Eleven on the Eiffel Tower

Hey, Guys! Last Monday I was not at all in town (Tampa is a beautiful place to spend a March Monday), and this Monday I'm late with the post, but I'm definitely posting, so that's something. I did a lot of talking-about-books in Tampa. The friends with whom I stayed are the sort of people who have read widely, who laugh at my affinity for the 19th Century British Novel, and who are able to suggest improvements to my course of reading. I've been told to read Crime And Punishment as soon as possible and to follow it up with some J.D. Salinger ("All of Salinger is great - he only published four books."). While in Tampa, I had the chance to go to Oxford Exchange - probably the most pretentiously-hipster place I ever hope to set foot in. There was, of course, an entire section devoted to books and I did, of course, have to buy at least one. I chose a creative's travel-guide to London in preparation for my trip next year and a newish French novel - The Red Notebook by Antoine Laurain. I'm not saying the latter choice was the most groundbreaking literature ever written (it was a simple, sweet, predictable, very enjoyable story), but I loved it. Sometimes, you know, you just want a book that does exactly what you hope it will do. The Red Notebook did that. I got so lost in the book that I momentarily forgot I was in Florida at all and had to blink round for a moment or two before I realized where I was.

Perhaps my favorite part of Oxford Exchange was when I checked out at the desk with the preppy fellow in glasses. He slipped the titles across the desk to himself, palm down. His mouth quirked in a smile as he read the titles.
"London...and Paris....which will it be?"
I laughed. "Going to London next year."
"But why not go to Paris too? I mean, you're already over there." He announced my total and leaned on the counter. "You can take the tunnel or something."
I couldn't not let my cracking-grin out. "Have you been?"
"Yeah. When I was twelve. I wish I remembered more of it. I'm sorry I can't give you recommendations."
"That's all right. I want to go to the Eiffel Tower at eleven o'clock at night." I don't know why I told him that, but it wanted to be announced."
He grinned. "Yeah? Why eleven o'clock?"
"Oh, I don't know. I think it'd be prettiest then. The city might be a little quiet. The lights would all be out. I might have it more to myself."
He tossed his head and laughed. "I bet everyone has that idea."
"Yeah, probably."
"Well, hey, eleven o'clock's all right, but you don't want to be out in Paris after midnight. They say strange things start to happen."
"Is that so?" My mind swirled around and caught hold of his reference, tugging me back to the surface. "Right - well, I think I'll be all right as long as I don't get into any old cars with dead authors."
He beamed. "Exactly - you know, the movie?"
"Yeah! Midnight in Paris." I mentally blessed that random film choice on a Russian airline and turned to leave. "Have a great day."
"You too! Enjoy London and Paris!"

Another bright book-realm moment of the trip was talking home-libraries with one brother and seeing the personal library of the other. So many beautiful hard-bound editions. Such a wealth of knowledge in one location. Do you ever feel like that? Like if you could just make it through the entirety of the shelves (even of one small personal library) you'd be about twice as smart as you currently are? I do constantly. And it's a hopeful thing, you know, because there's always a chance you'll stumble upon some stroke of genius in a yet-unread book.

I've also been inspired recently by something I'm hoping to turn into at least a piece of flash-fiction if not a short story. If I'm really ambitious it could make it into a novella sized story, but we'll see. For now, know that I'm reading Henry V cozily, thumbing again through Chesterton's Orthodoxy as I feel like it, and putting Crime And Punishment on hold at the library. Ho for expanding one's mind!

What are you reading, and do you have any recommendations for really good modern fiction?

Positive Jealousy: When Comparison Helps

You've heard it said that comparison is the thief of joy. In many ways, I feel that I could look in the corners of the Antipodes and not find a truer saying. When I give in to comparing my life to other peoples' lives, my body type to that of other women, my income to others' income, my relationship status to someone else's, my indie-publishing to that blogging-friend's big-publisher book contract, the joy ebbs like a low-tide. But there is one way in which comparison has served as a catalyst for inspiration. See, the amusing burden of being a reader and a writer is this: one spends half one's time thinking:

"Golly, what a phrase. Wish I'd thought of it first."

