIINE for zhat! I 'ave told you!"

Moi: (weeps) I don't remember if she used a razor.

B: (crosses arms) She did. I can see. I 'ave eyyes.

Moi: Maybe you are right.

B: Of causse I am. (takes my head in his hands) No more! No more of zhat! Oh-kay?

Moi: Never.

B: Oh-kay zhen. I will fix.

Whew! So we are back together. And we didn't even need a counselor. I love B -- he can sure dish it out, but he can also take it. Plus, I look like myself again.

How about you? Have you had to admit a mistake lately?

Camp Mom

2010-06-16T06:08:00.000-07:00

Ahh, summertime. No school, no alarm clocks, no commitments, no...time to write.

That's right. My kids are out of school now and, although they are doing a couple of planned activities here and there (most notably a week of Space Camp), most of the summer will be a lot of hanging out. And we all know what that means:

"Mooooo-ooom, what are we going to do today?"

Oh, I dunno, you can watch me write?

Yeah, they aren't so excited about that one.

Luckily, my manuscript is in wait mode at the moment, so I have loads of time to dedicate to my two little preciouses. Let's just review what we've done since school ended, shall we?

Strawberry picking

Jam-making

Tennis-playing

A Dave & Busters headache inducing lunch and arcade-ing

Mummy visiting

Times Square-tourist-dodging

Sag Harbor pier fried-clam-eating

Big Olaf ice cream-consuming while enormous yacht-watching

Beach frisbee-throwing and frigid wave-jumping

Lame, girly football-tossing

Dinner-grilling

Nature center-hiking

Shorts and t-shirt-shopping

Chase-around-the-yard-with-a-garden-hose spraying

Playground-visiting

Car-washing

Pool-swimming

Whew! I'm tired already. Did you notice any "time for mom" on that list? No, no, you did not. Oh well. Don't get me wrong--I'm not complaining.

How's your summer going? Any big plans?

A rant about the Gulf Coast

2010-06-11T10:34:00.000-07:00

The STAY query critique contest has been extended for another week! Allie's being linked in some other blogs and we agreed to keep 'er open. Thanks for your patience, entrants. Mwah! More exposure for STAY = good.

Now, I don't know about you, but I can't seem to pry my eyes away from the oil depress-a-thon that is the Gulf coast. Just ask my husband--I won't shut up about it. Gawd. How awful/frustrating/infuriating/horrifying. I think the worst part is that, with a few exceptions, we all seem to be a bit underutilized, waiting for BP to do what's right. And they just won't.

I even got disgusted enough to email the White House and all the state volunteer registration sites. I told to them I'm *very* good at organizing volunteers, and I can work down there all summer, for free. I've organized for many a benefit and I would love, LOVE to do it for something non-fancy-party related. If they take me up on it, I'll let you know. I'll totally go! It would at least give me some new and exciting blog topics.

I bet I'm not the only person with something to give. Maybe not weeks of free labor, but something, right?

I know not everyone can take off work and fly down to the coast, but if you could do something, what would you do? Wash that bird up there? Hold a fundraiser for oystermen? Lay some boom?

Are you as pissed off as I am?

STAY debut and QUERY CONTEST

2010-06-07T06:00:00.000-07:00

Updated: CONGRATS VICKI LANE!

Listen up! STAY by Allie Larkin is coming out this week! How cute is that cover? Love.

To honor this momentous event, we've strongarmed amazing agent Rebecca Strauss of McIntosh & Otis into a query contest! (Actually, she was happy to do it.) Wondering of you have an effective query? Allie will choose one winner at random for a private critique by Rebecca. Just leave a comment below and let me know if you'd like to be entered. To up your chances, you can also visit Allie and Corinne Bowen (one comment per blog, please.)

ETA: The winner will be selected by Allie FRIDAY at NOON and contacted shortly thereafter.

Here's a little about Rebecca:

An Agent at McIntosh & Otis, Inc., Rebecca is eager to work with both debut and established authors. She is looking to add to her list of diverse and compelling projects and is particularly seeking non-fiction, literary and commercial fiction, women's fiction, mysteries, memoirs, humor and pop culture. As the Director of Subsidiary Rights, she continues to build on her prior experience with Trident Media Group, as well as her time at Sony Pictures where she was a book scout and development assistant. Rebecca earned her degree in English Literature from Duke University.

So what's this STAY all about?

From PW: Twenty-something Van Leone, fresh from serving as maid of honor at the wedding of her childhood best friend and the man Van's been in love with since college, impulsively buys a German shepherd puppy on the Internet while drowning her sorrows in vodka and a late-night Rin Tin Tin marathon. Van's surprised to discover, however, that the little ball of fuzz she's expecting is an enormous Slovakian police dog that she names Joe.

Sounds like something I might've done in my 20s.

Lucky me, I already have my copy and I can tell you that it's great--so witty and funny. Allie was nice enough to answer a few questions for us:

I know you have 2 dogs--one of which made the cover of your novel. What's the craziest thing your dogs have done?

They are both German Shepherds, so they play hard. It’s somewhat reminiscent of a nature documentary. They bark and growl and roll around on the ground together (sometimes in the yard and sometimes in the living room).Their teeth gnash, but their tales wag the whole time. They play until they are completely exhausted. Sometimes, Argo lets Stella tackle him, and it’s hysterical. Stella is small for a German Shepherd, and Argo has about 35 pounds on her, but he’ll throw himself on the ground like she’s knocked him over, when she clearly doesn’t have the heft to.He’s very dramatic.

How did you find your agent?

I found Rebecca Strauss’s listing on AgentQuery.com and thought she might be a good fit for my book. I sent her a query letter, sample pages, and a synopsis, and she picked my query out of the slush pile. I know a lot of writers fear that things like that don’t happen and it’s all about who you know. I had a few contacts who were generous with their help, but ultimately what worked for me was sending a query through the traditional submission lines.Rebecca and I had no previous connections.

Who would you cast in the movie version of STAY, if you had a choice?

J and I joke about casting choices all the time. I'm on a Buffy/Angel kick right now, so the current joke is James Marsters in every role.

What led you to writing?

When I started college, I was a theatre major. I loved my acting classes. We worked on developing characters, taking apart scenes, and figuring out the intentions behind the characters in the scenes. I was less enthralled with that whole getting up and performing on stage part of things, which is not really ideal when you’re a theatre major. I dropped out of school for several years. When I finally went back, as a Communications major, I had a few professors who really made a point of letting me know that writing was something I should consider pursuing. I am so thankful for that. I added some creative writing classes to my course schedule in future semesters. When I started writing fiction, I felt like things began to click for me.

Under what circumstances are you at your most creative?

I come up with a lot of story ideas and solve a lot of issues that are holding me up in a story when I’m doing something active. I realized Van needed a dog while I was raking leaves in the backyard. I worked out some difficult Van/Peter dialogue while hiking with Argo. So much of my creative process happens while I’m not writing, and then when I sit down to write, I know what I need to do.

What sort of themes do you find come up in your writing?

I’m very interested in how complex friendships can be. Some are both delicate and durable at the same time. And even though there is a simplicity to some aspects of love, the way we love people and the reasons we love people are not simple concepts.

Thanks, Allie!

Well, what are you waiting for? Leave a comment and go visit Allie and Corinne!

Using Quotes

2010-06-02T09:05:00.000-07:00

I'm usually not a lover of famous quotes as a chapter opener. In fact, if the quote is too long, I've been known to skip right over it (shhh, don't tell the author) and get right in to the meat of the story. But a few months ago, I stumbled across the world's most appropriate quote for my current manuscript. I'm obsessed with it! Could not be more perfect!

Apparently there are all sorts of legal wranglings for using quotes in your novel. It has to fall under "fair use" and there are rules about determining if that's the case. I know I'm getting ahead of myself here, as usual, but I guess I'm just wondering if it's even worth pursuing. (I realize there are people who deal with this sort of thing--I'm just taking a poll.)

What do you all think about famous quotes in novels. And by "quotes," I don't mean, "As Julius Caesar once said, "Et tu, Brute?" but something more like this:

Chapter 1

Blah blah blah blah. Blah!

--Willie Nelson

Tell me. Do you read them? Are you impressed by the author's mad quoting skillz? Or do you skim and skip?

I can't stop reading this book

2010-05-28T06:24:00.000-07:00

Thanks to everyone who recommended books! I have so many I need to buy now, I may need to start a fund.

In the meantime, I found a un-put-downable book I feel I need to share -- LITTLE BEE by Chris Cleave. I haven't finished yet, but so far, it's the kind of book that makes me both so in love and so very jealous. His writing is...stunning. I'll go back to reading the second I finish this blog post. I'm completely sucked in, but fair warning: at times, it's pretty graphic.

Now, I know this book isn't new. Honestly? I picked it up in the bookstore several times because of the gorgeous cover reminiscent of Kara Walker's work (some is NSFW.) The jacket copy, though, was coy, and I generally don't have time to read the first few pages while browsing/kid wrangling in the bookstore. If I had, I would've bought it a long time ago.

That said, I get why they gave almost nothing about the story away, so neither will I. It involves a Nigerian orphan and a well-to-do British woman and that's all I'm saying. The flap of the book reads:

We don't want to tell you WHAT HAPPENS in this book.

It is a truly SPECIAL STORY and we don't want to spoil it.

NEVERTHELESS, you need to know enough to buy it, so we will just say this:

This is the story of two women. Their lives collide one fateful day, and one of them has to make a terrible choice, the kind of choice we hope you never have to face. Two years later, they meet again - the story starts there ...

Once you have read it, you'll want to tell your friends about it. When you do, please don't tell them what happens. The magic is in how the story unfolds.

If you, like me, read this and thought, "Ugh, just tell me what happens already," don't worry about it. Just start reading. You'll be up late.

I need a book

2010-05-24T10:23:00.000-07:00

Yes, I'm crowdsourcing again. I stopped by my local B&N and nothing was speaking to me. Maybe because Fiction is right next to the children's section and it was utter chaos in there, as usual, and I lost my mojo. (Seriously, I don't understand why people think it's okay to use the bookstore as an indoor playground / snacking area. I mean, picking out new books with junior is great, but I see people meeting up there for group playdates. *Large* group playdates. Which, I suppose is fine, whatever, but come on, don't let your kids rip the books and spill applesauce all over the carpet. Also? Maybe once in a while buy something. Despite the crowds, the register is typically line-free.)

Anyway! Where was I? Oh yes, books. I just finished THE RED THREAD by Ann Hood which was about six couples trying to adopt daughters from China and the woman who runs the agency. I enjoyed it. It does, however, violate my friend's No Dead Babies rule. Still, excellent. I was also carrying around some selected short stories from Raymond Carver in my purse and I finished that up, too.

My daughter is reading THE HUNGER GAMES for the fourth consecutive time. I asked her if she was getting bored of it and she said, "I love it so much I don't want it to end!"

I want to feel that way! You guys are always great with suggestions. What have you read recently that you loved?

I'm not going there

2010-05-18T05:18:00.000-07:00

Browsing in a bookstore with my lurky friend the other day, I picked up a book (I can't even remember which one) and recommended it to her. "Oh!" I said, "This one's good."

She scanned the jacket flap and placed it back on the shelf. "Nope. Can't read it. I don't do dead babies."

Hmm. I get that. Although dead babies are okay by me (in FICTION. Fiction!) as with all sorts of violent acts. Rapes, murders, beheadings (I'm looking at you, Anne Boleyn) -- all good. It's not like I seek out gore, but I can deal with it. I read a lot of Joyce Carol Oates, so yeah. She goes there.

Still, there are probably some places where JCO won't go. I don't know this for certain. It's not like we're buds. But I can imagine. Even I, reader of savage and dispicable acts, have my limits.

Here's one: I don't do 9/11. I'm sure there are a great many wonderful books written about the human drama in the aftermath, but...no. Uh-uh. It's still too raw, and frankly, I don't think I'll ever be able to go there. While I didn't personally see the towers go down (I live uptown), just living in the city in the weeks that followed was quite enough for me, thanks. No need to revisit.

My youngest daughter likes animal books, but she doesn't do dead dogs. No Old Yeller, no Where the Red Fern Grows. Nosireebob. Dead people? Sure! Just not dogs.

How about you? Where won't you go?

I can't get no...mo-ti-va-tion.

2010-05-12T07:17:00.000-07:00

I met a friend for lunch yesterday in the very suburban-mall-esque Time Warner Center. She told me she she'd been working on a novel (hooray! another soul joins the ranks of the insane!) and asked me how I keep myself motivated to finish such a ginormous project.

I wish I had a secret potion, or a little robot overlord to thwack my knuckles when I start to slack off, but the truth is, it's always been a struggle.

A few years ago, when the hubs and I were faced with the super-fun task of finding a New York City kindergarten for our then-four-year-old, we toured a fabulous school with amazing resources and facilities. Our guide kept repeating the mantra "We ADORE SELF-MOTIVATED KIDS!"

Um, okay, great. Was my preschooler self-motivated? She was certainly motivated to get me out of bed before dawn or harass me for a dollar when we passed the guy selling flavored ices from a cart. But overall? Who the hell knew. If she was anything like her mother, I guessed not.

Deadlines work well for me, but they are tough to keep when they are only self-imposed. The tried and true Butt In Chair method is the way to go, provided you don't cheat (guilty.)

I wasn't quite sure what advice to give.

