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Where Her Great Novel Was Born

This view look familiar to anyone besides me? Wayne and I are back in Costa Rica, the same house where we stayed for one month last year; we’re staying 2 1/2 months this year. The same town, the same villa, the same view, the same routine. We’ve been here almost 48 hours. Our refrigerator is now full of food, our vegetable basket overflows with onions, garlic, potatoes, plantains, and limes. Yes, pico de gallo will be made soon. Fried plantains will be served at dinner.

It’s interesting to be back in the same place for a second time. I’ve never wanted to own a second home, a vacation home. I love to travel, see different places, see the planet. Why go back, repeatedly, to ONE place when there are so many others waiting for me?

Why? I’ll tell you why! (Now I know.) This year, there’s no culture shock. We know a few people, we know where the grocery stores are (and what items are cheapest in each store), and where to buy good meat. Yesterday, we went to the distribution center that sells beef and pork to savvy shoppers and to the restaurants near here. Mmm, real beef.

This morning, less than 48 hours into our trip. I’m already ensconced in my “office.” This is where The King Family will be written. This is where it was conceived last year, except, true to my form, it started out under a different name Left on Blue. And, if I can take a moment to make fun of myself, it very well might change names again. You gotta keep up, people!

In some regards, it feels as if we never left; in another regard, we’re marveling at how many restaurants have changed hands. My husband is now free to contemplate life (“Anything but Groundhog’s day in Des Moines, Iowa, please!”) (I told him, if we keep coming back here, one day it will feel like Groundhog’s day in Costa Rica, but he said that doesn’t sound so bad.) I will be writing in the mornings, reading in the afternoons, and swimming in between. I am currently in the middle of Jonathan Franzen’s The Corrections as well as Joan Didion’s The Year of Magical Thinking. I HOPE they influence my writing!

I will also squeeze in a few blog posts to keep you up on my progress. This blog holds me accountable! Feel free to comment, PLEASE! I like this quiet life, but already miss my friends. Adios, amigos. Tener un buen dia!

P.S. See that rocking chair in my “office.” It creeps me out. Like there’s a ghost sitting there, facing me, watching me. If it starts rocking, holy cow, I don’t know what I’ll do. I have just decided that Aunt Rose (from the King Family) will have a rocking chair. You heard it here first.

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Ten Weeks to Live (it up)

That’s me on the surfboard.

Ah, who am I kidding? I can’t even swim. Seriously. Well, I’ve never drowned, but I’ve only had one swim lesson in my entire life, and it wasn’t pretty.

Tomorrow morning, before breakfast, before coffee (!), I will be on a plane to Costa Rica. My husband HATES the Iowa winters, and I’m lucky enough to be invited to tag along when he heads for warmer climes. We’ll be gone for ten weeks.

So what would you do for TEN WEEKS? My husband is one of those people who can sit still, watch the Pacific Ocean, and contemplate life. I’m not. I’ll be taking my laptop (of course), my iPad, (of course) (my husband has one, too… we both plan on reading a ton of books). But this year, I actually bought a Speedo swim suit, a swim cap, and goggles. I’m going to SWIM! I figure, if fish can teach themselves how to swim, so can I. The good news our villa has a private pool (please see Dec. 8th post: Don’t Hate Me Because I’m Lucky). I’ll be able to swim laps without anyone around to laugh.

I will also be working on my new book, The King Family. I have officially put On A Midnight Street to bed. “Good night, sweet book. Your agent will find you one day, I promise.”

It seems I do have a plan… My last post said I’m not making any plans. That’s the best part of being me ~ when I look back on my life, even one day ago, I provide myself with so much to laugh at. I make ridiculous, declarative statements, then I do the opposite. Oh well. That’s me.

All right. Off to finish packing. It’s 92 degrees in Costa Rica right now. This time tomorrow, the sand between my toes won’t be from what the dog drags in from our snowy sidewalks. It will be from the Pacific Ocean.

Ah….

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Here We Go Again, Literally

In 38 hours (yes, I’m counting), my husband and I leave for Costa Rica. You may recall, we went last year for nine weeks. This year we’re going for ten weeks. Last year we had all seven of our kids (plus two or three friends) join us; this year, zero kids.

Last year, we did every adventure possible: zip lining, surfing, sailing, zip lining again, horseback riding, hiking to waterfalls, even a trip to one of the volcanoes. This year? Who knows. Maybe nothing, not a gosh darn thing!

