Blog A Go-Go

In which it is time

For the greatest of all gladiatorial showdowns, where competitors will pit themselves against one another in the quest for ultimate glory. It's PUPPY BOWL! So settle in with some guacamole and beer and cheer for your favorite--and don't forget kitty halftime! (Puppy Bowl is airing on Animal Planet from 3-5pm Eastern on Sunday.)

In which we're answering reader questions

Surely you didn't think we were finished! Sharon wants to know if there will be a teaser excerpt from SOTM on the blog and if there is a schedule for appearances and signings. The teaser that will be posted is going to be attached to a cute little widget like the one you see in the right sidebar for SITS. I'm actually not supposed to get those until the books are almost ready to go out, but an entirely fabulous person at my publisher's managed to get hold of the one for SITS early and let me post it. I am crossing my fingers that the SOTM widget will be available soon. I promise to post it the MINUTE I get it. Seriously, I PROMISE.

As far as appearances and signings, they are up-to-date on the left sidebar. You can visit the stores' individual sites to get directions and any other info you might need. (We are working on a deal to get me to Houston, so cross your fingers!)

Also, Robin had a follow up, which was to ask if I consider myself an introvert or an extrovert and whether "putting on the author" makes me tired or energized. I am an extroverted introvert, actually. I can be quite comfortable in groups, but at some point I will hit my threshold and have to be alone. I generally don't take friends or family with me on business trips because in between meetings or signings or parties, I will be in my hotel room with the "Do Not Disturb" sign hung out, having tea in bed. Business trips and conferences tend to be very high-energy, so I balance that by blocking out time to be strictly alone. (Both my agent and editor have seen me get into a cab after a party and literally sag. They are very good about making sure I'm fed and sent to bed.) I will keep going as long as I have commitments, but once the door closes, I am good for nothing until the next scheduled event. I enjoy the events HUGELY, but I've learned that they can be tiring and the best thing is for me to pace myself by getting plenty of quiet too.

And Robyn asked about the possibility of a Julia Grey movie. I've had several producers inquire about the rights, but no firm offers yet. I would be THRILLED to see the books made into a film, mostly because I would love to see someone else tell the story. (My philosophy is that once I sell the rights, it becomes the producer's story to tell, and the director's, and the actors', and the production team's, etc.) And congratulations on the baby, Robyn!

In which I get my fashion groove on

Or at least my fantasy fashion groove. If I lived in a place where they wouldn't Baker Act me for wearing these clothes, I would dress steampunk every day, oh yes I would. There just isn't enough tulle in the world to make me happy. This month's issue of BUST had a lovely steampunk photo feature, and here is a feature on it by Divine Caroline. Enjoy!

And in that retro vein, I finally spent my Christmas itunes card. Squirrel Nut Zippers!

Note to Laura: Where did the Beau Monde go?!? I miss it. If you've got a new blog address, would you please send me the link? Thanks!

In which I go scary ninja

Okay, so night before last I had a bizarre dream. (Husband was out of town, and I often have strange dreams when he's not there. Of course, I have weird ones when he is too, but there's no one to discuss it with if he's traveling.) Anyway, I dreamed we were on a trip to Russia and had a layover in London. At the London airport I stopped to pet a man's miniature polar bear--he was calling it a dog, but I knew better. My husband figured I could pet it better if he handed my tote bag off to a woman he thought was with the bear guy. But she wasn't with the bear guy. She was just some opportunistic thief who took off with my bag. I chased her down, but she had already ditched it, and I grabbed her by the hair and started yelling for the British police to come and get her--only I wasn't yelling "THIEF!" I was yelling "VOLEUR!", a word I only know because the "v" at the beginning of it was branded on Jeanne de la Motte Valois--those of you familiar with the Affair of the Necklace will understand. The police gave me a high sign as if to say, "Be patient, we're coming," and I started banging her head into the wall to make sure she didn't go anywhere. And then I started slamming it onto the floor just to make REALLY sure. And the part that intrigues me the most about this dream? The miniature polar bear. Because I totally want one.

On a creative note, I recently discovered a technique that is PURE UNADULTERATED GENIUS. A writer, whose blog has escaped my bookmarks and whose site I cannot find again, posted her method for keeping her notes and her manuscript in front of her while she works: she opens two documents side by side on her monitor. So simple, so brilliant, SO NOT SOMETHING I WOULD HAVE EVER THOUGHT OF. I'm completely trying this for revisions on TDTF, and if it works, I'll be investing in the mother of all monitors. WHEEEEEE!!!