My most common thought while reading is not, "Oh, what a lovely book! I'd like to read more like it." Rather, it's much more of a, "What a killing plot. I'd like to write something like this in my genre before anyone else does." I am only halfway in jest. My best ideas are always already in the works. Isn't that terrible? Two days before hearing about Liam Nisson's film, Non-Stop, I said to a friend while crossing a downtown city street:

"You know what'd make a great mystery? A murderer committing his crimes on a plane."

Well thank you, Hollywood, for stealing my thunder. So although I still appreciate a good book for a good book's sake, I try to harness that honest enjoyment and make it work for me. Wild horses may not be able to drag secrets, but they can certainly drag me a few miles before giving it up as a bad job. I have learned to use this "positive jealousy" to understand more about a given genre. I keep a list when reading mystery novels to note what tactics this author seems to be using to reveal clues, corral suspects, and work out the denouement. By this, I hope to learn how to write a better mystery novel.
Obviously I don't intend to copy any author wholesale but I see nothing wrong in learning where their road went right and benefitting from the general trailblazing spirit. What a stupid lot the pioneers would have been if they insisted on cutting their own Oregon Trail. Rather, the whole group worked off of their own and others' prior experiences, wisdom, and knowledge of the way. The ruts of their wagon-wheels can still be seen in some parts of the prairies today. That's called teamwork. Avail yourself of it.

Perhaps the best moments of this useful jealousy come to me when I am standing in the children's section of Barnes & Noble or other bookstores like it. Try as I might to be a grown-up, there is something about children's books that I find utterly irresistible. I never walk down the contemporary fiction aisle. I skip science fiction entirely. Romance? I wouldn't know where to begin with all the covers that look identical and promise hunky heroes and willowy heroines who, no matter the direness of their circumstances, always inherit a dukedom and the arrogant duke to go along with it. Of course the heiress ditches the duke in favor of a humble peasant who, after the suitably humble wedding, realizes he is a marquis in real life. Bad luck, Duke-y darling. Anyway. Groping my way to the children's section via P.G. Wodehouse, Georgette Heyer, and the mysteries, I stand strangely dry-mouthed in the presence of my childhood incarnate. The feeling that my creative and artistic breakthrough which, like the Fountain of Youth or Eldorado, must be just around the next cape or continent or end-cap, is nearly palpable. Have you never felt it? It thrums around me...
The sense that I could write The Book With No Pictures if BJ Novak hadn't done it first.
That Harv Tullet simply beat me to the fingerpaints with his Press Here.
That Lemony Snicket's wit is only my own, rather scalded by life and choosing to laugh through the pain.
That A.A. Milne is my kinsman.
That Newberry Honor Medals are handed out like gold stars for participation.
Of course I soon realize that success is not quite as even-handed as indie publishing would have me believe. The Book With No Pictures is brilliant because BJ Novak did the nearly-impossible and made accessible to millions something so obvious none of us could see it. A way to teach children to adore the written word for mental pictures it can conjure: show them a good time with not a single picture by putting the adult on display and pointing out the fact for the kid's edification: "You just had a blast without asking once to see the pictures. Get it now?"
Making an obvious abstract tangible for the laymen and children among us is a terrific and talented effort. I applaud Novak and Tullet and Mo Willems and so many other authors of the children's books coming out today for their creativity in story-telling, art, and an understanding of children. Their work reminds me that there are authors as talented and inspiring as Margaret Wise Brown, or Margaret and H.A. Rey, or Ludwig Bemelmens, or Kay Thompson in the present day. And more to come. We are still going strong, we race of authors. Not all of us will gain a place in the hearts of hundreds of thousands of children...not all of us will so impact someone's childhood that they stand in that section Barnes & Noble reliving their childhood through the dear book-faces on the shelf. But some of us will. Some of us will....and I could be one of those.
That is why I say comparison is not always the thief of joy. I am given a gift when jealous inspiration thinks, "You know, if I just keep working, I can do that too." Harness it. Follow it. Let it drag you across genres and art mediums and indie publishing and query letters and rejections and contract offers. Let it have you. Experiment. Enter contests you'll never win. Write in a tone that is unlike anything you've used before. Choose a chancey subject and write it well. Or try. Fail and try again. And again. You never know when you'll find that Eldorado. The brain has so many, many trails to blaze.

So here's to standing gape-mouthed in book stores. Here's to relentlessly pursuing creativity. Here's to blazing the trails together. And here's to applauding those who have written the literature that has affected our lives from the moment we realized what stories were. May we all try our hardest to be like them and add to the beauty of literature.