Do you have any methods to share? She lurks (hi!), so she'll benefit from your sage advice.

The Lone Sock never dies

2010-05-07T05:27:00.000-07:00

It will surprise no one to hear I was a journalism dork in high school. That's right, I was going to be the next Sam Donaldson (well, in a bra and an armful of rubber bracelets.) My h.s. newspaper, The Parkviewer, gave me my very own monthly column. I could name it whatever I like, and choose any subject I wanted.

Oh, the power! And the importance of selecting just the right title. What should it be? It needed to draw readers in, of course, and also reflect something about me. I pondered this many a night, sitting under my Duran Duran poster. Oh, Simon, tell me the answer! And then it came to me...it was...brilliant! THE LONE SOCK!

Yes! A bit of rebelliousness mixed with the angsty lonely teenage-y feeling of being left out, discarded, not quite fitting with the rest. SO FREAKING PERFECT!

Except that no one got it. "You wanna call it what?" my journo teacher asked. "Well...okay."

Then the reviews came in:

"I liked your article, but, um, what's the title mean?"
"I thought it would be about laundry."
"Do you have some sort of sock problem? I see you're wearing two today."

Yeah. Oh well. Maybe it wasn't so perfect.

Strangely enough, my daughter's school asked me to write some articles for their parent newsletter next year. They are meant to be light in tone--like a column. I told my husband this and he said, "Just like the Lone Sock! It lives!"

I promise I won't give it that title.

How about you? Did you ever have a brilliant idea fall flat?

TMI, honey.

2010-05-03T08:00:00.000-07:00

I've been pondering a blog post for the last few days. One that you've probably read if you are the reading-publishing-blogs type. Agent Jessica Faust wrote about how getting too TMI or political on the internet can hurt your career. And I agree.

Hmm. Some of what she said probably pertains to me. Although I keep most of my political leanings to myself (I will, however, post a feminist diatribe when provoked), I do get personal sometimes. Okay...frequently. If you don't believe me, see this post about my butt. I'd say writing about one's own backside is about as personal as it gets, wouldn't you? Jeez, I *hope* I'm not hurting my career! What she said has been making me think, that's for sure.

There are some blogs I read solely to garner the information within. Galleycat is one. Gawker and Jezebel have interesting stories, with their own (snarky) spin.

But some of my favorites I read because they are entertaining or make me laugh. Dooce comes to mind. If you are going the personal route, ya gotta do one (or more) of the following:

Have an angle

Melanie Avila wrote a blog about her experience as an American living in Mexico, and dealing with a her fish-out-of-water life and her husband's immigration status. It was interesting, especially when the drug violence began to heat up all around her. Now she's back in the states and I'm hooked on her story.

Bring the funny

I LOVE funny blogs. You can write about *anything* if you make it funny and I'm so there. I recently followed Tawna Fenske's hilarious tweets to her hilarious blog. You should do so, too. Debra Schubert and Colby Marshall are among the funny ranks as well. (Plus, Colby owns one of those naked cats. Naked cats = funny.)

Make it poignant

Janna over at Something She Wrote has the gift of noticing the little things in life, and how they relate to the big. Her blog has great insights.

All of those are pretty personal, and that's what make them great.

If you have a blog, what is it about? Or, if you're a reader, what kind of blogs keep you coming back?

Feel free to pimp your blog with a link in the comments.

I. Love. This.

2010-04-30T07:28:00.000-07:00

Via Gawker.

Be safe out there, guys.

I like (writing) bad boys

2010-04-27T18:20:00.000-07:00

I've never been a fan of the bad boys. They never call, they dog around, and they leave you lonely on a Saturday night. Nuh-uh. No, thank you. Most of the time, even when I was young and stupid, I chose the nice guys. Sure, some of them might've not *looked* so nice, like the guy with the mohawk and Circle Jerks t-shirt, but I promise, he was much more teddy bear than Sid Vicious.

Except for when I'm writing. Then--oh boy. The bad boys just bubble right up. The husband in my last manuscript wasn't nice. He was central to the conflict, so he had to be the bad guy. Sure, he had some good qualities, but overall: jackass.

I wanted my current WIP to be different. I didn't want the ol' woman-wisens-up plotline. This husband was going to be cool. Supportive. ...Nice!

I finished up my draft, sent it off to betas, and guess what? NO ONE LIKES HIM. "He did this, he did that, your MC should leave him!" I went back through the manuscript and OMG. They were right! He's an ass!

What the? I like nice guys! I know tons of nice guys! I'm married to a nice guy! Observe:

Cute, right? Nice, too!

Sure, I wanted the husband to be nuanced. Imperfect. I guess I went a little overboard on that. Now I'm going back, chapter by chapter, and taking another look why he's so misunderstood.

What's my problem? Is this some sort of Freudian thing?

Have you ever had a character give you fits like this? Or, have you ever been misjudged?

Sir Mix-A-Lot, and my butt

2010-04-19T12:51:00.000-07:00

Apropos of my Soundtrack post, I was dallying around on the internet the other day and ran across this question:

What song or musician has most influenced your life?

Hmm, I thought. None of them? I like music and all, but I've always considered books, or even movies, to influence me more. To Kill a Mockingbird. Gatsby. A Wrinkle in Time. Hell, even Flowers in the Attic had a more profound effect on what I wanted to do with my life. (Umm, because the story drew me in, not...well, never mind.) The question stuck with me, though, and I wanted the answer to be something profound. Dylan! Billie Holiday! Beethoven's Ode to Joy!

Alas, I'm not so deep. If I'm honest with myself, I'll have to admit it. Here lies the song that most influences my thoughts...

Oh my God, Becky! Why does this song haunt me so? Ever since 1992! I walk down the sidewalk and catch a glimpse of my reflection in a shop window--and it starts up in my head. I LIKE BIG BUTTS AND I CANNOT LIE!

Noooo! I don't even have *that* big of a butt. Still, I look into the next window, pivoting to see if it looks ROUND and BIG. And is this a good thing? Did he really like big butts? It's like Sir Mix-A-Lot is my personal insecurity fairy, whispering in my ear.

I wish it weren't so. I'd like to remove that particular song completely from memory, because no good comes of it.

Do you have a song like that, the bad penny that keeps coming back? I hope not!

What's the soundtrack of your life?

2010-04-15T15:36:00.000-07:00

Ahh, springtime. Days beautiful enough to fling open the windows and let the fresh(ish) air blow in. Watching the buds bloom on the ginkgo tree outside my window. Hearing the sounds of birds chirping (well, cooing), children playing, and JACKHAMMERS DRILLING INTO MY BRAIN!

Oh, that's right. I forgot. Now that the weather is nice, time for all the street fixing/structure demolishing/building maintenance(ing?) to commence! How wonderful, now that I'm rushing to get a new manuscript off to my agent.

Close the window, you say? I've been doing that, and it helps with the noise, but an open window is the closest thing I have to actual outside time at the moment. Sadly, I'm beginning to resemble a naked mole rat wearing yoga pants and an old Ramones t-shirt.

How about drowning out the noise with music? Maybe so! I haven't found just the right style conducive to writing. Let's see: I run in the park blasting Lady Gaga (don't judge), I make dinner to The Rolling Stones, and take a shower to, well, NPR. Writing, however, has been silent so far.

What might you suggest?

Thanks, Mom and Dad, for not sending me back when I was bad

2010-04-10T16:30:00.000-07:00

Last week I ordered a dress online, and when it came, it wasn't quite right. A little tight across the back, and the neckline made me look like a nun. Bummer. I returned it for a refund.

You know what I wouldn't send back? A child. Lately, I've been hearing so much about these evil Russian children adoptive parents just *have* to return. Or send to Bad Kid Camps, which is a much better option, but still, sad. I feel so awful for these kids, especially being an adopted child myself. CNN seems to disagree with me. (I was looking for the first half of this clip, but I couldn't find it online. It was heavily slanted in favor of adoptive parents, IMO, and failed to mention the 15 kids who died from U.S. parental abuse.)

Look, I know. I wasn't there. These parents didn't sign up for a troubled kid, and troubled kids are tough. Maybe every one of these kids really were psycho (though I haven't yet read about any arson aside from burning papers in a garbage can or any real injuries--only threats--but I'll reserve judgment until the facts come out.) If my kid drew pictures of our house burning down, yep, it would be a problem. Possibly shrink time.

Once, my then three-year-old daughter became so enraged at her older sister she screamed like a wildcat, jumped on her sister, and shoved a harmonica down her throat.* She went nuts. Beet-faced, bug-eyed, I'm-going-to-kill-someone nuts. It took forever for her to calm down.

And I was mad. MAD mad. She choked her sister! The naughty chair was well-utilized that day, my friends.

But.

I wouldn't send her away. Because she's my daughter. When you adopt a kid, he's yours. Just like he popped out of your own uterus.

At least that's what my parents told me (they didn't actually say "uterus," but, you know.) I might've been better behaved as a child if I thought there was a return policy. At 5, I scratched my name on the lid of my parent's piano with a safety pin and let's not even speak of the many, many tween and teenage mistakes I made. No, let's not.

Many of these kids suffered a history of abuse, both from bio moms and from the orphanages from whence they came. Is it so shocking when anger issues arise? Everyone seems so surprised! This most recent adoptive mother only gave her new son seven months until she flew the seven-year-old back to Russia and hired a stranger from the internet to pick him up from the airport. Didn't even bother to accompany him herself. Disgusting. Even if she was misled about his mental health, there is no excuse for this. At the very least, get him there safely.

What do you think? Maybe the answer is to better set expectations, not stop all Russian adoption completely. Dissenters welcome, as always.

*Seriously, don't piss her off.

Emily Post would not approve

2010-04-07T12:49:00.000-07:00

Blog friends, what *is* proper etiquette after spilling one's peachtini down the side of one's own dress and onto some poor man's shoes? Is said spiller supposed to grab a cocktail napkin, get on all fours and dab away? Personally, I opted for the slurred-but-heartfelt apology approach. Thank goodness he wasn't mad.

So yes, I went to my fancypants party last night, bangs still not quite grown out, but presentable. I had a drink, (okay, two. Maybe three. But no more than that.) chatted with friends I hadn't seen in a while, and might've actually taken to the dance floor when they played the Stray Cats.

Luckily for my writing, I'm revising a chapter that takes place at a fancypants party similar to this one. I took particular notice of everything going on around me, and indeed had an epiphany for my climactic scene, which, as of now, has MAKE THIS FUNNIER scrawled in the margins. Hooray!

Sadly, I drank too much to remember what it was. I've been pondering it all day. I even tried pulling my dress out of the dry cleaning bag and smelling it, in the hopes the scent of peaches would bring it all back to me.

What tricks do you do to jog your memory?

(And remember, kids: wide-lipped martini glasses and constantly refilled tasty fruity drinks don't mix.)

UPDATE: Here's the NYTimes coverage of the party. Shockingly, I'm not mentioned.

New York Housewife

2010-04-04T15:52:00.000-07:00

Given that I have the truly original handle of "WendyNYC" over on AbsoluteWrite, I've had a few people ask me about the Real Housewives show. Ya' know. Since I live in New York and all. Did I know any of them? (No.) Are women in New York really like that? (No. Well, some.) Would I ever try out for the show? (NO. Nononono. And again, no.)

So what with all the interest, I thought I would outline a few differences between me and the RHONYC ladies.

First off, yep, we have a few similarities:

1. I live on the Upper East Side. I know, I know. Snobsville. Velvet headband city. What's the difference between an Upper East Sider and Upper West Sider? The Eastsider brags about the size of her closet and the Westsider brags about the size of her bookshelves.

I like my Carnegie Hill neighborhood okay, but if we didn't have kids, we'd probably be cool downtown loft people.

2. I spend time in the Hamptons. Quite a bit, actually. My parents live there.

3. I have attended a fashion show. Regular blog readers know how well that went.

4. I'm not originally from Manhattan. I don't think any of them are, either.

But there are some key differences, aside from the whole not-really-wanting-to-be-on-a-reality-show thing. This includes, but is not limited to:

1. I am, indeed, an actual housewife. Even though the term makes me want to don my pearls and vacuum the living room, I am not working outside of the home. I hawk neither baubles nor skinny margaritas, fabrics nor cosmetics I cook up in my tub. I write, obviously, but most of the time? Hausfrau, baby.

1. My friends (I have some! Really!) and I enjoy each other's company. If there is someone I don't care for, I choose to avoid her without making a huge stink.

2. When I am not invited to a party, I tend not to freak out about it. Sometimes people I know have different circles of friends. Shocking!

3. No one writes a script for what I say and do. I mean, really. The cameras just happen to be rolling when Bethenny calls Jill to make up and Countess Whoever just happens to be there at that exact moment so they can put her on speakerphone and laugh? Wow, lucky timing.

4. I stay home most nights and watch TV. Which they are clearly not doing. At least they aren't watching Bravo make asses of them.

So there you have it.

My husband gives me such trouble when I watch this show. Mostly I don't care and will watch anyway, but I have to admit, my interest has waned this season.

Do you have any crappy shows you watch?

Bad reputation

2010-03-31T19:04:00.000-07:00

Okay people. I did a bad thing. Karma bit me in the butt about it, too. I'm ashamed to admit it, but I...I cheated on my hairdresser.

