Category: Family

Random Writerly Thoughts

I had a great time in Houston. The reception the Honors College put together was one of the nicest experiences I’ve ever had as a writer, and I think it was for a couple of reasons. One, it was fun and I was introduced by a great friend of mine, Dr. Jesse Rainbow, who was hilarious and set a great tone for the evening. And two, the questions that the students (it was mostly attended by writing students) had were, for the most part, phenomenal. It’s a pure pleasure to talk with young people who are receptive, thoughtful, and curious. They asked great questions, and I have no doubt in my mind that I will be seeing some of their names on the front of great books in the future.

I wish I’d had time to talk to more one-on-one. There was a student who came up to me at the very end and I didn’t have much time to talk to her, but I wish I’d had more, because she was asking about taking a more traditional publication route in this new era of publishing. And I got the feeling that she was asking if that was still worth it. (If you happen to be reading this, and I misunderstood, then I do apologize.) It’s something I want to address at a later date, though, because it’s a great question.

Random: Have you seen these splat balls? I got some for SmallBoy in Houston. They’re hilarious. Just don’t throw them on the ceiling. Trust me on this.

Reception for THE SCRIBE continues to be really positive, which is gratifying. I’ve had such a good response from readers, when in complete truth, I was kind of expecting some backlash for choices I’d made in the plot. I never give you all enough credit. Silly me. I should know by now that you’re amazing.

Moving this month has been easier than I’d imagined, but it’s still pretty busy. The hard thing is not being able to write regularly because I feel really scattered. And not writing makes me feel unproductive and cranky. But writing crap makes me feel even worse, so I’ve kind of resigned myself to just taking a break until life calms down a little. (I always tell myself I’m going to take a break and then I never do, so this is probably a good thing.) No worries, THE SINGER hasn’t left my mind at all, so once I’m back in the groove, I think it’s going to come really fast. I’m still planning on a release for Spring of next year.

Random: SmallBoy bought me a mini pumpkin when I was in Houston. He named it Henry. Which is an excellent pumpkin name, in my opinion.

I’ll be happy to be home. As in, my own home. For real. No renting. This is the first house I’ve bought on my own (my ex bought ours right before we were married), but it’s been a great, if a little overwhelming, experience. It’s an old house with lots of character, so I’ll be sure to post pictures of the new place when I’m settled.

I walked into that house, particularly into the office, which has great windows and opens right into the back garden, and I thought, “I could write good books here.” Atmosphere is important. Feeling centered is important. I think I’m going to feel very centered in that house, if that makes sense, so good books will be written there, I have no doubt. If they’re not, I know you’ll let me know.

Just wanted to touch base. I should probably do some big Halloween post or something because “Hey! Paranormal writer!” but I have a lot going on, so I’ll leave you with a picture of Henry.

Screen Shot 2013-10-29 at 2.35.08 PM

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

My Son’s Room

lego_color_bricksI love my son’s room. I love going in at the end of the day to put him to bed and seeing the artifacts of his life gathered around him. I love seeing what he thinks is valuable and what isn’t. What deserves a place of honor on his dresser, and what gets thrown in the closet.

He’s a bit of a collector, my kid, which is not really like me. He’s more sentimental about objects. But I enjoy seeing that, too. I like seeing the ways that he is uniquely himself and nothing like me or his dad.

People are interesting. No, really, they are. If you don’t think so, you’re not looking hard enough. Every person has a story, even an eight year old boy who lives with his mom and dog and collects LEGOs and stuffed snakes and rocks with cool patterns on them.

Are you looking?

Stories, Artifacts, and Boxes in the Garage

image by chuck seedfarmer

I haven’t mentioned it much on the blog, but my husband and I separated in the spring. It was not somewhere I had ever wanted to be, even though I think it was necessary and right at the end, and we have remained, above all other differences, our son’s parents first and finally. So I moved. And I left things behind and came back to the place where I grew up and have a plethora of family that can help a single mother. But I left things behind.

