Wordstock, David Levithan, and High school with Libba Bray

This past week has been ass kicking. I have kicked ass and I have had my ass kicked. It's been filled with new challenges and big wins. I am exhausted and happy.

Last Sunday I attended my first Wordstock. For years it was in November, always coinciding with my birthday weekend (when I prefer to flee the city for the fresh smells of ocean air and the crashing sounds of the Pacific). It has since moved to October, but there's always been something else going on at the same time.

This year I finally made it a point to go. With David Levithan there, how could I resist? He was, as always, witty, wise, and inspiring. He talked about his latest book (Every Day) and he shared the three books he's loving on right now. They are Nina LaCour's The Disenchantments (which I adored), Eliot Schrefer's Endangered, and A.S. King's Ask the Passengers (the last two are already on my nightstand in the TBR pile.

Thursday I had a completely awesome day hanging out with Libba Bray (who has written such lovely, smart books). I went on a school visit to Hillsboro High School (which was a really cool experience). She did this awesome improv exercise with the kids about creating a story. It was broken down into six questions:

Name?
Where are they from?
What do they desire/want?
What do they fear?
What is the next thing that happens?
What is the last sentence of your story?

The kids had a lot of fun with this. She pulled several up to the front with her and had them answer the questions, drawing from the audience for participation as well. After she was done, she answered questions and took time listening to each and every student. She was funny, she was kind, she was honest, and she gives great hugs. We talked about books (including the new novel by Gayle Forman due out in January (Just One Day) which we both adored). In short, she was everything I hoped she'd be and more. I had so much fun I went to her event later that night at Powell's and took my husband along as well (who is now a big fan too). At the event, she shared a brilliant writing prompt. "In the letter I never wrote to you I said..."

Now that NaNoWriMo 2012 is less than two weeks away, I've been trying to narrow down the story that I want to tell. I've got a couple characters starting to materialize, their images getting more and more solid each day. As I learn more about them, I keep coming back to Libba's six questions. They really do seem like a brilliant place to start...

Libba Bray with my copy of my favorite of her books.

David modelling his last two for me. For my photo/book project I've been forcing authors to pose with my books.

Do It Anyway

It's been one week since I arrived home from a long weekend on the Oregon Coast. I had a lovely 24 hours to myself followed by a lovely 48 hours with friends and conversation. I walked beside ocean waves in sunshine, I played tag (and lost) to the Pacific, I drank wine, dined on delicious seafood, I took deep breaths and remembered how to dream. I took naps. I read books. I listened.

There has been a song that has become my mantra during this time in my life of so many big changes. It's off the new Ben Folds Five album and is called "Do It Anyway." I was first introduced to the song via the brilliant video featuring Chris Hardwick (I am an enormous Nerdist Podcast fan) and the Fraggles (I'm old enough to have watched them the first time around...barely). I have since purchased the album (which is, of course, awesome!) and this past week the song has come up on shuffle during some thoughtful and resonant moments.

You might put your love and trust on the line. It's risky, people love to tear that down. Let 'em try. Do it anyway. Risk it anyway.

Walking by myself, sitting on giant rocks while the sun set and listening to the salty water crash against the sand, I thought about NaNoWriMo and my ambitions beyond my current career.

And if you're paralyzed by a voice in your head. It's the standing still that should be scaring you instead. Go on and do it anyway. Do it anyway.

Over the last two weeks, I feel like I've taken a step back and am watching my life move forward at speeds that are unsettling. There is change beyond my control and it is both exhilarating and frightening. It's like sitting at the top of the roller coaster knowing the only way out is to take the plummet.


There will be times you might leap before you look. There'll be times you'll like the cover and that's preciscely why you'll love the book. Do it anyway. Do it anyway.

I've been thinking about my life five years ago, ten, twenty. I've thought about my sixteen year old dreams and ambitions.


Tell me what I said I'd never do. Tell me what I said I'd never say. Read me off a list of the things that I used to not like but now I think are okay.

As I've been pondering the cons, the pros, the should I and shouldn't I of this year's NaNoWriMo question, I've been thinking about the stories that have been rising up from the depths, the story that I want to tell and why it's important for me to tell it.


Despite your grand attempts the chips are set to fall. And all the stories you might weave cannot negotiate them all. Do it anyway. Be honest, anyway.

As the days on the calendar keep flipping from one right into the next, I've found myself at the center of October and people keep asking me if I'm going to do NaNoWriMo this year and I think I've finally got a definitive answer for them.

Call it surrender, but you know that that's a joke. And the punchline is you were actually never in control. But still, surrender anyway.

So what have I decided? What's the answer to the question that's been tugging me back and forth?

Everybody knows that you just gotta do it anyway.  

The Back and Forth of Decision Making

Why is it that some days seem to linger on endlessly while others vanish in but a blink? The past week has been a strange blend of these kinds of days. I am left feeling quite accomplished and like I haven't done anything at all. I have a feeling that's just how it's going to be for awhile.

Right now, I am faced with a difficult decision. To NaNoWriMo or not to NaNoWriMo, that is the question. The truth is, I don't know that I'm going to have the time (or the sanity) to do it, the 50,000 new words in one month. My schedule from 10/15-11/15 is intense (and I'm not sure it will ease off until the new year) and I'm so worried I won't have the literal time to do it and sleep.

