I know what you read last summer

Pretty sure I've mentioned before my obsession with People magazine, and one of my favorite things they do are those "books you should read for [insert whatever season it is]" features. It isn't so much reading the reviews of the books, but I love the picture that accompanies the whole thing...it will have all the books stacked. For some reason I just love looking at all those book spines in a row; love getting a glimpse about what the actual books themselves look like.

So here is my version, except instead of "books you should read for summer," mine is really a "books I did read this summer" stack. I've talked about all of them except the last 3, so let me just briefly say that The History of Love was creative and endearing and definitely worth reading (if not somewhat confusing to keep track of all the different story lines), Is Everyone Hanging out Without Me was absolutely hilarious and I liked it way more than Tina Fey's, and The Fault in Our Stars was a good effort on what turns out to be very intense subject matter, but I just can't get into YA anymore.

My total for the family summer reading competition was 2024 pages, (earning me $20.24). I beat my sister but not my Mom, but I don't know if anyone's ever beaten Mom. In any case, there were some good reads in that pile. And now it's fall, which means I'll have to see what People magazine says I should be reading. Those book spines are calling my name.
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I finally did it.

I joined.

Emerald City

This was taken on top of the Space Needle and is obviously a horrible picture. Can you say city bangs? I can. Why am I even sharing this picture? I am disgusting.

I feel much better about my appearance in this picture, but you would have no idea I'm in Seattle. Unless you're familiar with Chihuly and his glass and garden exhibit. Which I wasn't. Until going to the Chihuly glass and garden exhibit. In any case, I've been enjoying Seattle and loving the chilly weather and the homeless people and the utter greenness to behold.

Since trips mean planes and planes mean reading on planes, I'll have a few books to report on soon, and I also got the first round layout options back for the interior of book 2, so looking them over will be on top of my to-do list when I get back to the Cleve. So will getting my bangs trimmed.
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Weekend Totals

4,400 words. That was my total written over the long weekend. Not too shabby. Although it definitely cut into my pages read total (this is the final month of the family contest), which was like 20. Of course that didn't stop me from picking up two new titles while at B&N this weekend. (You know, for all this reading I'm doing.) If I can read the book I just started as well as the two I just bought before the month is out, I'll deem September a literary success. And if I win the family contest, I'll deem this the best summer ever.
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Wild

I resisted reading this book. And I tried not to like it. I'm not sure why, I guess because I don't care about hiking. And once I started reading, I was somewhat less than sympathetic to the author's I've-made-a-mess-of-my-life plight. Because she HAD made a mess of her life. True that the redemptive theme of the book never really grabbed me, but the hiking, surprisingly, did.

Call me crazy, but the scene where she tries to load her backpack only AFTER she's flown to the west coast and is minutes away from actually beginning her journey was hilarious. Who wouldn't make sure everything fit beforehand?? And the frequent mention by other (male) hikers about her pack being much heavier than theirs just added to the hilarity. The hiking piece of the story...the piece about a girl who knows nothing about hiking taking on one of the most ambitious hikes possible (and solo!) was fascinating, that's just a fact. And I thought the author's use of flashbacks was good, too. (Although when you get to the one about the horse, skip over it if you are sensitive to sad animal stories.)

And as much as I tried not to let it, the end moved me. Not because the author had made up for her previous behavior, but she ends the story with a lovely sentiment about how even though it's impossible to know how things will turn out when we make a certain decision, it IS possible for them to work out even if we are at rock bottom; even when we haven't got a plan, a clue, or a dollar to our name. An inspiring message, no matter the source. Well done, Queen of the PCT.
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Three before Two

I have a confession. I started writing my third book. I know, I know, it's ridiculous. I only just barely made all the changes recommended by my editor to my second book and handed the manuscript over for typesetting. There's still so much time before book two is even out, and here I've gone and started on book three. It makes me feel like a mom who's robbed her baby of his babyhood by immediately upping and having another baby.

But the thing about getting books out there is it takes so damn long once the writing is done that you find yourself--even when in the thick of the book prepping and publishing processes--missing the actual writing. It's what writers like best, after all, and considering I finished the manuscript way back here, this means I haven't actually written anything in months. So I couldn't help myself. Not to mention the fact that one of the chapters that will go in book three is fresh on my mind and should really be written up pronto. At any rate, I've begun. It will be slow-going with everything else happening bookwise, but I don't mind. 684 words in, and I'm already hooked.
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Good, Better, Best

Thanks to a few recent plane rides (and my rainy trip to Toronto) I've got some books to report on. Penny-a-page is in full swing, so July has proven a decent starting month for me. It's on, sibs.

When I first heard about She Matters, my inner soul rejoiced. What a wonderful idea for a book, I thought. The importance of female friendships. The author recounts various friendships throughout her life, although unfortunately only two of them struck me as moving or meaningful in any way. Most of them had me frustrated at the author and wondering why each of her friends seem to end the friendship for the same reason (blaming it on the author's selfishness). It ultimately left me with the impression that she is, in fact, selfish. And this made me dislike her and care less about her story.

