In which I am feeling bereft

Just sent the book out--finally! The Book That Would Not Die has been dispatched to my agent and editor, and no, it is not quite finished yet. There are still the final tweaks and polishes from the editing process, but the hardest part is behind me. (I HOPE.) Anyway, there's always a letdown when the book flies from the outbox on the computer, and I am distracting myself by loading up on research books for the next Julia Grey book--which I'm starting work on about NOW. I am hugely excited about the plot, and I expect it to be the best of the series BY FAR. I had one of my bathtub epiphanies the other night and the entire plot fell into place, which makes me extremely happy. Starting with the plot and most of the characters nailed down makes research just fun. I'm also setting the book in a country I've never used before--never even visited--so I will have to do a bit more research than usual for a Julia Grey book. I made up the setting in SITS, and SOTM required a quick trip to Yorkshire. Unfortunately, I can't do that with this coming book for a variety of reasons, so the research will have to suffice. (I find immersion is the best alternative to travel. Cookbooks, memoirs, armchair travel, social history, documentaries, music--I use it all.)

On a completely unrelated note, tomorrow is May Day, the ancient pagan holiday of Beltane, a day for maypoles and bonfires! I think we'll mark the beginning of this most gorgeous of months with a fire in the firepit and a completely non-traditional version of May wine. (It's also customary to surprise the unsuspecting with a nosegay of flowers hung at their door. You're supposed to ring the bell and run away, and leaving flowers behind is much nicer than the usual alternative flaming bag of poo, isn't it?) Happy May Day!

In which I am devastated to have missed an opportunity

The bathroom in the Hermitage Hotel in Nashville, Tennessee, has been voted the best restroom in the US, and I for one am shattered by it. I lunched there a few years ago on a book tour--my media escort's idea--and it was divine. I had salmon with a truffle foam, and let me tell you, foams are pretentious and silly and DELICIOUS. A foam is the merest breath of an experience, dissolving on the tongue before you can even swallow, and it leaves behind the essence of the ingredient. It's ethereal and ephemeral, and it would be extremely annoying to have more than a spoonful of foam on a plate, but a small dollop is lovely. I had no idea at the time that the men's room was so legendary, although I did notice an awful lot of gentlemen making use of it. (The lunchtime crowd at the Hermitage runs heavy to the legislators and government officials, I was told.) Now I am deeply regretting the fact that I didn't get to see it for myself to compare it to my favorite ladies' room--at the Majestic theatre in San Antonio. The Majestic bathroom is so lovely, there have even been weddings held in the anteroom. Wonder if the Hermitage can say the same?

In which I am so far behind I am about to come around again

Seriously, there is a strange Mobius effect going on right now where I am so far behind on so much that I suspect it will all come around again and I will be completely caught up. (Yes, I know there is supposed to be an umlaut over the "o" in Mobius, but if I go look up how to insert an umlaut on blogger, I will fall even MORE behind, and honestly, nobody wants that.) My e-mail inbox is now into multiple pages of unanswered mail, and we will not speak of the gajillion other things I need to get done. At this point I'm just jotting things onto to-do lists in my iphone and never reading them again. I have one titled "Spring Cleaning" with notes to myself about relining the linen closet with fresh fabric and purging the photos on my hard drive and organizing the ones I keep. These are things that are NEVER going to happen. They should, but they won't. Thursday is my deadline for The Book That Would Not Die (catchy, don't you think?) and I have one last killer proofread to do before I send it off. Once that's done, I can start on the list of Crap I Should Have Done in April, and bring a semblance of order to my little corner of the world just in time for the End of School Goat-Roping and Extravaganza--the four week push in which every conceivable concert, program, project, and ceremony must be concluded, parental attendance falling somewhere between mandatory and completely essential. Just thinking about it makes me want to go lie down with a cool cloth on my head and a glass of something fruity. (I bought sangria in a box this weekend. From Target. If I had standards, believe me, they are LONG gone.)

But it occurs to me that I may have a solution to my woes. Legend has it that Napoleon never answered his correspondence immediately; in fact, he didn't even read it immediately. All written correspondence was left on his desk for three weeks before he opened it. His reasoning was that if it was really important, someone would let him know by courier, and if it wasn't important, someone else would probably have handled it in the meantime. Apparently, it really boosted his productivity. And I figure if it can work for someone waging epic land wars in Europe, surely it can work for me.

In which Penelope Cruz is my new guru

This entry was first posted on the Blog A Go-Go on December 27, 2007.

Seriously. I mentioned that while in Houston, I got to loll around at the Hotel Zaza reading the latest Vogue. Penelope Cruz was on the cover, and there was a feature pictorial of her in the MOST sumptuous ballgowns by Balenciaga and Marchesa. Honestly, I would be buried in ANY of them, and I'm not even planning on being buried at all. (The pictorial also featured a bullfighter, and let me just say, animal cruelty charges aside, WOW. That matador gear is alarmingly attractive when it's half off. Who knew?) But the part that impressed me the most was not La Cruz's obvious beauty, it was this quote: You cannot live your life looking at yourself from someone else's point of view. Genius.

