Poem in Your Pocket Day

I'm going to start by saying if you haven't read poetry since college (or maybe high school) you should start. There are so many great poems in the world just waiting to be read -- please give poetry a chance. Now, I'm stepping off the soapbox to share with you my selection(s) for my Poem in my Pocket. As I mentioned in my newsletter April is National Poetry Month and April 30th is Poem in Your Pocket Day. This is a day to celebrate poetry by carrying a poem around in your pocket and sharing it with your friends, colleagues and if you are bold enough, strangers. And please, share your favorite poem with me.

I'm going to share two poems I have taped on my bulletin board above my desk. These are from two of my favorite poets, Philip Shultz (who I studied with at NYU) and Mary Oliver.

My favorite line in The Truth is "those own a little are contrite and feaful of those who own too much," favorite in Daisies is "it is heaven itself to take what is given, to see what is plain: what the sun lights up willingly"

The Truth

You can hide it like a signature

or birthmark but it's always there

in the greasy light of your dreams,

the knots your body makes at night,

the sad innuendos of your eyes,

whispering insidious asides in everyroom you cannot remain inside. It's

there in the unquiet ideas that drag and

plead one lonely argument at a time,

and those who own a little are contrite

and fearful of those who own too much,

but owning none takes up your life.

It cannot be replaced with a house or a car,

a husband or wife, but can be ignored,

denied, and betrayed, until the last day,

when you pass yourself on the street

and recognize the agreeable life you

were afraid to lead, and turn away.

---Philip Shultz

Daisies

It is possible, I suppose that sometime
we will learn everything
there is to learn: what the world is, for example,
and what it means. I think this as I am crossing
from one field to another, in summer, and the
mockingbird is mocking me, as one who either
knows enough already or knows enough to be
perfectly content not knowing. Song being born
of quest he knows this: he must turn silent
were he suddenly assaulted with answers. Instead

oh hear his wild, caustic, tender warbling ceaselessly
unanswered. At my feet the white-petalled daisies display
the small suns of their center piece, their -- if you don't
mind my saying so -- their hearts. Of course
I could be wrong, perhaps their hearts are pale and
narrow and hidden in the roots. What do I know?
But this: it is heaven itself to take what is given,
to see what is plain; what the sun lights up willingly;
for example -- I think this
as I reach down, not to pick but merely to touch --
the suitability of the field for the daisies, and the
daisies for the field.

--Mary Oliver

Rescue Me!

I am a big fan of the homeopathic Rescue Remedy spray for stress and sleep relief. I can't tell scientifically if it works, I can just say that having a spray bottle handy whenever you are about to take a big hit of stress makes you feel like you are at least DOING SOMETHING. Besides the spray is alcohol based so it gives me a Pavlovian response to having a cocktail after work and thinking the day is behind me.

Unfortunately last week there wasn't enough Rescue Remedy in the world to keep me from experiencing some of the worst stress of my life. In fact, by Friday my neck, shoulders and chest were so sore from clenching I could barely pull a shirt over my head.

I have been around long enough to know that when I feel that kind of overwhelming stress it probably doesn't have much to do with what I think it does. In this case, it was work and unreasonable expectations being placed on me and my team. The key word here is "unreasonable" that's the trigger.

I'm not afraid of hard work, in fact, I believe that it is good for the soul and I'm a gal who is up for a challenge. My motto has always been, "bring it on." So while there is a good deal of stress built into achieving the impossible, it is "good stress."

The "bad stress" is what makes my upper body twist itself into knots and that's when I feel the weight (get it? weight on my shoulders?) of other people's expectations and needs and I make them more important than my own. The demand may be ridiculous, the expectation absurd and the motivation beyond professional but I still think it is my duty to jump through that hoop.

It is one thing to recognize the source of pain, it is another to find the right salve for it (notice how I didn't say cure?) As soon as I realized what was happening I tried to step back and think about what I really valued most about my life and my job and then I did the only thing I know that works. I talked about it to the people I trust.

Talking it through helped me make connections to why I feel that way and why it makes me so stressed. (Hint: it goes back to my childhood -- big surprise!) I also had to hear from others that I needed to relax and take better care of myself. Next, I put myself on a semi-blackberry blackout by taking a drive to Orient State Park and had a picnic with friends. The day was glorious and as we grilled burgers and looked out on the beautiful Long Island Sound I felt the tension melt away.

Sometimes it's easier to keep working than to stop and breath and assess what matters and what doesn't. While I am still very much a work in progress, I am making progress in learning how to find the right balance. I would like to get to the point where I don't let the stress affect me like it does and most of all I would like to make myself a priority in the face of so many ridiculous demands.

For now though, I am content to know I am baby-stepping my way toward that change. In the meantime, I picked up a backup bottle of Rescue Remedy...just in case.

Life in the blurbs

You may not think about what makes you buy that book you picked up on the front table of your favorite bookstore, maybe it was a staff pick, it was the proximity to the register, the color of the cover, a recommendation from a friend, or maybe, just maybe it was one of the blurbs you read that made you want to buy it. Blurbs are just another way for a reader to want to buy your book.

I feel like sharing blurbs is a little like carrying around your yearbook and making people read what the quarterback wrote to you (the quarterback never signed my yearbook -- maybe that's why I became a writer?) but it's really hard not to share them (mind you I wouldn't share the quarterback.)

Book Review
A favorable Publisher's Weekly review came just in time to appear on some of my publicity materials, book cover and yes it is on Amazon now too.

Author Blurbs
Three great writers gave me three great reviews. (While you are waiting for The Last Bridge might I recommend supporting one these writers?)

