Posts in Books
The 2012 BlogHer Voices of the Year Anthology Is Here!

My absolute hands-down, favorite thing about BlogHer conferences is the Voices of the Year ceremony. This year was amazing -- every single one of the presenters seemed to also be a theater person, because there wasn't a disappointing presentation in the mix. Not everyone who was honored got to present, however (including yours truly), so I was thrilled in the year someone liked one of my posts that the powers that be decided to partner with Open Road to present the entire kit and kaboodle as an ebook on Kindle and iTunes.

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Who doesn't love a good blogger anthology? (cough)

So, anyway, the actual pub date is October 30, but if you're interested, you can preorder it now. Go crazy, Ma!

Don't We All Look Nice on Our Blogs?

This post was recognized by Five Star Friday. I'm honored.

 

Five Star Friday

 

Today's post was going to be a series of blurry photographs of Miss Elephant and her new outfits. Miss Elephant came from the circus, and her outfits came from the sewing scrap pile. Don't worry, they're still coming, but there's something else I realized I have to write first.


Two events came crashing together this morning, launched by another last night. I tell you this because sometimes I myself wonder how I got the idea to do something. One was the launch of the BlogHer Book Club discussion of Brene Brown's new book, Daring Greatly. The other was a text conversation I had with a friend who's been going through a very extended trough in her life. During the course of our conversation, she wrote, "Sounds like you're doing well from your blog, though. Yay!" And for the most part, I am, and I was glad she was happy for me in the midst of her hard place, which is truly who she is, a very generous and lovely person. I would like to be more generous and lovely, myself, so I appreciate it when I see it in others.

But I felt like such a liar.


We discussed Kansas author Laura Moriarty's book The Chaperone in BlogHer Book Club a while back, and since I realized she teaches at KU and lives in Lawrence just right down the road from me, I decided to check out her backlist. Wow. I totally went fangirl and read them all. Laura Moriarty writes books that are painful to read because they are so fucking real. Last night around midnight I finished The Rest of Her Life, which is a book about the relationship between a mother and her daughter after the daughter accidentally kills a schoolmate by hitting her with her car.

And there are about a million passages in this book that made me gasp and examine myself and freak out. And this was one of them:

"'Oh," Pam said. It was all she said, that one word, but her voice held so much ache and sympathy that it seemed to Leigh her sister might have actually been there at the market and seen Diane Kletchka's misery and insanity for herself. Leigh relayed the entire confrontation, and her sister's face grew more distressed. It was hard to tell who she was feeling sorry for -- Bethany's mother, or Kara, or Gary, or Leigh herself. And that made sense. Leigh knew this even as she was talking, even as she felt a resurgence of fear just describing the scene. There were, after all, no underdogs in the scene, no winners or losers to root for. It was a miserable situation for everyone involved. An objective bystander could only wish they would all get through it." - p. 248

I read that last night, and it lodged somewhere in my mind, a piece of the puzzle sliding into place. And that's why I texted my friend this morning, because there are no underdogs in her story, either. Just a trough and a hard time, and I wanted to let her know I was thinking of her.


This new book of Brene's is all about vulnerability and not being afraid to get in the arena and show people who you really are, even though that can make you look incompetent (you think) or ineffective or sort of vindictive or unfair.

For almost a year now, Beloved's been traveling for work. A lot. Like a several times a week. And I knew with him taking this job it would put new challenges in my road. Most days I handle them well enough. Last night, though, last night, I could feel myself getting sick, and I was standing at the counter getting that dizzy/tingly/oh fuck feeling, and the little angel was asking about dinner and the movie I promised to watch with her, and the trash needed to be taken out, and the cat was protesting for her dinner, and I wasn't quite done with work for the day, and it Felt.Like.Too.Much. As it often does.

I'm not a full-time single mother, but I play one part-time in my life right now. That means my schedule is dictated by my daughter's and husband's, as there is often no one else to watch her or take her where she needs to go. Sometimes that means I can't make plans with friends or answer the phone at certain times of the day. And then I worry I'm hurting the other people in my life by paying them no attention.