I know! Terrible! But my long bangs had gone from "stylish" to "sheepdog" and I was away from the New York AND I have this Big FancyPants Party to go to next week and I just couldn't get to him in time. So just a trim from someone new would be okay, right? Follow the lines that are already there? How hard could it be?

This would be awesome if it were 1981.

Actually, it's way worse that ol' Joan's hair here. Picture the bangs much shorter. Nearly Mamie Eisenhower short, but with the all-over layers that look just amazing with my fine, flat hair. Yeah.

This is probably more accurate.

Bring it, Mrs. Brady.

So what do I do with this now? Curl it? Own it? Rock it?

What do you do with a bad situation?

In which I explain my undying love of paper books

2010-03-22T05:00:00.000-07:00

I critiqued the opening to a friend's novel the other day, and during a little back-and-forth via email, she referenced the first two paragraphs of Best Friends Forever by Jennifer Weiner. That's not right, I thought, her book starts out much more global--I'm going to look that up. So I head over to my trusty bookshelves to prove her wrong*:

Only it wasn't there. Oh, that's right. I read Best Friends Forever on my Kindle. I powered her up and flipped through my 3 pages of book choices and until found the title.

That got me thinking. What's my plan, here? Am I going to have my whole library stored in a little device?

Sure, e-readers are convenient. My library branch smells like old shoes and body odor, so I'm disinclined to borrow books. And the Kindle is especially great for traveling. No lugging suitcases that weigh like they are filled with rocks. I can zap a couple of books for the trip and I'm good to go. The screen reads nicely, and I love the built-in dictionary, especially for reading The Road. (What the hell is a "travois?" Click. Oh.)

But for regular use, for me, it's just too ephemeral. How long do I plan to keep those books there? Forever? I have books on my shelf I bought in high school. It's been a while since I read Animal Farm, but in case I feel the need, there it is. My old Norton Anthology of Poetry sits on my shelf, "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" still highlighted in pink (always pink!)

And what's my other choice--to have the Kindle books vanish into the ether?

I dunno. I'm just not loving it as much as I thought. What do you think? Do you have an e-reader? Do you want one?

*She was right.

Yeah, um, about that main character...

2010-03-18T16:37:00.000-07:00

I do quite a lot of reading and critiquing other writer's manuscripts--sometimes online, for real-life friends, or for my Most Awesome Critique Group. I like reading for others and it's essential for my own work to hear the opinion of trusted fellow writers to tell me what works, what's dragging, and if my main character is coming across as clever and witty (good!), or just a bitch (not so much good.)

I've critiqued Middle Grade, Young Adult, Sci-Fi, Paranormal, Poetry, Short Stories (many) Thriller, literary fiction, and LOADS of women's fiction. I'm genre-promiscuous. The one thing I have a tougher time ripping apart so the author can put it back together is memoir, or thinly-veiled fiction about the author.

Now, most of the time I can do it. I can find issues with pacing, or characterization, or whatever.

But this one time.

This one time, I just did NOT like the main character at all. At ALL.* She was vain and mean! And did terrible things other people's expense! And didn't change a whit throughout the story! And it was So. Clearly. Her.

Gawd. What do you do then? "Hey, the story was fine, but I didn't really like, um...you."

I gave her kind of a half-assed critique, but was too chicken to come right out and say what I was thinking. I know--to each her own. Other people might dig it.

What would you do? Tell her your real thoughts? Or dance all around it?

*If I've critted for you and you are reading this thinking OMG SHE'S TALKING ABOUT ME, don't worry, I'm not. I guarantee the author doesn't read this blog.

At the risk of sounding like a Puritan...

2010-03-13T12:59:00.000-08:00

I consider myself fairly internet savvy. I mean, I have a blog, I tweet, I Facebook, all that stuff. I know about Nigerian princes and have a good idea of how people act when they are anonymous (dreadfully.)

My kids' school held an internet safety seminar last week held by the good people at Childrenonline.org. Let's just say I'm now ready to move my family to a yurt in rural Nepal.

My kids are not online yet. They've played a few games, but mostly screen time is limited to weekends, and between fencing and tournaments and blah blah blah, our weekends are overscheduled (which is a completely different problem.) But. See it, right there on the horizon? It's coming.

Popular with the tween set is Addicting Games, I can see why. Hundreds of games from which to choose, and all free! And it's run by Nickelodeon, so great, right? Sure! Unless you walk in the room and, what's this? Cartoon naked ladies? Why, it's Perry the Perv! A hero for all young lads! Here's a description:

"There are some luscious landscapes to view, but don't get caught or it's a fist in the mouth. Can you help this pervert catch some lurid looks at the ladies?"

Oh nice. Thanks Nickelodeon, where a kid can be a kid. Or a perv. Whatever.

Also on a few fun gaming sites are banner ads for Chatroulette, which is, of course, entirely kid friendly, what with the penises and all. Come on in to my home! Check out my kid!

For research purposes, of course I had to check it out. And, well, I was curious. Unsolicited advice for those wondering about Chatroulette: don't. Just...don't. Here are the Cliff's Notes version, so you don't need to have these images taking up space in your brain. Ew.

Things I saw on Chatroulette:

--Boobs (Big ones!)

--Hairy moobs*

--A person of questionable gender wearing a Mardi Gras mask.

--Men diddling with their pants off (several.)

--A tween girl (Where are your parents, young lady?)

--More boobs.

--Couples making out (again, several. What the hey?)

--A skinhead with a rebel flag behind him, flipping me the bird.

Buh?

Not my thing.

So now I'm trying to come up with some ground rules for my daughters. Rules I know they will break and see all this stuff anyway. Oh boy.

What are your thoughts on all this? If you have kids, are they online? How do you handle it in your house? And, is it possible to get a manicure in Kathmandu?

*Click on the pronunciation button to hear someone who sounds very much like Colin Firth saying "moobs." I giggle at this stuff because I am immature.

ETA: @PauloCamposInk forwarded me Jon Stewart's take on Chatroulette. Yep, that's about it!

This is just so, so wrong

2010-03-06T12:04:00.000-08:00

If you've been around for a while, you know how much I enjoy making fun of my mom, but sometimes I wonder if this is really fair. I mean, she really is a good person. Honestly. She's friendly and talkative (even to surly taxi drivers with limited English--no matter! just keep on chatting!) She's kind and loving. She'll do just about anything for you.

But.

She's one of Those People.

You know the ones.

The ones who commit such crimes as BUYING SUNGLASSES FOR DOGS.

Does this dog look happy to you?

And that's not all. Oh no. Not even close. This tiny armoire is BRIMMING with DOG CLOTHES.

See that little flapper get-up in front? That's her dog's EASTER DRESS. Yes. Have I even thought of what my own human children will be wearing for Easter Sunday yet? No, I have not. What's more, this dog has her own LUGGAGE. I suppose it's for when she jets off to the French Riviera.

This all reminds me of something...hmm, what was it? Oh yes, Pets Who Want to Kill Themselves.

I can see why.

Do you know anyone like this? For the dogs' sake, I hope not. Think of the animals, people.

Loner? Or Butterfly?

2010-03-02T11:25:00.000-08:00

I'll admit it. I'm one of those people who bow the gods of peer pressure. Like when my friends Jennifer and Tracie said I should join the gymnastics team with them in 4th grade, I signed up even though I SO CLEARLY had no real ability. And by that I mean not only am I, ahem, rather uncoordinated, I'm also terrified of falling. (Psst...you fall a LOT in gymnastics. Hello broken arm, wrist, dislocated shoulder. Fun.)

Sometimes, though, it's worked to my advantage. My roommate in college was thankfully quite the grind, so I learned quickly how much more time I put into studying when everyone around me was doing the same thing. Yes, I was one of those weird late-night library people, toiling away at the shared tables and occasionally stealing peeks at the male versions of my species.

Now that I'm a (semi) responsible adult, one might think I'd be beyond all that and could motivate myself without anyone kicking my butt. Sometimes I can, but more often than not I sit down to bang out a chapter and it goes more like this:

type type type type hmmm, this passage reminds me of Kathy. I wonder what she's up to? type type type type Is that my BlackBerry going off? I wonder if it's important? (Hint: it won't be.) type type type Maybe I should check that type type type type type Is the mail here yet? type type Better go check.

While I'm up, I'll check the BlackBerry. And Facebook. And Twitter. Hey, any new comments on the blog? What's up on AW?

Get my drift?

I'm really not meant to be a loner. I can deal with it, having been raised an only child, but I'm a social animal. Hence all the social network checking.

Luckily for me, I've recently been getting together with a writing partner. Add one other person typing away in a room and viola! I want to do it, too! Productivity! This also works well when I go to Paragraph.

How about you? Are you a loner, or do you need a push from a friend?

If your writing style was a person

2010-02-22T08:39:00.001-08:00

I love hearing about what other people write. The internet seems to have a ton of Urban Fantasy writers, especially of the Young Adult variety--and who can blame them? It's an exciting, growing genre. There also seem to be zillions of Romance writers, or those like Jill Myles who combine the two.

Because of social media, I've been reading outside of my genre quite a bit lately, and enjoying the change. It's a bit like visiting new people. So tell me about your (writing) self:

Is your writing weird and cutting edge, with experimental short stories, perhaps published in McSweeney's?

Are you all funny and domestic and feel-good-y?

Are your sentences classic and perfect in every way?

Do you write for kids?

Hmm. I like historical fiction, but Marie here feels overwritten.

Or are you instead Mr. Manliness, flexing your rippling prose?

(Hubba hubba.)

Me? That's a tough question. I'd like to think my writing is a bit modern mom Sarah Jessica Parker--warm, accessible writing you've known since Square Pegs, who did the whole urban vibe and now focuses on mainly on family stuff, but still likes to get dressed up.

Who are you?

It's either this or Xanax.

2010-02-17T10:01:00.000-08:00

I recently read a study claiming that reading reduces stress levels by 68%.

"Reading worked best, reducing stress levels by 68 per cent, said cognitive neuropsychologist Dr David Lewis. Subjects only needed to read, silently, for six minutes to slow down the heart rate and ease tension in the muscles, he found."

Six minutes! That's it! I'd believe that. In fact, I'll see your 68% and raise you another 10% for *writing* as a stress-reducer.

I haven't really talked about this, because, really, who wants to be a downer, but I've been going through some pretty relentless anxiety over my dad's health in the past few weeks. He has a mass on his lung that we just found out is not malignant (thank God) and it took a long, loooooong time to get any kind of answer. He'll still need surgery, but in case you weren't aware, lung cancer is a REALLY FREAKING BAD ONE.

So I'd like to thank Beth Hoffman for writing a book that buoyed me up and away from my dark thoughts (check out Saving Cee Cee Honeycutt, it's excellent.) I'll also thank my current main character Valerie for being such an unpredictable smart ass. It was a relief to retreat into her crazy world for a few hours each day. (Yes, I know she's not real. I promise I'm still sane.)

I'd love to create a book that helps someone else out like this someday. Return the karma favor, or whatever.

How do you reduce stress?

Well, hello handsome!

2010-02-10T12:25:00.000-08:00

Lately I've noticed a huge uptick in new visitors to my little blog. (Well, huge for me, not like TMZ's numbers or anything.) I'm not sure why this is, because I'm neither suddenly a) more entertaining nor b) more informative, but hey! whatever! Welcome all! Do chime in if'n you feel like it.

In completely unrelated news, I did finish my WIP (yippee), so I've given myself permission to fritter away time on the internet again. And look what I found. Cuteness. From Jezebel:

ETA: And this!

Help! Police! My Kindle's been kidnapped!

2010-02-07T05:00:00.000-08:00

Description of victim: slim, white, gray screen. Little buttons across the bottom. Clothed in a leather cover. Filled with Jennifer Weiner novels, Alice Munro's latest, and an unread copy of The Road. Last seen on kitchen counter, awaiting next reading session.

Suspect: 4 ft. 8 in. tall, long straight brown hair with bangs, blue eyes. Partial to wearing jeans, t-shirts featuring sparkly pictures of dogs, and Vans because she doesn't like messing with laces. Can usually be found reading a book or hitting boys with a sword. Warning: this suspect's room is landmined with tiny sharp Lego products. May be armed and dangerous.

Incident report: Suspect entered kitchen where victim's owner was preparing dinner. Suspect asked, rather sheepishly, "There's this book I want. Um, I don't know if you'll let me have it."

Victim's owner pictured a modern, racier version of Judy Blume's Forever, and replied with,"What book would you like?" To which suspect replied, "It's by Jules Verne? A Journey to the Center of the Earth? I read 20,000 Leagues and I liked it."

"Oh!" victim's owner replied (relieved, frankly), "Yeah, sure. I'll order it for you."

Suspect then eyed victim on the counter and said, "I hear those things get books really fast."

Shortly thereafter, suspect disappeared.

How you can help: If spotted, please return victim to rightful owner. Well, after suspect finishes with Jules Verne.

So close I can taste it

2010-02-04T05:14:00.000-08:00

I've been scarce around the internet lately for a couple of reasons, but the most exciting one is that I have been toiling away at my new manuscript and--get this--I'm days away from finishing yay yay yay!*

January has been Get 'Er Done Month over here, and I've had to rearrange my schedule to revolve around writing time rather than doing-something-else time. Friendships, both real life and digital, have suffered. Sorry 'bout that.

Tell me about your writing schedule.

*Only the first draft, that is, and it's a little (okay, a lot) thin. But work with me here.

