Blog A Go-Go

In which we have a new home!

The new website is up! The new blog is being hosted at the website, and it's LOVELY! (I can say that because I have no credit whatsoever for the fabulous design.) Let's clear up a few housekeeping details:

*If you're having trouble accessing the new website, it's because the old bookmarks will take you back HERE. You have to type in www.deannaraybourn.com to see the new site.

*There are still one or two details to tweak--mostly ME figuring out how to log in to write my new blog!--but once those are taken care of, the blog will be there, not here. You'll want to reset your bookmarks accordingly. You can also subscribe to the new blog's feed. It is entirely possible that this archive will disappear soon, but I'm still making inquiries on that one...

*And in response to the numerous inquiries I've had, nope, I'm afraid the image on the homepage is NOT me. (But thanks for thinking it might be!) Most of the photographs on the website are the handiwork of an extremely talented Polish photographer. I'll be posting links to her work so you can see the rest of her magic.

Now, as to the REST of this weekend, it was phenomenal! Nora Roberts was supremely gracious, and every member of the bookstore staff was unfailingly kind and helpful. I was also lucky enough to meet Mariah Stewart and Donna Kauffman and an astonishing number of readers. We signed for more than four hours!! I met loads of fantastic people and had an amazing time, and HUGE thanks to everyone who made the weekend such a blast. I'll have more details soon, but I'm writing this Sunday evening and I wanted to make sure to hit the high points!

And if the weekend wasn't fantastic enough, we arrived home this afternoon to SNOW! It only lasted about a quarter of an hour, but the flakes were the fattest I've ever seen--the size of cotton balls. So, I've finally gotten my snowfall, the perfect end to a seriously fantastic weekend.

In which I'd love to see the cheerleaders

There is a sporting world cup I've never heard of before, and I'm DYING to see it televised. It's the Rock, Paper, Scissors World Championships. No, really. The competition is being held in Toronto, and this article profiles the Mexican national champion. The prize on the line is $10,000, but I suspect the devotees of the sport would tell you it's all about the glory.

If you're a fan of Facebook, check out the article Help! I'm Addicted To Facebook to see if your usage is still within the realm of "normal". There are ten warning signs, and so far I don't have any. (Phew!)

On a purely meteorological note, I'm writing this on Sunday evening and crossing my fingers for snow. We have barely had a flake this winter! Now generally I don't approve of complaining about the weather. When I found the south Texas heat unbearable, I moved. But honestly, a person in this latitude has a reasonable expectation of a decent snowfall once or twice a winter. And I'm particularly sulky because I missed last year's only good snowfall because I was in Phoenix. The DESERT. My family sweetly tormented me by e-mailing me pictures of themselves building snowmen and having a snowball fight without me. So just between us, I'm DUE.

And since we're being random today, I've sampled five perfumes lately, none of which are suitable for me, but you might enjoy:
*Pretty by Elizabeth Arden. Over-the-top floral. Not offensive, but it didn't change much on the drydown. Sweet bottle.
*Princess by Vera Wang. Cotton candy drydown with a heavy hit of vanilla. A very youthful perfume.
*Jean Paul Gaultier's Ma Dame. I liked it the first two times, but after that I noticed a VERY strong note of black licorice.
*Lolita Lempicka. After the drydown, I couldn't smell anything but vanilla.
*Cynthia Rowley. I honestly cannot remember what it smelled like. Pretty light, innocuous. Probably suitable for someone young.

I've ordered new samples from www.theperfumedcourt.com to try another half dozen fragrances. Great customer service, and it's an inexpensive way to try new perfumes if you can't get to a really good fragrance counter. (The closest GOOD mall is 60 miles away, so I have to be resourceful.)

ETA: Monday morning. No snow. Bah!

In which you might have a smart girl in your life

If you do, you need to check out Smart Girls at the Party, a fabulous project put together by Amy Poehler, Meredith Walker, and Amy Miles. Their mission is reminding us that smart girls are FABULOUS. They interview young women with purpose and determination, the girls who are going to be running this country in a few years. Check out the webisodes and share them with a smart girl in your life for a little inspiration. Don't forget to drop by the Smart Girls at the Party Blog--just follow the link on the page above and have fun with the special features like the Smart Girls Hall of Fame and the Word of the Week.