Last year, I posted a dozen or more stories on my blog (see Feb – March 2010), plus an essay I’m not ashamed of (Vacationally Challenged). This year? Who knows. What if we don’t do anything exciting?

My plan this year is to not have a plan. Sure, I know I’ll write. And, we both got iPads for Christmas, so I know we’ll do a lot of reading (I already have 6 books downloaded, 6 LONG books). Other than that, we plan to sit by the pool and relax.

Guess this will test my skills as a blogger… how to make sitting by the pool for 70 days in a row sound exciting… ?

I promise I’ll do my best.

Hasta luego!

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A Girl’s Gotta Eat (aka: There Goes My Last Excuse)

I’m not boring. Truly, I’m not. The problem for you faithful readers is that I’ve realized this is more than a diary. If you people with terribly busy lives who have deemed my blog important enough to squeeze in to your allotted 1,440 minutes per day remember, which I’m sure you do, I realized last Thanksgiving that REAL people are REALLY out there reading this. (Hi Chuck and Betty!)

Life ain’t always pretty, and I have to be careful about what I casually throw out there.

I mean, it’s not like I’ve been arrested or anything else humiliating, but come on, life is messy, and personal. Right? So, somedays, the really interesting days, when I’m aching to blog about Life’s Lessons, I don’t. Other days, okay, most days I probably am boring. The days when I sit at my computer, never breath fresh air unless I walk my dog (and that’s not very fresh), those are the days I create my best work, but it goes into my novels and you can’t share the excitement until my work is published. (Soon, I hope!)

But back to the subject at hand. My oldest son is 26-years old now. I don’t consider myself a great cook by any means, but for MORE THAN 26 YEARS, it’s been my “duty/job/responsibility” to cook dinner. I was married once for 15 years, single for 5, married again for 7 years now (Hi, honey!), and I’ve done almost all the cooking for those 26+ years. AND I DON’T EVEN LIKE TO COOK!

Some of you out there must think I’m crazy. I shoulda…. Yeah, well, I didn’t. Granted, my husband and I now eat out 2-3x/week (yea!) but the other 4 or 5 nights, I cook. I’ve always done it cuz I’ve always done it.

Well, this past New Year’s Eve, my husband and I were sitting at home having a nice, quiet, peaceful, non-drunken dinner (Scallops with caramel-orange sauce, asparagus, and quinoa), and we were talking about our goals for 2011. I said, no surprise here, that I wanted to write more and be published. I must have also mentioned something about the time I spend cooking… and know what my incredible husband said to me? He told me that I don’t have to cook. This was over a nice dinner; it’s not like I served him mac ‘n cheese or anything. I’ve kinda gotten good at this over the years. He said that as long as the two of us can sit and relax and talk, he doesn’t care where the food comes from (takeout anyone?) or even if it’s frozen pizza. Who knew?

I know, I know, there are MILLIONS of men and women out there right now screaming, Girl! Wake up! Why have you been cooking all these years if you didn’t want to! It’s about time!

So, I’m not boring, just slow. I cook because my family needs to eat. I can, therefore I do. Kinda like putting together the furniture for my youngest son’s first apartment last August. (kindly see the post dated Aug. 24, 2010)

HOWEVER, even after my husband said I don’t NEED to cook a nice meal, the following night, I made Braised Cardamon-Curry Lamb Stew with a hearty loaf of focaccia bread. Tonight was broiled beef tenderloin, roasted squash with brown sugar, and chipotle-spiced corn.

Turns out, I WANT to eat good food at home. I don’t want cereal for dinner.

There goes my last excuse for not writing more.

Now, what’s for dessert?

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The Pudding…

… the proof! This is me all bundled up in my writing studio at my laptop with my noise canceling headphones within reach.

I’ve been “on vacation” the last ten days. That is how I justified not writing and not feeling guilty about it. Even the President of the United States gets vacation days. Everyone I know (except my son Tanner who is six months in to his first real job) gets vacation days.

It didn’t feel much like a vacation though. Sure, we had a party and family Christmas, but I also had a root canal. That was seven days ago, and today is the first day I’ve felt well enough to sit still and type. Even Percocet didn’t help. A double dose of antibiotics, a lot of laying on the sofa reading Jonathan Franzen, a few cries of woe-is-me, and now I can write again.

As a refresher course, you faithful readers should know that I have put The King Family on hold while I do a rewrite of Midnight Street. It’s getting very close to good. I have also polished my query letter so well that it shines. Soon I will resume sending it to lucky agents. I’m getting closer and closer and closer to publication. I can feel it. (PMA!)