Libraries, Antique Books, and Salt Spray

"Has it ever fallen your way to notice the quality of greetings that belong to certain occupations?...How salty and stimulating, for example, is the sailorman's hail of 'Ship ahoy!' It is like a breeze laden with briny odours and a pleasant dash of spray."
-Henry van Dyke

Until yesterday, I had forgotten the joys of a public library. As a young lady of fifteen, I moved from city life to the a rural county in the South-Eastern half of Virginia. There were many lovely things about this new life: a large house, fresh air, scenic routes home, unimpeded views of sunrise, sunset, moonlight, and the Milky Way. The one drawback, however, has been the fact that the public library system out here is sorry at best. I have tried to use the online system but every author and book I look up is simply...not in the system. It is, therefore a bit hard to get anything done. Not to mention the fact that my card got blocked because of fines (some idiotic lost book about William Wallace) and finally expired. We share a hope that the fines died with it.
Yesterday, I found myself in Virginia Beach, a city about an hour away. This was the city in which I spent most of my childhood, and I have found myself with business in said city at least once a week. Sometimes I have a spare hour on either end and I can either pretend I want to be at the mall, or do something useful. Yesterday, I chose to go to "Central Library." Yes, I will persist in calling it that, though some well-meaning committee renamed it after a faithful mayor. I walked into this library of my childhood and immediately noticed they had got a coffee shop attached to the outside. Major win, library. Major win. I did not, however, avail myself of the delights of java. Instead, I went inside and stood at the desk, intending to apply for a library card, my card from this city having expired probably ten years ago. Finally a spot opened up and I was informed that though I was a Virginia resident, if I wasn't a resident of the city, I had to purchase a library card at $10 for one three-month period, or $35 for the year. Well excuse me. I haltingly asked if it was permissible to enjoy the library uncarded, and the lady told me yes.
Good. My hope of being able to spend a quiet hour and a half in research for Scotch'd The Snakes would not be squashed. I wanted information on two specific English counties, particularly during the 1930's so I wandered through the English history section before realizing I didn't need a volume on Winston Churchill--what I really wanted was an atlas. I felt as certain plummy satisfaction in finally knowing what the do with an Atlas. I mean, what are they? I had grown up thinking they were map-books, but I found that they are really eye-witness descriptions of an area. I found two particularly interesting volumes and took them away to a table. I had intended to check the books out, but I am somewhat of a tight-wad when it comes to spending money on what should be free. Last night was a rare occasion--I had no paper on me. Instead, I fished around in my purse for a pen and a grocery receipt and scrawled my notes. I'm sorry if the man grading papers across the room from me had to hear me laughing aloud when I read certain passages, but Wiltshire has a hilarious and colorful past. I am pleased to know it.
One of the funniest things was that as I sat in this library I had known so well as a child, I began to notice a smell...and that smell triggered memories I had entirely forgotten: it was the smell of a Taco Bell bean burrito...but the kind you get in a mall. And for as long as I can remember, this library has periodically smelled of tacos. Perhaps it is the staff lounge? I have no clue. But I almost busted up laughing in the quiet library at the sheer continuity of it all.
The other interesting thing about Central Library is the fact that it has a permanent Library Store. You know how some libraries have book sales? This is a real little niche in the library (it's a very large library) wherein are discarded titles you are free to browse and pay relatively little for. I came home with a hard-cover, slim little volume called The Snow Goose by Paul Gallico (first published 1940) and a book of essays on humanity and nature by Henry van Dyke titled Fisherman's Luck. That book cost me $7. I did notice the irony of the fact that I refused to pay $10 for a three-month library subscription and yet did not hesitate to purchase this unknown book, but you have not seen the book. Here is is:

Please don't mention the remains of a pink gel-pen elephant on my palm. Ahem. This gorgeous copy of Fisherman's Luck is made of blue leather, stamped with all that gorgeous gilt, and is in amazing condition. The pages aren't wobbly or thin at all, it comes with beautiful illustrations, and it is 104 years old.

"Milton and Edith

from

Aunt Mary Hartwell

Christmas 1914," it says on the inside cover.