My son’s father delivered a trailer of some of those things a couple of weeks ago. He was kind enough to pack them up and send them north along with some of our furniture, so I’ve spent the past couple of weeks sifting through books and artifacts, some from when we were first married, some toward the end when our tastes were different and we had grown closer in some ways and dramatically apart in others. All my books made the trip, along with my bookcases (thank goodness), and so I have been unpacking.

I’m not a sentimental person when it comes to objects. Other than a very few things like a childhood toy that I still have and my grandmothers’ china and silver, I’m not terribly attached to things. So it will probably come as no surprise to anyone who knows me that the first boxes I unpacked contained my books.

And I thought about packing and unpacking while I organized them. I thought about the things we keep and the things we are willing to leave. (Old Nora Roberts novel in the donate pile, Michael Ondaatje on the shelf.) And I realized while I was thinking about these things and unpacking my books that each one that I keep in the main bookcases (Calvin and Hobbes collection on the bottom shelf where son can discover them, D’Aulaires’ Book of Greek Myths a little higher) was an artifact in its own way. Not the physical book in most cases, but the story and the memories attached.

The Hobbit, which I remember reading as a child around the dinner table with my family, and The Lord of the Rings, which at one point in my life I reread every year like a kind of ritual. The Captain’s Verses, by Neruda, which was small, so I carried a copy in my backpack the summer I went to Europe and was a gypsy. A Room with a View, Charms for the Easy Life, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone. All stories that, more than any object, bring a wash of memories and feelings to my head.

Stories are my artifacts. And more than the things in my life (most of which I’m not vitally attached to), the stories will travel with me forever, even if I lose the physical objects that contain them. Some will give me a momentary pleasure, like a pretty vase I use for a few years, then pass on to someone else. Some will be bring wonderful, magical memories. And others will bring pain that will make me stumble. But like every object packed in those boxes crowding my garage, at one point they had a purpose in my life. I learned from them, ignored them, loved them, hated them. And each one was another small point—positive or negative—in the journey my life has taken. Because every story serves a purpose.

What story is your artifact? Talk to me. (There’s a comments section for a reason.) What book has transformed you some way, be it positive or negative?

Getaways, Back to School, and a Free Book in the Kindle Store!

Little tent in the big trees.

So, I’m going to brag a little. I got to take a vacation. Well, a mini-one, which is something I haven’t done in a LONG time, but SmallBoy and I joined my very large and crazy clan camping in the Sierra backcountry for a long weekend before school starts. It was fun, dirty, and so incredibly beautiful. Best of all, I was forced to leave my computer behind and there was no cel phone access at all. So no checking email or rankings or any of the little things that eat up time.

North Fork of the Tule River (our front yard)

Speaking of back-to-school, SmallBoy starts his first year of conventional schooling tomorrow. Those of you who have been following the blog for a while know that I home-schooled him for the last three years, but life changes unexpectedly sometimes, and a conventional classroom became necessary. He got to meet his teacher last night and his classroom has a camping theme! Which is just perfect. So, for the first time, I’ll be writing full time, which means that writing and editing will be happening much faster, and I’m very excited about that. It will also free up my evenings so I can have some sort of normal life (and hopefully more sleep).

In case you haven’t caught the excitement, A Hidden Fire was price-matched on Amazon yesterday, so it is now free at the Kindle store! And… it’s been making a bit of a mark. It’s currently sitting at #1 on the Free Contemporary Fantasy list and #13 in free books overall! In one day? That’s way more than I ever expected and it’s thrilling to know so many people are reading my first book. If you haven’t picked up a copy, now is the time! If you like paranormal romance, historical mystery, or just a fun adventure with great characters, you’ll like the book. A reviewer on Goodreads once called it Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego for adults, which might be my favorite review of all time. It’s also a semifinalist in the Kindle Book Review “Best Indie Books of 2012″ so that’s pretty darn cool, too.

I hope you all have a great week! I’m considering posting a chapter of the first Cambio Springs novel, which is still untitled, but I’ve got it all outlined, and I’m about a quarter of the way done with drafting it. Let me know if you’re interested in reading and I’ll post a chapter later this week!

