Book meme

Lisa tagged me, and since it's about books, I can't resist.

Total number of books?

Between hubby and me, somewhere over a thousand, would be my guess.

Last book read?

Lottery, by Patricia Wood.

Last book bought?

No Place Safe, which I got from Amazon yesterday. It is a page-turner!! Stay tuned for a chat with the author, Kim Reid, right here on Monday.

Five meaningful books?

This is a hard one. I'm going to surprise you with my first one and say: Valley of the Dolls. It, itself, wasn't so meaningful, but it represents all the trashy books I used to read in junior high when my family was falling apart and I needed a place to hide. My mother and her insurance office co-workers used to trade books by writers like Jacqueline Susann, Harold Robbins, and Sidney Sheldon. I'd read whatever she brought home. Most people had To Kill a Mockingbird and A Tree Grows in Brooklyn for their YA reading. I had The Other Side of Midnight. Thankfully, she moved on to Stephen King, and I spent 10th grade reading The Shining and The Stand, amongst others. I used to go to gym class and tell the girls his stories in the locker room.

Another YA shocker: Gone with the Wind. Weird, I know. Weird for a young black girl to be enamored of a book that puts such a false gloss on slavery. The happy singing slaves made me cringe, but I loved Scarlett. She was smart and strong in a world that didn't want its women smart and strong, and I related to that. And the ending used to make me weep for her. Now I'm with Rhett: if they take that long to love you back, the hell with 'em.

Your Blues Ain't Like Mine, by Bebe Moore Campbell. My role model.

A Return to Love, by Marianne Williamson. When my mother was dying of breast cancer, we saw Williamson on Oprah, and my mother got all excited about this book and decided I could read it to her (cancer had spread to her brain, blinding her). I ordered the book from a little indie (this was before Amazon). It came in about a week later, but by that time, my mother had lost interest in most things attached to this world. I read the book myself after she died.

Waiting to Exhale, by Terry McMillan. It's the one that opened the door for writers like me. I remember buying it in hardcover soon after my mother's death, and wanting it because the protagonist starts out in Denver and works in PR. I live in Denver and worked in PR at the time! It was a match made in heaven.


Five people to tag:

Sassy Sistah
Tayari Jones
Iyan and Egusi Soup
Judy Merril Larsen
Jamie Ford

Hope y'all can play!

Did you know...

Lighthouse has posted audio of the first part of the Tobias Wolff talk? Hear him read "Bullet in the Brain" and part of Old School.

about Dearreader.com? She's got a dozen or so different online book clubs (she emails you samples from books), and one of them is a pre-pub book club, so you can read the book before it's released.

that TwoMindsFull is serializing their first book on their blog? Another way to get a story in bite-sized pieces.

the post office has pretty flower stamps? I'm thinking they'll help get through the winter.

there's still plenty to do in the garden in fall? Fernlea Flowers has excellent fall gardening tips.

Tayari's got a great post about the trauma of reading good books? YA authors, especially, will be interested.

Another event*

Saturday, March 8, 2008, an evening of books and live jazz at Westside Books, 3434 W. 32nd (Highlands neighborhood). "Stories for All Seasons" will begin at 7:30 p.m. Free admission and refreshments.

*Next time, I'll wait and post groupings together. Got a little excited today! :)

Save the date!

Book launch party

Tuesday, February 26, 2008 at the LoDo (lower downtown) Tattered Cover.
6-7:30: Party featuring Crystal Collins and pianist and bassist (hubby) doing jazz & pop standards, and free food and drink (because I am not above bribing people to buy my book)
7:30-8:30: Reading/Signing


We'll be celebrating writers and readers and Nina Simone's birthday (February 21st).
The Farmer's Almanac says February is going to be cold, but normal snowfall. Let's hope! Wear something orange; it'll keep you warm.

Be there or be square (or do like me and be there AND be square)!

More to come!

What would be your last message?

