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JUNE 2009

It’s June, people! June 2009! How did this happen? Time went by, and I turned around, like, twice, and now it’s summer (almost) again. My roses and foxgloves are blooming. My kids will be out of school as of tomorrow. We have two vacations planned, plus numerous sailing trips on the Chesapeake Bay to look forward to. And besides all that, I’m in the mood to be lazy. So are my kids. We’re listening to “Multiply With Power” with far less interest on the way to school each morning. I find myself NOT checking their homework quite so thoroughly (if at all), and I feel like every day should be some sort of mini celebration—summer is a reasonable excuse for too much ice cream or impromptu salsa and chips or hanging out by the pool well past six o’clock and just winging dinner.

Maybe it’s the Southern girl in me, but I like to sweat. I love it when the temperature soars and everyone around me is whining about it. Secretly, I am thinking YA-HOO, let it be hot. Next thing you know we’ll all be complaining about snow! Give me bare feet and T-shirts and no makeup any day. Put me in a garden, and I’ll pick weeds happily. Slice up a tomato and boil a few ears of corn, and that’s my idea of bliss. Plus, summer is the time when stories come. At least this is how it works for me. Maybe it’s all those hours spent outdoors or listening to my girls pretend or the opportunity to sit at the beach and watch people behind the cover of sunglasses. If you’re a writer, summer is a fertile time because the best stories show up when you’re running up that big hill or half-asleep by the pool or staring at what you think are weeds but could actually be those zinnias you planted weeks ago.

When my brother and I were little, my mother would begin each summer vacation by saying, “Before y’all know it school will be starting again.” I hated it when she said that, but she was right. Now here I am SO many summers later, yet I’m still just as excited, eager to monitor the hummingbird feeder or to jump on the trampoline with my girls. Or better yet, to lie on said trampoline and look up at the big ol’ summer sky. Because you know what, school WILL be starting again before we know it.

Happy almost summer, y’all.

MOTHER'S DAY 2009

So it’s almost Mother’s Day, and since losing my mom to cancer five years ago, I’ve come to realize what a truly special day it is. It’s a special day for all the folks like me who no longer have moms. We’ll spend at least part of May 10th muddling through. It’s a special day for mothers-to-be. For the first time, you’ll be joining the “motherhood club,” and it’s a great group, especially once your baby is sleeping through the night. Mother’s Day is really nice for those of us who have older children because said children are now big enough to bring us breakfast in bed (Elsbeth) and clean the kitchen (Flannery) and go out and purchase gift cards for manicures (Cassie).

Some “children” are in the process of losing their moms to cancer or Alzheimer’s or countless other wicked diseases that strip away layer upon layer until you no longer recognize your mother. If that’s your situation, you and your mom should have a special place of honor this Mother’s Day.

So many people have relationships not at all fitting for those sparkly Hallmark cards. Maybe your mother has never really been there for you, or she’s done unspeakable things you cannot forgive, at least not now. For you, Mother’s Day might be an occasion to forget rather than remember. Or, perhaps it’s time you found a good surrogate mom. Luckily, I have a few of those myself.

For a long time, I was a single mom, and there were years when Cassie was too small to buy a card or purchase a gift. Mother’s Day came and went with little recognition of the sacrifices and compromises I was making. More than once I’ve heard the term “single mother” said with disdain, but to my way of thinking, single mothers are the most important ones of all. Without them, where would so many of us, myself included, be?

On Mother’s Day 2009, I will spend time with the three girls who matter most to me: Cassie, Flannery, and Elsbeth. I’ll also take a few minutes to look through old photos and remember the mother I was lucky enough to have for so many (but not nearly enough) years.

MARCH / APRIL 2009

I WANT CANDY!
As I’ve said again and again, I love hearing from readers. This cute photo of some enthusiastic book clubbers definitely made me smile—notice the Slim Fast beverages and ALL of Rosie’s favorite candy (mine, too!) Thanks so much to Rebecca Pearson and her ABC Book Club of Hollister, California, for allowing me to share this delicious picture with all of you.

On another note…It’s SPRING BREAK 2009!

