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Brand New Day, Brand New Week, Brand New Plan

Man, I love symbolism.
The sunrise from our balcony this morning challenged the sunsets from our Costa Rica home. Challenged, not beat. There is no ocean around here so it really wasn’t a fair fight.

So, last week… whew! Most of you who are reading this probably know I had a big week last week. With seven kids, and now two sons-in-law, we had a baby shower, then Thanksgiving, then a wedding, which was preceded by a rehearsal dinner and followed by a brunch. Didn’t have a moment to write, or even blog. But now, I’m back, with so much to say.

First and foremost, I’ve actually been asked to blog more often. It’s no fun to check a blog that hasn’t been updated! And, now that I know that this is more than a diary ~ people ARE reading it, I will do my best to write two or three times a week, minimum.

Plus, you can now comment on my posts! There’s a link at the bottom of each page for you to write back to me. [Ah, Karolyn, be careful what you wish for.] Remember to keep it clean, or I’ll delete you. (ha ha ha)

And speaking of my fans, the ones who requested I blog more often, I have big news for tomorrow’s post. Stay tuned…

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Breaking News: Identity Crisis Explained!

I’ve been known to ask a few rhetorical questions in my blog. Why should this one be any different?

Remember, back in school, such a long, long time ago for some of us, when we took those tests: Which title is the best title for the following story?

Midnight Street
That Changes Everything
A Portrait of Trust
Who Is Lily White?

Over the past year, my novel, which I love, has undergone all of the above titles. The novel hasn’t changed, just my personal opinion on the best title from a marketing standpoint. When it’s sitting on a display shelf at Barnes & Noble, which one will most intrigue the most readers?

Perhaps I’m getting ahead of myself?

Midnight Street is a line from a song, from which this story grew into a novel, and was the original title. A Portrait of Trust was the briefest, albeit a darn good title. I have queried agents with the other two titles. After hours and hours of thought and research and comparisons, I have rewritten my query letter and reverted to my original title. My gut tells me this is the best one. (A secret to share with you, Faithful Reader: All of the pivotal scenes take place outside, on a street, in the dark.)

So there you have it. The explanation, schizophrenic as it makes my novel sound, for the name change game. For the record, I, myself, have had three last names in my lifetime ~ actually, in the last ten years. It’s no wonder my book has an identity crisis! But, I am still me, and my novel is still my novel.

What do you think about that?

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I Cannot Tell a Lie

The trouble with blogging comes from rereading old posts.

I know this doesn’t bode well for a novelist to say, but sometimes I find myself pathetically honest and honestly pathetic. Take yesterday’s post, for instance. Definitely falls under the Pathetic category. I couldn’t come up with anything else to do but movies, books, or TV?

For Pete’s sake, Karolyn, go for a walk, call a friend, clean out a damn closet.

Good news for you readers though: My books are not about myself, they’re about made up characters with made up problems and lives.

You will find them believable. Honest.

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A World Without Books?!

Take me now, Lucifer!

Fire and brimstone, ridiculous action movies, The Simpsons (the tv show and the sisters), lazy lounging people, ignorance, the end of the world… Ok, you get the picture.

Yesterday I got a taste of boredom, YES, boredom. And it was awful. Please refer to my blog post on 10/16.

My son, Elliott, left, has a saying: “The best movies come from books, but the best books would make bad movies.” His theory is that the best literature is quiet, slow to reveal itself, and wholly absent of car chases.

I have a saying: “Read books.” But maybe I should amend it to: “Take care of your eyes so you can always read books.”

Yesterday, after working on my upcoming novel (Left On Blue) for five hours, I had my annual eye exam. (I still don’t need reading glasses. Thank you, mom.) But they had to dilate my eyes, which left me unable to read for the rest of the afternoon. And, on top of that, there were NO good new movies out yesterday. (Surely you know by now we’re big movie buffs, my husband and I.) I was dumbstruck. Thank the digital gods that my husband had two episodes of Law & Order recorded for us to watch, otherwise who knows what we would have done… certainly nothing I could report here.

Perhaps the Boys Scouts said it best: “Be prepared; buy books on tape.”

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Prepare To Be Delighted

Several weeks ago, I mentioned at the bottom of one blog entry that I was going to ask several of my friends who are published writers to talk about how they got published. Don’t feel bad if you missed it… You’d probably qualify as a stalker if you actually noticed it.