The Writer's Group has a link to a video of Professor Randy Pausch of Carnegie-Mellon University. He's dying of cancer and gave this lecture to his students. It's not morbid. It's extremely touching and inspiring. He's got an amazing spirit. Pausch's website has this link to advice on writing. (Thanks One Heart Dancing for the writing link!)

Pajama Chat with Kim Reid!

Coming soon to the Pajama Gardener: a chat with Kim Reid, author of the memoir, No Place Safe. Here's an overview: The summer of 1979 marks the start of the Atlanta Child Murders, when a serial killer began hunting black children, taking twenty-nine lives in two years in a case that remains controversial to this day. That year, thirteen-year-old Kim Reid’s life changed forever, along with that of her mother, a lead detective on the investigation.

Publisher's Weekly says, "Reid maintains a lively sense of dialogue and characterization, and her memoir is an affecting tale of a girl's transformation in a climate of fear and pervasive, bleak Southern racism."

Elyse Singleton, author of This Side of the Sky, says, “Though a child herself, Kim Reid sat on the edge of a front row seat to one of the twentieth century’s most bizarre and baffling murder cases. With No Place Safe she delivers her experience as a compelling story told from a sensitive gut and a formidable intellect. A narrative woven with strands of threatened innocence and Southern gothic gives No Place Safe the texture of a modern, urban To Kill a Mockingbird.”

Sounds intriguing, yes?

Kim's pub date is Oct. 2, but the book should be in the stores starting tomorrow. How exciting! Look for her chat here Oct. 1.

Happy Fall!

Chinese Goldenrain Tree

(drought-tolerant, blossoms yellow flowers in July and you get fall color!)

Autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower. ~Albert Camus

From nonfiction to fiction

Amy asks why I decided to write a novel after writing nonfiction. In case anyone else was wondering, I'll answer here. I always wanted to write a novel, but for a while I didn't have the confidence to believe I could. With a background writing articles, I figured I could write nonfiction, but my dream was always to write a novel. I've always loved to tell stories.

A couple of things happened that gave me the courage to try: One, I married a man very supportive of my writing. Someone who believed I could write whatever I wanted to write. He didn't say, Write a novel, but with him around playing music, I was inspired to write more. And the more I wrote the more I started to think maybe I could pull it off.

Having people in my life who believe in my writing is a gift beyond words, and I'm very grateful for it. Some people find it threatening when you pursue a dream. It makes them have to look at why they aren't pursuing their own dreams. So to all those who have NOT been threatened, but rather inspired and encouraged, I say thank you from the bottom of my heart!

The thing that made me start writing in the first place was that my mother died. I knew many of the stories I would tell would come from the ghosts of my childhood, and I couldn't imagine writing for publication (fiction or nonfiction) when she was alive. Three months after she died, I wrote an op-ed for The Denver Post. Told the whole city my opinion. About six months after that, I was writing my first nonfiction book. That was fifteen years ago, and as I've gotten more accustomed to exposing myself through my writing, I'm less afraid of what others think. And, because my family has been so supportive of my writing, I'd like to think my mother would be too. I know she would be proud: I got my love of reading from her.

The biggest surprise to me about writing fiction is that it feels far more revealing than nonfiction. Anybody else feel that way? With nonfiction, I know I'm choosing what parts of myself to show. But with fiction, things come out that I have no control over, and that's a little scary. But I love it and I hope to write many more novels.

Disconnecting

Ello's a lawyer and she's got a must-read post about legal issues involved with blogging.

Yesterday, I found a groovy new place to write. I will not divulge because I don't want it overrun with Denver writers. :) It was great to be away from all the things I allow to distract myself. I don't have wireless access, so no blogosphere or internets. No fighting cats. No chores. Just me and my lap top (and a guy doing homework and a few women having a business meeting). I actually got some work done. I'm going back next week.

Deadlines are good for you!

Here's excellent news from the September/October issue of Wild Oats Marketplace:

To maintain a healthy immune system, "stay somewhat stressed." The article by Tony Farrell goes on to state:

Scientists have recently discovered that although passive stress (like watching violent TV shows) will generally lower your body's production of certain immunity proteins, more active stress, such as trying to meet a deadline, can actually increase your levels of disease-fighting immunoglobulin. to give yourself some "good" stress, set goals (for hobbies, work, or redecorating) that require some effort to reach them.