In which we talk about moving

We're back to reader questions today--who knew the questions would end up yielding a month of entries!--and one that came up a few times was about my move from Texas to Virginia. One reader wanted to know what prompted it; another wanted to know if it was difficult. (The short answer to the last question is yes, yes it was.)

I am a sixth-generation native Texan. That's a big deal in Texas because many families came after the Civil War. Ours was there long before, fighting for Texas independence from Mexico. My ancestors were outlaws and preachers, pioneer wives and Native American girls. My identity is purely Texan. I say y'all; my speech is fairly neutral but I can drawl with the best of them when I get around other Texans. I wear silver from Mexico and cowboy boots and I put hot sauce on most everything. I LOVE Texas. I love the fierce independence of it, the slow pace, the comfortable melding of different cultures. I love the fact that Texans like to know where you come from, but they value who you are. Competence is more important than connections, at least in certain places. It is the south, it is the west, and it's the best parts of both.

However. (You knew there'd be a however, didn't you?) When you spend so much of your life being defined by one place, it is difficult to write a new definition of yourself. It is difficult to see a different image in the mirror than the one you've always seen. And if you feel like you're ready for a new adventure, Texas is an awfully big place to break free of. The five of us, my parents, husband, child, and I, were ready for something new. The timing was never going to be better. No one's career was so fulfilling that it prevented us from picking up and moving east, retracing the steps our ancestors had taken a few centuries before. We went back to Virginia, where both of my parents had family during colonial times, where old family names have been etched on church bells and headstones for three hundred years. We settled in a town where our families had lived before this country WAS a country, perhaps because we hoped it would feel familiar somehow.

It is familiar now, but that has been hard-won and taken some time. Six weeks after we moved, I had to have surgery, and six weeks after that, a hurricane tore a path from the coast, felling trees that had been standing since an army in gray marched past on their way north. Those things were difficult to take and more than once we exchanged nervous glances, wondering if we'd made a mistake. And then, a year after we moved to Virginia, we were finally able to take possession of the wonderful old house we had bought nine months before.

It is a magic house, at least some people think so, and from the moment we crossed the threshold we came home, in a physical and spiritual sense. Two months after we moved in, I got my book deal, and a year later, my husband left his job to pursue a new career in a field he loves. Our daughter changed schools, and we became prosperous in ways we never had been before. Relationships have deepened, goals have been met, and those who knew us before marvel at the changes that this move has created. It's as if we took one step to pull ourselves out of the rut we were in and the universe said, "Wouldn't you rather have this nice springboard instead?" And so now I think that a change of scenery is perhaps the best way to achieve a change of self.

Housekeeping note: had an issue or two with comments yesterday but we seem to be in order now. And a completely random question for the masses: how many podcasts do you subscribe to and how do you keep up with them? Do you go back and listen to the entire archive or do you just jump right in? I ask because I realized I just broke 1000 podcasts on my ipod that I have yet to listen to, in part because I'm trying to work my way through archives of the ones I enjoy the most. I'm deleting as soon as I listen, but it's rather like bailing the Titanic with a teaspoon...

In which I am complaint-free

Or trying to be. Last week I read "A Complaint Free World" by Will Bowen, and I'm giving it a shot. The premise behind the complaint-free movement is a simple one, but challenging: live for 21 days without complaining, gossiping, or criticizing. That's it. Bowen advocates using a bracelet as a tool to measure your mindfulness. If you slip, the bracelet gets switched to your other wrist and you start your 21 days over again. The book is a quick read, and it clears up the gray areas of what constitutes complaints or criticisms or gossip--basically if you have to ask, it is. I've been at it since last Thursday--after an EPIC bout of complaining on Wednesday about the perfidious nature of the appliance delivery folk responsible for our new washer--and I haven't had to move the bracelet yet, mostly because for two days I almost stopped talking altogether. It's been interesting and disheartening to see how often the filter kicks in and I have to re-route what I was going to say to something more tactful or kinder--or better yet, nothing at all. (Please note that I am not complaining here, merely observing what this experiment has been like. I'm actually enjoying it quite a bit.) If you're interested in the movement, you can check out the official website and even request a free purple bracelet if you like. (I'm using a stretchy black seed bead bracelet I had on hand.) 