“Teri Coyne grabbed me from the first page and never let me go. I read through the night until I came to the last lovely chapter. The Last Bridge is a whirlwind of a book.”—Amanda Eyre Ward, author of Forgive Me

“Teri Coyne has created a hypnotic portrait of an American family under attack from within, told with such unflinching honesty that you cannot take your eyes off the page. Not since Bastard Out of Carolina have we seen the breathtaking courage it takes to survive and triumph after paying the price of dark secrets corroding the heart of a family. Cat stings you with her caustic tongue, makes you laugh out loud with her wild humor, brings you to tears with the revelation of her trials, and finally lifts you to your feet as she fights her way free to love again. This is a tough, rewarding read you'll never forget.” —Jonis Agee, author of The River Wife

"Cat is an unforgettable character, and The Last Bridge is at once searing and authentic. Teri Coyne has created a compelling mystery, a family drama and a literary delight. Read the first page, and you won’t be able to put it down." -- Masha Hamilton author of The Camel Bookmobile

Book Bloggers
Want proof the novel isn't dead? Check out all the great book blogs out there. These sites are read and run by passionate readers who take their reading seriously. Many of these bloggers have received advance copies of my book and are now posting reviews of them. This site On My Bookshelf featured me in their Waiting on Wednesday posting and then reviewed the book.

E-Bay
Even though you are not supposed to, some people sell the advanced reader copies of a book. Hey at least they're trying to get a good price by stating it's a very good book.

Emails from Readers
If that isn't enough, I've gotten a few emails from readers who found my website and wanted to drop me a line to say how much they liked the book. Hands down this is my favorite kind of feedback!

Beautiful Budapest

When it comes to my job I'm either complaining about it or not discussing it all. Most of the time when asked about how it's going I just say, "fine" or "don't ask." In addition to this year being a big one for me personally with the launch of The Last Bridge I am also embroiled in the planning and execution of two of the largest software initiatives a technology department can do in a law firm. We are changing our email and document management systems. There is not a lot to recommend about working on these projects except, it is steady work (albeit consuming and stressful) and it is a global migration which means we do get to make visits to our offices in some of the most beautiful places in the world.

This is what brought me to Budapest the weekend after my birthday. Donna, a friend and member of our project team was there for three weeks to assist with that office's migration. I spent a long weekend with her which included a day trip to Vienna as my birthday present.

Vienna was beautiful, with winding streets with hidden courtyards with large wooden doors welcoming visitors into quaint squares hugged by ancient buildings. We walked through the Hofburg Imperial Palace which, among many things, begged the question, "Just how many place settings does a head of state need?" Exhausted, we made it to the Sacher hotel to have a coffee and share a slice of their famous Sacher Torte.

On the train ride back we got confused about our stop in Budapest and implored a very handsome young Hungarian man to help us, not only did he speak English and understand our mangled pronunciation of Hungarian but he made sure we got off at the right stop. (Did I mention how cute he was?)

Vienna was lovely but a little sterile for my tastes. Budapest is a city with soul. From the lovely walkable streets, to the trolleys, boats, subways and buses that run efficiently (although figuring the transit fare system was a little tricky) to the bridges connecting Buda with Pest and the mighty Danube that made it all possible. It didn't hurt that the weather was spectacular and the people were friendly and proud of their city, their culture and their heritage. I went thinking it would be another place I could check off my list and left wanting to go back and wondering if it would be possible to live there for a time.

So next time you ask me how work is, remind me that in spite of all the stress, pressure and unreasonable expectations, my job has given me many wonderful opportunities. Budapest being one of them.

Birthday Bonus

When my sister Tami asked me what I wanted for my birthday the answer was easy...I didn't want diamonds, pearls or even a charming new boyfriend, I wanted my brother-in-law Giuseppe's homemade pizza. (In a perfect world it would be served to me by my charming new boyfriend!)

Pizza is one of my desert island foods. If I was trapped on an island for all of eternity pizza is on my list of one of the things I could eat everyday. It is one of the only foods that even when it is bad it's good.

Imagine my good fortune then to have a brother-in-law who is not only a great cook (we're talking amazing folks) but a determined one. A few years ago I asked him if he made homemade pizza and he said, "yes.: So began our annual tradition of a pizza making and eating party at my house out on the North Fork of Long Island.

Making good homemade pizza requires time. The dough, once it assembled, needs a warm dry place to rise. The anticipation of the pizza starts first thing in the morning when Giuseppe and his able assistant, my niece Sophia start the process of mixing, kneading and separating the sticky blobs into individual mounds.

This year, my sister plans on Saturday so they were coming on Sunday. "How will we get the dough done in time?" I asked, afraid we would have to scrap the plan.

"Don't worry," my sister said, "Giuseppe is on it."

Early Sunday morning in their west village apartment, Giuseppe got up (after being out to 2:00am at a party) and mixed the dough and placed each ball into a separate dish (seventeen in all) and then he put them in the back of their jeep and while they made the 100 mile trek east the little dough balls rested and rose under the warmth of his mother's hand crocheted afghan.

My friends Marc, Gina, Chris and Matt joined us for our pizza party. Giuseppe individually crafted each one as we sat at the table and waited for the next batch to come out of the oven. We stopped counting after ten.

Each time we make the pizzas, Giuseppe assesses the outcome and refines the process for the next time. He was disappointed in the dough, as it didn't make the drive as well as it had hoped.

I thought it was his best yet. How could I not? It's a blessing to have family travel for your b-day but pizza that comes with them...well if that ain't love I don't know what is.