What I hoped to get (knowing how busy everybody is these days) was a few hundred words on daily struggles of the publishing world. My first guest blogger, Michael Halleran, wrote an enlightening and entertaining 1800-word essay. We writers love to write! Please note his bio (very impressive) and the proper citation at the bottom of the essay. (No wonder I write fiction; I must have missed that day in school.)

First, a sincere thank you to my high school friend, Mike. You have elevated my simple, narcissistic blog.

Second, to all you loyal readers: Enjoy the next post!
p.s. If you’re a writer and would like to post on my site about your experiences, send me an email.

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Never Tell Me You’re Bored

Raising four boys, born less than six years apart, left very little time for boredom. At least for me. Every so often, one of my young sons would come to me with that pitiful whine, “Mommy, I’m bored.” I quickly constructed a response… “Good, because I need someone to sweep out the garage.” That cured their boredom! You’ve never seen kids run the other way so fast.

Bored? Are you kidding me? Who has time to be bored? As you know from my last blog entry, I have many obsessions. My biggest complaint in life (yes, I know this makes me one lucky lady) is that I don’t have enough hours in a day to tackle all the books/activities/obsessions in my life. I’ve realized that everyone of us on this planet has the same number of minutes each day, and miraculously, some people seem to get so damn much accomplished (Martha Stewart, I’m talking ’bout you), and others…well not so much. We ALL have time for what’s important to us, e.g. facebook, watching sitcoms, or writing a prize winning novel.

But now I have a new obsession: French cooking.

My husband took me to Paris for my 48th birthday (where I took the lousy photo of this beautiful Modigliani painting). We had a fabulous time, and ate the most delicious food. I’m not much of a cook, but I am newly inspired to give Soupe à l’Oignon Gratinée (French onion soup) a shot, and Ragout de Champignons (mushroom ragout), and Croque-Monsieur sandwiches, and Confit avec Pruneaux et Pommes (Duck confit with prunes and apples). I think you get the picture. How am I going to squeeze this in with writing my novel Left on Blue? Ah, there’s the rub.

Time management. That’s the answer.

And motivation!

Look at this guy, for example. Is he the greatest real-life character you’ve ever seen? I have no idea who he is, or what his life is like, or what he’s listening to, or what’s in his backpack. Does he speak French or English or maybe German? He was at a cafe where my husband and I stopped for lunch after touring the Louvre. This guy makes me want to write and write and write.

And, so, dear friends, I’m back to my novel. Looks like I’m going to have to sleep less (that’s Martha Stewart’s solution) to squeeze everything in. I hope my neighbors understand when I start caramelizing onions in the middle of the night.

I’ll call you when dinner’s ready.

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I’m Obsessed!

There are SO MANY things about which I am obsessed. My husband can name them all, my kids and friends can name a few. I try to keep them quiet, which explains why I don’t blog more often: I’m obsessed with my obsessions.

My current obsession is the final (ha!) rewrite of my book, which has been renamed (again). Stick with me here. (There was also, briefly, a different new name, but we can skip that detail.)

More than two weeks ago, I mentioned I was going to an “Editors’ Intensive” Conference in Cincinnati for feedback on my book, then called That Changes Everything. I wrote that I would either be deeply depressed or enthusiastically rewriting when I got home. Either way, it’s not surprising that I haven’t written, is it? But I have not been fair to you faithful readers, not telling you what happened and how I’m doing. I am surprised (perhaps even a little hurt) that none of you have written or called to make sure I’m not leaning over the top of my nine-story condo working up the courage to jump. But it’s okay, faithful readers, the opposite is true.

My editor from the conference was very encouraging and helpful (not that I was expecting them to kill any writer’s dreams after they pay good money to attend their conference). I have been enthusiastically rewriting parts of my novel and, if I may be so bold, it’s so much better already. I am now ready to begin the lovely task of querying agents again. Specifically, she (Kelly Messerly from Writers’ Digest, a wonderful young woman) told me that my book was more sophisticated than the title, and that I would do it justice to come up with something that was more descriptive. So, the new (working) title is… Who Is Lily White?

And a hint, kind of like a special coupon for faithful followers: The title has a triple entendre. But you’ll have to read it to know what they all are.

You’ll be the first second to know when you can find it at your local Barnes & Noble.

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This One’s Dedicated to All You Artists Out There

This past summer, my oldest son, Ryan, who is getting his Masters of Music Composition attended a music workshop in Darmstadt, Germany for two weeks. This weekend, I’ll be spending two days at a writers’ workshop in Cincinnati, Ohio ~ the Bed Bug Capital of the Country. Similar, but somehow different.