I’m on vacation in lovely Outer Banks, North Carolina, as I write this. It’s rainy, a little on the chilly side, and we have no hot water at the moment. The maintenance guy is here to figure out what’s going on. I stand corrected: the maintenance guy just informed us the condo we’re staying in needs a NEW hot water heater. And guess what, I don’t give a rat’s patootie. It’s not my condo (sorry owners—I feel for you). It’s not my hot water heater. It’s not my problem. A shower would’ve been nice, better yet, a hot bubble bath, but the most energy I’ve exerted today was wolfing down a few nachos and some mild salsa. Since it was mild, I didn’t even break a sweat, so who needs a shower?

Normally, I am all over this kinda thing. A new hot water heater would make me cringe. How much? When can you install it? Will this make a mess? If so, how much of a mess? I’d stress about what time these hot water heater people were gonna show up. After all, it would interfere with my work schedule. But not today. At this very moment, all I’m thinking about is whether my husband will grill the burgers or cook them inside. And I’m hoping they’re not too rare (he’s prone to under-grilling).

Back in high school, I was very good, maybe a little too good, at letting things slide. Mostly, I worried about what I was doing on Friday and Saturday nights. I concerned myself with really serious topics, like, whether or not my Wendy’s paycheck would cover a new outfit, or at least a pair of cute shoes from Payless. I slept late without guilt, and to be honest, a bad test grade didn’t make me want to fling myself off the Duck River bridge. My favorite things in life back then were simple: hanging out with my best girlfriends, talking on the phone, consuming Little Debbie cakes and a Sundrop after school, keeping a clean room (some compulsions are with you for life), and picking fresh flowers from our yard. OH, and I loved the drive I made across town each morning on my way to school. There was something so Mary Tyler Moore liberating about hopping in my little blue Gremlin, turning on the AM (Lord, I’m old) radio, and driving myself to school.

When the weather got warm, I slathered on Hawaiian Tropic and flopped down on that aluminum foil thingy. I soaked up those UV rays without a care about premature aging or skin cancer. Do I worry about such things today? You betcha. I spend half my life worried about something, as do most of my friends, especially now. The housing market sucks. The economy sucks. The news sucks. Getting older sucks (sometimes). Losing your parents definitely sucks.

There was a time when the adult me chastised the kid me for all the mistakes I made. After all, I could’ve studied so much harder, been so much more—taken life and school and UV rays far more seriously. But maybe I knew instinctively it was all gonna get really serious really soon.

Right now I’m on spring break with my sweet family. My youngest has Legos scattered all over the floor. My husband just poured more salsa into the bowl, and it’s past six o’clock. When will we feed the girls? What time will they go to bed? And will that hot water heater ever be replaced? I think I’ll just sit here and watch it rain.

FEBRUARY 2009

So, there are lots of good things about being a YA writer. You never have to grow up. You never have to “get over” high school. Instead, you get to relive it as a totally different person, which is unbelievably interesting (and often difficult). You write for the MOST important audience, teenagers. You actually get paid to make stuff up. The Internet is part of your job, as is blog reading and/or visiting Facebook. You are required to read lots and lots of books. You’re free to be your introverted self, and if you’re just the tiniest bit quirky and opinionated…well, that’s okay, too, because you’re a writer, and people sort of expect that from writers. The very best part of all, however, is getting mail from readers. I can’t speak for other writers, of course, but when I get a heartfelt note from a reader, it makes my day, reminds me why I do this, to connect with this big ole world.

If you’ve written to me, I thank you. Writing can be a little too solitary at times, so it’s always wonderful to hear from readers! With the reader’s permission, of course, I’ve decided to share this note I received a couple of weeks ago. It’s a good reminder that books really are powerful tools for healing. I’ll be back in March. For now, I’m on a deadline and duct taped to my computer (another part of being a writer).

I got a hold of When Irish Guys Are Smiling from the library and wanted to congratulate you on a job well done. I found the book hard to put down once I had started it. I didn’t expect to be able to relate so closely to so many of the characters. Like Trent and Brent, I have ADD and can’t stand being locked up and forced to learn. Like Lucy I take on the motherly role even if I’m not related to a person. I definitely can relate to Tomboy Iris. We both love sports and don’t ever think a guy will like us as a girl rather then “one of the guys”. The funny thing is I can’t relate to Latreece and we’re even from the same town!

