Category: Uncategorized

Still a fan

As much as I love my Kindle, when an author I absolutely love comes out with a new book, I plunk down the cash for the hardcover version with nary a tremor of apprehension. I’m already convinced I will love it and therefore I must have its colored spine to gaze at – from one of my many bookshelves – for the next forty years. Kindle books are convenient but they’ve no colored spines for gazing or pages for smelling or heft for holding.

So when I recently scurried down to my fave indie bookstore, Warwicks, to hear Geraldine Brooks speak and to get her new book, Caleb’s Crossing, I wanted to drop everything I was reading at the moment to devour it, the minute I got home. I was hoping for the magnetic pull of Year of Wonders and the dreadful pathos of March (for which she won the Pulitzer) and sheer mastery of People of the Book, and I guess you can already tell, that’s not exactly what happened.

I liked this book. A lot. But it didn’t capture me like her other books have. I can’t see reading it again anytime soon. And I don’t know why. It must be me. She’s a brilliant wordsmith, so I am thinking it must just be me. I loved hearing her talk about this book – she’s a delight to listen to – and I am in awe of her ability to capture a story with pinpoint accuracy. She based this tale on an actual event, and I’m sure she stuck to the facts, and in that awe I must remember that a true historian doesn’t mess with the truth to make the story more interesting. But I found Caleb’s story sad, and the narrator Bethia’s story sad. And not in the way I was moved to tears by Brooks’ other protagonists in other novels.  There is a sadness that pulls me to the heart of a character and then there’s a sadness that makes me want to back away. I didn’t emotionally connect with the characters in this book. My fault, I’m sure.

And the most ridiculous thing? I wanted Caleb (the first Native American to attend Harvard) and Bethia (a young Colonial woman with no rights and a giving heart no one respects) to run away and elope.  That didn’t happen in real life, so it couldn’t happen here.

But I wish it had.

I will still buy Geraldine Brooks’ books in hardcover. I will keep this one she signed for me. And maybe I will read it again. I’ve read Year of Wonders three or four times. Perhaps a second reading will give me the insight I lack at this moment in my life to appreciate Bethia’s and Caleb’s choices.

Anyone out there ever read a book where you’d change the ending if you could?

Tell me.

p.s. Got something really fun starting on Monday. Hope to see you then. . .

A new way to tout a book!

I am back from a much-needed vacay (finishing a book turns my brain into oatmeal) and am back at the worktable. Thought we’d start the week with some visual candy. A book trailer! (Think movie trailer with the “In theaters now!” line replaced with “In bookstores now!”) I have to say I really like the trailer my publisher came up with for A Sound Among the Trees, out on shelves now for about two weeks. It’s clever and cool and I like the music in the background. Makes me think of Hogwarts a little bit, which is totally not Civil Warish but is so inviting nonetheless.

What do you think? Have you ever bought a book based on its trailer?? If you want to see a few others to gauge your appreciation for book trailers, check out this blog post by publishing guru Michael Hyatt.  Do you think book trailers have the power to sway you as a buyer? Would love to hear your thoughts!

Cat bathing

My cat
I am working this week to get data files ready for some of my old out-of-print books to be available on e-book format so am feeling a little stretched for time as there really is just one week left in September. But I found this little lesson on how to properly bathe a cat – on the Ever Wise Internet of course – my  thanks to Anonymous to writing it, and I just had to share it here to both enlighten you and lighten me. Much to do. Enjoy as always. . .
How To Clean A Cat
  • Thoroughly clean the toilet.
  • Add the required amount of shampoo to the toilet water, and have both lids lifted.
  • Obtain the cat and soothe him while you carry him towards the bathroom.
  • In one smooth movement, put the cat in the toilet and close both lids. Note: You may need to stand on the lid so that he cannot escape. CAUTION: Do not get any part of your body too close to the edge, as his paws will be reaching out for any surface they can find. 
  • Flush the toilet three or four times. This provides a “power wash and rinse” which I have found to be quite effective. 
  • Have someone to open the door to the outside and ensure that there are no people between the toilet and the outside door. 
  • Stand behind the toilet as far as you can, and quickly lift both lids. 
  • The now-clean cat will rocket out of the toilet, and run outside where he will dry himself.
This beloved dog, gone now,
would’ve written this…
Sincerely,
the Dog

Writing What You Know

If you’re a Star Wars fan – and even if you’re not – you will enjoy this little 8-minute film called George Lucas in Love. Sometimes when you’re a writer you just need to hear you’re not meant to write agricultural space tragedies, you’re meant to write what you already know and care about. Enjoy:

I am back from the Dead Zone

I finished the book today. At a few minutes after 10 a.m. It was too dang early in the morning for champagne and only the dog and the cat were there to congratulate me, which they totally did not do.