Writers must be some pretty healthy folks! :)

And speaking of healthy immune systems, I had my first fall bowl of oatmeal yesterday. I added a few drops of almond extract to the cooking water (along with a dash of salt and a few dashes of cinnamon). I served it with sliced peaches and a little milk. OMG. So good. Going back for more.

The ARC is here!!!

I came home and found a lovely UPS package from Random House on my doorstep. My ARCs. Very cool. It's really a book now! Though, as you may know, this is not what the cover will look like. The advance reader's copy is for promotional purposes. The tentative marketing plan:

National review and feature attention

National and local radio interviews

Author tour

Author available for phone chats with book clubs

Advertising in African American Connection

Online promotions

Reader's Circle marketing

Feature in the One World Spring 2008 sampler sent to bookstores and beauty salons across the country

Whaddya think? Time to get with a publicist and get to work!

Seeing, pt 3

On my writing walk yesterday, I had an idea so central to my story I literally bonked myself on the head. I'd explain, but I'd have to go into too much detail about my story and even then, I'm sure you'd just think Duh! It's so obvious and solves such a huge problem (at least I think it does now) that I can't believe I didn't think of it before...except that's how these things work.

Going down a familiar street, in a new direction, I noticed that someone's garage door had been tagged. The homeowners spray-painted this over the grafitti: Love, Kindness, Respect = Power.

On a different topic, here's Lalita Tademy on getting into the heads of her ancestors while writing Cane River:

It took me nine months to write the first draft of this book. And I spent those nine months everyday, never a break, on a plantation, during the Civil War, during the reconstruction, or in the Jim Crow South. I was totally immersed in this world.

Immersion. That's what Patricia Wood spoke about too. That might be the key, rather than amount of time spent. You can read the rest of Tademy's interview about her two novels at LitMinds Blog.

Women in prison need books

Tayari Jones has a great post up now about the Women's Prison Book Project. I'm going to send some books, and I hope you will too. Tayari's got the address.

Seeing, pt 2

So, I'm trying to see better, to broaden my horizons as a person and as a writer. The other day I took a writing walk and mixed it up a bit by heading south on the street I usually take north (and vice versa). It's amazing how different things looked.

Speaking of seeing things differently, check out this image by Mark Fischer. It's a picture of what a whale song looks like. Yes, an image of sound. He uses a technique that processes digital signals and turns them into visual art (many of them mandelas). He's got images of the sounds of birds, whales and dolphins. Very cool stuff!

Patricia Wood speaks

Ello's got an interview with Patricia Wood, author of Lottery. Check it out. She answers the $64,000 question: How the hell do you write a book in 3 months?

Writers on the town

(Hi Olufunke!)

Yesterday's Lighthouse event with Tobias Wolff was a great success. He read from "Bullet in the Brain," a short story in The Night in Question, and from his novel Old School. Then he talked about his life as a writer and teacher (he taught with Raymond Carver). He was thoroughly accessible, kind, engaging and funny.

After his Q&A with Eli Gottlieb, author of The Boy Who Went Away, we went to Tamayo's rooftop for a private fundraising dinner, which was also fab.

Highlights of the night? I met Lisa at Eudaemonia! (If you look very closely, Tobias Wolff is standing behind us in the picture.) And Andrea Dupree was kind enough to announce my forthcoming book (along with several other Lighthouse writers' new book deals), which led to Tobias Wolff applauding me.

It came. I saw. I conquered.

It came yesterday with a slight whish through the mail slot. It used to enter the house like a bomb, like fireworks, like a gospel choir. The See's Candies catalog. I used to go through it and circle my favorites (sometimes numbering them in order of deliciousness) and crossing out the ones I hated (chocolate-covered ginger sounds good, but bleeck; tasted like medicine!). Seriously. I was like a kid with the Toys R Us Christmas catalog. (A quirk of mine that tickles my best friend so much I'm going to see if it works in my book.)