Years ago, I would've just blamed this all on my husband, because that's the easy thing to do. I spent much of my early marriage holding him responsible for all manner of things that weren't his fault. And sometimes I find myself tempted to do it now. After all, he's gone while I'm doing the work at home, right? It's not like we're Downton Abbey with staff here. But I know how much he wishes he were here. I know how hard it is for him to be away from us at night, especially when we seem too busy to talk to him, but that's really because everything takes me a million years when I have to do them one at a time, and by the time he calls, we're fried and trying to get to bed. He knows this. I know this.

There are no underdogs here.


So yeah, there has been Miss Elephant this week. And a glorious bike ride on Sunday with my husband and daughter, and she made it nine whole miles and then we went to Cold Stone. But there was also last night, at the counter, with tears running down my face and me emailing my parents to say I WANT MY MOMMY. And then she emailed back with something about making iced tea for my cousin's bridal shower and I was all THAT IS NOT THE RIGHT RESPONSE TO I WANT MY MOMMY. Which she fixed this morning, but in that moment, I just fell apart.

We're all just totally treading water.

But don't we all look nice on our blogs?

Stopping the Bad Dreams From Forming
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[Editor's Note: This is political. I understand if you don't want to read it. My politics have always been very clear here -- someone once tried to get me fired from my job because of them. But I have to write this, because to say nothing might be interpreted as disinterest or agreement.]

 

The little angel appeared before my side of the bed. I didn't look at the clock.

"Mommy, I'm trying to stop a bad dream from forming," she said.

This has happened several times in the past few weeks.

I climbed into her bed with her and put my arm around her. We both fell asleep.

I woke up this morning thinking about my girl and how much I wish to protect her from everything scary in the world. I just read Margaret Atwoods' The Handmaid's Tale this past weekend. The daughter Offred loses would be eight. The little angel is eight.

"What's the matter? he said.

I don't know, I said.

We still have ... he said. But he didn't go on to say what we still had. It occurred to me that he shouldn't be saying we, since nothing that I knew of had been taken away from him." - p. 182

I'm not pro-abortion. I've never had one. I never wanted to have to make that choice. I understand the pro-life stance, maybe not some of the methods used to drill the message, but the message. In a perfect world, no one would ever need to have an abortion. Being pro-choice doesn't mean thinking all pregnancies should be aborted willy-nilly for whatever reason. Being pro-choice means wanting safe, affordable options for pregnant women who were made that way against their will or who will not be able to provide adequate care for a child or for whom a pregnancy is a health risk. Being pro-choice means wanting pregnancy to be avoided in the first place via safe, affordable birth control and sex education. Being pro-choice, to me, means wanting to ensure girls and women can avoid that, the most horrible choice there can ever be, from ever arising in the first place.

We're humans. The women have the babies. If it were any other way, if instead of genders we had blue and green and sometimes blues had the babies and sometimes greens had the babies, I don't think there would be this issue. The way it stands, the women ALWAYS have the babies; it's just the way our anatomy works. And because of that, it makes individual rights very, very tricky. There really is no comparison for the other gender, and I don't blame men for that -- it's not their fault they don't have the babies any more than it is women's fault that we do, or we can. That we are capable of doing so.

But we are not vessels.

There is no way an egg can get inside a man to be fertilized with the sperm, leaving its existence or nonexistence up to the man or to a government that wants to have a say in that fertilized egg's existance.

If a man is raped -- because that totally happens, too -- the government has no say in how he deals with the fallout. A man can get a disease from rape -- all sorts of horrible things can happen to a man -- but the government can't pass an amendment to the Constitution to force him to keep a pregnancy resulting from abuse against his will. I'm not even talking about a child -- I'm talking about a pregnancy. At a certain point one becomes the other, and we can agree to disagree on when that is, but the government is not trying to make amendments about born babies, so to me, it's a moot point.

I realize completely there is really no point in arguing about whether you are pro-life or pro-choice, because such stances are deeply personal and all we can do is disagree civilly and vote to support politicians who we believe will treat us with respect.