Ninety-three thousand words were extracted from my head and heart and soul over the last four months for this novel and by-golly them words were snarky about it. This book, which is set partially here right in Sandy Eggo and partially in the magical city of Florence, Italy, is called The Girl in The Glass. There’s a cool historical thread in it involving the uber-audacious Medici family. They about wore me out. You will see it on bookstore shelves in 2012.

With The Girl in the Glass done I am no longer The Girl in the Dining Room Tapping Away at Her Laptop While the Rest of the House Sleeps. It’s good to be back. And because I am not so keen on writing today (you figger it out) I have here for your viewing pleasure a fun, fun video by author Maureen Johnson which aptly explains this thing I do in chair all day long. Enjoy. I might see you Monday. . .

So, the silence

Perhaps you’ve noticed I haven’t been hanging around the Edge the last couple weeks. I am in the home stretch of a manuscript and a deadline. The manuscript is almost done and the deadline is almost here. I’ve eighteen thousand words to go and the end of the month to capture them with my butterfly net.

This novel, which has my protagonist on the loverly streets of Florence, Italy, has been a bugger to write. Not because Florence isn’t grand, ’cause she is. But my historical thread this go-around is the Italian Renaissance (wow and more wow) but also the Medici family (gasp and more gasp).

They are a tough family to write about, those Medicis. They loved the arts, supported the arts, gave us the genius of Michelangelo, Raphael, Da Vinci, Brunelleschi. The jaw-dropping masterpieces that assault the senses all over Florence are there because the Medicis paid for them or comissioned them.

But they weren’t the kind of people to write home about. It’s crazy that they adored beauty and lived lives of ugliness. Not all of them, but most. I’ve come across a couple here and there who didn’t rock heaven with their choices. . .

Hence, my dilemma.

Wait.

Dilemma in a novel is GOOD.

Dilemma equals conflict. Conflict equals tension. Tension equals emotional investment. Emotional investment equals great story.

Sigh.

Back to the salt mines I go…

We have a winner!

Thanks to random.org, we have a winner for Mary DeMuth’s new book, The Muir House! Congrats to musingsnprintYou are the lucky winner! Send me a shout-out at susan [at] susanlmeissner [dot] com and we will get the House into the mail for you. Thanks to all who commented. If you didn’t win, be sure to get the book another way. You will be glad you did.

I am headed out to North Carolina in the a.m. to teach on the secrets of an unforgettable story at the SheSpeaks conference. I am so looking forward to sharing with a roomful of storytellers what makes a story stay with us long after we’ve turned the last page.

I won’t be blogging on Friday, but I have a treat for you on Monday. Another interview with another amazing novelist and another book giveaway! Come back to the Edge on Monday to see who it is!

Cheers . . .

Departure

I have always been an addict of etymology – please note that it is not entymology that I crave – and I run to my online etymology dictionary several times a week for a fix. I will see a word, even one that I know and use all the time, and suddenly I must know where it sprang from. There is usually an event surrounding the word that sends me to plumb its origin, as was the case recently.

A woman named Susan Meissner died last week. Her obituary ran in the paper of her Southern town and because I have Google Alerts for mentions of my name on the Internet (that’s a story for another time), the link to the notice of her passing landed in my inbox. I probably don’t need to tell you how odd it was to see my name listed in the obituaries of city far from me. My name. But not my life, and definitely not my death. I stopped to whisper a prayer of blessing over the family of this woman who shared my name, and moved on with my day, but she kept coming back to me, reminding me that we are all so very mortal.

Her obituary and her foggy presence on my day sent me to the etymology dictionary. I had to know where the word “obituary” came from.  I have written hundreds of obituaries. Ten years as a journalist at a weekly newspaper provided me ample opportunities to become familiar with what an obituary is. But why is it called that? That, I suddenly HAD to know.

It comes from the Latin root word obitus, my friends, which means “departure.”  An obituary is a record of your departure. You were here among us, and then Death took you to a different place. You departed. Such a heady thought. And of course, you can guess what I did next. I looked up “depart.” It is a compound word of French origin that means ‘to part from each other.’ de = from and partiere = divide. That is why the beloved dead are called the “dearly departed.” They have been divided from us.