Then I went off sugar and I feared the catalog. I came home and found it with the rest of the mail and picked it up and raced it to recycling, holding it away from me like a stinky diaper or a vial of crack (does crack come in a vial?). I didn't want to be tempted. Let me be clear: Godiva, Ghirardelli, Cadbury, Hershey's, nothing next to See's. If you can eat sugar and you haven't had the See's experience, hustle on over to the website now. You'll thank me (or hate me, depending on how hooked you get). If you need to limit sugar, like moi, try this. You'll really thank me.

But yesterday the catalog arrived and I opened it, flipped through the pages, and felt nothing. No happy memories about the last butterscotch square (chocolate-covered brown sugar and butter; #1 in deliciousness) that melted on my tongue. No desire. No craving. It had no hold on me. I looked at it and put it in the recycling bin like any other flyer. And today, going to the site to get the url, I noticed this. My holiday chocolate-ordering just got a whole lot easier. Life is sweet, my friends.

Good news

There's a philosophy amongst "new age" folks that to protect one's own emotional and spiritual health, one should avoid the bad news of the day. That reading or watching news about war, genocide, natural disasters, poverty, homelessness, rape and murder negatively affects our moods and mental and physical health.

To some degree, I believe this is true. There are days when the front section of the NY Times is so grim it jeopardizes my sanity and the health of my heart. (For example, how could Bush even form his lips to use the word "success" about anything related to the war in Iraq?!) However, checking out too much can't be the answer. In fact, a checked-out citizenry is why we are where we are today. Like the bumper sticker says "If you're not outraged, you're not paying attention."

But today alongside the grim, there's good news on the front page of the Times. San Francisco is making sure all it's citizens have health care. And this "interesting and unusual" (as C would say) item about a building in the Silicon Valley that has good karma. For those who don't have Times' accounts, an excerpt:

The building at 165 University Avenue here has been so good to the Amidi family that Saeed Amidi says it is blessed with good karma. There are some high-technology entrepreneurs who would agree.

Over the years, the nondescript two-story building, which the Amidis have owned since the early 1990s, has been home to a series of Silicon Valley start-ups that became stars. The Amidis, a family of Iranian immigrants, along with their partner Pejman Nozad, also own an Oriental rug store here that has put them in contact with many more entrepreneurs and investors. The store and the building have helped them forge an unusual path into the ranks of Silicon Valley’s kingmakers.

“We believe in good karma, good energy, good feeling, and we believe some buildings have good energy,” Mr. Amidi said, speaking in a slow, accented lilt.

Like many other landlords in the dot-com boom, Mr. Amidi demanded a chance to invest in some of his tenants. One was PayPal, the online payment company, whose sale to eBay for $1.5 billion gave the Amidis a multimillion-dollar payout and a taste for more technology investing.

Logitech, the maker of computer peripherals, and Danger, which created the T-Mobile Sidekick smartphone, have also been tenants. And it was in that building that Google went from toddler to budding technology titan.

This article made me smile.

I can't even imagine the karmic damage of these wars, but as I said, sometimes, it's necessary to look away just for a bit so that when you look back you can see with clear vision. How do you handle the news these days? Shut it out or let it fuel you for action? Anybody writing about the issues of the day?

One more

Since we've been thinking about first lines over here, thought you'd want to know about the First Lines contest that Ello blogged about. Over 400 first lines to learn from!

Links

Here's a good idea: Be a tourist in your own town. October 5-12 is Denver Arts Week, with dance, theater and concert performances (what no readings?!). If you're in the area, check it out.

Urban Conjure Woman is blogging about re-doing her apartment. As usual, I'd be happy to achieve the "before" look.

My American Melting Pot is blogging again. (Sustenance Scout, you might especially like this site if you don't know about it.)

Jennifer Weiner's daughter has nappy hair. Embrace it Jennifer (Anne Lamott did), and get her this book.

