An Argument in the Printed vs. Electronic Debate

There is a reason I will always treasure paper made books over their e counterparts. Like last April when I was working on my poetry project. I kept stumbling upon little treasures tucked away in the pages.

A ticket stub.
A handmade bookmark made by a friend 12 years ago.
A note written by my brother when he was just learning to write asking me if I want to play car store with him.
Old bus tickets.
An image cut out of a magazine.
The introduction I wrote for an author event I hosted.
 
There were so many clues left behind from yesterdays. I wonder what it would be like to tell a story not only about the books in a person's library, but also the treasures dwelling within those books.

And then there are stories like the one from last week, the ones that wouldn't be the same without the physical.

But first, a little history.

I had started back to college a bit earlier than most of my friends for RA training and was left with some free time on my hands. I went to the bookstore to pick up books for my classes, thinking I would read a few of my required novels early and give myself a break later in the semester. While I was there I stumbled upon a thin paperback. Non-fiction. A memoir. I remembered that a friend had recently been talking about it and how much she had enjoyed the book, so I bought it. I read it in one sitting and I loved it. I have carried it around with me (from state to state, home to home) for the past 15 years.

That book was Chelsea Cain's Dharma Girl. It has been out of print for quite a few years now.

In 2005 I picked up a new book that had just come into the bookstore. It was called Confessions of a Teen Sleuth and was a lovely story about how Nancy Drew was real and how that bitch, Carolyn Keene, had stolen her story. It was delightful, funny, and filled with references to childhood mysteries. It wasn't right away that I made the connection that this was the same author of the book I loved.

Two years later I was in the office at work when I spotted a white book with a red bloody hand print tucked inside an "evidence" bag. "Case # Heartsick, Item # Cain, Chelsea." I snagged it, read it, loved it.

Now it's five years later and it's the launch of the fifth Archie Sheridan/Gretchen Lowell (the Beauty Killer) book at Powell's. I'd been meaning to have her sign Dharma Girl for a long time, but I either forgot to bring it or decided not to. I have this thing (a courtesy?) where I really only like to have the author sign one book or maybe two. Since I had decided to buy the e-book for her latest, Kill You Twice, I didn't have it for her to sign.

So I finally brought Dharma Girl and smiled when someone asked her if she had a favorite book she'd written and she told the story of Dharma Girl. We didn't have to wait in the signing line long (thanks to my professional training) and when it was my turn, I handed her the book and told her a bit of the story about finding it in my college bookstore all those years ago and following along ever since.

She seemed hesitant to sign it and seemed surprised when I told her I wanted it personalized. This is as rare book (she has declined the opportunities to have it reprinted) and I knew it would be worth more if it only had a signature and not my name.

But I don't buy books in the hopes that they'll be worth more some day. I don't have them signed because I hope to resell them. They aren't a monetary investment for me and I hope they never will be. I go to readings to support the authors I love, to listen to their stories, to renew whatever it is that drives me to write.

So I asked her to put my name in it. She hesitated, her daughter beside her, distracting, as she contemplated what to say. I watched the pen in her hand as she stalled on the start of what words to alter the title page of my pristine paperback. I imagined what was going through her head. I noticed her eyes get a little teary.

I think, in the end, what she wrote was perfect.

Ultimately, it is stories like these that break my heart when I think about e-books. It's why I still buy so many printed ones myself (or sometimes both). It's nice to have the physical reminders of the stories we read and the books that meant so much. It's nice to flip through the pages and find hidden reminders of the past. It's nice to hand the book to a friend and say, "Read this, I think you'll really like it."

A sampling of my Chelsea Cain Collection

Found in my copy of Naomi Shihab Nye's Words Under the Words

The End of a Vacation

I wish all the mornings could begin in the shade of a sunny patio with a dog sitting at your feet, the neighbor's chickens clucking, and a gentle breeze freshening up the world. For now, I'll just be grateful this one does.

There is a certain sadness that comes from the last day of vacation. And this day, for me, is no exception. The last eight days have been exactly what I needed and I have no doubt today will be as well. The hammock is set up in the backyard and I've finally started reading Gillian Flynn's Gone Girl. So far it is as brilliant as everyone says it is. I think I've a pretty good idea where this day is headed.

I don't think I left the city limits once on this vacation and I drove my car as little as possible, opting for my own two feet and my scooter. I slept in. I stayed up late. I watched Doctor Who and Dawson's Creek. I went out to eat. I went to physical therapy.