And difficult. This is an issue I've struggled with a LOT over the last year in particular. People feel very free to offer opinions--sometimes critical ones--and the internet provides a very cozy place for anonymity. There are those who could never do what I do, but who feel free to dismiss it with a scornful word or a wave of the hand. These are people I do not understand, nor do I wish to. I think any job, done with integrity and creativity and thoughtfulness, is worthy of respect. (I suspect that the people who are most dismissive and vicious about other people's work are deeply dissatisfied with their own, but I could be wrong. Amateur psychology is a thorny place to wander.)

In any event, I believe Penelope is right. We are so busy worrying about how other people see us, that we forget to see ourselves as we really are. After all, anyone else's perception of us is filtered through the lenses of their experience. What they see is perhaps not what we really ARE. And it's no use trying to GUESS how other people see us because it's hopeless at best. We don't hear the inflection of our own voices, see our own expressions. The most we can hope for is authenticity, an elusive and difficult quality to master. We have to know ourselves before we can show ourselves. And if anyone objects to that, we will remind ourselves that their point of view is simply that: a single point in a very big world.

In which I have book news!

Lots of you out there prefer audiobooks to the paper variety, and I've heard from many of you how much you enjoyed the narrator for the audio version of Silent in the Grave. Unfortunately, many of you were less than impressed with the narrators of the subsequent version, and as a result, Audible is pulling the audiobooks of Silent in the Sanctuary and Silent on the Moor to have them re-recorded by the fabulous Ellen Archer! They should be ready to go some time in May, and they also tell me that they will make sure she narrates the rest of the series. YAY! (Now, what I've just told you is ALL that I know. For specifics of release dates, etc. you will need to contact Audible.com because they are completely in the know about this project. I got the happy news after all was arranged between the lovely digital team at my publisher and the wonderful peeps at Audible, and I have shared all that I'm able.)

For those of you who like to collect a single format for a series, I am SO HAPPY to tell you that Silent in the Grave will be released for the first time in trade format in January 2010! It has a brand new cover to fit with the rest of the repackaging, and I am VERY pleased with it. (Eagle-eyed readers will have already realized that the new covers are designed to depict a single, specific moment in each book rather than to convey a general mood. The moment they chose for SITG is one of my favorites!)

In which we empathize

My heart goes out to the good people at The "Blog" of "Unnecessary" Quotation Marks. They do holy work, outing people who flagrantly and willfully abuse the poor, benighted quotation marks. Theirs is a thankless mission, but someone has to do it.

Likewise, the Grammar Vandal blog is the place for you if you too bemoan the decline of English grammar. There you will find everything from misspelled tattoos to diagrams of Barack Obama's sentences. (Let's just say that last one took a LOT of paper.)

If you're interested in bettering yourself grammatically, check out Grammar Girl for her quick and dirty tips on language. She even hosts a podcast in case you're trying to be grammatically correct on the go.

In which I'm feeling linky

Today is about linky fun, starting with a delicious new blog I found--one of those that makes me wonder how on earth I ever missed it! Author Eliza Knight's History Undressed is full of gorgeous paintings and interesting historical details and as soon as this book is put to bed, I intend to get into my bed with the laptop and a pot of tea and spend a day immersed in her archives. If you regretted sitting through history classes in school because they were deadly dull, this is just the blog to whet your appetite for all things historical.

Cupcakes and Cashmere is all about the impossibly chic Emily--an adorable California girl--and everything she loves, from the to-die-for shoes to swank hotels. It's a great vicarious life read!

And these next two were originally posted on the Blog A Go-Go and I wanted to make sure they were posted here. Because sometimes you just need to know what you're made of.

*How Many Five Year Olds Could You Take In A Fight

*Zombie Apocalypse

In which it is Earth Day

Over the last year or so I've been making a conscious effort to green it up around here. (If you're just getting started, Sophie Uliano's book Gorgeously Green is a great place to start. It even has a green pin-up on the cover. See, green can be glamorous!) Anyway, some of the changes have been very easy, some not so much. Does anybody else have a serious mental block about whipping out your own reusable shopping bag? I will remember to bring it to the store, and then leave it in my purse about 90% of the time.

Most of the changes I've already mentioned on the blog, but there are one or two I haven't touched on yet, and maybe they'll work for you.

*No more sugar packets. I only use raw sugar, and you can buy it in teeny premeasured packets--perfect for a cup of tea. But it generates a lot of extra waste because of the packets and it's much more green just to spoon it out of the box.

*No purchasing CDs. The only place I use actual CDs is in my car, but now that I have an iphone, I can play any music I've got, even without an ipod dock. (The day I discovered this was literally one of the happiest of my life. No, really.) And CDs are LOADED with nastiness, including so much packaging it takes a rabid beaver to get one open. So from now on, it's MP3 files unless there is a VERY good reason why I need the hard copy.