And Elizabeth's got boogie fever.

Lottery

Okay, she wrote the book in 3 months?! Now, I've got to read it! How? How do people do that? Do I need to move to Hawaii? Because I would. For my art, I would suffer like that. My friend Marisol wrote The Lady the Chef the Courtesan in 3 months working in the coffee shop at the Tattered Cover. Okay, if coffee drinking and sea air are what it takes....

First lines

How important is the first line of a book? A few weeks ago I bought a stack of remaindered books based on their cover and/or a great first line and couldn't read any of them.

Random first lines from my book case:

My life-my real life-started when a man walked into it, a handsome stranger in a perfectly cut suit, and, yes, I know how that sounds. From Love Walked In by Marisa de Los Santos. Pretty good opener huh? It was a great book too.

I, Doris Weatherall, am in the process of becoming a hateful person, or a snob, or just flat-out bitter. From Flyover States by Grace Grant and P.J. MacAllister, a very funny, enjoyable read.

For more than two hundred years, the owens women have been blamed for everything that has gone wrong in town. From Practical Magic by Alice Hoffman, and every line in the book is perfect.

"Where my panties at?" I asks him. From Getting Mother's Body by Suzan-Lori Parks, and you know you want to keep reading, don't you? And you should. It's amazing.

'Your mum and dad came on a banana boat,' that was what the bully boys at my primary school used to say. From Fruit of the Lemon by Andrea Levy, which I haven't been able to finish yet.

It was a morning thick with winter and a surprising sun. And the light was early. From Daughter by asha bandele. Beautiful, right?


Now, here is the first line from Orange Mint and Honey: I should have known things were getting bad when Nina Simone showed up. Hopefully, it's intriguing. This book had MANY first lines, many opening scenes.

And here is the first line from my wip, Novel 2: If it’s a girl, I’ll name her Samadhi. (And I'm going to cheat a bit and give the whole 1st paragraph) Union in Hindi. Billie Cousins said it out loud, “Samadhi,” and placed seven drops of sunflower oil mixed with lavender and rose essential oils into the palms of her hands.

It's anybody's guess if this remains the opening.

Okay, I showed you mine. You show me yours. What's the opening line to your wip?

Recovery and discovery

(This pic is from last year. The fence and Virginia creeper are no more.

And that's a good thing.)

Fall is definitely in the air here. Yesterday it was in the 50s; today in the 70s. Years of starting school makes me think of new beginnings in the fall. Today, of course, makes me think of endings as well. If you're grieving any kind of loss, a book that was really helpful to me after my mother died was Life is Goodbye/Life is Hello by Alla Bozarth-Campbell, PhD. A random excerpt:

Pain has a stubborn habit of not going away just because we deny it exists. In fact, the more pain is denied, the deeper it tends to go inside our bodies and souls, and the harder it is to identify and deal with and ultimately grow beyond.

Pain is an essential part of any growth process - the process of growing up, growing old, growing beyond grief. However, in our fast-paced world we have come to expect fast results. We expect to find the cloud with the silver lining without having to spend time looking for it. We have become impatient of processes....Ultimately, the only way to get through something is to get through it - not over, under, or around it, but all the way through it. And it has to take as long as it takes.

Yesterday, I noticed Terrie Williams has a book coming out in January called Black Pain: It Just Looks Like We're Not Hurting. Terrie suffers from depression and is brave enough to talk about it. Publisher's Weekly says the book will have 150,000-copy first printing. I hope they sell those and a few million more. A bunch of us could really use it.

I've written here a little about my own issues. I never really thought of it before, but quite a bit of my writing deals with recovery from something or another. Orange Mint and Honey deals with women in recovery. Nona, the mother, is a recovering alcoholic who goes to AA and has been sober 4 years. Shay, the daughter, starts a journey toward recovery at the beginning of the book. She's an adult child of an alcoholic and finally is forced to deal with how her mother's alcoholism has affected her.