I have always found interest in books that have been written in. Who were these people? Did Milton and Edith not read this book? Who is Aunt Mary Hartwell, for that matter? Were Milton and Edith a brother and sister, in which case this aunt seems stingy for making them share one book, or were they a newly-wed couple, in which case Mary Hartwell's referring to herself as "aunt" bodes well for the family relationships? I don't suppose I'll ever know, but I have their book. Almost exactly a century ago, Mary Hartwell penned that inscription and handed the book to two souls who are probably long-dead. It's intriguing, isn't it?

The final thing that clenched the purchase for me was the books dedication:

"TO MY LADY

GREYGOWN

HERE

is the basket:

I bring it home to you.

There are no great fish in it.

But perhaps there may be one or two little ones which will be to your taste. And there are a few shining pebbles from the bed of the brook, and ferns from the cool, green woods, and wild flowers from the places that you remember. I would fain console you, if I could, for the hardship of having married an angler: a man who relapses into his mania with the return of every spring, and never sees a little river without wishing to fish in it. But after all, we have had good times together as we have followed the stream of life towards the sea. And we have passed through the dark days without losing heart, because we were comrades. So let this book tell you one thing that is certain.

In all the life of your fisherman

the best piece of luck

is just

YOU."

The man humor. It must be a good book. And so I bought it, and I pocketed my scrawled-on receipt and I trotted on to my next errand, full of English counties and old books and the idea that I had outwitted the library-card ordeal by copying out all the facts I wanted.

Never despise libraries. Find a good one. An hour's research in a real book unearths so much finer material than three hours' of Google searches. Truly. I feel quite inspired.

Today's the Day! {Fly Away Home Debut}

There are always these moments in your life when the things you've dreamed of for years and years finally happen. Sometimes it doesn't feel anything like you thought it would--sometimes it feels too natural and easy. I'm tempted to think, "Why doesn't it feel monumental?" but I wonder if it's all the more monumental because it feels natural; because, for once, a dream that you had as a little kid has made it through the wild woods of adolescence and through the first few years of adulthood and is finally here.

Today's like that. Today I'm writing this as a published author and people are going to buy my book and I will be a professional writer because I've actually made a little money off one of my projects. And it feels nothing and everything like I thought it would. It's really quite wonderful.

Guys, Fly Away Home is available for purchase on:

Amazon and in the Kindle store!

In addition, it's Valentine's Day. It's a day for love. It's a day to share special gifts with the special people in your life. Lucky for you, I don't have a guy in my life with whom I plan to spend the day. That means I don't have to buy him a gift and I can offer one to you instead! :) 

I am giving away 2 copies of Fly Away Home to one extremely lucky winner! The idea here is that you will have one copy for yourself and give the other copy to someone you love to show them that you love them so much you're willing to give them a brand new book autographed by the author herself. Yep! Both copies will be autographed by me. Not that my signature is worth much, but having a first edition book signed by the author is a bit of a fun thing.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Also, to kick off this fabulous little debut party, I'm going to be showing up in three places today!

The Penslayer

Jade Kerrion

The Second Sentence

Many thanks to those of you who pre-ordered in the past several days; you are the finest of friends and hold the honor of being my first ever batch of book-signing. ;)

Pre-Orders Open Now!

Happy Day-After-Tomorrow-Is-The-Big-One Day! Many of you are just as excited as I am about being able to purchase/hold/own/enjoy Fly Away Home and all I can say is: just a couple more days! 

I wanted to announce something that may or may not influence you in your buying decisions:

I earn more per copy if you buy directly from me and not Amazon.com. Yes, I know this sounds like avarice, but I just thought I would let you know that copies will be available from me personally. If you would like to purchase from me, you will get an autographed copy of Fly Away Home which is something you would not get buying off of Amazon. I know that some of you already wanted copies that were autographed (really, it's a little embarrassing) so I thought I would let you know! You may order/pre-order copies starting today! Just click on the Ruby Elixir Press page and follow instructions.

Re-cap:

• If you buy a book directly from me, you will get it autographed with a personal note!
• If you order from me, you may start pre-ordering today!

I misunderstood a bit of the instructions on Createspace's proofing system which means that when I approved the proof today, it told me that it might take a few days to show up on Amazon which could possibly delay your ability to purchase it on Amazon right on Valentine's Day. I am most seriously displeased I didn't realize that before. Prayers that they'd be speedier than they say would be most appreciated! For now, orders can come to me and we shall see what happens come Valentine's day!