And I wrote.

Every single day.

I put many, many hours into my manuscript and enjoyed (almost) every one. I cut out words, sentences, paragraphs, pages. If it didn't work, it was gone. I wrote new words, new paragraphs, new pages. This new draft will probably be around a hundred pages shorter than the last and will be different in many ways, but at its heart it will be much truer to what I'd always intended.

It's a very good place to be.

This fall's calendar is already full of exciting and fun adventures. Amanda Palmer, David Levithan, trips to the beach, a new/old store and the chance to work with some wonderful new-to-me people as well as some brilliant old ones. I get to hang out with Libba Bray (for work! I'm beyond excited!). And so much more.

In but a blink, I have no doubt it will be November. By then I hope to put this current project to bed, where it can rest until the new year. Then, I hope SWHOT (or whatever it's called by then) will be ready to transition from the business of writing to the business of querying.

Goals, Conferences, and Vacations...

The house is shuttered up. All the windows shielded from the sun as I watch the mercury ascend. Chores are nearly done and I have settled in the library with an iced coffee +*.  This is the first day of my staycation vacation. I love the lightness that comes from knowing I have an entire week to myself, this long string of days lined up before me, perched on such possibility.

This past week has been busy and filled with a great deal of running around. The last two days have been spent helping sell books at the Willamette Writers Conference. It was a fascinating time of people watching and eavesdropping. When an agent would stop by I'd google them to see more about who they were and what types of work they represent. I was annoyed by authors who didn't understand why we didn't have their book (because of course we should have had their book!) and I was delighted by the enthusiasm of people coming out of workshops and pitches, excited by the work ahead.

One of the highlights was when a woman in her 80's pitched her novel to us while we were eating lunch. Her assignment had been to find a dozen people to practice her pitch on and when she found us she thought she could get three out of the way at once (I didn't have the heart to tell her that she was kind of missing the point). I don't know if her novel is very good, her pitch was a bit rambling and convoluted and didn't exactly pique my interest, but I admired her spirit and her determination.


I have a lot of goals for this week for me and my manuscript. Last week I got to rewrite a really difficult scene (which I know still needs quite a bit of fine tuning...) and I got to write a brand new scene (which was very exciting to do and does so much for the story!). So if you're looking for me, odds are I'll be tucked away somewhere cool, staring at a back-lit screen as my fingers tap away at the keys.

Or at physical therapy.




*I mean alcohol.

Pain makes you...beautiful?

I'll be honest. The past few weeks have been a little rough. It's not like it's been all bad. In fact, some really good things have come out of the last few weeks. I recently found out that this fall I'll be taking the reins of our highest volume store! What has been rough is the pain that has been undermining everything else.

Four years ago I had back surgery. Prior to the surgery I was unable to walk and I was in extraordinary pain. It's the kind of pain you can't escape and mentally, as well as physically, it takes its toll. For the better part of the year, my life was restricted. I couldn't sit comfortably and eventually I couldn't walk. I suffered permanent nerve damage in my left leg that still affects me on a daily basis. But I have worked hard to take better care of my back. I remembered all the wise and kind words my physical therapist shared with me.

The day I realized I could move and that I was no longer in pain was a very, very good day.

On occasion I would still overdue it from time to time and would pay for it with a little pain and a few aches. Nothing too serious and nothing that would take too long to recover from. A few weeks ago something changed.

The pain didn't go away and the nerve pain got worse.

And I got scared.

I never, ever, ever want to go through what I went through four years ago ever again.

So I went to the doctor and he gave me two choices. Aggressive or conservative. And since the conservative approach only meant another week or so, I opted for conservative which meant a week of steroids.

While I am not a fan of MRIs, I am also not a fan of steroids. And thankfully I have the self-awareness to realize when it's the drugs affecting my mood rather than reality. I am certain my employees and the neighbor children would be grateful if they'd known how many words I'd held back over the last several days.

I'm still uncertain as to what is going to happen next. The pain, while reduced, is still a constant. A few more days and the next decision will need to be made.

I think, perhaps, one of the most heart-breaking pieces of this entire scenario is that it's kept me from writing. Sitting in a chair is really hard to do. I managed to get a few hours in the other day and accomplished some good work, but it's really slowed me down and unfortunately, I don't currently have the resources (or the space) to acquire one of John Green's Treadmill desks...though I am working on a little something I can use so I can at least stand while editing.