I rarely read novels, but I picked this one up because there seemed to be a lot of buzz around it. I confess I did enjoy it. I read it quickly...although that could have more to do with the airport delay that left me little else to do. It seemed pretty unrealistic at times (read: all the time), but I loved that it was so random. I mean, Antarctica? Really? And having the whole thing be a series of letters and emails made for a fun read...very different than your typical book.

I have Will Schwalbe to thank for the gem of July. The End of Your Life Book Club was pure delight. Not because it is cheery on ANY level...in fact, delight is probably the wrong word. It's more that it was satisfying, completely. The perfect combination of literary musings and tragedy, it was just the kind of book I relish. More than that, I really felt like I got to know Will's mother, and I'm so in awe of the kind of person she was. A truly remarkable woman. The chance to follow along as they read their way toward her inevitable death was, in my opinion, truly special.

Bring on August.
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Advice...on dirty laundry

 
Because my books are piddly and my well-knownness even piddlier, it's not often that I am asked for advice on writerly things. So I was pleased when someone got in touch with me recently who is preparing to publish a family history of sorts. Her questions centered around how does a person handle talking about others and still maintain those relationships, especially when some of the experiences published are somewhat negative or revealing.

I'm not an expert on the subject, nor can I say that all my relationships remained perfectly intact after my first book, so answering this woman's questions got me thinking about my approach on honesty and if it's changed at all with this second book. I believe it has, because even though I still believe in honesty (and in sharing even some of the not-so-flattering stories that make up our lives), there are things I have written differently, rephrased, or edited out of this second book completely that I otherwise would have left. Not sure what that means, so I guess make of it what you will. And best of luck to all you family history writers out there.
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Summer Side Job

My Mom began sponsoring a summer reading program years ago. It was just for us kids and had a maximum payout of $50 each, but still. We were being paid. To read. Game on. In those early years of the program, I remember being a bit irked that my much-younger brother was filling up his "completed books" list with kids books. Since we were paid by the page, how was this fair? His pages had only a small fraction of the words my adult pages had. Word count would have perhaps been a more accurate payout method, but pages made more sense. Mostly because they were actually measurable.

This summer reading program, dubbed Penny-a-Page, has continued, such that we still participate every year, even as adults. We're each allowed to pick the 3-month summerish date range that our payouts will be based on, and from there it becomes a bit of a friendly competition. I think I'll go with July-September. I've got some plane rides in there that should help my page total. Did I mention game on? (To this date I have never won. So, there's that.)
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To Goodread or not to Goodread

I want to use Goodreads. People tell me I should use Goodreads. Everyone swears by Goodreads. And still I do not use Goodreads. Because, and I'm embarrassed to say this, I don't read very many books. Probably one of the worst things a writer can fess up to, but there you have it. I don't have time, and reading always ends up last on my priority list. Actually I take that back. Playing guitar always ends up last on my priority list. I still remember (because it was only last year) having to awkwardly tell Jake, my guitar teacher, that I was stopping lessons on account of not having enough time to practice. And yes, it kills me that I've lost some skill at the six string, but I did manage to strum out a song for my nephew this weekend while in town for his 4th birthday. Should've Been a Cowboy, one of his favorites. A boy after my own heart.

But back to the books. And the fact that I should read more, which I fully acknowledge. I should also use Goodreads, because after I read a book, I am filled with the desire to share my thoughts with others (read a deliciously revealing memoir on the plane over the weekend that I can't wait to tell you about). I guess where I struggle is the whole "catch up" aspect. If I joined Goodreads, I'd feel a pull to rate books I've read over the years so people would know that I have in fact read more than 5 books in my life. But what an overwhelming undertaking that would be. And most of them not even fresh in my memory. When (if) I do join, I think it's best to just start with now. Just promise you won't judge the piddly number of books I read. Piddly.

And for those of you who are on Goodreads, I'd be curious to know how you manage it. Do you backtrack and rate books you've read prior (even much prior) to joining? Or only the books you've read since joining?
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Thanks...now who are you?

I received this picture along with the following text message yesterday: "Just thought you would like to see the books I have on display in my office..."

Messages such as this warm my heart, and I do love seeing my book on a shelf. Anyone's shelf. Which brings me to the following despicable confession: This could very well be anyone's shelf, because I have no idea who sent me this text. And isn't that the worst? Someone whose number you should probably know is not even in your phone.

Something similar happened recently while at a production of War Horse (great show, by the way). As the show ended and the packed theater was filing out, I saw a woman who looked familiar. I didn't think much of it, because I couldn't place her, but when she caught sight of me a minute later, she greeted me as if we had once been besties. All I could offer back was a cheery "Hi!! How are you?" and after establishing we were both fine, we were separated again in the large crowd. Who this woman is, I have no idea. I don't have so much as an inkling of her name or the circumstances under which I knew her. How does one handle those situations, and why are we so embarrassed to admit that something has slipped through our mental cracks? I had an answer to that, but it's escaped me.