*Adding a recycling bin to my study. I have a trash can, but no recycling bin, but most of the waste in the study is of the paper variety. So, I'm adding a bin to my study to convert the trash to recyclables.

*No dry cleaning. This one is tricky. I have clothes that simply beg to be dry cleaned, but no green dry cleaner in town. Since I don't want to bring poison into my house, I've bought a garment steamer for the times I would have sent something out that isn't actually dirty, but creased. (Mostly evening thingies, some lace, some chiffon, some with beading.) I've already used it twice and it's insanely good and saved me about $40 so far. The things that actually need to be washed will get a nice handwash and a lot of prayer that I don't ruin them.

*Buying more books on my Kindle. Yes, the e-reader, no matter what format is greener than a book. I know they are costly, but hear me out. If you routinely purchase new hardcovers, the Kindle will pay for itself in 10-20 purchases, and while the plastics and electronic components are probably not the most Earth-friendly items in the world, the publishing industry--alas!--is one of the least. Lots of dead trees and bleach and trucking around the country going on there. Now, I know the prevailing green wisdom is that you're supposed to give your books to other people or purchase them used in order to save trees, and yes, this is a very green solution. But as a writer, it makes me wince. When you purchase a book from a used dealer--Amazon marketplace sellers included--the author doesn't get credit for the sale or a royalty payment. (Broken down to its simplest terms, it means that an author you like may end up not getting published anymore because if too many of their books are selling secondhand and not new, the publisher doesn't think there's a demand and drops them.) If you purchase an e-reader, you're green, the Earth is happy, AND the authors get paid and get credit for the sale. Everybody wins. Except your independent bookstores, so it's good to show them the love too when you want to buy something that isn't available on e-book--like children's books, for example. And even the secondhand sellers can make a profit if you use them to purchase out of print books. I know it isn't a feasible solution for everyone, but it is the best I've found so far.

Happy Earth Day!

In which we talk road food

If you haven't checked out Roadfood, you must. It's a website devoted to local, non-franchise eateries, usually found along the highways and byways of America. It's a voluntary endeavor, headed by the husband and wife team of Michael and Jane Stern, regular contributors to Public Radio's "The Splendid Table." We're trying out one of their recommendations later this week, and I can't wait! (Below I've posted information about Roadfood.com from their website.)

And speaking of food, you remember the $11 chicken from the farmers' market? The tenderly raised and free-range bird that probably spent its entire life being carried around on a little satin pillow? I unwrapped it to find it weighed two pounds and was missing a wing. Gack. I cooked it anyway, but it was the driest chicken I have EVER had and the fact that we kept calling it Frankenchicken didn't make it any more palatable, let me tell you.

Roadfood.com was conceived in 2000 as a website devoted to finding the most memorable local eateries along the highways and back roads of America. The entire Roadfood Team has contributed thousands of hours of their personal time to create and enhance Roadfood.com so that you, the user, can enjoy the many features of the site. Unlike many dotcom ventures, Roadfood.com is an entirely volunteer effort launched with no expectation of ever making money. Our compensation comes from the hundreds of positive e-mail comments we receive each month, the notoriety generated from the many news articles and stories written about the site and the awards and recognition presented to Roadfood.com for its design and content. We welcome all new users and hope that if you find our site useful, you will tell your friends to stop by for a visit and a great meal.

In which I contemplate methods of murder

This entry was originally posted on the Blog A Go-Go on December 22, 2007.

Last week I attended a middle school choir concert, and as usual, I amused myself by composing a list of methods of murder. (Don't judge--you weren't there.) Long-time blog readers may remember a similar list compiled during the last choir concert. Alas, that list was eaten by the WordPress archive, but it gives us a chance to start anew. I feel compelled to add a disclaimer: don't do this. It is wrong to murder other people. It is, however, amusing to THINK about murdering other people, and if you put it in a book, you will get paid for it AND you won't go to prison.

*Defenestration: a personal favorite, both for the rhythm of the word and the finality of the method. There is a nice metaphor between shattering glass and ending a life.

*Suffocation: think "The Cask of Amontillado". Not to be confused with...

*Smothering: pillows, stuffed animals, plastic bags.

*Garrotting: piano wire, underwire, barbed wire. The possibilities are endless.

*Blunt instrument: a distinct lack of subtlety here. Anyone can go around bashing people on the head. There is no elegance to such a crime, unless the instrument is later cooked up and served to the police a la "Lamb to the Slaughter" by Roald Dahl.

*Exsanguination: absolutely my favorite method to SAY. It sounds like something the Protestants would have fought the Catholics over, doesn't it? I have read that it is a gentle way to die, provided the wound causing the blood loss is not too painful.