Thanks for reading,

Elizabeth

Five Things I Loved about Brave

I saw Brave last week with my mother, sister, son, two nieces, and nephew. It was a fairly wild crew, but fun. Much like Merida’s family in Brave, we all have our moments.

I’ve actually read mixed reviews of the movie, which surprised me. I think people have come to have such an exalted view of Pixar that nothing but perfection will do for some. I loved Brave. Was it perfect? Probably not, but I’m having a hard time pin-pointing things I didn’t like. The plot was compelling, the characters—particularly Merida and Elinor—were relatable, and it was technically brilliant.

So, without further ado, here are Five Things I Love about Brave:

  1. The hair. Call me shallow, but I’m a curly girl. I’ve had curls sprouting from my head since I was a baby. Not tame, soft curls. We’re talking mane-like thick curls with a mind of their own. Straightening works… oh, for about three hours (yes, professional straightening) so I don’t bother. And really, I don’t want to. These curls have become a signature that I love, so I’m very happy to say that FOR ONCE, a princess does not have luxurious softly waving tresses. Merida has HAIR. Bless those curls.
  2. The setting. Ah, Scotland. The movie is visually arresting partly because of the wild setting the Scottish highlands are. It’s gorgeous. If you’re a person who debates seeing things on the big screen or waiting for the DVD, take my advice, see this one in the theater. You’ll be glad you did with all that scenery.
  3. The family. Like most Pixar films, this movie has family plastered all over it. No character exists in a vacuum, especially not Merida. She has a clan of loving and diverse people around her. None of them are perfect, but they love each other anyway. The relationship between Merida and her mother, Elinor is spot on and captures the particular tension that exists between mothers and their daughters on the verge of adulthood. Well done there, writers!
  4. No romance. For you die-hard romantics out there, you may be a little disappointed, but I don’t think so. It’s refreshing to see a female protagonist in a children’s movie not end up with a suitor at the end. Frankly, it’s become commonplace to insert romance into movies aimed at all ages and it doesn’t need to be. I love romance. I write romance! But it doesn’t need to be in everything, and it was refreshing to watch a story about a teenage girl that didn’t focus on her love life.
  5. Merida! She was… a brat. She was bold. She was reckless and passionate and fearless and real. She was a girl who started the movie in one place that often (from an adult perspective) made me roll my eyes, and she ended the movie in a different place. She grew and matured through her adventures. She was forced to see the consequences of her actions and view her world in a broader context than she had before. And growing that way is brave.

On a kid note, every one of them was riveted. Don’t tell me that little boys don’t like movies with female protagonists, they love them if the characters are more than cut-out princesses who take up space on the screen and twirl. Go. Take the kids. Take the husband for a date night. Pixar makes family films, so everyone in the family will enjoy this one.

And if you have curly hair, wear it bravely.

P.S. I’ve posted the new cover and synopsis for the first short story in my new series, Cambio Springs, here if you want to take a look. The short should be out at the end of this month if all goes according to plan.

My child is a reader now.

Watching my son learn to read is a revelation.

For a lifelong reader, there is very little that equals the thrill of watching your child learn to read. It’s as if the world opens up to them. They discover a magic code in the air that is suddenly and permanently decipherable. They start to recognize words all around and, if you’re watching, you can see the wonder of it. You begin to realize just how much language surrounds us. Signs, t-shirts, instructions, advertising, labels. They start to read it all. And you become aware of something that you thought you knew—especially if you’re a writer—but it drills it home because this time it is your child and their world and everything is new.

Words, which we toss around like careless things too often, have weight.

And for the rest of their lives, the child that has learned to read will have influences beyond your control. Which is wonderful and freeing and frightening all at once.

Because the written word has power.

Spoken language, for most children, comes on so gradually that most parents hardly notice. There is a silent, babbling baby and then slowly there is a talking child. Reading is not the same. While speaking is a natural and organic part of human development, written language is study and will. A deliberate grasping for the unknown.

And so a child will ask what it means.

“What does that say?”

What is that line or squiggle? What meaning have those others—wiser or older or simply before—given to that particular mark? And the search begins.