In which I've been thinking about weak language

So lately I've been pondering the way we use language, not in a writerly sense, but in a people sense. I'm fascinated by how we code our intentions into what we say, sometimes sabotaging ourselves without realizing it. The other day I was watching an episode of "The Dog Whisperer", mostly because I ADORE Daddy the pit bull, and I listened to Cesar Millan talking to an owner who said she thought she could walk her dog properly on the leash under his instruction. He just smiled and said, "Don't think. Just do." I was immediately reminded of Yoda. "Do or do not. There is no try." There's a similar scene in "Dead Again" where Kenneth Branagh's character tells Robin Williams he's trying to quit smoking. And Robin Williams' analyst character responds, "There is no try. You are either a smoker or a non-smoker. Figure out which one you are and BE THAT." I could be paraphrasing on that last one a bit, but you get the point. We are so anxious to hedge our bets that we modify the HELL out of our intentions. We kneecap our own determination by "thinking" we can do it or "trying" to do it or "giving it our best shot" instead of just announcing, firmly and with purpose, I WILL. I AM. I HAVE. I've become much more aware of my own lapses into weak and bloodless language, the words that just lie wanly on the sofa, pallid and undemanding. They have no expectations, those words, and they never inspire any acts of greatness. So I move we banish the think, the try, the might. AND WE DO instead.

And a quick note: I have run across a few mentions on the interwebs lately about Silent on the Moor being the last Julia Grey book. I don't know where that particular bit of misinformation hatched from, but I can promise you, it is NOT. The book I'm working on now is outside of the series, but by this summer I will be hard at work on the fourth Julia Grey. Spread the word!

In which I think I can manage seven minutes

According to this article,British researchers have determined that the minimum amount of exercise required to stay fit is....drumroll!....seven minutes a week. Seriously. Seven minutes. And it doesn't have to be seven relentless minutes of cardio-buttkicking either. It can be spread out over the course of the week. Now, as this sounds too good to be true, I am darkly suspicious that it IS too good to be true and later on some Finnish researchers will come along and say, "No, not really, it has to be seventeen hours a day for minimum fitness." But until then, I'm sticking with seven minutes a week. I own no fitness equipment and I really don't like being either sweaty or swathed in spandex, so I plan to get my minute of daily exertion by putting on my ipod and dancing. "Single Ladies", anyone?

NOTE: The new website will be going live soon, and I believe the blog will be hosted there instead of Typepad. Should your bookmarks be set to deannaraybourn.typepad.com, there may come a day when you don't find me. If that happens, just go to www.deannaraybourn.com because that domain will be set to the new website instead of redirecting here.

In which I am not taking hallucinogenic drugs

But I might as well be. My dreams of late have been bizarre. Now I expected this because I am revising and revising always brings up my insecurities and insecurities mean strange dreams. Last week I dreamed that I looked out the back door and Emma the Yellow Wonder Dog was walking up the drive, limping and dusted with grave dirt. (I WISH I were making that last part up.) She was looking at me accusingly and I kept saying, "But we BURIED you!" Most unpleasant, as you can imagine, although it was nice to see her.

Sunday morning I awoke to the realization that I had just dreamed an entire novel. I jotted down notes as fast as I could, but it was still a bit of a Coleridge moment--I know I lost details with waking. And the travel dreams have begun as well, usually complete with lost luggage and difficult desk clerks. In the last dream the staff at the Austin Marriott lost my reservation and I was insisting they rebook me into the Four Seasons. Of course, the Austin Marriott was the worst stay on my book tour so apparently my subconscious is holding a grudge. It's also taking liberties with Austin because I'm not sure there even IS a Four Seasons there.

I'm fascinated by these themed dreams. My insecure dreams used to be the classic school scenario--forgot my locker combination, big test, haven't studied, have no idea where the classroom even is. But those stopped after a particularly vivid one where I stood up in class and said, "I'm a published writer. I don't HAVE to graduate high school again" and walked out to go to the mall. (I suppose that speaks to personal empowerment.) Anyway, the travel dreams started in earnest a few years ago and it would be very lovely if I could go all Norma Rae in those too. Of course, my worries would find a new venue and I suppose it's a matter of the devil you know...

In which I make a plea for letters

In the US our postal service is agitating to cut delivery back to five days a week. (It makes one long for the good old days when Londoners received postal deliveries multiple times in a single day. Sigh.) Anyway, I realize there is a tremendous volume of mail keeping our devoted carriers too busy, but when was the last time you got GOOD mail out of it all? I mean, I appreciate the odd check or package of books, but aside from business matters and holiday cards, it's been AGES since I had the pleasure of sitting down and reading a letter. Or writing one for that matter! I get the best e-mails--the BEST e-mails from readers. I print them out, but even then it's a slightly disappointing exercise. Without a letter, I get little sense of the sender. I don't see the paper you would have chosen or how you make your "e's". I can't catch a whiff of your perfume on the envelope or smile at your quirky choice of stamp. So tell me honestly, when was the last time you wrote a letter that was not either a holiday greeting or a thank you? I can't remember the last time I did it. So let's at least consider it, shall we? Go and unearth a blank card or, better yet, a piece of writing paper. Find your nicest pen and think of someone who would love to hear from you. And write them. Then come back and tell me who you wrote! Just one letter, a small gift of your time to someone else who would appreciate it more than you can probably imagine.