All right, back to Danny and Lily.

xoxox

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Jumpin’ on the Bandwagon

Seems like everyone’s making lists this time of the year, doesn’t it? I was starting to feel left out and then I remembered, “Wait, I have a blog!”

Here’s my list of the novels I’ve read in 2010, undoubtedly incomplete, but I’ll do my best. (As soon as I post this, I’ll remember more.) Some I read as research for my novels, others for pleasure, most I liked, some I did not. I also read several non-fiction books, most on writing, but I’ll save that list for another day. There are also a handful of books I started but couldn’t/didn’t finish, most significantly Junot Diaz’s The Brief Wonderous Life of Oscar Wao. Too much Spanglish for me at a time when I couldn’t take the time to decipher the true meaning of the story. I’ll get back to it another year, perhaps after another extended vacation in Costa Rica when my Spanish is better. Another good list would be to name all the books I’ve purchased but have not read yet. That list would probably be longer than this one… I no longer buy & hide clothes from my husband, just books!

And, without further ado:

Return to the Hundred Acre Woods (Winnie the Pooh), by David Benedictus & Mark Burgess
The Lost Symbol, by Dan Brown
Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, by Jonathan Safran Foer
The Maltese Falcon, by Dashiell Hammett
The Price of Salt, by Patricia Highsmith (of the Talented Mr. Ripley fame)
The Girl Who Played with Fire, by Stieg Larsson
The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet’s Nest, by Stieg Larsson
Shutter Island, by Dennis Lehane
The Invisible Bridge, by Julie Orringer (the longest book with the fewest adverbs ~ amazing)
Close Range, by Annie Proulx
The Imperfectionists, by Tom Rachman
Exit Ghost, by Philip Roth
Catcher in the Rye, by J.D. Salinger (for the third time)
Major Pettigrew’s Last Stand, by Helen Simonson
The Help, by Kathryn Stockett
Brooklyn, by Colm Tóbín
This Is Where I Leave You, by Jonathan Topper
I’ll Never Be French No Matter What I Do, by Mark Greenside
Union Atlantic, by Adam Haslett
Heat Lightning, by John Sandford
Dark Place, by Gillian Flynn
Bad Things Happen, by Harry Dolan
The Unnamed, by Joshua Ferris
The Postmistress, by Sarah Blake
The Lovely Bones, Alice Sebold
The Three Weissmanns of Westport, by Cathleen Schine
Dream House, by Valerie Laken
The Heights, by Peter Hedges
Top Producer, by Norb Vonnegut
In a Perfect World, by Laura Kasischke
The Odds, by Kathleen George
The Corrections, by Jonathan Franzen (in progress)
Too Much Happiness, by Alice Munro (in progress)

And there you have it, for the moment. My son, Elliott, read 52 books this year and he maintained a 4.0 GPA his senior year at KU. He sets the bar pretty high! Maybe 2011 I can do better.

For now, happy holidays to all. And remember: READ BOOKS.

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Don’t Hate Me Because I’m Lucky

Is this what it’s like to have a REAL job?

On November 29th, I wrote about my new plan, which was to blog more often. Well, now I have another new plan.

You see, one of my biggest frustrations in my otherwise perfect life is that I let distractions take me away from writing. I have, heretofore, blamed all the people I love the most for calling me to see how my day’s going, or telling me something interesting about themselves, or checking on dinner – really mean stuff. It’s so easy to blame others for what can, occasionally, turn out to be my own damn fault. If it weren’t for THEM… I’d be successful already!

Today, for the first time, I set a timer. I told myself if I wrote for four lousy hours a day, I could re-write Midnight Street, then finish The King Family, and quickly start The Blue-Eyed Twin, publish all of the above, and receive money in the mail. Pretty good plan, don’t you think?

Before I committed to being a writer, I was an art dealer. I had a contemporary art gallery. I LOVED it. I loved everything about it, running my own business, the interaction with interesting people (artists, clients, fellow dealers, etc.). However, because it was a retail environment, my time was often dictated by all of the above. Being the boss, I needed to interact with these people (especially clients) to run a successful business. My point is, I’ve never worked in a cubicle for some lofty boss who dictated my daily schedule. I’ve always been front and center in the action and decision making, the key word being action.

So today, as my four-hour timer ticked away, and my newfound dedication kept my butt in my chair, with no Internet, no telephone, no emails, I realized work is WORK. It takes dedication. It takes practice. It takes handcuffs.