*Animal attack: by a trained animal assassin, of course. Think "The Speckled Band" or "The Murders in the Rue Morgue". (Conversely, a faked animal attack is also an interesting twist as Sir Arthur Conan Doyle demonstrated.)

*Anaphylaxis: an acute allergic reaction brought on by bee stings, ingesting peanuts, that sort of thing. Very useful in that the villain need not actually be present at the time of the crime.

*Arranged accidents: switching medications, removing treads from a dark staircase. Care must be insured that the accident is reversed before the investigation commences.

*Exposure: might seem like a good idea, but one must take a cautionary look at Greek myths to realize how often exposure actually failed to kill unwanted princes of prophecy.

*Manual strangulation, drowning, stabbing, falls--more common methods, but not without possibilities. Manual strangulation can be accomplished with the drapery cord of a common enemy, thereby removing TWO parties at once. Drowning ought to be accomplished simply by heaving someone overboard and sailing peacefully away. Holding the victim's head underwater is messy and potentially dangerous. Drowning men are said to possess unholy strength. Stabbing is to be avoided on the same grounds, unless a more subtle variation can be devised. One need only look as far as history and Luigi Luccheni's assassination of Empress Elizabeth to see how it might be done. Falls may be arranged from staircases, balconies, cruise ships, but care must be taken not to become entangled with the victim on their way down.

*Foreign substances: I have read about ground glass being slipped into a victim's food, but I have my doubts. Wouldn't the dinner guest note the odd texture before enough had been consumed to do any real damage?

*Poisoning, burning, and shooting: another batch of common methods, difficult to get away with in these days of excellent forensic techniques and lacking in imagination.

*Psychological murder: the most insidious and diabolical of all, driving another either to murder or suicide. Difficult to prosecute, almost impossible to prove. One must be careful not to leave either incriminating letters or the victim's diaries behind.

In which this may be the coolest kid ever

This link is a GQ profile of Arlo Weiner, son of the creator of "Mad Men", and if you haven't already seen this kid, he is probably the most interesting sartorial character since Beau Brummell. I want to say I found the link on Living a Beautiful Life, but I could be wrong. I strongly support his wanton deployment of velvet, bow ties, and knickers. If every kid had his unbridled creativity and self-confidence...well, I was going to say the world would be a better place, but I'm not sure it would be. I think it's a better place for having a few kids like this, but honestly a few hundred million running around and they'd probably just take over.

In which I talk process

Sorry about the disappearing act yesterday--Blogger was cattywampus for awhile, it seems to be fine now.

A few months back, I received my RWA publication that had an excellent article on character development. I no longer have the article, and I cannot remember who wrote it which makes me want to KICK myself. (If you have the source, please drop me a note in the comments so I can give credit.) The upshot of the article was that a superb tool for character development is Raymond Cattrall's 16 Personality Factors. I'm linking to the wiki article which gives a quick overview. This is a great pre-writing activity or even a way to clarify your impression of a character once you've begun writing. Think of the 16 factors as shorthand to your character's psyche. If you compare the two options for each factor, your character will lean to one side or the other. Once you've completed the sixteen assessments--and this can be as quick or as detailed as you like--you have a general map of your character's personality. Any one of the factors can be used as a jumping-off point for creating backstory or adding detail. (Your character is anti-social? Why? Was there a childhood incident? Incipient and untreated illness? Dark secret? The possibilities are endless.) I used the technique myself to help focus my thoughts on my current project and found it very useful. Just another little bit of conjuring for your bag of tricks.

In which we try to get Blogger to finally publish today's blog...

So yesterday I headed to a pleasant little regional bank here to open all new accounts with an eye to leaving Bank of America. Why, you ask? Because last week we got the same letter so many others got which essentially said, "Hey, customer--We know you pay your bill on time and never exceed your limit, but we are DOUBLING your interest rate because we don't give a tiny rat's ass if you stay with us because we are JUST THAT BIG." (The husband even phoned them to see if they were willing to budge at all. Nope.) So, as a matter of principle, we are moving our accounts to a regional bank that--GASP!--actually wants our business. It is going to be a few weeks before we can finally close the accounts with BofA, but it will be a happy day when we do. I honestly do not understand the thinking behind this move on their part. (Beyond the obvious thought of "Hey, let's screw some people over to make money!") Do they really think everybody is just going to roll over for this? Because frankly, that dog won't hunt. Every penny my husband and I made together last year went through that bank at some point, an asset on their books, and it gives me TREMENDOUS pleasure to think that after May, they will never see another one.

Another loose end that got tied up this week is my immunities. I visited my chic Belgian nurse-practitioner for my physical and discovered my tetanus was not technically up to date. When I agreed to a booster, she explained to me that because of the falling immunization rates, pertussis is now enjoying a SERIOUS upswing, and that people my age are very likely not protected from our childhood vaccinations. A single booster will correct this, so if--like me--you had no clue that whooping cough was floating around out there and that we're not as protected as we thought, you might want to check with your doctor. In my case, a quick DPT booster caught me up. And I got a sticker.