Dear Diary

2010-01-28T09:17:00.000-08:00

My eight-year-old, Charlotte, needed a diary, or so she said. "I NEED one. With a lock. It has to have a lock." So I took her to Barnes & Noble to select the perfect one from a wall of contenders. Some journals were covered brush-painted flowers, some geometric designs, all were girly (woe be to the boy who wants to journal.)

She found the perfect shade of purple (with a lock) and I even sprung for a new pen, remembering how important my diary was to me. I wish I had it now for the entertainment value alone. Oh, the angst! Jennifer cut me in line and didn't even say sorry! Jason totally ignored me at recess! I hate soccer and why do we have to play it for gym!

But most of all, I remember writing about my mom. Horrible woman! So mean! So what if I got caught making prank calls randomly from the phone book? That's no reason to ground me.

Charlotte locks her door and writes in it every day. I mean, obsessively. She's either got the beginnings of the next War and Peace in there, or something is really bugging her.

Now she's at school, and I know where she keeps her key. (Right on top of her desk. Real smooth, Charlotte.) You have no idea what restraint it's taking for me not to go in there right now and read it. I know it's ridiculous. I KNOW. She's eight. What could it possibly say? Maybe I'm just looking for feedback--any feedback--on mothering. It's not like I have a boss to give me a performance review. And it's not like I'm going to find You're great at communication, Wendy, but the whole allowance area needs improvement.

Don't worry. I won't. I WON'T. She deserves a little privacy.

Damn it.

Did you ever keep a diary?

Same page

2010-01-20T09:43:00.000-08:00

Last night, my husband and I were watching the Haiti coverage on CNN (again) feeling sad and helpless (again.) One reporter interviewed a couple from the US who lived there and ran one of the many orphanages near Port-au-Prince. Now, this couple looked like they belonged in Haiti just about as much as I do.

He: Cowboy hat, strong (strong!) Southern drawl. Some lawd-almighties were uttered and perhaps even a woo-doggy.

She: Same drawl, but higher in pitch. Platnium, cotton candy hair, brightly painted lips.

I opened my mouth and my husband looked at me, probably convinced I was going to say something snarky. Nine times out of ten, he'd be right. (Well, not so much about the Haiti coverage, but otherwise, yes.) But instead I said, "That's pretty cool. I wonder what their story is?"

He thought it was cool, too. In fact, my husband said he's always thought of doing something similar after he retired. Not necessarily an orphanage in Haiti, but something...I don't know...meaningful. "What am I going to do? Hang around the city all day and complain about the weather? Golf? I don't even like golf."

Strangely enough, I've been thinking about the same thing. I've wanted to do something Three-Cups-of-Tea-ish for a long time. Not now, mind you. Not while the kids are still in school. Later. And I don't know what, exactly. But I have some time to figure that out.

I've come close to bringing it up many times. It always sounded kind of flakey, (Hey honey, how about living in some godforsaken country in our golden years and doing, um, something?) so I never did.

It's great to know we are on the same page.

Jill Myles: Sexytimes Writer

2010-01-18T03:26:00.000-08:00

Today we welcome Jill Myles, author of the sexy paranormal GENTLEMEN PREFER SUCCUBI, out now! So buy it! I mean really, just look at this cute trailer:

Jill's talking to us today about writing those pesky sex scenes. I don't know about you, but writing them always makes me uncomfortable. Like my mom's going to pop out from behind my shoulder and scold me. ("Wendy! For shame! That's private stuff!")

Warning: The following post has words like "orgasm" and "schlong." If you are my mother, click away. Click away now.

Welcome, Jill!

1. We all could probably think of elements *not* to include in sex scene (weird animal or botanical metaphors, lots of bodily fluid, etc.) but what do you think makes for a good one?

Good question! I think it differs for everyone and for what type of book you are writing. If you are looking to shock or titillate your readers, you have to push the boundaries of what is 'acceptable' and 'normal' in a sex scene. On the other hand, if you're looking to create a touching moment, someone whipping out the handcuffs isn't going to do it, you know? So if you're going for a touching moment, I think lots of devoted-type actions are the best -- the hero touching her cheek, stroking her hair, kissing every inch of her body, etc. If it's angry sex, think harsh, jerky motions, the heroine slamming the hero down into the bed, things like that.

2. Confession: I've only written scenes with Uncomfortable or Intentionally Ho-Hum sex, but still, I always have trouble with pacing. How do you know when to end it?

When I think someone's going to get rug burns. Kidding! It's tricky to tell when to end it. Not to be graphic, but (well, okay, I'm going to be graphic) unless you're doing something ultra-extraordinary with the hero's schlong, I think that once you get past the initial point of penetration and the heroine's orgasm (a good hero ALWAYS lets her come first) then you might consider wrapping things up. The heroine's just going to end up with friction burns if the hero's sawing away at her lady-business for seven pages more.

3. How easy is it for you to write a steamy scene? Can you whip out some heat typing away at Starbucks? Or do you have to give it more thought?

It's easy (with an asterisk next to that). I really enjoy writing the sexual scenes because they're emotionally intense and really progresses the hero and heroine's relationship. When I'm writing a sex scene, to keep my brain 'choreographing' the thing, I tend to have to write it all in one sitting. And since most of my sex scenes end up around 3 or 4k, well, it makes a good writing night and I'm always super happy when I'm done with it because that's some rockin' word count (no pun intended).

As far as thinking ahead what they'll be doing? Not really. I just let it all play by ear.

That being said, the asterisk comes in to play because I am NEUROTIC about someone reading over my shoulder for any sort of writing -- not just sex scenes. So I write when my husband is playing video games or napping, and always, always when I can have some mental privacy. Never, never at Starbucks. If there is even a shred of a chance that someone's going to see what I'm writing? I can't continue. It's this weird phobia of mine.

4. A 4,000 word sex scene?! Holy crap! Er...um...what was I saying? Oh yes: How do you handle other people's nosy personal questions when they find out what you write?

I work for an extremely conservative company in the day job, so I have a pen name and keep things as separate as possible. My co-workers know that I write, but they don't know what name I write under. People tend to snicker or ask personal questions when they find out you write romance, so I basically don't give them the opportunity. Maybe that's a cop-out, but it's what I'm going with. I did make attempts at one point, though -- I told my boss that I wrote romance, and she immediately came back with "Wow, your husband must LOVE that. Wink wink." It was, in a word, CREEPY. So yeah, separate lives and all that.

5. How can you tell if you've given TMI? Or are being too vague?

I leave everything in the scene, even the stuff I'm handwringy or questioning. Did I go too far? Is someone going to get offended? Did this just go over the line to non-sexy? But I trust what pops into my head and I leave it there. Usually when I'm mid-scene, I'm too close to it, and I find that if I continually edit when I'm in the scene, I tend to take the edge off of things. So I leave it and re-read it when I do my read-through after I've finished the first draft. 9 times out of 10, I can't even tell which part made me uncomfortable/awkward (which means that my instincts were good). And if something still sticks out or makes me go 'Yuck' during the re-read, it has to go.

6. How does language come into play?

When I first started writing love scenes, I had a difficult time even getting myself to use the word 'nipples'. I find it to be an awkward, strange word. No clue why. But there are only so many 'peaks' and 'tips of her breasts' that you can use, and at some point, you just have to suck it up and go nipple. And you know what? Now I nipple all the time! Nipples everywhere! But the same can be said for sex scenes overall. You feel really awkward and weird writing the first steamy scene so you try and neuter it (the scene)...but at some point, you're going to have to go nipple. And once you do, it's hard to go back to glossing over things.

That being said, I avoid certain words just because I find them kind of icky. Words like 'spurting' and 'dripping' and 'sloppy'. Not sexy. I think everyone has certain words that set their teeth on edge. Anything that makes me think of geysers of bodily fluids? Probably not going into my book. YMMV of course. Some people dig that.

Thanks, Jill! That was enlightening.

And remember, Jill is hosting a contest! Her agent, Holly Root, is offering a query critique for one lucky winner drawn at random. Leave a comment here and you'll earn one entry for the drawing. Commenting at each of the other blogs on Jill's tour will earn you additional entries.

Jill will pick the winner on January 27.

Next stop on the tour is tomorrow: Ilene Wong. More sexy stuff! And here is a list of all the stops.

Good luck!

Pretty, pretty covers

2010-01-12T10:42:00.000-08:00

The hubs bought me a Kindle for Christmas. I wasn't certain I wanted one, mostly because so many people act like Amazon is spurring the PUBLISHING END OF DAYS, but I have to say: pretty darn nice. I've already zapped a ridiculous number of new books I wanted into my reader (eleven and counting.) Forget the "smell of paper" and "crack of the spine" people pine over. Convenience trumped all that.

But you know where it's not so great? Browsing. Teeny tiny black and white book covers just do not work for me. Because I am a packaging girl--a total sucker for packaging. Just ask the clerks at Sephora. I come in for some cleanser and suddenly I'm all "Oooh, pretty! I need that!" and I leave with a giant bag full of cosmetics.

I love to explore new authors, and the greatest initial influence on me is an appealing book cover. If the title and artwork set the right tone, I'll pick it up and check out the inside flap. If that bit of highly-polished marketing draws me in, I'll read the first page. A good one? Sold.

Really. It's that simple. If I'm honest with myself, I'll even admit I use this method of judgment over personal recommendations. I can think of a number of books everyone I know loved that I picked up/put down/picked up/put down before I was finally convinced. Why? They looked boring.

Someone who worked in advertising should know better, right? Don't judge a book by it's cover and all that. Bah. I like book covers.

So anyway, yes. I'll still be buying from bookstores.

How about you? Have you submitted to the evil desires of Kindle? Thoughts?

I was wrong

2010-01-08T04:56:00.000-08:00

I've been on this big Jennifer Weiner reading kick lately, after several years of shunning her books for no apparent reason. It's not like I haven't had friends (many, actually) recommend Certain Girls or Best Friends Forever, but, I don't know, I guess I never really gave her a chance before now. Believe me, I've recently made up for it. Just ask my new Kindle.

Maybe it's because her books were described by that dreaded phrase: chick lit. At the time, I was reading a lot of Paul Coelho. (I get on these kicks, you see.) Shoe stories? Girls who dress fierce and swan around and whatnot? No thanks.

But her books are so very not. Her themes explore loneliness and loyalty, motherhood, missed opportunities, and regret.

So here I am, faced with the fact that I, myself, a feminist for god's sake, was demeaning women-centric writing. I assumed her books were fluffy and of little worth just because of the subject matter. And they are the very subjects I WRITE! ARGH!

I'll admit it now. I was wrong.

Have you ever been surprised by something?

Baby steps

2010-01-04T10:58:00.000-08:00

So. I'm back from our annual ski trip -- one year older, six pounds heavier, but at least with no bruised ass this time. I'd call that a success.

Vince captured this video of me in the wild:

Okay, so after five (five!) years of trying, this is about all I can manage. Snowplowing on the baby hill. Good lord. And I'm still freaking terrified of the chair lift. But at least there was less "whooooaa, whooooaa, helpmehelpmehelpme" as I made my way down the green runs this time. Progress.

I just wish I could master the heave-up-on-skis-after-a-fall ability. This eludes me: when I'm down, it's not...attractive. I pretty much just roll around in the snow for a while until my instructor or husband loses patience and hoists me up like a drunken barfly.

Oh well. Onward.

How were your holidays?

A blog chain and contest! Don't miss out!

2009-12-29T08:55:00.000-08:00

Check this out!

Today is release day for the fabulous Jill Myles' debut GENTLEMEN PREFER SUCCUBI, and, if it's not completely obvious from the hunk of mantitty on the cover, it's a sexy supernatural tale full of adventure, humor, and...um...sex.

Jill will be stopping by Writes in the City on January 18 to talk to us about--wait for it--writing sex scenes. Of course. And just to entice you some more, there's a contest:

Jill's agent Holly Root of the Waxman Literary Agency is offering a personalized query critique to the winner. How awesome is that? To enter, just follow the blog chain and comment, starting today with Amy Bai's The Purple Patch. One entry per blog, please, and the winner will be chosen at random on the last day of the tour (January 27) when Jill will also be posting an interview with Holly.

So what are you waiting for? Get over to Amy's! And buy Jill's book!

Merry Merry

2009-12-18T07:25:00.000-08:00

MySpace Graphics - Myspace Layouts,Graphics, and Comments!

Oh yes, bloggy friends. It's that time of year again. Time for the annual pilgrimage to Colorado where I will tumble down the bunny slopes once or twice before calling it a day. Can you feel my excitement? Those of you who have been around a while know how much I love to ski.

I'll be in and out for the next few weeks. Have a happy/merry/joyous whatever. See you 'round the intertoobs.

Drinking the Kool-Aid

2009-12-13T16:54:00.000-08:00

My mother used to be terrified I'd one day join a cult.

Sounds ridiculous, but who could blame her, really? Back in the 70s the media fixated on Satan worshippers, Jonestown, and the Manson Family, not to mention all the teenagers high on Angel Dust hallucinating roaches crawling all over them. It probably seemed like weirdos would creep into your window at any moment and carry your kids away.

All that percolated in her brain throughout my childhood and heightened when I started wearing a lot of black and listening to the Dead Kennedys. Definite proof of my cult activities presented itself as a cassette tape on the passenger seat of my '68 Mustang:

What could all those symbols mean? Nothing good, god knows!