You can’t read an obituary with your name at the top of it without thinking of your own mortality, your own impending departure.  We can estimate the day someone will be born. There’s always a due date for the arrival. But for must of us, the due date for our departure is withheld from us. A few will know when it is coming, at least within days or even hours, but the moment of our departure? I would guess very few know that. 

I am reminded of a poem by Linda Ellis that was read at my grandfather’s funeral in 2002. I have always loved it. Click on the link to read it. It speaks of the dash in between the date we are born and the date we die. The dash represents the life we lived in between those two dates, between the date we arrive and the date we depart. The dash is us; how we lived between those two moments in time. Not only is it how we lived, it is also how we will be remembered.

Rest in peace, Susan Meissner. I hope your dash was a lovely one. . .

Pi Squared, Marshmallow Squared, too.

NOTE: You will want to read to the end, I promise you. You could win something fun. . .

Walk down the aisles of any major grocery store these days and every special display is heralding the all-American summer pasttitme of eating something you’ve grilled outside on your patio. I dare anyone to show me an endcap right now of pumpkin pie filling or cranberry sauce. Right now it’s all about hot dog buns and kettle chips and baked beans and marshmallows for S’mores.

The basics don’t change shape from year to year; that’s usually something you can count on. Hot dogs are perennially tubular, baked beans come in cans, chips come in bags not boxes. So imagine my surprise when I saw yesterday (while buying hamburger buns which are unquestionably round) that marshmallows for S’Mores are now square. The plugs are still available, but they are in the baking aisle for making Rice Krispie treats. The marshmallows in the BBQ aisle are square! I get it, of course. Graham crackers are square, Hersheys are square. Why not square marshmallows? But it kinda messed with my sense of nostalgia, looking at those foursided confections. I bet they look stoopid on a skewer, I thought to myself, angry that retailers trifled with cherised objects of my childhood.

I came home a bit disillusioned and commented on Facebook that the sky was falling, I mean, that marshmallows are now square. I was comforted by FB friends who assured me they do not look stupid on the skewers, they make a nice S’More and more importantly, that homemade marshmallows have always been square.  Homemade marshmallows? Is there such a thing?

Yes, a good friend told me and reminded me that I have her recipe for them in the cookbook she gave me. So to the cookbook I went and there they were!! I hear once you’ve had a homemade marshmallow you will never want a store-bought one again. So now of course, I must try them. I need to go shopping though.  Hey ! Let’s all try them and share the love here. Yes! KEEP READING!  Here’s my friend Linda Letellier’s Homemade Marshmallows:

4 envelopes unflavored gelatin
1 1/2 cups water, divided
3 cups sugar
1 1/4 cups light corn syrup
1/4 tsp salt
2 tsp vanilla
powdered sugar

Oil a 9×13 baking dish. Line with file and lightly coat with more oil. In a large mixer bowl sprinkle the gelatin onto 3/4 cup of the water. Let stand to soften.

Place the sugar, corn syrup, 3/4 water and salt into large heavy saucepan. Bring to a boil and cook until the syrup reaches 240 degrees F on a candy thermometer. Add the vanilla.

With beaters at full speed, beat the syrup slowly into the gelatin and continue beating until mixture is stiff, about 15 minutes. Pour and push the mixture onto the foil-lined pan and smooth the top. Allow the mixture to rest, uncovered, at room temperature, 10-12 hours.

Sprinkle a board with powdered sugar. Turn the stiffened marshmallow mixture out onto the sugar. Remove the foil. Sprinkle with more powdered sugar. Cut into squares, roll each surface in more powdered sugar and put into airtight container. They keep only a few days at room temperature, but you can keep them frozen for months. Also, instead of just cutting them into squares, you can cut them into shapes with oiled cookie cutters.

I feel a contest coming on!  Make Linda’s marshmallows. Send me a JPG at susan [at] susanlmeissner [dot] com. I will post the pictures to the blog, unnamed, on July 4. The winner with the most amazing square or non-plug shaped marshmallows – voted by you fine people – will win an advance reading copy of my next book, A Sound Among The Trees, which doesn’t even hit shelves until October!

(The book is rectangular by the way, just like all the rest.)

Let’s have your picures to me by midnight July 3, Pacific time. Go for it. I have the advance reading copies in my possession. You could be reading the new book by mid-July if you win.

Now if you’ll pardon me, I need to go buy a candy thermometer. I am thinking the one I used for grilling pork loin (which is tubular, in case you are interested) won’t work. . .