In which some families are full-up with talent

Some of my very favorite people are twisted, like pretzels, that is to say in a good way. So it's no surprise that I really, really like this blog. Emma' Tea Shop for Old Ladies is kept by Emma Farquharson, who happens to be the sister of Vanessa Farquharson, who writes the Green as a Thistle blog I linked last week. The blog has a teeny archive, so it won't take you any time to catch up and be waiting impatiently for more of Emma's quirky commentary.

Speaking of talent, do NOT miss this clip from "Britain's Got Talent". Astonishing. My favorite part is the schoolboy crush expression on Simon's face. And if you want to see the entire thing, just search "Susan Boyle" on Youtube.

And while we're all over the map, does anybody have an eco-friendly suggestion for disposing of old VHS tapes? I'm biting the bullet and getting rid of the last of them as well as the VCR, but I really don't want to just chuck them in the garbage. Thoughts?

Finally, just found out that Silent on the Moor, #4 on the Independent Mystery Booksellers Association bestseller list for February, TIED FOR THIRD IN MARCH!!! How cool is that?!

In which we had a greenish weekend

Y'all know I'm trying to get my green on, and to be perfectly honest, I find some changes to be MUCH easier than others. Very few green choices come without baggage, it seems, and the more questions you answer for yourself about how you want to live sustainably, the more you raise. (I've finally settled on a philosophy of continuing to make changes, but refusing the eco-guilt over the things I have yet to change. Improvement is improvement, after all.)

So, this weekend we greened it up a bit, albeit not entirely successfully. First, we hit the farmers' market, trying to participate in the whole locavore thing. And spent a freaking fortune!! Now, I should point out that we're very lucky with our farmers' market in that we can buy all kinds of things: meat, vegetables, baked goods, handmade pasta, cheeses, honey, flowers, eggs, potted herbs, handmade chocolates, peanuts, seafood and more. Since I seldom buy meat anyway, I figured it would be best to purchase from the market and get the GOOD stuff. So I bought an $11 chicken. No, really. And it's SMALL. But I saw a picture of the chickens hanging out at the farm before they became a commodity at the market, and I have to say, it looked much more palatable than a feedlot, so I'm trying not to think about the fact that a chicken twice the size would have cost half as much at the grocery store. I also bought two packages of grass-fed organic beef from another farmer and a buffalo version of a Slim Jim for the girlchild. I bought a handmade chocolate Easter bunny for my parents, herb plants for a potager in the back yard, and a bamboo pole for fending off rabid possums when I walk the neighborhood. (It could happen.)

I also bought some costly artisanal sheep's milk cheese--honestly, $12 for a modest wedge; I felt profligate indeed--and $5 for a small pot of goat cheese. And that was all, save for a quick stop at the only vegetable seller this week for a head of lettuce, some tomatoes, cucumbers, and watercress. And my total bill was $79.50. Which is INSANE when I barely got enough food altogether to make one meal. I know everyone says that eating locally is cheaper, but my experience with my local market is that meat is far more expensive, vegetables are much cheaper, and baked goods are a wash. (Unfortunately, I can't buy many baked goods or handmade pasta simply because they have very few wholegrain options. We also have very little in the way of local fruit apart from berries and apples.) I'm not giving up on my local market, but for us it is by NO means a less expensive way to eat. Healthier and more sustainable, sure, and that's why we'll make the investment when we can afford it, but it's not economical for us at all.

We also decided to repurpose four pieces of furniture rather than buying new, which would have been perfectly green had we been able to find eco-friendly options for all of the paint and varnish we needed. (This is one of those times that I'm justifying on the grounds that we only use low- or no-VOC paint indoors and we simply could not find what we wanted in ecologically-responsible formulas. Throwing out four pieces of furniture seemed worse than buying some regular water-based latex paint, but I'm probably wrong about that. Sigh.) Anyway, we fixed up the four pieces to be able to reuse them and dealt responsibly with our hazardous household waste by loading up all of the old paint, anti-freeze, batteries, etc. for hauling to the local dump which sponsors a hazardous collection day once or twice a year. It is a bit of a nuisance to have to hang on to half-empty bottles and cans of nastiness for months, but it's MUCH better than simply tossing it in the trash.

Another project I'm dying to get started on is composting. So this weekend we cleared out a rotting woodpile to make way for a nice, tidy compost bin. (I was very happy to see some fat, juicy earthworms hanging out in the area. I figure it won't take them long to visit once we've got the bin in place.) I also need to find a neat little bin for the kitchen to collect the scraps, and I'm figuring this will cut down on our trash by about 20%, as well as giving us plenty of compost to scatter around.