Because of this experiment, I've also started to think about the blogs, TV shows, and even people I know who seem to exist solely to find fault. All of the physical decluttering over the holidays seems to have led to some mental decluttering as well, and I'm finding myself more and more determined to deal positively with people and to engage as much as I can with people I aspire to be like. I'm building my bookmarks with people who are creative and enthusiastic and who DO things, creating a resource of inspiration for those days when I need to rub up against someone else's creative fires to get warm. So I'm wondering who do you aspire to be like? Share blog links or just a personal thought and maybe we'll get some of your favorites onto the blogroll to share with everybody at the Blog A Go-Go.

In which you might want to make a pot of tea and settle in

This one is going to take awhile. Sunday seems like the perfect time to post today's link. It needs time and thoughtful consideration, it ought to be savored, read over more than once because it is just that good. Turn it over in your head, wander off and then come back to it and enjoy it again. Pass it along to your creative-minded friends. Blog about it yourselves or write riveting journal entries about what you think of it. Personally, I think Hugh MacLeod deserves a MacArthur grant, but no one's calling me for suggestions. (I find it fascinating that you cannot nominate someone for a MacArthur grant. Apparently, you just have to know someone who is on the committee, but the committee is anonymous, so I'm not sure how they identify each other. Secret handshake? Cryptic ads on CraigsList?) Anyway, go and read his extensive blog entry on creativity and enjoy.

In which it may be time to go to England

My friend SalifromEngland--all one word in our house--revealed yesterday that the UK is officially in a recession. She said the pound is desperately low, and when I checked the currency calculator, it was at $1.37--astonishingly low considering it was pushing $2.00 when I went almost two years ago. (This means it's time to put in orders to Persephone Books!) It also means there are terrific travel deals to be had. This one, from British Airways, is almost criminally cheap. For just over $300, you can fly from NYC to London, two-night hotel stay included! Naturally, there's loads of fine print to read, but it looks like a fabulous deal and if I didn't have a book to finish, I would be rounding up my passport and adapter plugs right now. 

In which history is just cool

Lately I've been researching astronomers and in one of those wonderful little twists of serendipity, I ran across this article on Thursday. I should confess, I just LOVE it when they exhume famous historical figures to conduct scientific tests. I know it's ghoulish, but to have answers to history's questions is tremendously exciting. (Finding the Romanovs and proving the identity behind the lost Dauphin's heart are just two of the projects in the last decade that I have been riveted by.) And now they are on to Galileo, right as I am beginning to read Dava Sobel's much-lauded book about his daughter. I also picked up a copy of her book, The Planets, solely because I was mesmerized by the cover. Well, the cover prompted me to pick it up and then I was mesmerized by the first paragraph...either way, I bought two of her books that day and I'm looking forward to starting them both. I'm particularly interested in Sobel because I'm not that interested in astronomy itself and I'm fascinated by people who are into things I'm not, if that makes sense. I like to know what part of the subject captivates them and lures them into serious study of something I would otherwise overlook. Many times, this sort of inquiry ends with me being besotted with a subject I thought would be unspeakably dull--the Victorian age, for one. I'm hoping a new-found interest in astronomy will justify buying a model of the solar system like the ones you always see in old movies...

In which my computer isn't terribly fond of me at present

My keyboard has decided to go poltergeist on me and isn't working properly. (This is added to the washer and car issues we won't even go into...Ah, Mercury retrograde, thou art a heartless wench.) Anyway, it means I have to swipe the husband's laptop for this entry and I'm getting a wee bit behind in my e-mails. (So if I owe you an e-mail, I'll get there eventually, I promise!)

Several folks have asked about the books I wrote before SITG. The first, written when I was 23, was a Gothic romance. The others were either Gothic or Regency, and there is one contemporary attempt at magical realism. None of them will be reworked with the possible exception of the magical realism book, which I would LOVE another bash at. (My agent and I have discussed it a few times and we're still pondering.) The previous books were me cutting my teeth on the form of the novel, the beginning of my education as a writer. Those couple of thousand pages were a sort of independent study, my own do-it-yourself creative writing program. I learned a great deal from writing them, and much of what I learned was how NOT to write--which is why they still live in a box in the attic. But I believe nothing you write is ever wasted, whether you ever use it again or not. What you write--like what you read--shapes you.