For some children, reading comes very easily, for others it is a monumental task. But they work and struggle and learn. Some, from teachers; others from parents. Most are a combination of both. And then…

Then.

One day, a child picks up a paper or a book or cereal box and, without asking, the words flow. And they are understood. And the code has been broken.

They’re a reader, and the world has things to say to them.

If you’re a lover of the written word, as a reader or a writer, your heart thrills. Those squiggles that we toss around have weight they didn’t before. And you notice language surrounding you on every street corner and every nook and cranny of our world. Because your child can read those words now.

A different kind of code is broken for you, and the protective shield around your child begins to thin because they know the secret code that eluded them before.

And suddenly words have weight.

It’s fascinating and frightening. So utterly beautiful that it almost makes me cry. Because my son is a reader now.

And the world has things to say.

“Tell your story walking”

“tell a lie sometimes, tell the truth

when it suits you, and when you’ve lost your way

tell a story.”

I’ve been thinking a lot about storytelling lately. Not just writing. Storytelling. Humans have been telling stories as long as we’ve been able to talk. We wrote them on walls. We drew them in sand and dust. It’s part of how our brains work, a vital part of the human situation which I’ve talked about in the past. Stories inform. Transmit vital knowledge, morality, and cultural tradition. We tell them. We write them. We sing them. We draw them.

In a very real sense, all art is a story. “A picture is worth a thousand words.” What about a sculpture? A symphony? It’s all part of the ongoing conversation that we take part in as members of the human race.

Why am I talking about this? I think, because of my move and other big changes in my life, I’m struggling with how to tell my stories now. When everything in your life has been upended, you need to find a new normal. A new way of doing things. Make new patterns. Tell new stories.

A friend linked me to Neil Gaiman’s wonderful commencement address at Philidelphia’s University of Art last week. Here’s what the storyteller had to say:

“When things get tough, this is what you should do: Make good art. I’m serious. Husband runs off with a politician — make good art. Leg crushed and then eaten by a mutated boa constrictor — make good art. IRS on your trail — make good art. Cat exploded — make good art. Someone on the Internet thinks what you’re doing is stupid or evil or it’s all been done before — make good art.”

Make good art. Tell good stories. Tell them in new ways you haven’t tried before. Tell them even when you don’t really feel like it. Because there is a beauty even in the attempt.

And if you’re the amazing songwriter, Deb Talan (what? you’ve never heard of Deb Talan? Get thee to iTunes!) tell your story in a song.

Tell Your Story Walking

Tell it to the judge, man.

Tell it to your motherless reflection.

In a sock and one shoe

after the great defection

he said, “tell a lie sometimes, tell the truth

when it suits you, and when you’ve lost your way

tell a story.”

Tell your story, tell it, tell it.

Tell your story to anyone who’ll listen.

Tell your story, don’t stop talking

just tell your story walking.

Listing through Carol Gardens

on the way to Cobble Hill

I stopped by a psychic’s dusty, wilted windowsill.

Forgot what she told me, mostly

but I remember one thing she said

“You may slip and call some lousy fuck your friend

but in the end you’ll come out even

then, tell your story.”

And it’s a sorry, frightful thing

when you want to cry, but you can’t keep from laughing.

Outside the church that’s so quiet it dares you to shout

you put a hand to your mouth to stop the rain.

You do a St. Vitus dance, to the sky you raise your voice.

This is your chance, you have no choice

you tell your story.

Publishing News and a Fantastic Fundraiser! (with prizes, people)

Oak trees at my grandmother's house in Napa

Ah, Life, you never bore me.

Wanted to post today about a few things on different fronts.

WRITING: Well, people, I’ll be honest. I haven’t been able to write much lately, which makes me sad and irritable, as my family will probably attest. Between finish editing on The Genius and the Muse, more editing for A Fall of Water, the fourth Elementals book, and moving back to Central California unexpectedly (which is a Good Thing, but has been rather complicated), writing on new projects has been almost non-existent. I’m hoping to get back into the swing of things next month. Until then, my focus is on…

PUBLISHING: Yay! Finally, for those who have been waiting, the release date for The Genius and the Muse will be May 2nd, which is just around the corner. In fact, it’s just a week from today! You can read the very first advanced review for the book over at Twimom101 Book Blog here.

