Monthly archive

February 2012

Wednesday, February 29, 2012

In which we're talking about short hair

So I've been living with the short hair for a few weeks now, and it's been a revelation. Seriously. I hadn't realized HOW MUCH time and thought I'd been putting into my hair until I lopped it off. My schedule, both morning and evening has changed, and so much for the better! I can go from unwashed hair to washed, dried, and styled in TEN MINUTES. It's life-altering. My husband and I rode around in a convertible in Phoenix, and it was bliss. Whenever we got out, I just ruffled it and tucked it behind my ears and it looked exactly the same as when I'd gotten into the car.

But short hair changes more than just time. It means that I have to rethink everything I wear! Earrings that might have peeked out from behind my hair now take center stage. Anything too girlish or twee is OUT, as it ought to have been anyway, really. When I was pondering the difference of short hair, I ran across this essay by Joan Juliet Buck, and read it saying YES. That's exactly what it's like. When my hairdresser finished cutting off my hair, she spun me around and said, "You should never hide behind long hair." And she was absolutely right.

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Tuesday, February 28, 2012

In which I have found perfect SHOES

The hunt for the perfect black flat has occupied much of my adult life. (We each have a burden to bear...) I need something soft, chic, comfortable, and practical. I found a pair that has almost everything. They are suede, so not the MOST practical, but since I like to wear duck boots or wellies when it's raining, that isn't too much of an issue for me. The beauty of these is that the ankle wrap makes them as charming with full skirts as they are with jeans. They aren't cheap-cheap, but they are on sale until March 13, and they do come in two other colors if black isn't your thing. I can vouch for them being very soft and flexible, and the two places where flats usually abuse your feet--the heel and the last joint of the big toe--are blissfully comfortable. And no, I'm not getting anything for flogging them! Garnet Hill Ballerina Flats.

Monday, February 27, 2012

In which I do love the Duchess of Devonshire

Not the current one--although I'm sure she's lovely. I don't actually know anything about her. I'm talking about her mother-in-law, the former Deborah Mitford. One of the legendary Mitford sisters, she has had the most fascinating life. She's lived through extraordinary events and brushed up against the most intriguing people. (Just one example: her brother-in-law was married to JFK's sister and the two families were close. She attended both JFK's inauguration and funeral.)

Like all of the Mitfords, she has a way with words, and she's written a number of books, all of which are entertaining and thoughtful. I first ran across her in the early 1990s when I found a book called The Englishwoman's Bedroom. It profiled dozens of high-profile women and their most intimate rooms, and her commentary was so delightful I started to hunt down other things she'd written. (Of course, now that I say that, I had to go check and discovered it was actually the Duchess of Beaufort profiled in the book, so WHERE I discovered the Duchess of Devonshire is a complete mystery...)

It was mildly gutting that she didn't publish a memoir until last year. She's written about farming, chickens, books, people--whatever touches her life. She was instrumental in running Chatsworth House, the Devonshire seat, and establishing a now-legendary farm shop. (It's one of the oddities of the British aristocracy that the Duke of Devonshire's seat is nowhere near Devon. I've often wondered if those nice folks down south are a little affronted that "their" duke lives in the Peak District. Or perhaps they don't think of it at all...) In any event, she has worked very hard for many years to maintain Chatsworth and its treasures for future generations, and her writing is the ultimate comfort reading. Get your hands on a copy of Home to Roost or Counting My Chickens or Wait for Me, brew up a pot of tea and bake some scones, and thoroughly enjoy a lost afternoon.

(If you're not familiar with Chatsworth, it stood in for Pemberley in the Keira Knightley adaptation of "Pride and Prejudice". Check out the official website while you're pottering.)

Saturday, February 25, 2012

In which you might be having Downton withdrawals...

Are you suffering, chickens? Likewise. I didn't manage to start season two with everyone else for various and sundry reasons. Then my DVR was in its last throes and we had to settle in and watch every episode last weekend before exchanging the DVR for a new one. (I'm a DVR hoarder, and it's painful every time I have to turn one of the bloody things in--I lose my Hitchcock and everything I've recorded off TCM and Masterpiece. Bah.) Anyway, we caught up just in time to watch the final episode which was rather divine because there was no nail-biting agony over what was going to happen. I may watch this way in future just because it's glorious to wallow in full-on Downton-ness for an entire weekend.

