Wow!

I know it's not that catchy of a posting title but it's apropos to the news I got on Friday from my editors. Aside from their sincere appreciation of my completion of the copyedits and their support of my clean refrigerator, I got news that the I have a growing number of fans on the sales and marketing teams. While there is nothing better than having a fan, it is especially heartening to have fans that work in publishing and READ and SELL books for a living! From a personal perspective, it is rewarding to know you wrote a story that touches people, from a broader perspective, what is better than having people like your book that are expert in selling and marketing? Not much.

There is lots of good news on the marketing front that I will share as it comes together (I'm not being a tease -- okay -- I am) but suffice it to say my book is being very well taken care of and I believe there are going to be lots of great ways some of you eager readers will be able to get a taste of The Last Bridge before it hits bookstores in July. (See, I got you interested didn't I?)

Over the past year I have had the opportunity to have a good number of people involved with the book and while there is a real satisfaction to being alone in a room with your story and the characters, it is amazing to share it and participate in the collaboration that takes your words on a page to flap, marketing and catalog copy, book covers (wait until I tell you about how beautiful mine is!) sales pitches, websites, etc. Every person that touches it enhances it.

Last night I was thinking about how the story is almost a living thing, it changes and grows as it moves toward publication to ultimately land in the hands of readers who will again, through their interpretation and reaction, give it a whole new shape and form. At the risk of sounding like I'm a teenage cast member from High School Musical -- it's pretty thrilling.

Okay -- I'm going to linger in this moment for a little bit longer -- then I have to get back to work. Just to be clear I mean work, work. Writing, for all of its' challenges has never been work, only joy.

Tip for Cleaning Your Refrigerator

If you're like me, cleaning out your refrigerator is the last thing on your mind, but it's not completely out of it. That small voice that whispers every time you open the door and smell the leftover barbecue chicken from your labor day bash, says, "clean me."

After years of avoiding the drudgery of pouring pickle juice down the drain and wiping out the crisper drawer, I have finally found a way to make cleaning the refrigerator a joy.

Write a novel.

Yup, you heard me. Wait, that's not enough, write a novel and sell it. That's all you need to do.

What does that have to do with the mold on your cheese?

While no one will dispute that writing a novel takes a great deal of discipline, fortitude and commitment (and lots of iced tea, string cheese and pretzel breaks) it is still pretty much done on your own with no deadline looming over you. Yes, you fantasize about selling it and want so badly to be read (and understood) but that's not enough to clean the fridge.

Nope you have to sell it. Once you do, if you are lucky enough (and I am) to find a great publisher who believes in your book and an agent and editors who know just what it will take to give it the perfect shape, then you must be prepared to do edits. These edits come in all shapes and sizes from a simple misspelling to a big thing like "do we really need this character?" With the edits comes the doubt, the questioning "I don't know, do we?" and yes, the deadlines.

See, that's where the refrigerator comes in. Last weekend I was on deadline with my copyedits (which brought back days spent in Mrs. Blair's class in eighth grade wondering why I ever had to know about comparative clauses and proper use of conjunctions and semi colons and......ughhhhh) and found myself filled with the desire to...distract myself.

That's where that chicken from labor day comes in..and the ketchup you bought for your college graduation party, and the thing in that Tupperware the mother of someone you used to date gave you...all of it has to go because if it's between that and obsessing about whether or not my main character can walk by one or two types of flowers in a flower bed, I'm picking the pickles (I decided she only needed to see one type of flower.)

Some people say happy hands are busy hands, some think cleaning is good for the soul. I say cleaning is better than doing my copyedits and copyedits are better than being poked in the eye with a stick.

You may think writing and selling a novel is a long way to go just to get a clean refrigerator but I'm sitting pretty right now and I'm wondering if you can say the same thing. Not only are my copyedits done but I now have room for cold beer.

Bring on the galleys, my bedroom closet is a mess.

Project Presidential Debate?

vs.

I'm just going to come clean and admit that I spent more time watching the season finale of Project Runway than I did the debate. When it comes down to it I'm not sure the outcome of either changes anything one was immensely more entertaining than the other . Both, however, had a little too much whining. Although Kenly has talent and I did like what she did with feathers and construction, I could not take another episode of that incessant whining and crying mixed with arrogance. It reminded me too much of our friend (if I never hear someone use that expression again it will be too soon) and hopefully soon to be has been John McCain. Last night he reminded me of a little dog that lived next door to me that was meaner than the pit bull across the street. (He seemed so agitated I almost felt bad for him.)

I'm done with the debates and with listening to any more analysis. I want to mix it up a bit. Maybe an underdog stand off between Kenly and John? A debate done pageant style with an evening gown portion and then a "whine" off to see who could roll their eyes and complain the loudest. That would be worth watching. My money is on Kenly though, I can't see McCain in feathers.

Red Skies Ahead...

I have a distinct memory of standing on the front lawn of our house on Washington road with my father around the time I was fifteen or so. He was watering the lawn with a hose and smoking a cigarette. I came out to tell him it was time for dinner.

"Take a look over there," he said point at the vivid scarlet sky. “Red sky at night, sailor’s delight. Red sky in morning, sailor’s warning.”

"Huh?" I answered.