And finally, I'm experimenting with teas that are organic and fair trade. I love my Republic of Tea Earl Greyer, but I do have trouble finding it in my town, and it usually means a special trip to a bookstore I never frequent--not very green at all. So I bought some Numi from a grocery store I'm in about twice a month and it was not bad. I also picked up some of the Numi White Rose, and it is wonderful. The cup smells exactly like rose perfume, but somehow it doesn't taste like perfume. It is extremely fragrant and soothing, and since it's white tea, it has less caffeine. Very light and delicate, and perfect for a spring afternoon. (And their packaging is seriously lovely.)

In which I propose compliments

This entry was first published on the Blog A Go-Go on December 6, 2007.

One of my favorite high school memories is an appreciation exercise that an English teacher made us complete. (The only two things I enjoyed in that class were this exercise and seeing Gallipoli for the first time. "How fast can you run?" "Fast as a leopard...") Anyway, this English teacher was not one of my favorites, but this assignment was genius. At the beginning of class she handed out slips of paper to us. There were thirty students in the class; we each got 29 slips of paper, one for each of our classmates, already printed with their names. Our instructions were simple: on that little piece of paper, we were to appreciate something about that particular classmate. (She made it quite clear that ONLY complimentary observations would be accepted.) The trick was, it was to be done anonymously. We were not to sign our names, and she even encouraged us to disguise our handwriting.

Naturally, we groaned and complained as only teenagers can do. It was easy to jot something about our friends, those we didn't think about. The people we didn't really know or didn't especially like were more challenging. We were required to find something to compliment. She took them up at the end of the period and kept them for a few days before she passed them out. That only served to heighten the anticipation. When she passed them out, she had bundled them for us, so when she stopped at our desks, there was a little flurry of compliments drifting onto our desks at once. It was magical.

I read through mine quickly at first, then one more, slowly. The ones from my friends were easily recognizable by the handwriting. The sentiments were nice enough, but they were predictable and a little dull. The others, each written in an unfamiliar hand, were illuminating. The observations were sometimes intimate and always interesting. I was surprised by some, flattered by others. It was a little slice of voyeurism to peek into how others saw me. My very favorite was one that read: I would not mind if you sent me your first novel. It was offhand, and not, strictly speaking, a compliment, but it was vastly encouraging to me that someone even then saw me as a writer, and a successful one.

I carried those slips of paper with me for many years, through several moves, until our final move to this beautiful old house in Virginia destroyed them. Aside from my favorite, I can't remember what they said or even the last time I read them. And I have no idea who wrote that compliment, but I wish I did. I hope somehow they find this blog and know that every time I got a rejection letter I took out that little slip of paper and read it like a cookie's fortune, believing that someday it would happen.

It took less than an hour for us to write those anonymous compliments, but I know that for me, the effects lasted much longer than the time it took to read them. So what I propose is this: compliment someone unexpected today. Find something fabulous in the unlovely; celebrate the surprising in the mundane. And find a way to let them know. It might mean a lot more than you think.

Shortly after our move to Virginia, our stored possessions were afflicted with mold and had to be discarded. For five years I thought the compliment slips were among them. I found them last month when I was cleaning out my memorabilia boxes, a little yellow, a little faded, but just as wonderful.

In which tomorrow is Easter

And in honor of the occasion, I was going to post some Easter fun. Then I found the pixelized version of the Stations of the Cross, and I was so gobsmacked, I forgot all about finding something clever and Easterish for your diversion. Honestly. Pixelized. And I couldn't decide if it was offensive or not, and since the LAST thing I want to do here is offend, I decided to leave off the link. (If curiosity is simply consuming you, google the phrase "Easter fun" because that's part of the web address. You'll find it.) Anyway, as I say, copmletely distraction, so I offer you instead something entirely NON-Easter. Queen. Bohemian Rhapsody. In LEGOs. Enjoy!

In which I post links, sweet links

There are a few decor blogs I follow, several of which make me want to weep, they are so lovely. I've been doing some puttering at Maison A Go-Go, so I'm always looking to these blogs for inspiration. There is a turquoise room on Mrs. Blandings that features bold black and white striped upholstery on black furniture. It makes me deeply, unapologetically envious. (My composition editor here at Blogger is telling me that unapologetically is not a word, but it totally is. Dictionary.com says so.) Anyway, spring is the time for changes, so peruse these style blogs and get some inspiration for your nest--and if you have a favorite I haven't linked, be sure to post it in the comments!

*Mrs. Blandings

*Beach Bungalow 8

*Habitually Chic

*Absolutely Beautiful Things

*An Aesthete's Lament

*All the Best

*Pink Wallpaper

*Decor8

In which I wonder about myself

No, really. We have a running joke in my family that I'm not that bright. Don't get me wrong, on paper I'm a pretty smart cookie. But occasionally, I get such an obsessive case of book-brain that I find it hard to focus on my actual life. Take Tuesday. I showed up at the doctor's office to get blood drawn for my physical. I had fasted, and without my morning cup of tea, I'm fuzzier than usual. I gave the receptionist my insurance card, which she quickly pointed out wasn't mine. It was my daughter's. Now, I managed to convince her that the pediatrician listed as the primary isn't actually my doctor and assured her I have insurance coverage and would be happy to find the card at home and bring it by later in the day if they would just TAKE MY BLOOD ALREADY and let me get something to eat. Kindly, she waved me back to the chick with the needles and I got out of there to get my oatmeal on. And I made it all the way home before I realized my insurance card had been in my wallet the whole time. Honestly.