There are a million obstacles that can keep us from doing the things we love and the things we want to do. Some are the result of external influences while others are self-imposed. What this set-back has shown me is that I am still as committed to my writing life as I was before and that I will do everything I can to keep pushing forward.

Getting Closer

Sometimes you don't even know how much you're worrying about a thing, how much it's nagging at your heels, nesting amongst your bones, until that worry is gone and with it the heaviness that held you down.

The last two weeks I've had such a worry extricate itself from my body. I didn't even realize the shallowness of my breath until I was able to fully expand my lungs again. I didn't realize how heavily my feet were weighted to the ground until the act of lifting them became so easy I could nearly fly.

All and all, it has been a strange and good period in my life.

I continue to enjoy the work that pays the bills and I am enamored with the work I do that doesn't.

The time away from my manuscript was well spent and in my first week back I was able to solve a nagging problem with a minor character who was always destined to be a larger player. The answer seemed so easy once I'd worked it out and so perfect I couldn't believe it didn't come to me sooner.

There is still much work to be done, but each day I try to work through a few more pages, think of a few more solutions to problems, ask myself a million new questions.

I'm getting close.

Each day, a little bit closer.

The Best of Friends

I had a wonderful time last night. A high school friend is getting married this afternoon (along with the sister of another high school friend) and that has brought a great many people to town. Last night, we all went out for dinner at a lovely restaurant with delicious food and refreshing cocktails. We sat on the patio for hours talking and laughing. We remembered old crushes (and poor boyfriend decisions). We talked about siblings and parents, children and marriage.

Sometimes I am amazed at how easy it is for us to pick up right where we left off. Some of these people I see often. Some I see once a year for maybe a couple of hours. But the conversations are always easy. It's been 18 years since we graduated and we still have so much to talk about.

Last night there was some reflection on that, about the people we were and the people we are and why we all still get along. Someone said that even back in high school we all had a pretty good sense of who we were and we were all very comfortable being ourselves. I very much think that's true. I know that personally, the core of me hasn't really changed that much. I'm still very much the same person I always was. There are definitely aspects to my personality that have grown and developed and I'm much more comfortable saying what I mean to say and being open...though I still won't always volunteer information unless asked. I still work better in smaller groups than larger ones.

My WIP (work-in-progress) is about (in part) that transition between high school and college and how that major transition affects these characters. I remember, from my own experience, sitting outside Coffee People on NW 23rd with two boys. One I knew well, and one I knew not quite so well. I remember it was near the end of the summer and I was beginning to wonder if this was it, if this was the end of these friendships. I wondered if time and distance would close the book on these relationships. And it made me sad even though I knew I was going off to college where more friends were sure to be made.

All these years later, I'm still in touch with both these boys. One, because we have always been friends, and one because of the wonders of Facebook.

Positive Distraction

There have been a few reasons why I've been a bit more quiet than usual. The biggest reason is that I've been feeling a lot more like thinking than writing. And I've had a lot to think about. There are some pretty big decisions I need to make with my current manuscript and I want to give them time to settle so I really know and feel that they are the right decisions. I'm ready to finish this novel once and for all...but I want to do it right and I want to do it best.

Another problem I've had is the TV show Damages. That thing has been like crack and in the last two weeks I've worked through the first two seasons. It's the perfect blend of distraction I've been needing...legal thriller combined with mystery combined with brilliant characters that you love and despise. It's been so good. And since it's been raining/gray literally every day since I got back from my wonderful vacation, I haven't felt guilty at all for the hours spent on the couch.

It's also been a time of research. Every TV show I watch, every novel I read, every movie I see, I think about Story. I think about why the Story works, why I'm drawn in, kept in, and what motivates me to continue watching/reading/paying attention.

I've been reading books about writing and I've been researching the 2012 Willamette Writers Conference in August. Since I'll be working there for part of it, I'm not sure how much time I'll have to participate, but I've been looking into the agents attending and seeing if anyone looks like a good fit for me. I'm not planning on doing any pitches this time, but you never know what might happen in the next month.

The 4th of July has become a day centered on taking care of our four-legged companion. Zelda gets very upset to the point where she makes herself physically sick if she's not medicated and I just don't have the heart to leave her alone so this has become a kind of stay at home type of holiday. Today I really don't mind. The sun is shining, the sky is blue, the breeze is gentle and my stack of books looks inviting.

It might just be time to set up the hammock and take a few deep breaths.