In any event, it does make it rather difficult to emerge from the post-Edwardian cocoon. To make the transition more palatable, here are some links to warm and tasty Downton goodness:

*Downton paper dolls. Dress up your very own dowager countess!

*Downton cocktails. Themed to each of the Crawley sisters.

*The Downton companion book. Excellent behind-the-scenes peek at filming and the history of the times. Find it on the official Masterpiece site along with other goodies--film clips and quizzes.

*Sh*t the Dowager Says. Because you can never have too much Maggie.

*Uptown Downstairs Abbey, Part I and Part II.

Friday, February 24, 2012

In which I sigh

Because I am honestly not very good at throwing a tantrum. Yesterday's epic rage fest resulted in a funny tweet from Susanna Kearsley--gifted writer and all-around lovely person. She sent me a link to a YouTube video mocking banks that was precisely what I needed, and when I tweeted that to her, her response was, "All part of the friendly service. Now sip your tea, start your day over, and go write something wonderful." AND I DID.

Oh, it was heavenly. I sat down with my manuscript and revision notes and was perusing the items I plan to work into the book and THERE IT WAS, the plot wrinkle that had been vexing me for months, ironed out crisply as new cotton. It was like a little pat on the head from the divine--and an excellent reminder that the remedy is always a deep breath, a good cup of tea, support from kindly folk, and THE WORK. Because sometimes you fix the work, and sometimes the work fixes you.

Thursday, February 23, 2012

In which I am livid

Oh, darlings, just WALK ON and pretend you didn't see me today. It's not pretty. This is the point at which a smarter girl would go off and hole up in a hotel room or cabin in the woods with no internet or television or possible contact with the outside world and FINISH HER BOOK. Instead, life keeps intruding in vastly annoying ways.

Take this morning, for instance. I won't go into the agonizingly dull details but there was a glitch at the bank--which they mishandled and apologized for--but involved multiple unpleasant phone calls, my husband going to the bank, and me rage-texting him to close that account because I was that furious at their handling of the situation. Between you and me, I'm STILL livid, and if I didn't have a MATTERHORN of revisions to get through, I'd be down there closing out the other four accounts as well. (That's the downside of direct deposit--it makes it so much harder to storm off in a huff. Like hanging up on someone with an iphone. It loses something in the translation.)

Anyway, thinking about it still has me incandescently enraged--not a good look for me--and I just realized I have forgotten to eat lunch which means I'm irritable AND starving AND didn't get anything of note done this morning on the book. Bah. BAH, I tell you. It's the sort of day that makes me wish "Downton Abbey" wasn't finished because I need a strong dose of civility. So here's my plan--I am going to go into the kitchen and make breakfast. AGAIN. I'm starting over. I am having English muffins and tea for lunch and then I will get to work because I am going to have a nice morning today EVEN IF I HAVE TO DO IT THIS AFTERNOON. Suck on that, Sun Trust!

Wednesday, February 22, 2012

In which I am cannon fodder

Yesterday was painful, chickens. The first day back with a book after being away is agony--always. The good thing is that I had a hard time revising because I was engrossed in READING, something that almost never happens to me with my own work. The bad thing is that I had a hard time revising because I was engrossed in READING. I have work to do! Right now it's proving organizationally challenging. As I'm writing this I'm printing out a fresh copy of the manuscript because at this stage I just feel that rewriting by hand would be more suitable than fiddling with the computer file. I also sorted the information on my newsprint sheets and, GOODNESS ME, but there's a lot I want to include. Beginning to think I should index THAT on a printout and take everything into the other room. Since I've broken so many rules with this book--and that's a blog entry of its own--I am flying blind here and working solely by instinct.