I'm glad more of us are talking about pain and recovery. Bebe Moore Campbell (rest her soul) did a lot toward bringing mental illness in the black community out of the shadows with 72-Hour Hold. Before that, Meri Nana-Ama Danquah's beautiful memoir Willow Weep for Me: A Black Woman's Journey Through Depression shined a light on depression. Another helpful book is Soothe Your Nerves: The Black Woman's Guide to Understanding and Overcoming Anxiety, Panic and Fear by Dr. Angela Neal-Barnett.

My book, Walk Tall, is finally at iUniverse in the process of being reissued. Here is the reading for September 11:

Discovery
Typically, we think of exploration as discovering new lands and faraway places. But the most exciting adventures begin when we discover who we are. When we know who we are, we can achieve anything. When we know who we are, there is no need to pretend. There is no need to lie.

Today, let's investigate inner spaces. Let's venture into new frontiers. Let's discover ourselves. With God's grace we can find ourselves. As the song says, "I once was lost, but now I'm found."

The affirmation is: I am an explorer of my hopes and dreams.

Peace and blessings, everybody. Be well today.

Retreats

Patricia Wood, author of Lottery, blogged from the Maui Writer's Retreat, and her posts make it sound exactly like I thought it would be: writer heaven on earth. (The only retreat I've gone to was the Iowa Writer's Summer Program. I learned a lot and I'm very glad I went, but Iowa City ain't Maui.) I've wanted to go to this thing for years. And this year I came this close. But then I wimped out because of the expense. Knowing myself and knowing that I might need to bail out of my job so I could finish N2 made me think it was wiser to save my money. Maybe. But I still want to go. So I'm thinking of an incentive for myself. Like, if Orange Mint sells X number of copies, then I can go. Or if I come up with a great N3, then I can go.

But it doesn't get much bigger than selling N1 and N2, so if I didn't let myself go then, I'm going to have to work hard to give myself permission to go next year. Which cuts close to the bone. Is the truth that I didn't believe I deserved to spend $5,000 on myself, on my writing? I'm usually pretty good at saying yes to my "inner artist," but giving myself a trip to Hawaii seemed too big, too much. I'm going to have to work on that.

What do you do to say yes to your inner artist?

Party like it's 2008!

So the topic of my launch party came up yesterday. Very exciting. I've been daydreaming what it'll be like for years. I want to have orange roses. And a band to do some Nina Simone covers (I have a wonderful singer in mind and as soon as I have a date nailed down, I'm going to ask her). Of course, serve something with orange mint and honey (my book has recipes, which I'll be posting closer to pub date).

But yesterday I was teased that the menu better be right and the venue better be right. I'm starting to get a little anxious (a little like the "one special day" wedding craziness).

With the anthology, the local contributors and I met for dinner at the Fourth Story (which doesn't exist anymore) before our group reading, then we read downstairs to a huge audience at the Tattered Cover, and that was the book launch. And it was fabulous. Put the book on the Denver Post best-seller list.

When my first book came out I had a launch party at my gym, of all places. But it was a fancy gym. (This was back when I was a gym kind of person.) They'd just opened a new coffee bar and the manager offered to do my party for $100. An offer I couldn't refuse. She catered cookies, treats and fancy coffee drinks. Friends brought flowers and champagne and I brought a couple boxes of books to sell. It was great.

And there were other signings and other parties (I'm a big one for stretching out the celebrations.), as I hope there will be with this book. But now I'm a little more in the know about marketing and such so I have higher expectations, I guess. Or maybe it's because I've had all this time to dream. I always imagined a spring release, but I thought that would be April and I could have a garden party. First week in March is iffy here for something outdoors. But maybe I could do an afternoon at the Denver Botanic Gardens? Or an evening soiree at a restaurant after the reading? Or the African American Research Library? Maybe save the garden party for a mothers and daughters event around Mother's Day?

Anybody got any ideas? If you had or attended a book launch party that was especially great, please let me know what made it so. Besides tying the theme to the book, what other considerations should I be looking at?