"It's an expression meaning if we see the red sky tonight it will be a beautiful day tomorrow."

"And red sky in the morning means?"

"Danger. Storm is coming." Dad tightened the nozzle on the hose to shut the flow of water and let it dangle in his hands as we stood watching the sky over the tops of the houses on the other side of our busy four lane road that was the lifeline into town and out to the mall.

I was tired of my father by then. Sick of his drinking, his rage and the impact his moods had on our lives. I thought of my time with him as riding out the last years of a prison sentence. Every day that passed put me closer to freedom. I was full of plans and hungry for dinner and for my future.

What I hadn't planned was that brilliant red sky and on communing with him in those final moments when day turns to night. Years later, after I had gotten out of Pittsburgh and made a life in New York City, I learned that time of the day is referred to as magic hour, as the light has a unique clarity and brilliance. Magic indeed.

My father finished his cigarette and took me in his arms before I could resist. He held me tight and just long enough to remind me of what it was like to be his little girl. He kissed me on the forehead and we walked back to the house with his arm around me.

Today, I drove to Orient State Park and took a long walk on the beach just as the sun was setting. And like I always do on nights when the sky is scarlet red, I remembered that moment on the lawn when dad and I stood together and shared the promise of a beautiful day.

Flippin for Avatars

Thanks to my niece Caroline I'm hooked on creating avatars of myself. Last weekend she turned me on to this site where you can make your own character from South Park. I don't watch South Park religiously but still, I've been Simpsonized so it only seemed right.

A weird thing happens in the process of designing your own avatar. You have to make decisions about how you look. While not all the hairstyles match yours you have to find the one that best approximates you. Body type, eyes, mouth, all those physical features force you to decide if your nose is more like a button or a snout or your body is more round or narrow. While in principal it seems like it would be depressing it is actually fun. Let's face it cartoon characters are so much more forgiving in looks than people.

Once you pick your body and features, clothing your avatar is another trip. Again, you have to approximate, so you find the outfit that best shows your style. Which begs the question as you are clicking past peasant blouses and tank tops, what is my style? (Hint: black in anything is usually my first choice.) I find myself taking the fashion options quite seriously. I guess one should pay some attention to it, unlike me, my avatar is stuck with this outfit for as long as they thrive in cyberspace.

And then there are the accessories. "You've got to add your iPhone," Caroline told me. Emily, my other niece agreed. It's funny that they saw that as an essential accessory for me but I don't use my phone that often and I certainly don't carry it around. I do love it and allow them to jam it up every chance they get so maybe that's why.

The best part of creating my South Park avatar was the slogan I put across my shirt, "I rock." I did it to make my nieces laugh (and they did while rolling their eyes at my lame attempt at coolness -- they don't get it that being uncool is cool.) I would never wear a shirt like that in real life, would never walk around with my cell phone in my hand either but as a character from South Park, that's how I roll and I like it like that.

I have moments of worry when I think of how easy it is becoming to create so many alternate "personas" on the web. The assumption is that we create different identities to cover up our truth, I'm not so sure of that. What if our "whole self" is really a bunch of little selves? And what if each little self could be represented as an avatar? How many would I need to best represent myself? (I'm thinking the number is somewhere between 8 and 50.)

I know, I could get a little nuts with this. I recently got a web cam and made a short video of myself as a shark singing happy birthday to a friend. I looked and sounded good as an animated shark. Who knew?

The possibilities may be endless but the undeniable truth is that whether you run into me on the street or catch me here on the flip side...it's still me. If you doubt that I'll morph into a butt kicking ninja to set you straight.

Banning Down the House....

I don't have a lot of hot button issues (okay maybe I do) but one that really gets into my craw is banning books. BOOKS!! Yup, that's worthy of two exclamation points. The thought of banning a book is akin to banning someone from a buffet because they are fat (wait, we're not doing that yet are we?)

To me a book is like a person. Heck, a book is a whole world and like intergalactic travel, if you don't believe in it then don't get on the spaceship when it comes to your house but for heaven sake don't spoil everyone else's ride!


I'm serious. I don't like a lot of people I meet but I don't want to ban them (except maybe stinky guy who always finds a seat next to me on the morning commute -- but there I mean the deodorant kind of Ban.)

I am not a fan of our President but I don't want to Ban him -- wait yes I do. Okay, let me take a step back. Books are better than people and aliens and presidents.

Books are...well you know, right? Books can change the way you think or they can remind you of how people USED to think (or how some people still do) they can send you a warning of the future even though the title is in the past (1984 -- are we there yet? Almost.)


I even bet books were important back when people and dinosaurs roamed the earth together! (Was that before the Bible or after it? I always get that confused!)


So this week is Banned Books Week sponsored by the American Library Association and no that doesn't mean to ban you and your loved ones from reading -- in fact why don't you ban yourself from that television and get yerself a nice good book, a cup or joe or tea and settle in? Don't know what to read start with a list of banned books.


While you're at it, download the first amendment first-aid kit posted by Random House and pray the answer to our energy crisis isn't to burn books for fuel. Oh wait, you don't have to pray if you fight the good fight and protect the first amendment.


I thank you, libraries thank you and my little friend here thanks you...