I'm also engaging in all sorts of writerly superstition--rubbing my lion's tooth (a replica my husband bought me in a shop in New York), burning tea olive candles, and blowing on my gris gris bag from New Orleans while I wait for my manuscript to print. I'm also resisting the urge to do ANYTHING besides work on the book. There are Nigerian bankers urgently demanding my attention so they can settle my inheritance, my bathrooms need cleaning, the laundry needs sorting, and the dog is a matted little wreck and the last thing I want is another scolding from my scary Russian dog groomer. (Last time I walked in the door after she brushed him out and she pointed at me with an accusing finger--"YOU are culprit!"--because he had had some mats. Which begs the question, if I have the time and inclination to keep my dog perfectly groomed WHY DO I NEED YOU, SCARY GROOMER?) But I put down the dog brush and picked up my flash drive instead. The mood is very "Charge of the Light Brigade" around here today. It definitely feels like staring down the barrel of a cannon and knowing I don't have any choice but to ride on....

Tuesday, February 21, 2012

In which I am buckling down

Today I start the last round of major revisions! My due date was originally February 29, but my editor is out of the country until mid-March, so I have been able to take the weekend off after traveling and clear my head--a lovely bonus that doesn't always happen at this stage.

So here's the plan: I will comb through every entry, and there are hundreds, posted on newsprint on my study walls. Each entry is a fact, a place, a detail, an idea that I wanted to at least consider incorporating into the book. Some of them made it into the last round of revisions; some will get discarded permanently because they just aren't necessary. The rest will have to be woven in, subtly and neatly, the edges tucked in so tidily that readers won't be able to tell what was added at this stage and what has always been there. This means lots of red Sharpie to slash through the entries as they're discarded or added. I mark my progress by the amount of red ink oozing over my walls. I'll also be screening the last of the movies and skimming the research books again to make sure I didn't miss anything I wanted to include. I have two weeks to make that happen, then a week to print out the manuscript and read it aloud to finesse the wording for any changes. (First, I'll sit down with the calendar and work backwards to determine how many pages I have to get through as a minimum for each day's work to meet the deadline. Then I'll probably round up to pad the number of days just to make sure I have an extra thrown in there.)

And that's what I'll be doing for the next few weeks. Of course at this point it ramps up into being terrifying again, but that's expected, and sometimes you get so saturated in anxiety over a project you just get accustomed to the fear and you invite it in for tea to make friends with it. At this point I should just build mine a guest room.

Monday, February 20, 2012

In which we're having a snow day

Well, a pseudo-snow day. Today was already a school holiday, but last night we had our second snowfall of the season and woke to everything sparkly and white. We only got about an inch and it was already starting to drip, but so pretty! I always think the best snowfalls are the ones that don't leave you with icy roads and heaps of snow to shovel, so this was pretty fab. I'm hunkered down with hot chocolate and my daughter and memoirs of women who worked as lady's maids.

Yesterday I managed to get through ALL of the second season of "Downton Abbey" just in time to see the last episode, and I curled up with my companion book. One of the things that irritates me vastly about some of the criticisms of "Downton" is when people whip out the "that would never happen" sniffiness. Until and unless you read MASSES of firsthand accounts--memoirs, journals, letters, autobiographies, etc.--you would think that people did things a very specific way and never deviated. And that would be very, very wrong. At no time in history have people behaved in one precise fashion with no room for individuality. Even in totalitarian regimes, people are still people--complex and messy and interesting. (That's why a Nazi guard who shows a glimmer of humanity, a queen who abdicates, a priest who breaks his vows are all more intriguing than people in the same roles who do precisely what is expected of them.) And it is straight up ABSURDLY simplistic to say, "Victorians wouldn't do that" or "Regency ladies never did this". It's as ridiculous as saying that "all Americans in the 21st century believed THIS way." It just doesn't fly.