It is the respect part I keep getting stuck on this week, any week, when it comes to this issue. My uterus is in early retirement. I don't plan on using it again, have taken steps to insure against accidents. I'm not worried about the government legislating my uterus, because I benched it.

The Handmaid's Tale is a book about a society in which women are valued only for their fertility due to depopulation and a government takeover by a highly religious society. Atwood, in her ending "A Note to a Reader," wrote this, in 1986:

"The roots of the book go back to my study of the American Puritans. The society they founded in America was not a democracy as we know it, but a theocracy. In addition, I found myself increasingly alarmed by statements made frequently by religious leaders in the United States; and then a variety of events from around the world could not be ignored, particularly the rising fanaticism of the Iranian monotheocracy. The thing to remember is that there is nothing new about the society depicted in The Handmaid's Tale except in time and place ... It is an imagined account of what happens when not uncommon pronouncements about women are taken to their logical conclusions. History proves that what we have been in the past we could be again."

I am a spiritual person. I have my relationship with my God. But God isn't writing human laws, people are -- people who are interpreting God. We don't know. We won't know until later. People are fallible, can take things too far, can take their beliefs to unwanted logical conclusions.

I sat in bed for a while this morning, thinking about everything I've seen and read in the past 48 hours regarding abortion and women's health and women being denied services and "legitimate rape," and I, too, wanted to stop the bad dream from forming.

I have a vote, and I have a blog, and this is all I can do. As Atwood also wrote in an interview in the back of my library book:

"After all, this is the United States and it is North America and it is a pluralistic society and we have many people with differing points of view. A number of people would not take this lying down."

We have to keep talking about it. It's important. My daughter is only eight, and she has a whole life of experiences -- good and bad -- ahead of her. I want her to have her rights intact to move forward through life as she sees fit. She is the best thing I've ever produced, but I am more than just her mother. She is more than her someday fertility.

Women are more than that. We are more than one-half of the population. We just happen to be the half that has the babies.

I'm Back on Pinterest
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I deleted all my boards off Pinterest a few months ago, because I was pinning mostly public art and got freaked out about copyright. You really aren't supposed to pin anything you don't have permission to pin unless you took the picture yourself, and everything I was pinning was art, so I got nervous.

I recently read a great article somewhere (I've forgotten where) about starting a pinboard for your books, if you're an author. I think that's a fascinating idea. Probably even more fascinating considering two of the three books I'm pinning for aren't published yet. Either way, it'll be fun for me. Let me know if this would make a book come more alive for you, and if you want, follow my boards! I haven't pinned much yet -- I just started. It'll happen the way the books themselves happen -- slowly.

Jennifer Weiner & Jenny Lawson at BEA Bloggers Conference
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Blogging conference keynotes are like other keynotes until they aren't. The keynotes at BEA Bloggers Conference were hilarious. 

First up was Jennifer Weiner, who has been pumping out almost a novel a year for the past twelve or so years. She had a lot to say about the New York Times, chick lit (or really, do we have to call it that?) and the ups and downs of her writing career. I found her funny and approachable, especially when she told us to let her know if her bra showed while she was talking. And she was a salty girl, which is always entertaining if the person has a great sense of humor, which Jennifer does.

I didn't see the closing keynoter Jenny Lawson (also known as The Bloggess and oh, that debut author who has been sitting on the New York Times bestseller list for the past six weeks) until right before she took the podium. 

Me: Dude, you should know that Jennifer Weiner dropped six F-bombs and two "blow jobs" in her keynote.

Jenny: Really? Wow.

Me: Yeah. I think that's not the bar, that's the floor.

Jenny: Oh shit.

I wasn't too worried. Jenny, after all, said "lady garden" on CNN.