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Should've Been a Cowboy

Tom's first book, The Secret Life of Cowboys, is one of my favorite memoirs, and I honestly don't know why it took me so long to read One Good Horse, but I loved it as well. Maybe not quite as much as Cowboys, but there is something about the way he writes that I resonate with. The simple sentence construction, Tom's calm nature as he moves through life, I really feel like I'm on the ranch myself as I read. More than that, reading these books makes me WANT to be on the ranch.

I also appreciate the honestly with which he writes. Cowboys is all about his dream of owning a ranch, how he gets there, and how he ultimately realizes it might not be for him after all. To spend so much of your life working for something, it takes a lot to tell the world "nevermind." And in Horse, he takes on the training of a colt, unabashedly second-guessing himself the whole way. It's not that his books are downers, it's that I feel what he feels while I read, and sometimes that honesty, even when painful, is refreshing. Honestly, I feel like I've just returned from Montana. And I already want to go back.

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On Opening Acts

Opening acts usually annoy me. Not only are they not the person I came to see, but they significantly lengthen the overall time of a concert. You want to show up early to get a good seat (or standing place), but then you are left standing there for an hour or two while you wait for the main act.

But I've noticed my attitude toward opening acts has changed, and I blame this almost entirely on the fact that I've got a book out there. I see these largely unknown artists as doing the only thing they can, as pounding the pavement, as working day jobs to support themselves until their craft can pay the bills, as persevering despite crowds that are small, crowds that talk over them, crowds that are (ahem) only interested in the headliner. In many ways, I see them as me. Because no one really knows about me. Or my book. I fight for every sale, do signings that don't always draw a crowd (or anyone), and continue writing even though hardly anyone is listening.

Yes, I have a new respect for opening acts, and the one I saw last weekend particularly struck me. The headliner was Tristan Prettyman, herself refreshingly non-mainstream, and as I've mentioned in previous posts, I see Tristan every chance I get and feel fortunate that she's come to Cleveland three times in less than a year. Tristan was fabulous as usual, and I loved her opening act. A band called Satellite, I'd never heard of them. But there they were, the lead singer pouring so much of himself into each song that you would have thought he was playing in front of a sold-out Madison Square Garden. Instead of a 100-person crowd on a small stage in the ghetto of Cleveland. But isn't that what makes a great artist? It certainly demands respect, and, if the quality of the product is good too, my thought is that it also deserves a sale. So I'll be buying an album this weekend. I'd buy Cedar + Gold too, but my oh my, I already have it.
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Done.

It's done! I've officially finished the writing for my second book. Still lots to do before it's in the hands of readers, but it's a tremendously satisfying feeling to be done. Now my writing posts will turn to the many post-writing to-dos as I begin the long and laborious (but also very fun) process of turning the manuscript into a book. First step, major editing. But tonight, I'm celebrating.
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One Year Later

A friend sent me this link, and it got me thinking about what my advice would be. Of course, I'm a baby writer, but this weekend will mark 1 year since my book came out, and in that time I've learned quite a bit. In many ways I've been disenchanted by how hard it is to get people to buy books, how hard it is to market yourself and your book when you already have a full-time job, how hard it is to maintain a blog that almost no one reads (and how sheepish you sometimes feel for doing it).

But I don't regret any of it, and despite this past year turning out very differently than I ever would have guessed, it's also been surprisingly rewarding. The fans I do have are more doting and loyal than I deserve. They warm my heart and make everything worth it. The events and signings I've participated in have helped sink in the fact that I wrote a book. That people can buy. No matter how much of a nobody I am, I've accomplished something significant, and one year later, I'm still reveling in satisfaction and gratitude. And I still love writing. All set to finish up the writing of my next book on this anniversary weekend, I can't wait to do it all over again.

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The Homestretch

I still have a little ways to go, but I am almost giddy with excitement already over finishing my next book. Now that I know what to expect once the writing is over and won't be so clueless during the process, I'm very much looking forward to it. Phase 1 will be the organization of the book. The majority of the work here will involve me reading the manuscript one million times, my editor reading it, as well as the more difficult task of deciding the order of things. (Like I've mentioned before, this book isn't chronological like my first one was.) Phase 2 will be the design of the book, and the designer I was fortunate enough to work with last time is so wonderful to work with. I find myself wondering what ideas she'll have this time, and I know I'll be dying to see what she comes up with for the cover. Clearly I'm getting ahead of myself, but I can't help it. It's all just so much fun!
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Books I Can't Wait to Read

One of my resolutions this year involves reading more books, so I made a rather large book purchase over the weekend and am now happy to report that I will be reading all of these books in the near future. Man, sometimes I forget how much I love reading. Particularly non-fiction. Especially memoirs. Not that this should shock anyone by this point. Of course it's just now occurring to me that reading all these books is going to seriously cut into my writing time. Le sigh. At any rate, I'll be sure to report back on what I think of the below books.

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