In just five minutes of reading one of the lady's maid memoirs, I learned about a second parlourmaid who valeted for the master of the house, an earl marrying the daughter of a local registry office clerk, and a head parlourmaid taking on the duties of the butler. All of those things would fall under the heading of "would never happen", but they DID. Were they out of the ordinary? Yes, that's what makes them worth remarking upon and worth including in a fictional work as well. Unremarkable people doing unremarkable things makes for bad storytelling. That's why we only write about people who are either very interesting or doing very interesting things or perhaps both. To criticize any storytelling--whether the medium is film or novel--on the grounds that "that wouldn't have happened" is narrow-minded and silly if you haven't done the research to back up your opinion. (And I'm talking almost exclusively about social conventions and domestic arrangements here as opposed to historical fact.) Some of the most outrageous things in the Julia Grey series are not wholly drawn from imagination but were based on real people doing very odd things. And this is a very long way round of saying that while I can certainly appreciate "Downton" criticism that is based on preferences, it makes my back teeth itch to hear it savaged by people who know almost nothing about history who nitpick it on the grounds that it isn't historical...Really? Go watch "The Tudors" and THEN complain about historical inaccuracy. I'll wait. In a television landscape littered with trash like "Jersey Shore" and any talk show that uses paternity testing as an audience hook, "Downton" is a thoughtful, intelligent, elegant, thinking person's soap opera and I say bring on season three.

Anyway, rant over. The trip to Phoenix was a very nice break indeed--and one of the spontaneous and thoroughly enjoyable highlights was spending the day at the Arabian horse show. Most people would be surprised to find that the smell of livestock barns is pure comfort and nostalgia to me, and I am never happier than when my boots are dusty and I'm within arm's reach of large animals--and I say this as a person who does not ride. Horses, cattle, pigs, I love them all, and the smell of hay and warm livestock is bliss. (If someone would put that in a candle, I'd buy an armful...) The event at the Poisoned Pen was great fun, and huge thanks to all who came! Champagne and chocolates were in good supply, and it is always such fun to do an event with Lauren Willig. I get to see her next month at the Virginia Festival of the Book, so I am well-pleased indeed!

The trip home, however, was less than delightful. It took fourteen hours thanks to a mechanical delay and rebooking in Charlotte, but I was so happy to be off the plane from Phoenix that I would have happily walked home from there thanks to the girl behind me WHO NEVER SHUT UP. I'm not kidding. It was a three and a half hour narcissistic drone in a VERY loud voice. It was so disruptive that the flight attendant snickered as he walked past and said, "Headphones, $3." For the first hour, we were all pretty low-key about hating her. You know how it is--you are made miserable by something in public but you don't initially make a big deal out of it in case you're the only one. But by the second hour, my row had actually formulated a plan to eat her first if we ended up wrecked on a beach somewhere.

I tried drowning her out with my ipod, but I could clearly hear her above Aerosmith, and here's what I heard: she's a trophy wife whose husband is twenty-two years her senior, they have no formal dining room because they preferred a game room complete with pool table and Ms. Pac-Man, they have a "playful" marriage, her wedding dress cost $7000, her wedding cake was chocolate with chocolate icing and pink quilting but NO FONDANT because she doesn't like it, she needs an expert architect to replace glass sliding doors in her house, her father's toe was amputated due to "pre-diabetes", her husband Rob is never home because he travels a lot due to work, he's recently taken up skydiving but he's had a couple of parachute malfunctions, she has a Kindle, she has a 5000 square foot home, she grew up in California and for her bridal shower her mother flew in her childhood best friend, an aesthetician who did facials for the entire bridal party for free, she's got a brother named Jeff. AND THAT WAS JUST A HALF HOUR'S CONVERSATION. Did I mention she brought out wedding pictures at one point?

Now, when we compared notes with the guys in the row behind us, they were inclined to feel sorry for the man she was talking to until I pointed out that it was his fault for MAKING EYE CONTACT with her. They agreed, and it was unanimously decided that he would be eaten second. I have flown rather a lot, and this was absolutely the first time I have ever seen a group of strangers so completely united in their desire to debone another human being. When she got up to use the lavatory opposite me, my husband--who was sporting MacGyvered earplugs from a cocktail napkin--begged me to block her in, using my own body if I had to. It was epically, awesomely awful to be in this girl's vicinity, and the best part is how COMPLETELY clueless she was. I have never met anyone so lacking in self-awareness, and I have to admit, I understand the trophy wife dynamic even less now because sure, you can bring a shapely blonde home for your "playful" marriage, but at some point YOU HAVE TO TALK TO HER. I suppose that's why Rob travels so much...and that would explain the parachute incidents. I personally think they must be cries for help. In addition to being stratospherically self-involved, she was crass, indiscreet, and common as pig tracks, as we say in the south. (Ladies do not drop f-bombs in conversations with men they have just met loudly and in public. EVER. And if anybody on "Downton Abbey" does, I will be the first one to complain because it just is NOT DONE.)