What I was really surprised by was how much I felt I could relate with Delk, who at first I didn’t think we had much in common (till I read the summary on the back). See, my mom passed away in 2003 after being diagnosed with breast cancer. I was nine and my brother was about six. It was just before fifth grade and the next year my dad introduced us to Laurie, my current step-mom and her two kids (both younger then me) and then, like Delk they eventually got married. At first I felt the same way Delk did, that my stepmom was trying to take my mom’s place and change everything, but it was also like she was trying to take, well, trying to take the role of mom from me. As weird as that sounds, I was the only girl after my mom so I felt like it was my duty to be the woman of the house. After a while I felt like I could trust her, and though I liked her when I first met her, we became very close. Now my stepmom wasn’t twenty seven and didn’t have a baby and I obviously didn’t go to Ireland and fall in love with an Irish farmer hunk, like lucky little Delk. But I wanted to, I really did but I felt like I needed to stay with the family.

The main purpose of this email isn’t to divulge my life story but more or less to thank you. Thank you for writing a book that gives an accurate portrayal of what it’s like to lose a mother, not only for me but for the hundreds of girls who have gone through the same thing. You wrote it amazingly well and I’ve lost track of how often I was like “oh yeah! I know what that’s like. Man did that suck” or what ever it was I said. Something else that’s funny? My mom had a Claddagh ring and I’m supposed to receive either that ring or my own. My mom’s family was welsh and Irish so that’s another way I could relate. I’ve always wanted to see Ireland, not the cities but the country like Connemara. Now I want to visit Ireland even more then before.

Thank you for writing such a wonderful story, even if it was a part of a series. It was a reminder that I’m not alone out there and that everything does get better. I like the metaphor you used, “like running a race with a rock in your shoe” it’s pretty darn accurate. I loved how you portrayed the Irish culture and the family element they have, it was wonderful and you wrote the dialogue so realistically. But mostly thank you for writing a wonderful story that reminds girls like me that there is sun at the end of the storm or what have you. I know it might not mean much since I’m sure you have a lot of fans but thank you so very, very much. It was a touching, realistic, well written story.

JANUARY 2009

My Wishes for the New Year

1. That I will eventually recover from a head/chest cold I have now had for THREE WEEKS.
2. That my children will play with the toys Santa brought instead of the plastic sleigh they retrieved from the log cake. And, yes, said sleigh is still coated with bits of dried out chocolate.
3. That I will be able to resume my respectable breakfast of cinnamon raisin toast rather than consuming the cream cheese bourbon pecan pound cake I’ve had each morning for days now.
4. That someone will invent a 12-step program for Amazon and HGTV addicts.
5. That the vacuum cleaner will hold out at least until the prickly tree needles are sucked out of the rug.
7. That my husband will use the vacuum cleaner to suck up the needles.
8. That my revisions will go well, and I won’t find myself reading blogs instead of doing my work.
9. That Sarah Dessen and John Green and Jennifer Weiner will continue to blog.
10. That the work we are about to do on our very old farmhouse won’t interfere with the work and/or blog reading I need to do.
11. That I will stop fretting about things I can’t control—the rapid passage of time, the loss of loved ones, the weather, the economy.
12. That I will continue to be blessed with a family that is beyond wonderful and friends who love me and work that fulfills me and a home that keeps me warm (except for when I sit in front of the family room window).
13. That I will think of something else to wish for so that I don’t stop this list on number thirteen.
14. OH, that if you’re reading this, you will get the important things you wish for in 2009.

Happy New Year!

NOVEMBER/DECEMBER 2008

So, it’s winter. Well, not exactly, but close. The holidays are around the corner—YIKES—and I don’t know about all of you, but I’m feeling slightly whatever this year. In fact, I’m all for ordering everything at discount off eBay, not even bothering with the mall and creepy parking garages and door dings. Somehow I know this attitude will shift, though, at least the mall part (the discount part I’m sticking to). The transformation will go something like this: two days after Thanksgiving I’ll start listening to my cheesy radio station, the one that plays Christmas music from Halloween till Valentine’s Day; next, I’ll buy that first gift, from Wegman’s probably, because it doesn’t look like it came from a grocery store and it was marked down; then, before I know it, I’ll be officially sucked in—crying over that Amy Grant Tender Tennessee Christmas song and schlepping multiple packages through the hot, crowded food court in search of a Diet Coke.