So I guess I shouldn't have been surprised that she flipped out in front of all my friends at the public pool when she caught me sipping a Dr. Pepper and reading Dianetics in 9th grade. Remember those mysterious volcanic TV commercials about "discovering the answer to it all?" I just didn't want to miss out.

She should've sat down, slathered on sunscreen, and waited for me to lose interest--it only took about four pages or so. Bor-ing. Instead, she screamed DON'T YOU KNOW THAT'S A CULT? I FORBID YOU TO JOIN A CULT!

OMG. Time stopped. Some girls laughed. The cute boy who'd been checking me out abandoned his flirtation with Crazy Mother Cult Girl. I could never return to Fassnight Park Swimming Pool ever again.

And mom? Just so you know--no cult activities to this day. Although if I had to choose one, it would be the hare krishnas. They seem fun.

That was her deal: cult fear. I wonder what's going to be my phobia? 'Cause you know it'll be something once I have two teenage daughters to stress over. Any bets? Maybe I'll have nightmares about them starring in a reality show?

Has your mom ever embarrassed you?

Blog facelift

2009-12-09T16:46:00.000-08:00

Yes, she's had a little nip here, tuck there. Doesn't she just look so rested? Of course, she's having trouble smiling, what with all the Botox, but hey, anything for beauty.

I've also updated my These Blogs Rock section. Take a look.

Next, I think I'll have her lips done.

Mwah.

So, whaddya think? Too much?

'Gratz

2009-12-04T06:24:00.001-08:00

I'm kind of belated with this, but wanted to congratulate some fellow writerly types on recent successes:

--Courtney Allison Moulton snagged a 3-book deal with Katherine Tegen / HarperCollins.

--Debra Schubert signed with Bernadette Baker-Baughman of Baker's Mark Literary Agency. You can read all about her journey here.

--Jill Myles has not one, but TWO books coming out in the upcoming weeks! She'll be making an appearance here on the blog soon talking about...what else? sex.

I'm sure I'm missing a few. Please comment if you know of anyone else!

Now I'm off to do some Christmas shopping. What mother of two girls would miss out on picking up one of babies to teach important life skills?:

Awww, isn't she adorable? But I have to say, she won't earn many tips with THAT outfit. Take it off! Woo!

Oh dear. I hope this is a hoax.

'Tis Book Season

2009-11-29T04:28:00.000-08:00

Once again, I plan to give books to everyone on my Christmas list. Lots of rectangular-shaped packages shall sit under the tree. What can it be? Why, it's a book!

I did the same thing last year and hey! turns out a book is kind of a personal item, and choosing the right one isn't so easy. Mistakes were made, let's just say.

Wouldn't it be great if Barnes & Noble had a matchmaking service for book gifts? Like an eHarmony device? That way, you won't accidently send Chuck Palahniuk's latest novel to your Aunt Sophia who lives in a convent.

Until then, you'll just have to settle for my low-tech version and hope you have a few characters like these in your family.

For the Stylish Big Sister Who Watches HBO's True Blood and Wears Sexy Shoes:

Tempest Rising by Nicole Peeler

Soulless by Gail Carriger

...and her teenage Twihard daughter:

The Evernight Series by Claudia Gray

Vampire Academy by Richelle Mead

Twenty Boy Summer by Sarah Ockler

For the Uncle Who Volunteers at the Humane Society:

The Art of Racing in the Rain by Garth Stein

The Story of Edgar Sawtelle by David Wroblewski

Merle's Door: Lessons from a Freethinking Dog by Ted Kerasote

For the Workaholic, BlackBerry-Loving Husband: (this one is real)

The Return of Depression Economics by Paul Krugman

The Myth of the Rational Market by Justin Fox

Outliers by Malcolm Gladwell

For the Peacenik Younger Brother Getting His MA at Berkeley:

Eating Animals by Jonathan Safran Foer

Living Off the Grid: A Simple Guide to Creating and Maintaining Energy, Water, Shelter, and More by Dave Black

The Fight for Peace: A History of Anti-War Movements in America by Ted Gottfried

A subscription to McSweeneys

For the History-Buff Sister-in-Law with the Heavy Damask Curtains in her Living Room:

Wolf Hall by Hilary Mantel

The Little Stranger by Sarah Waters

Katherine by Anya Seton

For the Neighbor You Never See Because She Has a Hellish Commute:

Audiobooks, of course. I'd listen to Stories by Garrison Keillor. Love him.*

For the Mom Who Won't Allow Anyone to Leave the Table Without Eating Seconds:

The Barefoot Contessa Cookbook by Ina Garten

Julie and Julia by Julie Powell

Mastering the Art of French Cooking by Julia Child (She's probably lost it by now. Get her another copy.)

For the Dad Who Whoops It Up Every Thursday Night with his Masonic Brethren:

The new Dan Brown, naturally!

In Pursuit of Honor by Vince Flynn

For the Hard-to-Buy-For, Ph.D.-Toting Mother-in-Law:

The Museum of Innocence by Orhan Pamuk

Say You're One of Them by Uwem Akpan

Olive Kitteridge by Elizabeth Strout

Too Much Happiness by Alice Munro

This Earth of Mankind by Pramoedya Ananta Toer

For the Southern Belle Cousin in a Book Club: (I have lots of these)

The Help by Kathryn Stockett

The Gurnsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society by Mary Ann Schaffer and Annie Barrows

Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet by Jamie Ford

Whistlin' Dixie in a Nor'easter by Lisa Patton

See? There's something for everyone! Even the Right-Leaning, Conservative Brother-in-Law:

The Reagan Diaries by Ronald Reagan

What would be on your Christmas/Hanukkah/Solstice/Whatever list?

*Uh, hmmm. Maybe not as much after reading this.

Pumped up for the show

2009-11-23T06:11:00.000-08:00

Can you get up in front of an audience and tell your story with no notes, no papers, just you and a microphone? My friend Jayne can, and she invited me to a fundraiser last week to celebrate just that. The Moth is an organization that hosts storytelling events all over the city (and beyond) featuring a nightly theme and five storytellers who share a ten-minute tale about their lives.

Watching the performers that night reminded me of my college weekend job at a comedy club. I worked as a bartender/waitress and often served drinks to the comedians gearing up in the green room. Even with the uber-confident performers, the vibe in the room (which wasn't green, by the way) skewed tense, and I was careful not to disturb whatever process they needed in preparation to go on stage. Some comedians became arrogant, even belligerent, pumping up their tough persona only to slip out of it like a dirty suit after they finished. Others withdrew in the green room, quiet and nervous, muttering punch lines to no one.

Whatever their behavior in the green room, I rooted for each one when the show began. Even the guy who grabbed my ass (and apologized later.) Okay, yes, I had some skin in their success as well -- more laughs = bigger tips. But I respected the people who could get up on the stage with nothing but a microphone and open themselves up like that.

The Moth doesn't allow stand-up comedy at their performances. Still, some performers kill and some bomb. And the prerequisites are the same: you, a microphone, and a pair of brass balls.

Rejection through email is bad enough. At least writers rarely deal with hecklers.

How about you? Could you get up and tell your story?

Oh, you women and your little trifles!

2009-11-14T12:18:00.000-08:00

You might have heard shouts of indignation emanating from your computer last week over the decidedly penis-heavy Publisher's Weekly Best Books of 2009 list. I'll admit I haven't read the majority of books they chose. I love John Cheever and should probably pick up his biography. I'm sure the rest of those dudes are full of awesome. The last thing I want to do is diminish another author's work. I'm in no way saying they are undeserving.

But friend of the blog Moonrat posed a challenge for her readers: post your own list of 2009 favorites by female authors. As a reader and writer of women's fiction (no, not chick lit, you turkeys) how could I not participate?

Here are my picks:

PICKING BONES FROM ASH by Marie Mutsuki Mockett

SHANGHAI GIRLS by Lisa See

THE HELP by Kathryn Stockett

THE ELEGANCE OF THE HEDGEHOG by Muriel Barbery

REAL LIFE AND LIARS by Kristina Riggle

Okay, so THE HELP and HEDGEHOG were actually published at the end of 2008. But I haven't had the chance to read some of newly-published books like WOLF HALL and THE CHILDREN'S BOOK, and Alice Munro's new collection isn't even out yet, so I decided to make my sample Fall '08 - Fall '09. Cheating? Perhaps. But there you have it.

ETA: Check out this thought-provoking post on women and writing by Marie Mutsuki Mockett.

How about you? Any favorites from the ladyfolk (any genre will do)?

Just trying to avoid cutting off my own ear

2009-11-13T06:26:00.000-08:00

I haven't been blogging as much as I would like this fall. It's true. This is primarily because every moment of my day has been filled with commitments, writing, or general angst. I just finished up a time-suck project (co-chairing a fundraiser at my kids' school--I know, I know, very PTA mom of me. Don't mock.) so now I'm free to blog away, provided I can think up topics.

I knew the fall would be crazy. I'd be dealing with/revising book 1 plus writing the first draft of book 2, in addition to my kid administration duties, which are plentiful. So when the school asked me to help spearhead a hugely labor intensive project, I took that on as well.

Prithee, tell, you might think, why bring this upon yourself? What are you trying to prove?

Actually, I'm no martyr, nor am I someone who has trouble saying no. I do, however, know how I can get when I'm writing. It can be summed up in two words: crazy hermit.

I can go for days without leaving the apartment. Weeks without wearing real pants. Months without calling friends. And sadly, I'm not even all that productive with my writing. There are days when everything that comes out of my fingertips just SUCKS SO BAD ARRRGH YOU THINK YOU CAN WRITE?! HA! GO EAT WORMS!

So yeah. Not really great for the mental health. Besides, it's true what they say, at least in my case: if you want something done well, give it to a busy person. It's all or nothing with me.

Balance. I haz none.

How about you? When are you most productive? I hope for your sake, you are nothing like me.

Taking a risk

2009-11-02T09:04:00.000-08:00

Unless you live far, far away from these United States, you probably had more than a few kids at your door begging for candy on Saturday night. It's kind of a big deal.

So a few months ago, my daughter decided that the "Cone of Shame" used on the dogs in the movie UP was pretty hilarious, and she wanted to fashion her Halloween costume around it. We gathered all the makings of a humiliated dog and put them in the closet until the big day.

Saturday morning, it was time for a trial run. She dressed in her costume, ran to the mirror and...cried. Tears, sobbing, the whole deal. She just didn't have the confidence she needed to pull it off. It's a fear I know well. Looking stupid. Failure. If I'm trying to be funny in my speech, will I flop? If everyone knows I'm writing a book and then it never gets published, will I crumple up in a ball and die?

She searched through some safer costumes left over from years past. No one would laugh at a colonial girl or a knight, perhaps she should go with that? I told her that was fine with me. It takes guts for a 10-year-old to walk around in public looking completely uncool. She's also entered the age where everything is just sooo embarrassing ohmygod. If she was doing the funny costume thing, it would be a risk. She just had to be all, "Yeah, that's right! I look ridiculous. Ha!"

In the end, she decided to go for it:

Thank Dog it was a hit.

How about you? Are you taking any risks lately?

Knee deep in it

2009-10-29T10:23:00.000-07:00

I recently got the big ole happy agent-approved Go Ahead for my next novel. Hooray! I've been working on it for a little while in between Novel #1 edits, but just getting an atta girl from Rebecca spurred me to delve into my new stuff. It's fun and exhilarating and stressful and angsty all at once. I love getting to know new characters and settings, living with them in my head and figuring out their fates.

The stress all comes down to one element: my writing speed. It's...not fast. I admit I'm jealous when I see Facebook status updates of "I wrote 15K words this weekend!" or I hear the rapid-fire taps of keyboards around me at Paragraph, while I'm sitting there going Hmmm, should I use "at" or "in" here? I convince myself that those people are just writing gibberish. "Ha!" I say, "he's probably just emailing his mom." (Even though I know it's not true--he has his wireless disabled just like me.)

But no more, my friends. No more. I've decided to silence the voices in my head that remind me, daily, of how far I have to go and just freaking write it already. Chug along, little engine. Because anything else will make me crazy.

How about you? Are you a fast writer? I promise I won't hate you. Much.

Netflix knows me better than my own mother

2009-10-27T04:18:00.000-07:00

So I was chatting on the phone with my mom the other day, and she said to me, "Oh! We watched the funniest movie last night. You HAVE to get it. You will LOVE it! SO FUNNY!"

Great, I love funny movies. "Which one?" I asked.

"Write this down, honey...GRUMPY OLD MEN! IT'S HILARIOUS! HA!"

Huh. I pretended to write it down, what with her excitement and all, but...really, Mom? Grumpy Old Men sounds like something I'd LOVE? I'm thinking no. I mean, no offense to people who like men who are old and grumpy. As far as I know, I've been missing out on something amazing. But wow, I could not be less interested. I'll cut my mom a break, though, since I've done the same thing to her, several times. I was emphatic about recommending Slumdog Millionaire and she just has No. Interest.

I logged on to Netflix to fill my queue (not with Grumpy Old Men, mind you) and lo! I found that most everything on my home page was something I'd enjoy! The categories that apparently describe my tastes are:

Dramatic Movies Featuring a Strong Female Lead
Dark, Independent Dramas
Visually-striking Suspenseful Films
Critically-acclaimed Satires
Movies Starring Ewan McGregor

That last one made me laugh. But hey! Lots of stuff I'd watch, right there. How do they know me so well? I feel like we could be friends.

