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November 28, 2006
New York Noshes
We just spent Thanksgiving with our son in New York. Tyler lives in DUMBO -- Down Under the Manhattan Bridge Overpass -- in a neighborhood he loves. My favorite way to get to his apartment is to walk over the Brooklyn Bridge, completed shortly after the Civil War. Not only does this bridge provide a spectacular view of the city, it connects me with the past.
Other highlights of our trip east: watching the balloons being blown up for the Macy's parade on Wednesday night (we were there with 5 or 6 million of our closest friends); paying a visit to the Met and my all time favorite painting of Joan of Arc, by Jules Bastien-Lepage -- an immense canvas, maybe 10 feet wide by 15 feet high -- as she hears her voices for the first time; breakfast at Scotty's Diner (okay, not my favorite but Neil loves it); window shopping on 5th Avenue; watching the ice skaters at Rockefeller Center; being able to walk in a crowd any time of day or night. I also got the chance to visit my editor, Michelle Poploff -- I won the editorial lottery with her -- and the great people at Delacorte/Random House. Did I mention that on Monday, when we left, it was 65 degrees as we strolled through Central Park and that we came home to snow and 26 in Seattle?
I noticed something this trip to the Big Apple. Everywhere I went, people were reading. Nine out of ten subway riders are reading something: a book, a magazine, Bibles, subway schedules, textbooks, subway poems, graffiti. And the bookstores! I could hardly walk through the aisles without tripping over someone crouched over in philosophy or world history or humor. And there were hip looking teens with books in their hands -- one young couple was completely intertwined, each reading separate titles. I'd never seen anything so cool in my whole life!
As a writer, this was, of course, a great comfort to me. There are people buying, borrowing and reading books! My accountant is thrilled. But, more importantly, this was a comfort to me as a person, as an American, as a member of this more-than-slightly mixed up world. Because if people read, they can't help but think. If people read, they can't help but see new sights, hear new sounds, feel new feelings. If people read, they may act in new ways.
People aren't reading?
Fuggedaboutit.
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November 20, 2006
Sunday Night Mother Daughter Book Club
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Mother Daughter Book Clubs
A few weeks ago, I received an invitation to visit a mother-daughter book club discussing Hattie Big Sky. I was thrilled. . .and nervous. So I said yes, then called in the reinforcements -- my own daughter, Quinn.
On a dark and blowy Sunday, we ventured forth. The nighttime gloom was quickly dispelled the moment we were greeted by Sheila Ferry, her daughter, Grace, and their friends. We enjoyed a Hattie-inspired meal of sandwiches, beans, Perilee's War-Time Spice Cake and coffee (the girls doctored theirs up with Caramel Praline International Delights creamer).
As with any well-oiled dinner party, there were ice breakers. Each mom was to tell what farm animal her daughter was like and each daughter what farm animal her mother was like. Though I kindly described Quinn as a cuddly barn kitten, she announced that I was most like a mother hen! Cluck.
After the food was passed, the questions began to roll. Each girl shared their favorite part of the story -- no two alike. Tori -- dressed in a bonnet Hattie might have worn -- showed tremendous insight in describing Traft Martin as a "drifter," because he drifted from being kind to Hattie to being mean to her. I delighted in the articulate insights of these terrific ten year olds; their moms did okay, too.
The night was not nearly as dreary as Quinn and I headed home, warmed by the friendship and conversation with this mother-daughter book club. I must confess that I felt bad that I'd never done anything like this with Quinn when she was ten. It not only looked like lots of fun, it looked like a great way to build lasting mother-daughter bonds. She reassured me by saying that this was one more thing I'd given her to tell her therapist.
At least I'm good for something.
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November 09, 2006
17,985
I never thought I was competitive. Okay, there was that one time when I threw a tantrum because my husband beat me at Scrabble. But. He's an accountant. I'm a writer. It just wasn't right.
NaNoWriMo has changed my perspective. I find myself jumping eagerly out of my warm bed at Oh-dark-thirty, boiling water for green tea and then padding to my study to crank out at least 1600 words. Today was a little tough. I was treading water to get to 894. But I was not about to stop there. No self-respecting NaNo-er would! (Besides, I don't plan to be the one buying lattes at the end of the month!). So I slogged my way through stilted dialogue, muddy description and action that just plain sucked. The point is, I kept going, clocking in another 1772 words.
Now, are these 17,985 words brilliant? Something I'd show anyone else in the world? The be-all, end-all? No, no, NO! That is all beside the point. The point is I am putting words on paper. It's like I've spilled the jigsaw puzzle pieces out onto the table. When I've got them all out and turned right side up, I can begin putting the puzzle together. Until I get them all out and face up, there's not much point in assembling the puzzle.
And if it's all because latent competive genes are finally kicking into gear, good. I've never had so much fun creating a first draft before. I'm like Saul on the road to Damascus -- I was blind but now I see and I am spreading the gospel of writing by the seat of your pants to everyone I meet.
I'm telling you -- buy that inner critique a one-way ticket to Siberia and start cranking. The weekend's coming -- a couple long sessions at the keyboard and you could be on track to cross the November 30 finish line with a rough draft under your belt.
What do you have to lose?
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November 05, 2006
NaNoWriGo!
Is it something in the water? In the air? In turning 52? I have no idea. But I do know that this year has been jam-packed with forays outside my comfort zone. Last March, I spent a week sleeping on an army cot, while helping with clean-up after Hurricane Katrina. This afraid of heights girl climbed up on roofs with no problem, to help shovel off shingles for salvage. In August, after lots of training, I walked 60 miles in three days in the 3 Day Walk for the Cure. An added stretch there was committing to raise $2200, which I did and then some.
In August, new friend and colleague, Stephanie Bodeen, told me about NaNoWriMo and how she'd ultimately gotten a two-book deal out of her November 05 efforts.
Now, as thrilled as I am to have a new book out and as thrilled as I am about how well HATTIE BIG SKY is doing, I was beginning to feel like a fraud. A writer who doesn't write. I was marketing like crazy, but writing was nearly non-existent.
So I signed on for NaNoWriMo. On October 31, I had no idea what I was going to write about but I had three characters in mind. I woke up at 3:30 am on November 1, ready to write. I did go back to sleep for a couple of hours -- do you know how dark and cold it is at that time of day?! -- but when I did hit the keyboard, I cranked out 2471 words! The next day, I hit 2690. My pace has slowed some (I've been in the 1600-1800 word range) but the words keep coming. And I wake up every single morning, dying to find out what's going to happen next.
Now, I still have my teaching, marketing and other obligations. But do you know what I'm finding out? I can get most everything done and still crank out 1600 words. Every single day.
I suspect we are all capable of writing some set number of words each day. And just think where we'd be if the commitment to that goal was a year round thing, rather than just for one month!
If I can do it, you can do it. Go- WriMo!
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