Category Archives: my novel

Jan 26 reading

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Well, it kind of was a blast. The space was packed and I got to see many faces I’d not seen in years. A very gratifying turnout.

Guna praising the heck out of me which is why my arms are crossed!

Who did I see? One of the boys’ elementary school teachers. A writing friend who dropped out of the Thursday class long ago. Friends from Arlington and Watertown. Neighbors from down the street, around the corner, and a friend from Maine. Parents from the boys’ elementary school days. My sister-in-law, with her friend. My therapist was there!

There was one young person there. Very mysterious. She stayed for the whole thing and at the book signing refused to supply her name. Who was she? And why the secrecy?

I’d say there were about 40 people there, 30 of whom I knew.

I brought a handwoven indigo cloth with me. Bought in Colorado years ago but probably from the west coast of Africa. Benin? Nigeria? It sat on my lap during the signing and the book group portion.

There were really good questions, lots of positive feedback (hard for me to take it all in, honestly), and very good snacks during the book group portion of the afternoon.

A few remarks? They learned a lot (x7). The writing was beautiful (x8). They liked how well-developed the characters were. There was an interesting layering to the story-telling.

Welp. While I was writing that paragraph, our water heater failed. I smell gas, Ken! Why do I smell gas, Ken?

And meanwhile, the upstairs furnace didn’t come on at all last night again. Discovery: sleeping in a 60 degree room is tolerable. It’s getting up in a room that cold that’s hard.

So what’s next? A roof collapse? Fridge failure?

Off goes husband to buy a new furnace. He’s installed the last three.

It’s out of the teens and — poop?

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It’s out of the teens but still pretty cold. The upstairs furnace is dying and never kicked on last night. I can hear it trying. Ken usually rises before I do and today is no exception. Before he heads down to make coffee, he slides the curtains open making the metal ring-clips go clickety clack.

“Fire up my blanket,” I say from under the comforter.

That would be my electric blanket. The greatest new possession since the Dyson battery-operated stick vacuum arrived.

Today’s the reading at Newtonville Bookstore. I’m pretty excited. Thank you all again for your words of encouragement.

And there’s this. Boulder Bookstore. Notice anything? D. took these pix yesterday.

PS is there something wrong with me that I fully expected to see the constipated cow on All Creatures Great and Small take a massive and relieving dump and was disappointed to be denied? Yes. The answer is yes. But you know what? I was properly pleased to hear Maddow announce recently that she has an eight-year-old’s sense of humor and will forever find poop references funny. “And farts!” I might’ve said aloud to the TV.

PPS The other time I recently responded out loud to the TV was when that river cruise ad came on. “Shut her up!” You know the one that plays before PBS programming? I swear the announcer has a fake British accent. It’s a win if we get it muted before she says, “iconic landscapes.” Ugh.

PPPS. Best screen moment yesterday was reading this letter. Maybe it’s only a delay, BUT IT MATTERS.

Gifts of cloth and attention

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This beautiful shirt (you may have seen on FB or Instagram) was made by my friend Lisa up in Maine. She’s really talented. She knew I wanted to wear indigo to the book reading this weekend and just whipped this shirt up using katazome indigo from a workshop we attended together this past summer (blogged about here).

And that’s not all. She was a beta reader who read the entire manuscript. And that’s not all. She’s driving down from Maine to hear me read at NEWTONVILLE BOOKS this Sunday (Jan 26 at 2:00).

My mother was her art teacher in high school and her father taught me history. We go way back. Our brothers are very close friends.

Some scribbles got typed up yesterday and emailed to Deb. Deb is what’s known as a Critical Reading Partner. Much more involved than a beta reader.

Beta readers read when you are well along. Their responses can range from chapter edits to a general “I liked it.”

In the two years leading up to Deb’s publications (PROPHETS TANGO) and mine, we exchanged chapters with regularity. To do it again with new material feels like getting back in the saddle!

Early today. When it was 5 degrees.

We made only the Oakmont/Maplewood figure eight with Finn today. It wasn’t booger-freezing cold, but almost.

It was the kind of cold you really bundle up for, but it felt normal. Normal winter weather. Something people in Florida and Georgia can’t say right now.

Go dark or ?

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I guess I’m in Solnit’s camp when it comes to closing out of Zuck-accounts. She thinks letting them silence us and destroy our online networks give them a win. I personally think someone worth 200+ plus billion is not gonna miss my accounts.

Is AI gross? Yes. Does late stage capitalism have a way of degrading everything online? Yes. Are these platform vehicles for democracy-destroying lies? Yes. End-times climate denialism? Yes.

Still.

All self-published authors have to make peace with Amazon. Period. It’s that or go dark.

But I’ve made sure I’m in libraries and available in independent bookstores and on bookshop.org and a half a dozen other outlets like google play and Apple — so that people rightfully shunning the bald coward Bezos can still get my book.

Going forward, I’m ordering books for myself from bookshop.org even though it’s a pain in the ass and I now run out for my own groceries (something I pretty much stopped during during COVID).

Did you see Jeff’s gross girlfriend, BTW, with the fat MAGA lips and exposed underwear and the gross Zuckerberg staring down her bra? Gawd these people! (And no, I didn’t watch the inauguration, it just came up elsewhere).

I exited Twitter months ago and haven’t missed it. I wouldn’t miss threads either. At all. Even though Bluesky lacks … something. Engagement I guess. In that way Bluesky feels like Twitter (for me anyway) where either I was shadow banned or just not interesting enough to warrant responses. I’m saying: threads feels friendlier. I hope Bluesky improves.

Here’s another thing. Ken and I just spent the better part of last week figuring out Facebook ads for my book which is supposedly how to keep sales going. AND I have this reading this week to remind people about and everyone is going dark. Damn! I hope I’ve posted about it enough (probably).

This, by the way, doesn’t mean I don’t have enormous respect for people wiping their boards clean of these fat cats. I do.

Saw this on Bluesky today. Not bad, eh?

Lastly, with one exception the people least outwardly supportive of my book have been, wait for it … my IRL writing friends. It’s baffling. Beyond disappointing. Last night I realized that publishing a book is like losing a parent. You just don’t know who will step forward and who will sideline themselves. It’s not always what you expect.

Neighbors, family, Tuesday-call friends, Wednesday-call friends, and YOU GUYS have been stalwart and amazing and I can’t tell you how much I appreciate that fact. Thank you.

Angel Oak and SC slides

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Reading at bookstore is one week from today and I’m sick to death of promoting myself.

So while supposedly creating yet another post to promote my book, I ended up getting lost in some old pix from South Carolina.

Pictures include: Newtonville Books, bullrush and Sweetgrass baskets, Boone Hall, Magnolia Plantation, Drayton Hall, Aiken Rhett House, marsh where Wappoo was located, Cawcaw interpretive center marsh, bulletin boards (Sargent painting, Mahershala Ali, Chiwetel, Ejiofor) and a few collages (couple incorporating the Door of No Return, Ghana). Angel Oak.