How about you? Describe your movie categories.

Theme Song

2009-10-22T06:00:00.000-07:00

When writers talk about theme, especially on message boards and in writing groups, I can almost hear the clucking of tongues. Few readers wish to be chugging along in a story just to be smacked upside the head with overt author preaching.

It's unlikely anyone is going to find my writing to have great socio-political implications, but I do have a few themes that pop up in one form or another in my writing. Fortunately, they make for rich plots:

1) Something wicked bubbling under a veneer: I find the idea of carefully controlling outward appearances appealing, especially when it's hiding an ugly struggle within. Much of this comes from growing up in a family that really could have stepped right out of a Southern Gothic novel. (I'm talking about my extended family, not my mom and dad, who are stable and borderline boring.) This might explain my obsession with Carson, Flannery, Tennessee, and Truman. I don't write this genre, but I love reading it.

2) Scandal and public humiliation: I can't pinpoint why this has evolved into such a theme for me. I cringe at witnessing humiliation. When Jan Brady wore her brunette wig to a party and was ridiculed by her classmates, I had to look away. I can't stomach watching auditions for American Idol or any other kind of Shame TV. Awful! Yet here I am, writing a scene in which the main character is outed for past sins on the evening news.

3) Good/Bad Moms (or a sprinkling of each in one): I don't always write about mother/daughter relationships, but I do so quite a bit. And hopefully no one will read too much into my Bad Mother examples. Oy. It's fiction, people.

Wow, this all sounds kind of heavy. I do try to lighten things with humor and mix it up. Right now, I'm working on something new that is mostly #2, very little of #3, and the reverse of #1. I didn't set out to write it this way, but here we go again!

What about you? Do you have any elements that keep appearing in your writing?

Dear McDonald's: Bite It

2009-10-16T04:49:00.000-07:00

My husband, who puts up with my Wild Feminist Rantings* with far more grace and patience than most men, actually got a taste this weekend of what's been annoying me for years.

Background: I grew up the type of little girl who preferred to play with the neighborhood boys. I'd rather be Luke Skywalker over Princess Leia any day, nifty hairdo notwithstanding. I received far more babydolls and Barbies for Christmas than I ever wanted, which mostly sat in a sad pile of neglect in the corner of my closet. Surprising most of the concerned adults around me, I turned out relatively normal and able to function in society.

Dear husband took our 7-year-old daughter to McDonald's for lunch (I'll put my disgust over the whole ground meat controversy aside for one moment) and she ordered a Happy Meal. For the toy, of course.

The toy choices on the wall were between a Build-A-Bear stuffed animal (girl toy) and a plastic Bakugan...somethingorother. I don't know what it is, exactly, but it's the boy toy. She opened the box and found within a pink stuffed animal with "Baby Rocks" printed on its shirt.

She frowned. "I wanted the Bakugan."

"Okay, we'll see if we can switch," said the husband, ever the doting dad.

Back to the counter they went. The employee looked startled. "But she's a girl. She got the girl toy." Now, this couldn't possibly have been the first time she'd encountered this scenario. Maybe she just startles easy.

"Yes, but is it possible to switch?"

"I suppose. You really want the boy toy, honey? Okay."

My husband said she was nice and all. Polite. Even let daughter pick which Bakugan she wanted. Still. Daughter was taken aback. She would NOT want to be confused with a boy. No no no. She's not even all that tomboyish.

I realize that if she were a boy who wanted the girl toy, the level of shit from the employee, and from society overall, would have been much greater. No! Stay within your pre-defined gender roles!

Anyway. I'm sure she won't be scarred for life. But, grrr. Sometimes parenting really is like reliving your childhood.

What kind of kid were you?

*By "wild" I mean "mild."

Show and Tell

2009-10-12T15:27:00.000-07:00

Over at Absolute Write, member Dee Garretson had an idea: writers constantly talk about showing vs. telling, but what's the difference, exactly? Many of us get a little tell-y from time to time (there's a reason no one sees my first drafts.) It's often difficult to understand the concept because, when done right, it's invisible. You feel the tension right along with the characters.

So several of us took up the challenge to SHOW some examples of show vs. tell. Mine is from my own work. Same scene, two ways. Here's the setup:

It's 1976 in a pretty little suburb of Chicago. Housewife Ilona is trying to convince her kind-but-traditional husband to allow her to get a part time job. She's just taken her children to see the Sears Tower, now they are getting ready for dinner.

SHOW:

“Where’s my beautiful wife?” Dennis said every evening when he arrived home at 5:30. Then a kiss. He was taller than most men, much taller than Ilona, and had a stoop to his shoulders. Like living an apology. This evening, unlike most others, she had dinner waiting, the housework completed, and kids sitting clean at the table.

“Hi honey,” she said. “We are having steak tonight.”

“Terrific. I could smell it when I walked in. I love steak.”

Jamie and Ryan told their father about the Sears Tower, interrupting each other in excitement. Remember those trucks, they were saying, so tiny, and when we got down to the street they were still there, huge!

Ilona cleared her throat. “I made dessert tonight, too. Brownies,” she cut in, “and shirts. I bought some new shirts for you on our way home today.” She set the steaks on the table. The family sat down and passed the food clockwise.

“Perfect. You’ve all been busy. Thanks.”

“So, honey, can we talk now? About that job?”

Dennis looked up from his plate, catching her eyes, but he did not respond.

“Can we?”

He sighed. “This again? Can I at least finish my meal first?”

They worked their way through dinner, talking only intermittently of the day’s events. The silences in between their remarks were punctuated by the chink of forks hitting porcelain. Her daughter, Jamie, finished quickly. She excused herself and turned to Ryan.

“Let’s go.”

“But I’m not finished yet,” he said. “And what about the brownies?”

“Come on.” She picked up the plate in front of him and walked toward the kitchen. “We’ll take some brownies into my room.”

Ryan shrugged and followed his sister into the kitchen, then down the hall to the bedrooms.

“Now?” Ilona asked her husband.

“Fine.”

TELL:

Ilona was nervous about asking Dennis about potentially working part time at the library. He took pride in providing for his family, and had tried to dissuade Ilona in the past from working. She'd been busy all day making conditions perfect before he arrived home, in an effort to show that her duties as a mother would not be forgotten.

When dinner began, Ilona blurted out the question that had been inside her all afternoon. “So, honey, can we talk now? About that job?”

Dennis was exasperated. She just wouldn't drop it.

The kids sensed the tension between their parents all through dinner and finished the meal rapidly. Jamie escaped with Ryan into her room and the parents continued their conversation.

Got it? Good. Now see how everyone else handled it.

Melia (Dee Garretson) http://deegarretson.wordpress.com/

Ink (Tracey Martin): http://inkwench.wordpress.com/

Blond (Gretchen McNeil): http://gretchenmcneil.blogspot.com/

Tas (K.A. Stewart): http://literaryintent.blogspot.com/

Sunna (Amy Bai) http://amybai.wordpress.com/

Red (Bryn Greenwood) http://bryngreenwood.wordpress.com/

(Regular followers, I know I'm off schedule this week. I've been a little ARGH-MAKE-IT-STOP busy with life stuff. I'll be back on sched Friday. I'm sure you've been up late worrying.)

I am not a chick

2009-10-05T11:15:00.000-07:00

How much am I loving this movie reviewer's mea culpa in the Toronto Star for his use of the phrase "chick flick" when he describes a film? Peter Howell, I don't know you, but you are now a friend for life.

From the link:

I hate the term because it's a form of contempt masquerading as hip lingo. Implicit in every use is the qualifier "only," even if the word is unspoken: "It's only a chick flick."

A film that supposedly appeals mainly to women can't be taken seriously because it's only a chick flick.

I've been annoyed by this for a while. Not the term "chick flick" per se, because I think it can describe a movie's overall tone. Sex in the City, Confessions of a Shopaholic, even my beloved Bridget Jones' Diary might fall into this category. Might. It's still pretty derogative, if you ask me, but I'm willing to go with it.

However, the definition seems to have widened to include EVERY movie with strong female leads and that appeals mostly to a female audience. Regardless of tone or theme. Your friend gets raped outside of a bar and you are trying to escape from the police after killing the jerk? Chick flick. Your daughter is diabetic and dies after having a baby? Chick flick. You are a poor black woman in the 1930s who is raped repeatedly and forced to marry an old man? Chick flick. Why is it that so many films with female leads get this dismissive label?

Julie & Julia is the most recent film to be branded as a chick flick. And yeah, it's a comedy, but it's not about shoes or making it in the big city. Meryl Streep is not a chick. Nor am I.

Book Reco: Sima's Undergarments for Women

2009-10-01T10:40:00.000-07:00

I have this friend who reads absolutely everything and gives me lots of good recommendations. Love that! We both like women's fiction, so recently she mentioned two books--one big and splashy and one quiet and delicate. I ordered both. Being in a splashy frame of mind, I started with the fictionalized biography of Laura Bush. I heard it was juicy and well-written and while all that was true...I just couldn't get into it. So I picked up Sima's Undergarments for Women by Ilana Stanger-Ross.

It takes place in one of those little shops I always see in New York, half-hidden on the ground floor, this one under a Boro Park brownstone. Women from this Orthodox Jewish neighborhood all visit Sima for bra fittings and conversation. Mostly the latter.

Sima's life consists of running her shop and tending to Lev, her husband of many years, until a gorgeous young Israeli woman named Timna starts working as a seamstress in the shop.

Timna soon becomes, at least in Sima's mind, the daughter she couldn't have of her own. And also a bit of an obsession. Timna provides a glimpse into the self Sima never was, but longed to be: sexy, carefree, with a lifetime of possibilities ahead of her. Sima is a deeply flawed and nuanced character (she reminded me a little of Olive in Olive Kitteridge) but I connected with her and found her interesting (much more so than pretty Timna, actually.)

Have you ever had a bra fitting? It's personal, to say the least. Much bare flesh is involved. So I can understand how, along with stripping off physical clothes, it's an easy atmosphere to share intimate feelings. Anyway, if you are in to literary women's fiction at all, pick this one up.

The guilt, it consumes me

2009-09-29T03:25:00.000-07:00

So I have this cat. She's dying. I gave her to my husband for Valentine's Day 15 years ago. She's not exactly young and spry, and she's been in so-so health for quite a while now. The fact that she has untreatable kitty cancer wasn't a huge surprise. But sad.

I had a long talk with the vet and she urged us not to wait too long to put her down, as most people do when they can't let go. I've never had to do this before and I'm dreading having to make the final decision.

Anyway, bleh. What a downer. Sorry.

Maybe this video of a cute baby will make up for it. It made me laugh, anyway:

What do you think her mom is like? A little chatty, maybe?

I love this!

2009-09-25T05:00:00.000-07:00

I saw this on Jezebel the other day and thought it was pretty awesome. Tara Wheeler, last year's Miss Virginia, promised to shave her head to raise money and awareness for children with cancer. Even though she didn't meet her $500,000 goal, she went ahead and shaved it anyway. "Beauty is as beauty does," she said back in April. Indeed.

I've considered well, not shaving, but cutting my hair and donating it to Locks of Love. A little girl in my daughter's class grew her gorgeous blonde hair out and did just that. But, let's face it, nobody wants my hair. Sure, it might look thick (or at least acceptable) in some of my pictures, but that's due to clever blow outs and a copious use of products. Bed Head. Volumizer. Flip upside down. Spray. Pray it doesn't rain.

In any event, Ms. Wheeler was unable to shave her head while she reigned as Miss Virginia (even though she likely would have been able to raise much more money, so booooo Miss America Inc.) but good for her for going through with it. I'd probably chicken out.

Silver Phoenix book signing and get-together

2009-09-21T17:00:00.000-07:00

Over the weekend, my dear (and, up to this point, virtual) friend Cindy Pon was in town and I hosted a book signing for her in my apartment. I had about 16 or so people over for coffee, mimosas, and many, many sweets. "What?" you might be saying, "You let a bunch of strangers into your house for a PARTY? Are you nuts?"

Possibly. But that's a different issue. Cindy couldn't book an official signing, being it Rosh Hashanah and all. She asked about coffee shops that might be fun, but the problem with coffee shops in New York is that very few look like Central Perk and they are ALWAYS full of people. Full. And my apartment is not. So. Come on over!

And it was worth it. I met a bunch of Absolute Write friends, who weren't exactly strangers, since I know so much about them (but yeah, still kinda, since I didn't know what they looked like. Turns out Lara is NOT a smoking teddy bear. She looks like this):

She's the woman in the middle. Not even a little bear-like!

Some of Cindy's other writerly and arty friends came as well. Such fun. A veritable salon. Of course, I think that any group of people gathered together talking about subjects other than a) children, b) the stock market, or c) travel plans is some sort of great intellectual exchange. Really, my standards are low. Still, books were discussed.

Lawrence Wong was nice enough to take these pictures, plus many others, including some great shots of my dog. Thanks!

Making an effort

2009-09-18T05:00:00.000-07:00

Part of my September resolutions, aside from blogging on a regular (albeit light) schedule was to make an effort to get out there and join the writing community. "Wow, Manhattan," people from points West say, "you must know a lot of people in the publishing world!"