I wonder what came first: My short attention span or my long list of excuses?

But the good news is I made great progress today. The revised Midnight Street is going to be smashing! I like my new plan.

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No, No! Not December Again!

I’ve been writing now for just over three years. Not straight of course, I do eat, sleep, read and occasionally go to a movie or a party. This is my fourth December as a writer… funny how that works, but I digress.

With all the inherently good things that happen in December, there’s one thing I hate. I hardly get any time to write. I know, I know, it’s my own damn fault. I can’t say no. In addition to the aforementioned distractions, there’s Christmas shopping, 100 Christmas cards to send out, traveling to see family, holiday open houses, etc., etc., etc. My head is spinning with all I WANT to do, and things I NEED to do. Problem is, I confuse the two.

I am madly obsessed with writing. I’d like to be in a cave somewhere (as long as it has wireless internet service), and not come out for weeks. (Do they have caves in Costa Rica?) If I could hook up an IV for nutrients, I wouldn’t even stop to eat.

My people need me. Danny King, protagonist of Midnight Street and also The King Family, Lily Frances and Danny’s extended family…. They’re lost without me! And don’t forget Carl, Danny’s dog. Have you ever seen a cuter fuzz ball? I’m all they’ve got! Any time I’m not writing, these people start whispering my name and talking to me in the shower. Then my anxiety level starts to climb… I either need better time management skills or I need a doctor.

Okay, full disclosure: Yesterday I got an email from an agent in New York. She gave me some very good advice on my novel, Midnight Street, only she kept calling it Who Is Lily White?. (She obviously isn’t reading my blog.) (That title was SO last week.) Anyway, her advice, albeit buried deep in a rejection letter, sent me on a tail spin. What these agents don’t realize is that with every rejection letter, I get more and more determined to prove to them that I will become a famous, published author.

Anyway, I’ve got work to do. Please excuse me while I hook up my IV.

Hasta luego. (Practicando mi español para Costa Rica.)

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A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Wedding

Ok, finally, here’s the news I’ve been promising you:

I have a fan club.

What? Not what you were expecting? Well, it’s pretty darn swell if you ask me! This is as incredible as the first check I will get from my agent. Symbolically speaking, of course.

I write and I write and I write, usually on my manuscript for The King Family, occasionally on this blog, which until last Friday night, felt like a diary. Once in a while, one of my friends would mention they’d read a page or two, but that usually only happened the day after I paid the skywriters to blast it over Des Moines, or when I run an extensive radio campaign begging people to visit my web site. But Friday night, at the rehearsal dinner for my step-daughter’s wedding, I met two people, two wonderful, intelligent, beautiful people who READ MY BLOG all on their own! Seriously, they’ve read every entry. And memorized it. And they recited many passages. And they asked pertinent questions, about me and my family and my novels.

It was freaky in the most flattering way.

I have thus anointed Chuck and Betty Stewart, the new co-presidents of my fan club. Chuck and Betty are the aunt and uncle for my step-daughter’s new husband. (I don’t think this qualifies as nepotism.) If I repeated all the sweet, complimentary things they said to me about me and my writing, these words would turn as red as Chuck’s sweater because I’d be blushing so hard. And, you wouldn’t believe me anyway. Their comments were like my mom’s comments on steroids. I’m still trying to figure out if my husband paid them to show up and boost my ego… but after paying for his daughter’s wedding, I don’t think they would have gotten very much money out of him.

Sitting at my desk in my cozy writing studio in Des Moines, Iowa, it takes a lot of self-confidence to keep writing and writing even though I haven’t gotten paid one copper cent. Yet. The good news is, I LOVE writing, every part of it. I do this for myself. I know I’ll be published, it’s only a matter of time, but it sure does feel good to get the kind words of encouragement that Chuck and Betty showered on me.

I have recently received a few other bits of encouragement, but I’m afraid if I share them I’ll jinx myself. Let’s just say, I’m getting enough positive reinforcement to propel my forward motion. That, plus, my husband and I will be going back to Costa Rica after the new year for ten weeks. Last year, I thought it was going to be hell. Now I know, it’s heaven. I hope to finish The King Family while I’m there, maybe even start on The Blue-Eyed Twin, my next book! (I am SO excited for The Blue-Eyed Twin!)

To Chuck and Betty: Thank you again. The good news about being co-presidents of my fan club is there’s no work involved. The bad news is there’s also no salary.

To the rest of you: If you hope to be next year’s president, you’ve got some stiff competition!

Hasta luego!