And then, I just started reading Green as a Thistle, the eco-blog that chronicles a journalist's attempt to do one new green thing every day for a year. I got partway through the first April in her archive when I found her entry about setting her dishwasher to air dry instead of heat dry. I got curious enough to get up and look at my own dishwasher, and I have to ask, how long has that been there? Seriously--how did I not actually SEE this button in the five years I've had this dishwasher? And what else am I missing?! (This is one of the worst episodes of book-brain I've ever had. I suspect when this set of revisions is turned in, I will just go fetal under the couch. Send tequila and truffles.)

In which I wonder about the Shroud of Turin

So Monday night I tucked myself into bed at an early hour and turned on the Discovery Channel. Did you know the Shroud of Turin was created by Leonardo da Vinci? That's the theory behind the latest documentary, and it made for some compelling viewing, let me tell you. I remember the fuss when it was determined twenty-odd years ago that the cloth dated to the 13th or 14th century, but no earlier, and apparently folks have been spending a lot of time since then trying to figure out precisely HOW it was made and by whom. One forensic pathologist pointed out that it could never have been wrapped around an actual head because the globe effect would cause the resulting image to be hugely distorted. (That was one of those moments when you facepalm and say "Dur. Why didn't I think of that?") Anyway, one intrepid researcher managed to duplicate the image beautifully by way of a camera obscura, meaning that the Shroud of Turin is quite likely the world's oldest photographic image. It doesn't carry quite the same cachet as if it were the actual burial cloth of Christ, but I still think it's pretty interesting.

But then things drifted a bit into wishful thinking territory with the hypothesis that Leonardo himself was responsible for the creation of the shroud. A link between the painter and the family that owned the shroud is the strongest evidence, with a bit of support because of Leonardo's work with cadavers and optics, as well as his willingness to thumb his nose a bit at the church. Still, it made for rather good TV, and is well worth catching when they re-run it. And since they didn't mention in the documentary, I feel compelled to ask, does the church still exhibit it as a holy relic? Or is it squirreled away somewhere?

In which we get frivolous

I need to lighten the mood here, people. I am tail over teakettle right now finishing up the revisions to TDTF, and I am beyond tired. I ferreted out the details of a plot tweak to the ending over the weekend and was dying to get to work on Monday morning--until a tornado warning scuppered that plan and lightning forced me to shut down the computer and do laundry instead. (It only occurred to me after I started my fourth load that the washer could get zapped just as easily as the computer...) I'm at that stage in the book where you are sooooooooo close to the ending, but it seems like there's always just one more scene you need to tuck in before you're there. So many loose ends to tidy up. Yet another point of comparison between knitting and writing. I know several knitters who love the work, stitch by stitch, but loathe the weaving in of the ends, and I know several writers who feel the same way.

Anyway, in spite of the horrendous weather, my trusty postman delivered my spiffy new pewter heels--a very nice bright spot in an otherwise meh day. (I needed silvery shoes, but not bright silver--my dress is silver lace with a smoky charcoal overlay--and it finally occurred to me that pewter was the way to go. I found these and they are perfect, a little darker than in the picture and surprisingly comfortable. I can wear them for evening or even with a black dress earlier in the day. And amazingly enough, I found a small pewter evening bag at Target for $14.99. Rock on, Target.)

So, in the interests of lightness and frivolity, I give you the Steampunk Dressing Game. Enjoy.

In which Southern girls have rules

This entry was originally posted on the Blog A Go-Go on November 19, 2007.

I started thinking the other day about the rules I was raised with. Not the little stuff like, "Don't lie" and "Don't steal", but the BIG rules, the ones that apply to Southern girls. In no particular order, here are the ones I remember most clearly:

*Ladies don't wear red shoes. (My very favorite pair of shoes is a pair of four-inch red suede stilettos with ankle straps. I wear them to publishing trade shows just for the glamour factor. I intend to be cremated with them on.)

*Ladies don't wear red nail polish. (Seeing a theme here yet? Apparently red was for tramps and little girls. Personally, I started wearing red polish on my toes when I was thirteen and that is the ONLY color I wear. When I went in for foot surgery, I sweet-talked my podiatrist into letting me keep my pedicure intact because I don't EVER walk around with bare toenails.)

*Ladies don't drink beer out of a bottle. (Alright, I confess, I observe this one. I drink beer about once a year, and when I do, it's in a glass. I don't want to be the one responsible for my grandmother spinning in her grave.)