I am excited, anxious even, for the honest evaluation. This workshop, given by Writers Digest, is aimed at those of us who have written manuscripts, but can’t quite get an agent to bite. Call us The Rejectables, if you like, but the experts (their word, I trust it’s accurate) will read our first 50 pages and our query letters and tell us what Agents are really thinking when they mail back our rejection notices. I don’t think I’ll be the only attendee, therefore, I can find comfort in knowing that I’m not alone.

I have no problem being alone, though, I just want to be published.

This past Tuesday, I went to the national book launch (held right here in Des Moines, Iowa) for Sara Gruen’s new novel, Ape House. Gruen wrote the wonderful book, Water for Elephants. During the Q & A, I asked her what a typical day is like for her, and how that compares to a promotional book tour. Her response: “My typical day is 8 hours in a quiet room in front of a computer in my pajamas. A promotional tour is like being shot from a cannon.” Well, at least I have the solitary part down!

From my previous life as an art dealer working with dozens of visual artists and through my aforementioned son, I know that many of us creative types don’t just value our time alone, we NEED it. That’s not something that everyone understands, but it’s a fine example of one of my credos: Live and let live.

In other news: I have several friends who are writers from all different genres: Fiction, Children’s Fiction, Non-fiction; and all kinds of publishers (Self, University, Major). But that’s not really the news part, that I have friends, I mean. The news is that I have invited several of them to be Guest Bloggers on this site. I am eager (and I think you will find it interesting as well) to hear how they got published, their first-hand experiences. When I told this bit of exciting news to my husband (always the first to know everything in my world), he looked at me with a perfectly blank expression. Ok, so maybe only we artists are enthralled with other writers’ experiences, but nonetheless, I feel grateful that they have agreed to share their stories with me and you.

Now, I must go pack for Cincinnati. Can’t wait to hear what the experts have to say about my writing. You’ll be the first second to know.

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A Blessing or a Curse/The Chicken or the Egg

So last week I took my youngest son back to college. He’s a sophomore now, and is now living in his first apartment. He’s also the youngest of seven kids. What that means, in parental terms, is that he needed all brand-new furniture for his room… no more hand-me downs left to hand down. They got used up by the first six kids.

More specifically, it means that I, mom/driver/do-it-yourselfer, had to put together a six-drawer dresser, a one-drawer desk, and a bookshelf, all purchased in tiny little boxes from Target. No sense in spending a lot of money to buy a college kid “nice” (read: already-put-together) furniture.

Here’s where my lesson learned comes in: Neither my husband (wonderful as he is) or my ex-husband or a thousand other people I can think of off the top of my head, could have or would have spent FIVE BLEEPING HOURS in beautiful Colorado in a small apartment bedroom gluing and screwing furniture together. So why did I?

Because I am able. I am logical, patient, determined, and intelligent. And these are all the qualities that make me capable of sitting alone, at a desk, quietly creating novels. Over the 47+ years of my life, I have rarely failed to achieve my goals. Whether my goal is to get three pieces of furniture assembled in time for dinner with my son, or publishing a novel, I never stop until I am successful. (Please see my previous blog entry referring to the Calvin Coolidge quote on persistence.)

But which came first? The need to turn 280 random pieces of wood and rails and screws into a dresser, or the ability to do such a task? Or, the fact that until my book sells, I must be very frugal?

So many questions, so little time. So many callouses on my hand.

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Tony Robbins Would Be So Proud

Today, the perfect day: Up at 6, brisk hour-long walk, home for a healthy breakfast and a quick shower. Coffee, brief glance at the markets and email, and straight into writing.

The crazy part is that I took the time (and I always do this) to style my hair and put on makeup even though I work at home and no one will see me all day. Is this some psychological advantage, treating my solitary occupation like a “real” job? Or, is it habit? Or, am I that vain? [Again, these are rhetorical questions! Please keep your answers to yourself!]

All I know is that I am mad passionate about my new book, Left On Blue. I love this part of writing, when my characters invade my dreams, invade my showers, invade my dinner conversations with my patient husband. He’s learned to NOT laugh (out loud) when I talk about my characters as if they were real people ~ because he knows they’re real to me.

AND, I signed up for a workshop (a writer’s workshop, not Tony Robbins). In a few weeks I’ll be traveling to Cincinnati to talk to editors and agents about getting my first book, That Changes Everything, published. Somewhere out there is an agent who will be mad passionate about my work, too. I just have to find him/her/it/them.

For now, in my head, it’s springtime in 1955, and the lavender sun is coming up over the majestic Tetons. My perfect day is calling.