Er, no. Not really. Sure, I met quite a few people at the Southampton Writers and Algonquin conferences I attended last year. And yeah, here and there through the kids' school or whatever. But in terms of hanging out with writerly types? No. (Finance and lawyer-ly people, on the other hand? Plenty.)

My first baby step into this strange and wondrous new world was to find a real live, in-person critique group. Not words on a screen and user names--PEOPLE. Okay, done. We haven't met yet, so I've no idea how this will go. Perhaps terribly. But I'm getting out there!

My second step I completed today: I joined a writer's workspace. This means that a few times a week, I actually have to change into pants, pack my laptop, board a subway, and LEAVE THE UPPER EAST SIDE OMG.

The space I joined is just 3 stops on the express train and 2 blocks over, so, yes, convenient. It's really just a loft filled with desks and cubicles writers can use, with a kitchen and tables down the hall. Being as noiseless as possible is strictly enforced. I took a seat and listened for a while--nothing but taps on a keyboard. I think I can ignore that. I'll try not to get too competitive with the fast typists.

There is a place to chat (softly) and they run a bunch of evening discussions and member readings at the KGB Bar, which just, face it, sounds awesome. Is the bar filled with spies? Arty people smoking the hookah? Who knows! Guess I'll find out soon enough.

Writing is such a solitary activity and sometimes it makes me a little crazy. Like I forget how to be social. So I think I need this. How about you? Does your work/hobby draw you away from the world? How do you deal?

The problem with role models

2009-09-15T04:50:00.000-07:00

I have to preface this by saying that, although Serena's actions at the US Open were dreadfully unsportsmanlike, the racist comments and general dumb-assery I've read on teh intrawebz following that outburst were -- hello?--a million times worse.

But wow, role models: my kids sure can't pick 'em. My tennis-loving daughter adores Serena Williams. She relishes the fact that the younger sister is just a bit more athletic than older sis Venus and is also into fashion and being fancy. She plays with a Williams sisters racquet and reads every newspaper article about her she can find. We watched much of the US Open together, and every day she would ask, "Is Serena still in?" So I was relieved that she lay asleep in her bed when Serena went nuts on that line judge. My daughter read the entire article the next day, and, well, we had a teachable moment and all, but I could tell that she was a crestfallen about her hero. (She still admires Serena, for the record.)

And this was my older daughter's hero from the 2008 Olympics:

Bong boy himself. That was a fun conversation. More teachable moments than I care for, frankly.

Now, I know neither infraction is THAT big of a deal. Athletes lose their temper (football, anyone?), young people screw up. People make mistakes. Everyone's lives will go on, and I don't think my little darlings will be too terribly scarred.

Oh well. At least they don't idolize Kanye.

How (Not) to Attend a Fashion Event When You Are Maybe Not So Fashionable

2009-09-11T04:42:00.000-07:00

Last night was Fashion's Night Out in New York, an event where 700 retailers kept their doors open until 11 pm. Many threw cocktail parties to prod people into drinking and buying, since the economy still, frankly, sucks.

So anyway, Akris was kind enough to host a party and fashion show to benefit Lenox Hill Neighborhood House, and I thusly finagled an invitation. Believe me, there is no way I'd be invited otherwise. I'm just not a fashionista, by any stretch. (She said as she sits in her pajama bottoms and stretched out t-shirt.)

The moment the invitation arrived in the mail, my thoughts went from Fun! Something different! to Oh hell, what do I wear? (For the record, a fairly safe knee-length black dress and long dangly necklace. I know. Boring.)

Here are some more helpful tips I picked up along the way. Use them at your own risk:

A. Fashion people are thin, and you've eaten too much pie over the summer, so it's time to starve yourself--Well, okay, I didn't actually do this, but I did eat a light lunch and skip dinner in the name of minimizing stomach poochage. This turned out not to be such a great idea (See D.)

B. Carve a big chunk out of your leg with your razor in the shower--Because aside from the searing pain, drips of dried blood poking out from your dress is beyond chic. But hey, no unsightly stubble.

C. Arrive with your gorgeous and fashionable friend--The upside of this is that she gives you an air of legitimacy. The downside is that you are now the plain one.

D. Drink champagne on an empty stomach--Especially if you can't hold your liquor, like me. Oh yes, and make sure you slur a little when you are meeting new people. That's a great impression to make, along with your shredded legs and summer pie pounds.

E. Take lots of pictures like a rube who has never been to a fashion show before--Okay, so I did this furtively. I don't think anyone noticed. Or at least they were polite enough to pretend they saw nothing. But still. Whipping out a camera for blog pictures doesn't exactly scream hip and blase. And if you are going to go ahead and do that, make sure you...

F. Lose your cable that connects the camera to your laptop--So that the picture-taking is moot. Sorry, blog friends. I can't find it anywhere!

I did end up having fun, and the clothing was amazing.

Have a great weekend!

September Resolutions

2009-09-08T15:28:00.000-07:00

Ah, September. My favorite month of the year. It always feels like the beginning of the calendar and the best time for resolutions, more so than January 1. New Year's resolutions have never worked for me. So why not try it this way? While I'd love to resolve to lose those last five pounds, become more organized, or learn to make baklava, I think I'll stick with something fairly simple: to maintain a regular blogging schedule.

Up to now, I've been sort of a seat-of-my-pants, blog-when-I-feel-like-it kind of girl. The problem with that is that I can go for a loooong stretch between feeling like blogging. Stuff gets in the way. I can't update every day (trust me, you do not want to hear that level of minutiae.) So I'm going to shoot for twice per week, on Tuesdays and Fridays.

It's still Tuesday! This one counts!

See you Friday.

Happy Labor Day!

2009-09-05T12:47:00.000-07:00

I hope everyone's enjoying their Labor Day weekend. It's gorgeous here on the East End, so I'm heading outside while it's still possible. It's been a big summer for hanging out outdoors--my dermatologist is going to kill me.

Enjoy!

Mom, Killer of All Dreams

2009-08-30T04:39:00.000-07:00

I've always considered myself a supportive mom. Wherever my children find joy, I'll support their choices, no matter what. Like when my little one declared she wanted to grow up to be a dogwalker, I said "Great! Let's practice," and handed her our dog's leash. She gave up on that dream when she found out that picking up poo was involved. Sorry, kid. I don't enjoy it either.

Up to now, this strategy has been conflict-free. My eldest loves fencing and wants to be a scientist (for now, of course. I realize this may change.) Okay. So we schlep to fencing lessons, sign up for classes at the Natural History Museum, and escort her out to marine bio camp. Great. Knock yourself out.

My little one likes tennis and wants to be famous. Tennis is easy enough. Kind of a pain in the ass in Manhattan, but doable. Famous? Oh sure, how cute, right? No. She wants to be famous RIGHT NOW. She's caught on to the fact that kids can be models and actors. A child we know has a small part this summer in her second movie, this time alongside a very dreamy movie star. So little one wants me to send some photos off to a talent agency and set her on the road to stardom.

I explained that it was a tough business. IF she even got started, she'd be trying out for jobs just based on looks and often she wouldn't get them. I know (well!) how much rejection sucks. I'm a grown woman and sometimes I die a little after reading "...not for us. Good luck." I can't imagine being a child and someone telling me I wasn't pretty enough, or tall enough, or thin enough. The feminist in me is screaming--positively bursting to get out!--but I toned her down.

At least with writing, I can pretend that my manuscript was good, it just wasn't right for their list. No one's implying that I'm ugly, or too chubby, or have stumpy legs, or whatever. And even if everyone hated my writing, I could always put an effort into improving. Not so with modeling.

I'm not maligning other people's choices for their children. Not every child in that business leads the life of Toddlers & Tiaras. I do think most stage moms probably have what's best for their child in mind. But, just...I can't. Not yet.

So I said no. When she's older, fine. And I'm happy to sign her up for drama lessons or whatever she likes. If she still wants to act when she's grown, I'll be sitting in the front row.

I did the right thing. Right? Yes? I hope so. Or am I foisting my issues on my kid?

What would you do?

Bring it, Bill.

2009-08-22T13:20:00.000-07:00

You know those idiots you see on the news, checking out the dangerous waves just before a hurricane comes? Yeah, that's me. Hurricane Bill is (way) offshore today and he's kicking up some huge swells.

We went out to Flying Point this morning and there was NO beach left. The wooden steps to the sand went directly down into churning water--plus one of the lifeguard stands was in danger of floating away.

So what do we do? Drive to the Montauk Point lighthouse to check out some EVEN BIGGER and MORE DANGEROUS waves. Of course, also like an idiot, I didn't bring my camera. The photo above is captured from another site. It was sunny today, so just picture some crashing waves.

There must have been, I don't know, a hundred surfers out there in the 12 ft waves and they were amazing to see. Although being a mommy has ruined me for watching risky activities. I was stressed the entire time "Watch it! Oh! He's going to run into that guy! Be careful! Hey, be safe out there!" ("OMG, mom, shhh!") And no, I wasn't about to let my daughter out there with her board. These were grown men and women. We watched from the cliffs.

Crazy!

While I'm out...

2009-08-14T13:23:00.000-07:00

...enjoy some vintage ads with stereotypical women.

Always fun!

For the love of God, watch out! A woman is at the wheel!

I think I know where I'd tell this guy to stick his coffee.

This commercial makes me want to kill myself. I don't think Jello is going to solve her problems. She needs something a little stronger.

Mad Storytellin' Skillz

2009-08-06T09:11:00.000-07:00

I hear a lot of debate among the writerly inclined about the literary merit of certain popular authors. Just head over to Absolute Write and post about how much you love Dan Brown or Stephanie Meyer if you want to see some serious ire.

Now, I'm not defending either author. Conspiracy theories don't do it for me, and neither does hot vampire loving (I don't mean to offend, dear fans of Lestat, Edward, and Bill. Whatever gets you going is fine by me.) But I have read at least a bit of both TDC, and while I doubt they will win any prestigious awards for prose, the authors have one thing in common: they can tell a hell of an interesting story.

Nor am I some kind of lowest common denominator-loving philistine. I love exquisite prose. I love when I read an insightful passage that makes me read it three times over, just to experience it again. I love when writing makes me go "Oooooo!" and I look at something in a different way.

But I also love a good page-turner. Or a book that keeps me up giggling late at night. It's doubtful Comparative Lit majors are going to study the intricacies of Bridget Jones' Diary for generations to come, but I'm happy I experienced her charm--how could you NOT love Bridget and her granny panties? (Well, some might not. That book, like any, can be filed under Not My Thing.)

All the anger just makes me shake my head. I read an article recently about how some foodie bloggers hated Julie & Julia because it wasn't true to food and pure or somesuch. Let me tell you how much that will come into my enjoyment of the movie: not one little bit. I similarly doubt that most readers care that Meyers used too many adjectives, or used SHOW over TELL too much, or whatever. She's got herself some mad storytelling skillz. I'd like some of that!

Anyway, that's just my opinion. What's yours?

Women's Fiction winners

2009-07-29T09:17:00.000-07:00

I've recently read a couple of amazing books I thought I'd share:

The Help by Kathryn Stockett

This book took some serious balls (and talent) to pull off. A white woman writing in 1st person from the POV of two different Southern black maids in 1963? I doubt I'd have the guts to attempt it. There is such potential for things to go so, so wrong. Luckily for us, the author is not only brave enough, but skilled as all hell, because I can't remember feeling such adoration for a character in a long time. The way she captured each of the three voices (2 maids and a well-to-do white woman who takes an interest in their stories) was just...well, I'm not one to gush, but they felt so real. The novel the theme of racism head-on without ever once falling into the same old tropes.

Real Life and Liars by Kristina Riggle

Okay, so here's another book with several different POVs interweaving into one cohesive story. The Zielinski family has some problems understanding one another, which is all too apparent when they get together. I loved pot-smoking hippie matriarch Mira right away--her attitude just appealed to me. So much so that at times I forgot she was dying of cancer. Each of her three children have their own issues, but I rooted for all of them to get it together. They felt, at all times, like a real family. Aside from the characters, her prose is lovely and full of little insights. It drew me in right away.

Both of these books are well worth your time. And you know I'd never steer you wrong.

Links aplenty

2009-07-23T15:29:00.000-07:00

Since I have nothing interesting to say today, I thought I'd let you know about some of my favorite new-to-me blogs:

The Worst Review Ever--This one is Oh My God funny. Authors (or any other kind of artist) submit the worst review they ever received, professional or otherwise, then answer questions about how they felt after reading it. Hilarity ensues.

The Intern--A clever (and entertaining!) intern helps us press our noses against the glass of a NYC publishing house for a peek inside.

Pimp My Novel--What happens after you get your book deal? I wish I could tell you personally, but for now, you will have to visit this blog. It's stuffed full of info writers need to know, so read it!

Edittorent--Two editors give writing tips and industry news.

Enjoy.

Let's do the time warp again!

2009-07-18T06:53:00.000-07:00

Many of you already know that I spend a lot of time with my parents in the summer months. As in, we live in the same house. One big (mostly) happy family. It's been great, I have to say, but it's not without its challenges.

My mom is pretty much a walking stereotype of a nurturing, midwestern mother. Her mission is to take care of things -- people, animals, bugs struggling in the pool -- and she does it well. I enjoy hanging out with my daughters, but all the tasks that accompany it, like cooking and cleaning, are decidedly NOT a perk, in my view. My mom on the other hand...well, if you'd like your laundry done, just swing on by.