In which we finish up reader questions!

As I said, I can't believe reader questions were so popular that they took us the better part of five weeks to get through, but they were such good questions and the response was so enthusiastic--hope you've enjoyed them as much as I have. (And if you have follow-ups or questions I somehow missed, holler!)

Melissa the Artist wanted to know if it's possible to have it all, career, family, social life, hobbies, etc. The short answer is NO. It isn't. I don't mean that to be disheartening. What I mean is that if you try to be a perfect size 6 with a fabulous marriage, gorgeous children, award-winning books, and known for your superb party-throwing skills while you crank out stunning artwork, cook four-course gourmet meals, and volunteer for Greenpeace, you will end up nuttier than a squirrel's cheeks in autumn. It cannot be done, at least not by normal women who like to sleep more than twenty minutes a night. You have to set priorities and figure out what matters. When you know what matters, you pay attention to that and let the rest go. That's it--the secret to happiness right there. I have a wonderful relationships with my husband, child, and parents because those are the ones I pay attention to and invest in. I work hard at my writing and all the attendant business of being a writer.

And that's it. Those are my two main priorities. Everything else gets worked in where I can make it work, and if I can't, it goes. I cut out the things that I don't enjoy, am not good at, or don't have time for. I don't entertain because dinner parties make me want to slit my own throat with a butter knife. I'd much rather meet someone for a meal out and get to relax and really enjoy their company than worry about ironing napkins or what temperature the wine is. So I gave up entertaining and my life got vastly simpler. I also combine things whenever possible. My  husband and I take a yoga class together. We get to spend the evening doing something healthy, and I'm MUCH more motivated when we're in the same class than if I go alone. On weekends, he takes our daughter to the animal shelter to volunteer, giving them time with one another and securing her service credits for school while I spend the time getting my work done so I can hang out with them the rest of the weekend. My mother and I usually always run errands together or schedule our chiropractor visits at the same time so we can spend that time chattering and having lunch. (It's eco-friendly AND social. Can't beat that.) The truth is, Melissa, you can make exactly the life you want for yourself so long as you think carefully about what you want and make the choices that are going to get you there.

In which Birmingham is KILLING me

Not Alabama--y'all are good. It's the British I'm after. Now I hope I do not have to remind people how devoted my Anglophilia is. I could not love a country more, I vow to thee. And it isn't the rest of the UK with whom I am taking umbrage--just Birmingham. Because they killed the apostrophe. The Birmingham city officials have done away with the apostrophe on all street signs. No more Queen's Way or King's Road, just the bland and antiseptic Queens Way or Kings Road. Sigh. As one defender remarked, the apostrophe is sweet-looking, and it's a shame the city fathers (and mothers?) have decided to abolish it. They've argued that it's necessary on the grounds that arguing over apostrophe placement takes up valuable council time and that apostrophes confuse GPS systems. GPS system are entirely capable of being confused on their own, and as this article points out, GPS systems usually spit out street names long before the apostrophe comes into the matter. (And honestly, a style guide would sort out the city council, toot sweet, as they say in Texas.) But the most disturbing defense of this atrocity is the councilman who claims that he wants to be able to find a restaurant without needing a high-school education. I beg the gentleman's pardon, but in my education, apostrophes were dealt with LONG before high school. I remember being distinctly annoyed by them in third grade. (Little did I imagine I would grow up to mourn their passing...) I feel quite certain that any British school does as well if not better than my elementary alma mater. And the larger point here is that we needn't dumb down the world to compensate for an impoverished education. The answer is to better educate our children so they can  tell us where the apostrophes go. If we do away with everything that is complicated or troublesome or that requires effort just BECAUSE it requires effort, then we might as well just give up now and go live with the bonobos. Some things are worthwhile just because THEY ARE. Loose leaf tea. Ink pens. Ironed handkerchiefs. APOSTROPHES. Honestly.

For some unaccountable reason, Typepad would not let me comment on my OWN blog yesterday, so to clear up any confusion, SOTM is NOT the last Julia Grey book. It is the last on my first contract, but I'm gearing up to write another one this year, so we've got more Julia coming, I promise!

And on a much less prissy, ranty note, HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MAMA!

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!