There’s also the yearly Christmas card dilemma. Will I send them or not? It’s time consuming, expensive, and do people I haven’t laid eyes on since 1993 really want another posed picture of my children, kids some of them have never even met, I might add? Perhaps not. I’ve often fantasized about sending a real-life Christmas card, one that actually semi resembles our days—spelling tests and math facts, too much Sponge Bob, and ringworm. Recently, one of my friends battled head lice at her house. Now there’s a Christmas card theme I could appreciate. The children were nestled, all snug in their beds, while little white bugs danced in their heads!

This morning, like most mornings, I drove my kids to school. Satellite radio was happily playing 80’s tunes, and my girls weren’t fighting or whining or claiming they forgot something. It was a rather cheerful little morning until my eyes moved slightly to the left and I spotted a McMansion. It was massive and well-manicured (most are), and it was situated on what used to be a field with cows (again, most are). It was also decorated for Christmas—on November 20th! My sleepy eyes bugged slightly, and there might’ve been an under-the-breath word or two. I kept driving, my shiny mood dimmed slightly by the seasonal to-do list that began forming in my brain. To top it all off, the pizza delivery man showed up tonight, and it hit me why he always seems so familiar. He looks like Santa Claus!

Just so I’m not outdone by a really efficient suburbanite (I’m picturing Brie of Desperate Housewives), I’ve included a couple of amusing photos from Christmases past.

Happy Holidays!

Fall 2008

It’s officially fall, but I am not ready for cold weather and dreary winter days and snow and ice and chapped lips and pasty skin. I don’t want to winter-ize the sailboat and plug that strange electric blanket thing up to our outdoor spigot to prevent the pipes from freezing. I don’t want to sit in front of the television and feel the cold air biting my neck and think about how we really should’ve replaced the windows. I don’t want to have my writing time disrupted by snow days. NO! I want the beach and the sun and those warm summer nights with croaking frogs and lightning bugs. I want tan skin. I want toenail polish. I want flip-flops. I want those afternoons at the pool and a reasonable excuse for not bathing my children—chlorine kills the germs.

It’s true, though. Summer ’08 is officially over.

There are some good things about summer being over. Actually, I can think of two things: new episodes of The Office and the sound of the school bus lumbering up my street each morning. I love that sound, even though I’m glad I no longer ride the Stupid Smelly Bus, as Junie B. Jones calls it. The bus is so much more appealing in my memory (all sunny and yellow) than it was in real life—stale air, cracked vinyl seats, gum stuck everywhere, and smudged windows that never opened properly, which explains the stale air. I digress…

So why am I so reluctant to let summer go? I can sum it up in two words—Artichoke’s Heart. This was the summer I’d been waiting for most of my adult life, the summer of publication. This was the summer when I became an official author, and you know, I have to stop blogging about this and get over the whole I’m-now-a-published-author thing, but a first book is like a first child. It may seem like just another book/child to everyone else, but to you it feels like a miracle.

So, what’s next? Well, the new book, Somebody Everybody Listens To, is in my expert editor’s hands for now, and since I’m not big on days off, I’ve started yet another book. Down time for me is just down time, if you know what I mean. In other news, I’ve been getting emails from WONDERFUL readers, which is always nice, so thank you if you’ve written to me, and I recently attended the Baltimore Book Festival. I’m also going to Nashville for the Southern Festival of Books, and I’ll be doing a live chat with librarian Sarah Bean and her teen readers out in Springfield, Missouri. In November, I’ll be signing books at St. John’s Church in Glyndon, Maryland, and there are a few school visits in the works, so keep checking the website for details.

Even if summer ’08 is a thing of the past, life is good and busy. It’s also pretty exciting to think that the next time I blog (unless I get better about blogging) our nation will have a new president! No matter what your political views are, please go out and VOTE! And, if you’re not old enough to vote, nag your parents and grandparents and teachers to vote!

Happy fall to all!

The very, very, very rainy Baltimore Book Festival! Thank you to the Book Divas for making this such a great event in spite of the lousy weather. www.bookdivas.com		L to R: YA authors Brad Barkley (Jars of Glass), Robin Wasserman (Skinned), Diana Rodriguez Wallach (Amor and Summer Secrets) and me (having a very bad hair day). Our lovely moderator is Book Diva diva, Leah Messina. BBF photos are courtesy of Diana Rodriguez Wallach. You can check out Diana and her books at www.dianarodriguezwallach.com/blog/blog.html

Summer 2008

Well, Artichoke’s Heart is OUT! What an incredible yet terrifying and crazy experience! Seriously, you dream about something your whole adult life, and then it happens. Wow!