Every day I go back and forth, weighing pros against cons and every day I come up with a different answer. I want to desperately. But I'm afraid of failing.

You see, that's one of my flaws.

That fear of failing.

For the worse (or for the better?), I don't like to do things I can't be successful at. It's not that I don't take chances, because I do. I just don't like to knowingly set myself up for failure.

That is different. Right?

And what's the real harm if I don't finish? I've still started a new project. And if I only get 75 pages instead of 160? Isn't that still awesome?

But will it cause additional stress at a time when I'll already be pushed to my limits? Is that worth it?


In a few days I head off to my favorite coastal escape and am looking forward to breathing the salty air and walking along the Pacific. I'm hoping I'll find my answer there.

Digging Up Memories

The last few weeks I've been digging through closets and boxes and unearthing all sorts of magical, time traveling things...like the adoption papers for one of my Cabbage Patch Kids...a musical I started (and never finished) in middle school...my Mock Trial notebook (and notecards!) from high school. So many memories from my thirty some years wrapped up in one box!

I'm not the kind of person who has to keep every sentimental thing. Moving around taught me how to let go. But for the last seven and a half years I've been anchored to the same spot and that has allowed for a bit more accumulation, which is why I've been reorganizing and purging. For me, it's really not so much about the thing, it's about the memories associated with that thing. When I pulled those adoption papers out of that box, I was flooded with memories of the day I took Cy Buddy home.

I had gone shopping with my grandma and grandpa in Fergus Falls, MN and we ended up in a store with Cabbage Patch Kids. I picked Cy because he had these wonderful blue glasses and he seemed like a nice kid. We went back to Wahpeton, ND and took pictures of me and my new "baby." I know those pictures are around somewhere...

All week long I've been thinking about those grandparents and all the wonderful things we did together over the years. My grandma died of cancer when I was a senior in college and this past January my grandfather passed away. For most of my life I have lived over a thousand miles away from all of my grandparents. But they were all a big part of my life. It could have been otherwise.

Growing up, I spent every summer (except the one I went to Germany) traveling between sets of grandparents. I got to know them, be spoiled by them, and full-heart love them. Same with my aunts and uncles. Distance is only a problem of you let it be and we never let it.

And today, I'm missing them very, very much.

Enjoy the Silence

I've been feeling rather quiet lately. It's not that I haven't had much to say, it's more that I haven't felt like saying it. I don't think I can explain why. Nor do I think I want to.

Here are two of the things I haven't been talking about:

1) The other day, I think I finished my book rewrite. I'm not exactly sure, as I need to get some outside perspective before I'm ready to say definitively. This version is so very different from the last version and yet fundamentally the same. It is even closer to my original intention...funny how that can happen after so much revision and the cutting of over 150 pages from the manuscript. I changed a few character names (Holden and Jezebel will always be Holden and Jezebel), including one pretty major character. I don't recommend doing so on your third major rewrite. I found the old name slipping in repeatedly. So grateful for Find & Replace!

2) I've been on vacation. Unless you work with me, or are married to me, you probably didn't know this. This was my Calm Before the Storm vacation. It has been amazing and the time has been exactly what I needed it to be, bending to my will. I have done a great deal of writing. I went to the dentist (due to the notes in my chart about passing out (from the only other time I had a cavity filled) they gave me a totally awesome drug to take beforehand...and let's just say I will lock my phone away before I ever take that medication again). I reorganized virtually every closet in our entire house and some frustrating kitchen cabinets, donated two car loads of stuff to Goodwill, and made great strides towards uncluttering. I watched Dawson's Creek, new Doctor Who, The Daily Show, and the Colbert Report. I played Rock Band, sat in the sun, went for walks. It has been amazing.


Tonight I am relaxing in the library. My iPod is on shuffle. A bottle of wine has been opened. Socks (Socks!) have been placed on feet. Zelda's passed out behind me. It's a perfect night to cozy up with a good book...or two. And for those who are curious, I am jostling between Libba Bray's Going Bovine and Jess Walter's Beautiful Ruins. Two very different and equally wonderful books.

The Balancing Act

I strive to have balance between my work life and my personal life. It's part of why I've chosen the career I have. There are many skills I possess that could be translated into a career where I would make more money. But those jobs usually require 20-30 more hours/week.

I'd rather spend that time writing.

Lately, due to all the hullabaloo going on with work, I've felt work responsibilities creeping into my private time, starting with my last vacation. Sometimes it's a phone call (or two or three), sometimes it's a text (or ten), sometimes it's going in early, sometimes it's going home late.

Wednesday morning I got up and started working on my novel. Just when I was hitting a good groove I got a text and then another and soon I was leaving early to begin my work day and my writing time was lost. I guess I should have left my phone silenced in the other room.

The rest of the week I was just flat out too tired from physical therapy and work to even think about sitting down at the computer.

I don't think things are going to calm down much until the new year, with the exception of some vacation next week and a long weekend in October. I fear this year's NaNoWriMo will be the biggest challenge yet.

I think what I need to do is figure out some boundaries. Work out some time in my calendar that is strictly mine. No internet. No iPhone. Nothing but me and the words on the screen.

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