As for A Fall of Water, it is still slated for an early June release, and I’ll be sure to keep you updated on that. A new teaser just posted today over on ElementalMysteries.com, so if you’re a fan of the series, you can read that here.

MOST IMPORTANT NEWS: I, along with a BUNCH of other authors, am taking part in a fundraiser for a family who has been hit pretty hard in the last few months. The Evans family has had more than their share of surprises, so I’m joining authors like Jamie McGuire, E.L. James (yes, THAT E.L. James!), Tracey Garvis-Gaves, Kristen Ashley, and so many others in donating signed copies of our books for the mother of all prize packages. For every $10 donated, you are entered to win around FIFTY signed copies from these authors and many others (including me!). Check out author Colleen Hoover’s post about the Evan’s family and the fundraiser here. Spread the news. Tweet it. Facebook it. Spread it on the Kindle boards and other forums. This family can really use the help and this prize pack is beyond amazing.

Hope the rest of your week is great!

Thanks for reading,

Elizabeth

A part in “The Conversation”

I hold that it is none of my business what people think of me. 

-Ashley Judd

(Many thanks to the lovely Shea MacLeod for her post “The Conversation” this morning, which led to the inspiration for this blog post.)

This is the old avi I used when I first started blogging. I like this picture of myself. I don’t know why. I’m not wearing any fancy clothes. I don’t think I even have any makeup on. It was taken by the camera on my laptop one night when I finally decided to put a face to my online presence. I snapped the pic, tweaked it so you didn’t notice my messy kitchen so much, then put it up for the world.

Looking at that picture now, I think I like it because it captures a lot of my personality. I’m not a stunning classical beauty; I never have been, and I never will be. I could list all the physical attributes I don’t like, but that seems needlessly narcissistic. Why on earth should you be interested in that? I could also list a lot of the things that I like about my appearance, but that would be just as pointless. To tell the truth, the cultivation of my outer beauty has never been a personal quest for me. People can have their own opinions about that. I’m opting out.

That said, The Conversation about women’s bodies and appearance, the hypersexualization of all aspects of our personhood, and the relentless focus on our outer appearance as an indicator of our worth is something that must be talked about. It must be talked about because I heard a ten-year-old girl I love talk about dieting so she wasn’t so fat. It must be talked about because my sisters have to sift through reams of overly mature clothing for my lovely and vibrant young nieces. It must be talked about, because I am a woman and a mother, and I don’t want my son to grow up in a world where it is acceptable to measure women (or anyone, really) by one standard of impossible, synthetic, media-ascribed beauty.

It is not acceptable.

My new book, which comes out in May, has a lot to say about beauty, because it is set in the art world. I find it fascinating to look at beauty from an artist’s perspective. It’s often very different than what the mass media portrays. Here’s a quote from one of the characters in the novel:

“I have no interest in taking a picture of the same nose sculpted by the same surgeon on five different actresses.   It’s boring and more than a little insulting, if you think about it.   Like they know better than we do what beauty is.”

Do they know better? The Conversation needs to occur so that real beauty, in all its variations and intricacies, can be celebrated. Beauty matters. But beauty—real beauty—is far more complex than a picture. It is has far more depth, and breadth, and longevity than morning talk shows or magazines would have you believe.

So take a look at the op-ed by actress, Ashley Judd, that started The Conversation for me:

“The Conversation about women’s bodies exists largely outside of us, while it is also directed at (and marketed to) us, and used to define and control us. The Conversation about women happens everywhere, publicly and privately. We are described and detailed, our faces and bodies analyzed and picked apart, our worth ascertained and ascribed based on the reduction of personhood to simple physical objectification. Our voices, our personhood, our potential, and our accomplishments are regularly minimized and muted.”

Read the rest HERE. Then, as Shea said in her post, if you think that this conversation is worth having, spread the message yourself.

Thanks for reading,

Elizabeth