*Ladies do not chew gum in the street. (I never chew gum, so I can hold my head high on this one. We're not even going to talk about the most inappropriate place I caught my mama chewing gum, but it rhymes with MY WEDDING.)

*Ladies do not wear white shoes after Labor Day or before Easter. (Yes, there are lots of shoe rules, but honestly, this one really ought to read, "Ladies do not wear white shoes EVER because they make your feet look like outrigger canoes." Except the gorgeous Louboutins my darling friend Ashley wore when she got married. They were divine, and if we wore the same size, I would happily commit larceny to get my hands on them.)

*Ladies don't speak ill of the dead. (If you can't speak ill of them when they're dead, when CAN you speak ill of them?)

*Ladies don't smoke in public. (Alright, I'm going to confess something here that does not reflect well upon me at all: I wish I smoked. I blame Turner Classic Movies. All those films from the 1930s have brainwashed me, but smoking is cool. It's stylish and sexy, and I would have so much fun collecting lighters with my initials set in diamonds. But I have never smoked, and I will not start. I've had too many issues with my lungs to treat them anything but nicely, but if I DID smoke, you can be sure I would do it in public, and dramatically too. There might even be a slim black cigarette holder involved. Or maybe veeeeeery thin Spanish cigars.)

And the one incontrovertible rule:

*Ladies write thank-you notes. (YES. There is no excuse for not expressing your heartfelt appreciation for someone's efforts on your behalf. I have monogrammed correspondence cards that I use often, although sometimes I fall back on e-mail simply out of necessity. I try very, very hard to slow down enough to acknowledge the many, many kindnesses people show me on a daily basis. Writing seems like a solitary occupation; it isn't. There are entire departments at my publisher that work tirelessly every day to make my books successful. There are experts who give so generously of their time and knowledge, answering my questions and holding my hand when I need information. And there are readers and booksellers who take the time to let me know on a daily basis how much my work means to them. When I gush, and I DO gush, it is entirely sincere. I am genuinely amazed and thrilled that I get to do what I do, and the fact that so many lovely people HELP me do it, is just the icing on the red velvet cake.)

In which I'm indulging in some armchair travel

If I could hop on an airplane anywhere in the world today, I would go to England because I am desperate to see the Geffrye Museum. I have no idea how I've missed it up to this point. On my last visit I made it to Sir John Soane's house, and let me just say, OH MY. If you love all things English and you are, like me, a domestic voyeur, go there at once. I'll wait. It is deceptively small from the outside, but packed with fabulous things from the collection of Sir John Soane--Canalettos and Hogarths, Roman bronzes and Egyptian sarcophagi--and SO worth the visit. (His house provided a spark of inspiration for the London townhouse of the Earl March, Julia Grey's father.) But the Geffrye seems another thing entirely; where Sir John Soane's house is a single household frozen in time, the Geffrye covers English domesticity from 1600 to the present. Delicious!

In which I was tinkering behind the curtain

and lost today's post! (We have established that technology and I are not BFFs...) Sigh. Apparently there are issues with the browser on my desktop, and my husband's laptop can see admin features that I cannot access on my own computer. I went to explore them and POOF. Oh, well. There is always tomorrow.

In which I sometimes regret the internet

I adore the internet, really I do. I cannot imagine what it would be like to do what I do without it. (Actually, I HAVE done what I do without it and it blows.) The internet lets me check facts, explore research topics, connect with readers, promote my work, and buy shoes, all without leaving the comfort of my chair--which was purchased after extensive internet comparison shopping, I should point out. But I do lament the familiarity of the medium. I belong to a messageboard or two where I daresay the facelessness of it all encourages confessions to which I would rather not be privy. (I recently suffered through the turmoils of an acquaintance who was lamenting the unfortunate and suppurating situation she was enduring with an abcess of the posterior. The obvious response to this would be, "Tell your doctor, dear, and STOP SHARING WITH VIRTUAL STRANGERS.")

But people do feel free to share the oddest things, and it just gives me pause. The best analogy I heard for the internet is that it closely resembles a cocktail party. You edge in, you mingle, you might make some friends or learn something new. What you don't do is come blasting in and show off your dirty underlinen to all and sundry. (And if you do, don't be surprised when several of us are gathered by the dip to talk about you and wonder where you learned how to behave.) Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go shop for shoes...

And on a completely different note, I have just been invited to present an award at the RITAs this year at RWA nationals in Washington! I'm hugely excited to have been asked. I get to present the award I won last year--Best Novel with Strong Romantic Elements. I e-mailed my agent the good news and she e-mailed back that now I have to get a new dress. And my reply to her was, "I'm WEARING IT already." (I had to make sure the hemline worked with my shoes, of course.) Now I have three and a half months to get nervous about using a teleprompter...

In which I told you my weekend was weird

Me. Hanging with a Swamp Thing.