 

She ended up telling us the story of her ten-year overnight success and how her "mythical hobbit" showdown with Heather Armstrong (aka Dooce) (also an awesome person and friend with many books you should buy) at BlogHer 2008 ended up getting the attention of her now agent, Neeti Madan, with whom I served on a blogs to books panel at the same fated BlogHer conference -- a panel which apparently drove Jenny to drink. (I'm sorry, Jenny. Eek.) I didn't know Jenny back then but I, too, was fascinated and ended up reading her blog and became a huge fan shortly thereafter. The woman is so funny she can make me cry with one sentence. I'm not kidding. Go buy her book. The story turns out well because Heather and Jenny became friends, but as two extremely well known bloggers who now have to live their lives online, I feel for both of them. I applaud their success online and offline and believe them both to be talented writers who deserve every accolade. Those of us who are not extremely well known have no idea what it's like to have our actions critiqued publicly all the time. Following the evolution of the mythical hobbit reminded me HELLO BLOGGERS ARE PEOPLE and also? Don't analyze people in public. It's rude. I try very hard not to do that anymore. ANYMORE -- because I have done it in the past, and I truly regret it. /moral of the story

It was interesting to see two funny ladies -- one well into her career and one who's just slipped under the velvet rope into the world of Big Six publishing -- tell their versions of the journey to publishing success. Congratulations to both of them. I wish you guys could've been there. Also, Jenny and I spent Tuesday night in the same hotel only I didn't know it until I saw her the next day. Jenny started tweeting about it and managed to trend #WorstHotelEver. I walked in, feared bedbugs, walked around the street and bought a bottle of wine even though it was midnight. It is very easy to miss material, my good friends.

Gone Photoblog: Book Expo America 2012

I have funny stories from my trip to Book Expo America to speak at its subconference, Book Bloggers Conference. However, as always happens when you return from a business trip at 10 pm during the work week, I'M DYING. So, tomorrow! In the meantime, please to enjoy some fuzzy, crappy pictures I took with my phone!

Carriage

Horseless carriages. I SLAY ME!!!

 

Panel

Panel beginning to fill up -- it had great attendance, phew!

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Book Blogger Convention co-founder Michelle Franz and my partner in bookish crime at BlogHer, Karen Ballum aka Sassymonkey.

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Me, Jenny Lawson (The Bloggess) and Karen Ballum (Sassymonkey)

Dress

There is so a story behind this.

Also, Ray Bradbury died today. My tribute to him is on BlogHer.

Headed Out to NYC
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I'm getting ready to take off for New York City to speak at Book Bloggers Conference, which is part of Book Expo America. The opening keynote is author Jennifer Weiner, and the closing remarks -- wow, is the world small -- are by my friend Jenny Lawson, also known as The Bloggess.

My session is on monetizing book blogs. I'm excited to meet and talk shop with my fellow panelists.

So You Want to Make Money?

Syndication, Monetization and Affiliate Programs for your Blog

Moderator: Scott Fox, ClickMillionaires.com
Speaker: Rita Arens, Senior Editor, BlogHer.com
Speaker: Ron Hogan, Beatrice.com 
Speaker: Thea James, Co-Founder, The Book Smugglers
Speaker: Sarah Pitre, Blogger, Forever Young Adult 

Though it's making me sad to leave for two nights, I'm beyond excited to wade in the deep end of publishing for a while day and a half. I WILL TAKE WHAT I CAN GET AND LIKE IT.

I'll be photoblogging hopefully while I'm there so I can take you with me. This is a huge conference for the publishing industry, and I have no idea what to expect.

BOOKS BOOKS BOOKS BOOKS BOOKS BOOKS BOOKS BOOKS 

Fire in the Belly
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I've had a rough few weeks in terms of ego. The self doubt creeps in, the why-am-I-doing-this, the what-if-this-happens-what-if-that-happens-what-should-I-do-next. Yesterday Beloved pointed out I'd forgotten an entire conversation with him because I was secretly stewing over something else. 

I recently read Vanessa Williams memoir with her mom, Helen Williams, for BlogHer Book Club. I admit to never following Vanessa's career, and so I probably would not have picked up this book on my own. What I took away is that Vanessa has some serious fire in the belly. She never doubted herself, not when she was blocked from Broadway after the Miss America thing, not when she faced numerous professional obstacles that would've sidelined most actresses. Or singers. Or dancers. She apparently is all of these things. She wrote: 

I knew it would be tough, but I also never doubted I would succeed. When you know this, you don't have dark days, you don't hit rock bottom. You just have days when you want to scream at people: "You have no idea what I can do!"