Small world

I met Karen Degroot Carter, author of One Sister's Song, today. (Lisa, where were you?) It was a joy to meet her. And funny because I know the woman who was one of her editors. I also met a writer named Sheri Keasler, and it turns out we have the same agent. My world is getting smaller (and bigger) every day.

Karen, thanks for the book!

Haywood's Harvest

You like peppers? I got some peppers, Haywood called. Sure, I said. He went in his backyard and came back with these beauties, and some plums.

How'd you get so many? The squirrels don't steal them? I asked. Nah, Haywood said, I got lots of plums. As if he'd never heard of rascally squirrels running off with your produce.

Speaking of weddings and anthologies...

I submitted the following essay to an anthology about getting married after 30. It was accepted, but to my knowledge the book was never published. So I shall publish it here.

Not a Princess, But Still a Bride

Although Disney has started spinning out cartoons with dark-skinned heroines, it's still hard for a black woman to imagine herself as Cinderella, especially a black woman over 30. To me, the concept of a wedding as "your one special day" was bunk, a myth propagated by bridal magazines. Even if I was rich, I wouldn't want to blow my money on anything as silly and soulless as a fantasy wedding.

Or so I thought. When I was about to be married, I fell victim to the bridal-industrial complex, and the desire for a lavish wedding hit me like a craving for Enstrom's toffee. I didn't need a Vera Wang gown or a champagne fountain, but I wanted luscious food and beautiful flowers. I wanted everyone my boyfriend and I loved to be present to midwife our birth into something greater than we were separately. Unfortunately, we were broke. We had been living artists' lives, and the only thing that fit our meager budget was a small, courthouse ceremony and a potluck at our rasty little house with the hideous kitchen floor and running toilet.

So on a warm, sunny gift of a day at the end of January 1999, we went to the courthouse. Our families flew in from Seattle, Chicago and St. Paul, all of us meeting for the first time. Full of good wishes for us, no one mentioned the bride was black and the groom was white. A few friends, my ex-boyfriend's mother and my aunt and cousin, who brought butterfly barrettes for me to wear in my hair, joined us at the courthouse.

Our relatives and friends didn't care that we were an interracial couple, but the staff in the judge's office seemed to disapprove. The judge we booked had an emergency and we had to wait for a different judge. When I asked his secretary, a black woman, how long it would be until he was available, she took in my caramel skin and almost-dreadlocked hair and said I wasn't on the schedule.

"But my boyfriend was just in here," I said.

She stared at me and said sarcastically, "You're his bride?" Then shot a mean look at the other clerk, who was also black.

As much as I wanted to tell her off, I wasn't about to justify my heart to her or to anyone, so I made sure she knew we were still waiting and sashayed back into the hallway to watch the drunk drivers, wife beaters and gang members go by.

When the judge was ready, we all went into a small courtroom. Our loved ones sat in the jury box and the judge joked "What's the verdict on this union?" The ceremony - unplanned and presided over by a man we never met - was so much of what I wanted to say that I cried and the "jury" sniffled along. At the end, when my husband and I kissed, everyone burst into applause, and suddenly a party at home seemed like a fabulous idea.

Sixty people attended, bringing more food than we could eat and more champagne than we could drink. Guests congregated everywhere, even the laundry room. My husband and his friends played jazz in the living room. Like Martha Stewart on ecstasy, I went from room to room, barefoot, clutching a plastic cup of champagne, offering food and drinks and hugging everyone. I needn't have worried about our house.

Our guests were too busy eating and talking to look down at the ugly linoleum. Nobody could hear the toilet running over the trumpet, saxophone, drums and bass. It was balmy for a January evening, but it was the music, food, laughter and love that truly warmed us, enchanting us as if we were in a fairytale.

But I wasn't a princess. I was a middle-aged black woman thrilled to be married to a middle-aged white man with a love for me as solid as the double bass booming in the background. I was a goddess with bare feet and butterflies in my hair. I was a bride, with all the giddiness and glory attributed to that word. And it was my one special day.

Call for stories

Anthologies are a great way to get published. They usually don't pay a lot, but they can help build your case with a publisher when you're trying to sell a book-length work.