Actually, the most entertaining part for me was the last quarter hour of the flight when my husband was listing all the things he didn't want me to do to her when the plane landed. They included dirty looks, direct confrontation, voodoo dolls, and any form of eye contact whatsoever. He knows me too well...

Tuesday, February 14, 2012

In which I am packing

So I'm getting ready to head to Phoenix for the event at The Poisoned Pen--Thursday! 7pm! Lauren Willig and me! Champagne and chocolates! Can you tell I'm excited? If you want a signed book and aren't going to be where I am in the next few months, give them a call and order one up!

I'm desperately looking forward to it for a variety of reasons. Signing with Lauren is always a blast, and The Poisoned Pen is the kind of local bookstore I would LOVE to have. I'm also deeply tickled to be staying at a swoony hotel--where they very nicely offered me a discounted upgrade when I called to confirm--but best of all, my husband is coming with me! I almost always travel alone for business, but we realized we don't have a vacation planned this year, and so a few weeks ago he booked a ticket and even managed to get seats next to mine on all the flights, so we're good to go! We'll be having a belated Valentine dinner together and since I've been submerged in book brain for the last few weeks, he can introduce himself.

Speaking of the book, I finished this revision draft last weekend and stopped off today to stock up on what I'll need for the final push. I always change colors of paper between drafts, and it's always fun to decide what color a book feels like. But then this morning, out of the absolute BLUE, I got an idea for a semi-major change that I really need to noodle over before I buckle down to revisions. This happened with The Dark Enquiry too. I finished one draft and went away for the weekend and OOOOOF. That's the sound of a big idea landing on your head. Here's the thing: the idea is good. I know that. And it will change up a fair bit in the new draft, but it's not an unthinkable amount of work. And it complicates my main character in ways that will be EXTREMELY AND PROFOUNDLY COOL. Or I could just pretend I never thought it and polish up what I have and be done with it.

I think we both know that's not going to happen. I'll have to write it all out in a brainstorming session and then tear the book apart and stitch it back together. It's more work; it's harder, and it will make a better book. So we know what I'll end up doing, but in the meantime, I plan to fully enjoy my week off between drafts and build up my stamina for the final push to get this book DONE.

On the up side, I seem to have masses of extra time now that I'm not wrestling with my hair. It's odd, but I never realized HOW MUCH my hair dictated what I did and how much time it sucked up. And what I did wasn't good for it, or I wouldn't have ended up losing it by the handful. Did I mention that's why I hacked it off? Yep--I was VERY ready for a change, but I had also damaged it badly and it was breaking, just snapping off every time I so much as looked at it. Honestly, I wouldn't blame it if it held a grudge. I thought about it and realized I was doing at least four majorly stupid and damaging things to it--between the permanent color and the curling iron, yada yada--but I think it's forgiving me...

Finally, I won't be blogging for the rest of the week--not taking the netbook on the trip and as much as I adore my Kindle Fire, whoever thought it would function as a mini-tablet was seriously deluded. And since I'll be out of here until the weekend, I thought I'd give you a few of my favorite apps in case you haven't found them yourself:

*IF Poems. A poetry app designed for children that is too cool to let them keep to themselves. The poems are read aloud by Helena Bonham Carter and Bill Nighy, so it is full of awesome.

*Starwalk. Maps the constellations based on your location so you can explore the night sky. (Starbucks was actually offering this as a free download a few weeks back.)

*Pocket Pond. Because koi are even more fun if you don't have to feed them.

*Bloom. Incredible app that you can customize to send you reminders to help you live the best version of your life. Whether it's drinking more water, writing in your journal, doing yoga, taking a mini-vacation, Bloom sends reminders either randomly or on a selected schedule. I'm particularly smitten with the mini-safari and ocean vacation.

So that's it for me, chickens--have a glorious week, and hope to see you in Phoenix!