On publication day I went to lunch with several of my fiction students and my two youngest daughters (my oldest daughter was taking a writing class that day). It was the perfect way to celebrate. First of all, my fiction students are THE BEST. They are talented writers who truly respect and understand the creative process. Even better, they are funny and don’t mind sharing their lives with me. Even better than that, they are extremely thoughtful. So thoughtful, in fact, that when they learned I planned to spend publication day taking my kids to the dentist for check-ups, they insisted I go with them to lunch first. Letting go of that perfect class at the end of the semester was really difficult for me, a little like putting a beloved protagonist out into the world.

A couple of weeks after the release date, my husband and I threw a big party to celebrate. We had such a great time, and three of my very best girlfriends flew in for the occasion (in addition to all our local friends), so I felt sufficiently celebrated. It was a grown-up party, too, with a tent and a caterer and real invitations, etc. We haven’t had a party of this nature since our wedding nearly ten years ago. Truthfully, it will probably be another ten years before we do it again, but it was a night to remember!

Lately, I’ve been slaving over my new book and enjoying practically every minute of it! I’m loving the main character and her journey, and I can’t wait to get started on the editorial process again. The next several months will likely bring a great deal of work, but it’s work I love, so not a problem.

As for summer, we are spending most of our non-working time outdoors—swimming, running, bouncing on the trampoline. We celebrated the Fourth of July with a flag cake (my girls and I make it every year) and fireworks. We are going to do some sailing on the Chesapeake Bay later this month, and in August, there’s our family beach trip, of course. To me, though, the best part of summer is the garden. My hydrangeas are prettier than ever, as are my coneflowers. The Black-eyed Susans will be out soon, too. My husband and middle daughter even planted an artichoke in our vegetable garden!

Happy summer and keep reading!

P.S. I’ve had great fun guest blogging and being interviewed and reviewed by some of these wonderful book-loving Internet folks this summer. Check out their hit sites!

www.yanewyork.com
www.teensreadtoo.com/ArtichokesHeart.html
slayground.livejournal.com
southernauthors.blogspot.com/2008/06/guest-blogger.html
enduringromance.blogspot.com/2008/05/artichokes-heart.html

May 8, 2008

Borders has selected Artichoke’s Heart as a June selection of their Original Voices "Young Readers literature" promotion. This program is designed to highlight "not only emerging voices of today, but also those writers who have earned their place through years of outstanding writing and continue to affect the literacy landscape with their work." Titles selected as an OV receive front of store placement and receive a 20% discount through the promotional period. There are usually 12-15 titles selected each year.

Achtung Baby! The German translation rights for Artichoke’s Heart were recently sold to Egmont Franz Schneider and Verlag Publishers.

April 1, 2008

January 13, 2008

This past weekend I had the pleasure of meeting my editor, Julie Strauss-Gabel, for the very first time.  Keep in mind we've been working together on Artichoke's Heart for nearly two years, yet we had never seen each other!  I drove up to Philadelphia for the ALA Mid-winter Conference, and I was practically bursting with enthusiasm, not to mention curiosity, by the time I got there.  January 12th was my birthday, too, and I couldn't think of a better way to spend it—in a convention center with thousands of librarians and LOTS of editors.  Okay, so we're not talking a beach in the South Pacific, but, hey, I'm a writer, and for those of us just starting to publish, a convention center with librarians and editors is utopia.

Anyway, I did meet Julie—finally!  For starters, she's smart and friendly and down-to-earth, and she also has THE most gorgeous hair I've ever laid eyes on (always a plus)—dark, rich curls tucked back in a ponytail and still smelling of shampoo. Right away I liked her.  She showed me around the booths, introduced me to lots of really nice Penguin folks, among others, then took me to lunch across the street.  We feasted on Diet Cokes and tuna Caesar salads, then headed back to the convention center again.  After Julie and I said our goodbyes (she had meetings and a presentation and two conference days still ahead), I got to chat with my "guardian agent" for a while, yet another smart woman whom I respect and admire.  All in all, it was the perfect way for this writer to spend her birthday.

That evening I drove home thinking what a long journey it has been to publication and how very, very, VERY glad I am that I never gave up on my big dream of becoming a published author.