Don't know if anybody at this blog is much into golf, fishing, surfing or weddings, but....
Casagrande Press is seeking golfing, fishing, surfing, and wedding stories for four upcoming anthologies. (Golf's Greatest Misadventures , Fishing's Greatest Misadventures, Surfing's Greatest Misadventures Vol. 2, and Weddings' Greatest Misadventures) The press is looking for nonfiction, first-person misadventure stories such as those involving bad judgment calls, pranks, comical/ironic episodes, disaster, animal attacks, misfortune, injury, loss of wit, panic, temper flare-ups, rough weather, critical conditions, trip or game meltdowns, everyday fears, bizarre injuries, etc. The editors are looking for well-written stories that tell a good tale, reflect a culture, and develop character depth while maintaining a tight narrative tension. There is no fee to submit a story. Writers paid upon publication. Submit online at http://www.casagrandepress.com/. Deadlines vary for each book.

Too funny!

IT people everywhere are probably getting a huge kick out of this. Thanks to Brenda Coulter's great website for the link.

This time last year

Last Labor Day I was in a completely different space physically and mentally. Hubby and I took 5 days and drove to the Grand Canyon. It was absolutely beautiful country with vistas the likes of which I'd never seen.









Things on the book front were not going well. Orange Mint and Honey wasn't selling. My agent said not to worry, but, of course, I did. I started to lose faith that it would ever sell. Before we went on vacation, I wrote in my journal that I was going to let it go. I was worn out from gripping the faith so tightly, so I was going to leave it to my agent and my husband and my family and friends to keep believing for me. I pictured our hope as a large piece of glass that I had been holding up for years and it was just too heavy for me at the moment, but I knew that I had lots of people who would hold it up for me while I let go. I was going to go away and have a good time and not brood about it. And that's what I did. I had other things to worry about.




Like for example, did you know the Grand Canyon was up so high? I did not. I thought it would be like in Thelma and Louise and you stay flat and then all of the sudden the land opens up into a giant hole. No! People, no! That is not what happens. You go up, up and up! Then you look down into the beautiful big hole and see that it is full of mountains and valleys. And you feel humble in the face of such beauty.

Nor did I know that to go into Arches National Park (in Moab) you go up a long winding road WITH NO GUARDRAILS. WTF??! I was the one driving and it was not pretty. Which is why we only went up as far as Park Avenue and The Three Gossips (which I called The Three Wisemen), which are spectacular and made me wish I was braver so we could have seen Delicate Arch.

After the Grand Canyon we went to Mesa Verde to see the cliff dwellings. Now a smart person would probably put it together that "cliffs" go with "height." Thankfully, I did not or I never would have saw them. And I'm glad I did.

I also got to put one foot in 4 states (Arizona, New Mexico, Colorado and Utah) at the same time. And got to try India fry bread-yum!

So with all the literally awesome scenery and the heights, my little monkey mind was too busy to worry about my book.

The day after we returned my agent called with the 1st offer. It was 4 months from the time she agreed to rep me. The offer was for a smaller advance than we'd hoped, so we were disappointed, but it was an offer. Tellingly, I wasn't excited. I kept telling myself, You have an offer! Your book is going to get published! You should feel excited. But then...another publisher was interested and that's when it got exciting. One World/Ballantine wanted to make an offer. My agent emailed. They want to know if you have another book. Why yes I do, I said. Email me a 1-liner, she said. That, I didn't have. But I did have a 1-paragraph pitch, which I sent and my agent forwarded it to Ballantine. The editor responded, "Sounds intriguing." Doesn't get any better than an editor using the word intriguing about an idea of yours. The following week they came in with their offer for a 2-book deal for the Random House Reader's Circle Program and a much better advance.

This Labor Day, Orange Mint and Honey galleys are being made, and I'm 143 pages into my 1st draft (actually the 3rd first draft) of the 2nd novel in the 2-book deal. And I feel enormous gratitude for all those who held up that hope for me when I couldn't do it for myself.