Most of all, my mom loves to feed people. Finding new and exciting dishes are an all-day quest, and her cookbook collection rivals the entire New York Public Library. Just now, she's stepped into a time warp and is on a 1960s retro food kick. It's a little...um, yeah, different.

Thusly:

The main problem with these cocktail sausages (aside from the whole ground up pig lips and entrails business, which I choose to ignore) is that my mother insists on calling them "weiners." What are we having tonight? Little weiners! Mmmm, weiners. Weiners are good. Would you like some more weiners? Yeah, no. That doesn't sound appetizing. If that makes me juvenile, so be it.

We get things in varying shades of this:

Casserole! Who doesn't love it?

We've also been served up lots and lots of jellied foods. Sweet, savory--makes no difference. Just put it in a mold and refrigerate to make it "fancy." Behold, the wiggle!

I likely come off as a total ungrateful brat in this post. That is not my intention. I adore my parents. I do.

But tonight, I'm cooking.

We made it back alive

2009-07-14T11:22:00.001-07:00

Honestly, there was some concern. I don't love flying, to say the least, and this was my first time traveling alone with my lovely children. Of course, I had to pick a 6-hour plane ride, followed by a 2 hour layover, then a quick 30 minute flight, then a rental car pickup. But no fear! It all turned out fine. And no alcohol abuse or sedatives involved! Hooray!

After we got my older daughter off to marine biology camp, I had a whole week to hang out with my 7-year-old. And no one else. At all. Luckily, she's a pretty cool kid and we have similar personalities (except she's more chatty. MUCH more chatty.) This kid was ready for some serious mother-daughter bonding, and she couldn't wait to get rid of her older sister for a few days.

We did a lot of this:

And this:

And some of this:

Note the shopping bags from our day in Carmel-by-the-Sea. She's still a little peeved that I wouldn't buy her a black, ruffly evening dress (um...no. Why do they even make black evening dresses in kiddie sizes?) but she'll get over it.

Oh yeah, we also did 17-mile drive, the aquarium, whale watching, all that stuff.

Older daughter came back happy, tired, and smelling weird. (What is that smell? From the bay? I can't get it out of her clothes!)

Whew. Now I need a vacation.

So, how was your week?

I'm AWOL this week

2009-07-03T07:11:00.000-07:00

I'm off to take daughter #1 to sleepaway camp in California next week and spend several days hanging out in Monterey with daughter #2. Smaller One is keen to have me all to herself 24/7. "Oh yay, we can be together all day and even sleep in the same bed!" I was kinda hoping to get some writing done, but somehow that's doubtful. Oh well.

I'll miss you! Mwah!

Nice Interview!

2009-07-02T07:04:00.000-07:00

Huge congrats to my friend Justin Fox who rocked it on the Daily Show last night! He's a smart guy and all, but the most important part of his interview is that I can claim to know my TV boyfriend Jon Stewart through ONE degree of separation.

If you are a finance geek, or have a finance geek in your life (like I do), check out his book.

The Daily Show With Jon Stewart

Mon - Thurs 11p / 10c

Justin Fox

www.thedailyshow.com

Daily Show
Full Episodes

Political Humor

Jason Jones in Iran

Sad Sack

2009-06-29T14:56:00.000-07:00

I don't know if it's this crappy New York weather, or being outside of the city or what, but man! I've kind of let myself go in the last few weeks. I'm not typically a fashionista by any stretch, but at least at home I feel compelled to put myself together every day. Out here at the beach? Pffbbtt! I've left that all behind. I need the peer pressure. If you saw me right now, you would be appalled. Trust me.

I always have such high hopes for summer as I walk by little boutiques. Flirty little dresses and chic sandals--they beckon. Or perhaps something like this:

That's me and my fashionable pretend friends, just out for a day of shopping, some lattes, and maybe a pedicure.

But after a few weeks of writing solo and the schleppery that is my life, I usually end up more along the lines of this:

Okay, well maybe not THAT bad, but it captures how I felt showing up for tennis camp pickup in my dirty running shorts just to meet my daughter's adorable Brazilian coach. And all his Brazilian friends. Oh yeah, hi. I'm frumpy. Nice to meet you.

I mean, I'm not going to dress up next time for them or anything. That's a little too Mrs. Robinson. But jeez. I need some maintenance work.

That's it. I'm calling for a haircut tomorrow.

Getting to know you, getting to know all about you

2009-06-25T07:45:00.000-07:00

I've been kicking around a bunch of new concepts for a novel recently (eight, in fact) and my mind couldn't settle on just one. All eight seed ideas had to do with family drama and controversy, something I've been led to believe I write well. I'm not sure exactly what that says about me, but I'm running with it anyway.

I typically start with a character with whom I would like to spend a great deal of time. He or she can be complicated and flawed, but must posses something interesting. Problem was, all my MC ladies were in a huge catfight for my brainspace. The aging ex-Playboy bunny knocked the over-stressed ad exec and the rest of them on their asses for a while, but now she's taken a back seat. Maybe she'll have her day, but for now she's filed under "Brainstorming.doc."

My agent gave me some sage advice, and with her help, I think I've picked a winner. The plot's pretty much down, so now for my favorite part--fleshing the MC out. Love this. It's like getting to know a cool new roommate, but you have a say in who she is and won't get stuck with a clunker. I'm fanatical about getting to know my characters before I write anything. She has her own dossier and I'm forming her style. After she simmers for a few more days, I'll get going. Can't wait.

How do you get started on something new?

Iran

2009-06-21T17:01:00.000-07:00

I don't know about you, but I can't stop watching the news of the Iranian election fallout. Just amazing. Jezebel posted an interesting piece on the role of women in the protests, old and young, rich and poor. They also have the "Neda" footage, which is terribly graphic and sad, but you don't have to click the video to read the article if you can't stomach it.

More Animal Drama

2009-06-18T16:42:00.000-07:00

So the snails haven't been at it again, at least as far as I can tell. I can't blame them for their celibacy after being pried apart with a giant spoon and all. Kinda kills the mood.

But we do have something new to fret about just outside the back door--a wren has some baby birds in a birdhouse. Not a problem, except for the fact that the birdhouse is old and rickety and just about to fall completely apart and plunge to the ground. Certain death. It's hanging by ONE NAIL. The roof pulls open a little more every day and now we can see all the babies inside. Oh no!

Compounding this problem is the fact we have four, count 'em, FOUR cats here at Casa Cebula, who are wise to all this and sit patiently waiting, mouths open, for breakfast to fall from the sky.

Now, most Darwinists might say to leave them be, but no, not us. This has become a family project. SAVE THE BIRDS. I built a net contraption out of pieces of old trellis and torn-up soccer goals and hung is just below the branch. It's very pretty. But at least it will break their fall. Then my dad hooked twine around the bottom of the house and tied it off on an opposite limb. Whew. It looked like the babies were safe. Success!

Until today when it started pouring. THEY'RE GETTING WET! POOR THINGS! MOMMY!

So there I was, climbing a tree in a rainstorm, so that I could hook an umbrella to the branch above. I froze and nearly killed myself, but those freaking birds are dry.

These are the kinds of things I worry about. I just came in from checking on the birds for the 40th time today.

This might be a sign from the gods to go out and get a real job.

Congrats to Jamie!

2009-06-16T10:29:00.000-07:00

Friend of the blog Jamie Mason has found a (truly amazing) agent! She's keeping the details at the moment on the down low, on the Q T, say no more say no more. But hop on over and congratulate her! She's a fantastic writer and has a great blog.

Yay!

Snail Drama

2009-06-09T11:35:00.001-07:00

So yeah, remember how I said it was impossible to get anything done with my kids around? Here's a little example of that:

This morning I was upstairs on the computer when I heard shrieking and sobbing from the floor below. Oh no! I rushed down to find my younger daughter, Charlotte, hovered over her pet snails. (Yes, snails. And they are big and gross.)

"THEY ARE EATING EACH OTHER!" she was yelling, and sure enough, one of the snails seemed to be consuming the other in its shell. Foam dripped out the side. Worse yet, the victim was alive! Gah! Snail homicide!

So I grabbed the pair and tried to pull them apart. The aggressor held tight, jerk that she was. She wasn't giving up easily. So I ran them both under the faucet. Still she clung. That bitch. At this time, my mom ran in. ""Knock on the shell! Make her stop!' Clack clack clack I went.

By now my daughter was red-faced and drenched with tears. "SAVE HONEY! SAVE HONEY!" (Honey was the victim, Daisy the perpetrator.) I was getting those damn snails apart no matter what it took. I put them on the table and began prying one snail from the other with a spoon, hoping to save that poor nearly-eaten smaller one.

Finally, Daisy retreated, but it looked like the carnage was done. Thank God, after a few seconds, Honey began to move. Hooray! I'd saved her! I'd saved the day!

"Um, mom?" my nine-year-old said from the top of the stairs, "Maybe they were just mating."

Oh.

Yeah.

Probably so.

School's Out!

2009-06-05T11:30:00.000-07:00

Today was the last day of school for my daughters. One would think a horde of girls would burst out of the schoolhouse, all WAHOO and YIPPEE because the have three whole months of no more uniforms, no more books, no more teacher's dirty looks! But no. Tears aplenty. All the kids actually seemed sad to be out of school for the summer. This does not compute in my mind. No matter how much I liked school, I was thrilled to get the heck out of dodge every June (see WAHOO and YIPEE above.)

So now that the long, looooooong summer spreads out ahead of me (have you seen how late Labor Day falls? Gah!) it will be much more of a challenge to find time to write*. And I'm itching to start my next novel. Itching! Problem is, even when my kids are happy playing and I can physically sit down to tap away, half of my mind is just listening for something bad to happen. Someone will fall. Or bicker. Or need something. Or step on the dog. You get the idea. It's tough to concentrate on a scene, to say the least.

How about you? What keeps you from either writing or doing whatever it is you want/need to do? Kids? A loud neighbor? Lack of sleep?

*I realize there are people out there who have actual full time jobs who find the time to write, so maybe you don't feel so sorry for me. But just roll with it, okay?

Writers, Writers Everywhere!

2009-05-31T06:37:00.000-07:00

In case you haven't heard, it was a big week for writers in Manhattan this week. The ginormous Book Expo America was held at the Javits Center, overlapping with the Backspace Conference. I didn't participate in either of these events (I'd planned on going to one day of BEA, but, long story short, I had to spend the day getting my daughter tested for swine flu. It was negative. Yay.) but I did meet up with some writers I've met online and IRL.

On Friday, I met AWer mikeland for coffee near Union Square. He critiqued one of my short stories and gave me fabulous feedback a few months back. We've been communicating online for a while, so it was great to see him in person. Much chatting of agents and the publishing industry ensued.

Last night, I went out for drinks with some other AWers (ClaudiaGray, NeuroFizz, Lara, and Sharonb423) and some Backspace attendees at the uber-writerly Algonquin Hotel Bar. (Pictured above. Notice all the booze on the table.)

Then the hubs and I went out to dinner with the very fun Debbie and her husband, Chuck. Debbie was a conference queen this week, attending BOTH (and having great success, might I add.) I'm sure she'll be posting her pictures when she gets home.

Fun week!

And if any of you come to NYC, please let me know. I loved talking shop.

Update

2009-05-29T09:34:00.000-07:00

I've had a few people ping me to see how my novel is coming along (this is in addition to the 12 times per week my mother asks--no, that's not irritating) so I thought I'd give you loyal followers an update.

Nothing super exciting to report, really. My agent wanted some further revisions on a technical issue that required a bit of research. Some of the chapters are written from the point of view of a character who suspects she might be going insane. I had her a little *too* far over in Crazytown and needed to pull back a bit. Since most of her scenes take place in 1975, I also needed to research how people with these symptoms were treated by professionals before the advent of Prozac and everything that came after it. Luckily, a good friend of mine is a psychiatrist and I called her for advice. (Thanks, Gail!)

I just finished yesterday and sent it back.

So.

I wait.

How are things on your end?

Picky, picky

2009-05-22T05:29:00.000-07:00

I spent an hour or so in a bookstore yesterday. I don't know if it was my bad mood or what, but I found it difficult to find much that resonated. Now, admittedly, this was a small independent bookstore with a slightly different focus. If you wanted a non-fiction book about the economy, you were in business. (That's a big "no thanks" for me as I hear far, far too much about the market in my daily life. Although I do plan to read my friend Justin's book when it comes out.) So my browsing options were limited.

I'd pick a book up, read the flap and first page, put it down. Up, read, down. Repeat. I finally settled on Olive Kitteridge, which, so far, I'm loving.

I think I must be getting old and grumpy, because I've recently had a spate of books I just didn't feel like finishing. And I hate that. It feels like a failure looking down at me from the shelf. You didn't have the patience to finish me. Maybe I got better. You'll never know. One in particular was a book *everyone* seems to love, and the author has a god-like status among writers.

So help me out. Recommend something. Please. I'll be finished with Olive within a week, and I need a next at bat. Recently I've enjoyed:

The White Tiger by Aravind Adiga

The Wife by Meg Wolitzer

Blonde by Joyce Carol Oates

Silver Phoenix by Cindy Pon (nice job, Cindy!)

The Inheritance of Loss bye Kiran Desai

The Farming of Bones by Edwidge Danticat

The Absolutely True Diary of a Part Time Indian by Sherman Alexie

You guys are always good for a few suggestions. Thoughts? What have you enjoyed recently?