You need that kind of confidence, and of course talent, and a truckload of luck to succeed in any creative field. Creative fields are tough. Those in charge give your work (or good Lord, if you're an actress, your actual self) a cursory glance and make a snap decision, usually based on gut and whatever hole they're trying to plug that day. It's inevitable you will only be the right fit in certain situations, but in order to get yourself into the situations where luck might smile on you, you have to have the confidence to keep going, keep picking yourself up off the floor and resubmitting the work to the next gallery or agent or editor or producer. 

I'm in a place where the next few weeks will result in euphoria or the need to pick myself up off the ground. I feel the need to start kindling the fire now, but I'm looking around my writing cave and finding very little firewood. I've been riding the wave of amped-up anxiety since January, trying to pack it back so I can read to my daughter or make dinner or attend meetings. It pops up at the most unexpected times, the ohmygodwhat'sgoingtohappennext, and sometimes it kills me that I have to keep on living normal life when creatively I'm hanging in such a big career balance, just swinging waiting to see if luck and talent will coincide with someone who needs something just like mine at this particular place in time in history and in publishing. It's been three years since I started dreaming this particular dream. Three years is a long time to keep a fire stoked, through rewrites and feedback and agents and writing partners and readers.

I'm looking hard at myself as I wait to hear what will come of this particular ride. If it doesn't pan out the way I hope it will, I'm going to have to start over, take another tack. Do I believe the world doesn't know what I can do?

I have to.


Congratulations to the winner of the Midwest Dairy Council's Get Mooooving gift pack on Surrender, Dorothy: Reviews!

The Hearts of the Writers at the Pitchapalooza
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On Monday, I went to hear The Book Doctors (Arielle Eckstut and David Henry Sterry) do their Pitchapalooza for the second year. Last year, I just went and watched, not really sure what was going on. This year, I took along my reframed novel pitch to see what they would say.

It was monsoon pouring that night, and the temperature inside Unity Temple ranged somewhere between moist and sauna. I am terrible at estimating crowds, but I'd say the auditorium was about half full -- and it appeared every one of those people had a book to pitch. I got lucky and was selected as one of the twenty-five people who got to read my pitch and get some feedback on it. (This was really, really lucky, because Arielle and David and the people they pick to be on their panel are always nice. I've been to pitching/querying sessions at writers' conferences in which the panel brought "vindictive" to a whole new level.)

As I waited to see if my name would be called, I studied my audience mates. I was there alone, so I had nothing to do but look around. I myself kept rewriting my pitch over and over in my notebook, changing a few words here and there. It wasn't fully baked and I knew it, but I hadn't had much time to spend on it and when you get a chance to get feedback on your writing, you take it. I saw the man in front of me had his pitch all typed out. He was staring a hole through it. The woman beside me was scribbling in a notebook.

If you could've bottled the collective angst in that room ...

I felt a tremendous sense of empathy toward every person in the room. Even though I got one book published, it doesn't get easier. I don't feel any less angsty about my current pitch than I did about my Sleep Is for the Weak pitch. One thing I am able to do better is recognize that the feedback you need is the feedback that sucks the worst to hear. Identifying the problems is their job, fixing them is mine. 

I hate fixing. I wish it would just come out right the first time.

Then again, if it did, I wouldn't know what to do the first time it came it wrong.

It's sort of a vicious circle.

Some of the other writers had shaky voices. One commented about how nervous she was. Even in such a friendly atmosphere, it's terrifying to say out loud what you've been typing and whispering over and over to yourself for weeks or months or years. 

I got the feedback I needed, went back to my seat and waited for my heart rate to return to normal. I looked over at the woman next to me, and she smiled. I smiled back.

I knew she knew exactly how I felt.


Speaking of authors, check out my review of longtime reader Shannon Hyland-Tassava's new book, The Essential Stay-at-Home Mom Manual on Surrender, Dorothy: Reviews!