Drop Your Books Here (A Reference of Friends' Published Works)

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weblogs.sun-sentinel.com

It's a good idea, I think. Because, you know, we all like a good list of good books to read.

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I was going to create this whole thing for you, had the post of it mapped out in my head, but then I realized I'm getting to know too many writers with published books (which is really kinda crazy-cool and exciting) to try and list them all.
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So, I invite you to drop your books here. YA? Historical fiction? Women's fiction? Mystery? Non-fiction, etc., etc.?
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Friends (and visitors), leave a comment with your published (or even soon-to-be) title(s) and a link to your website. If you've a logline or short summary to add, please do. Let's get you some readers!
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Readers, let's get you some books!

ROOM

This week I read ROOM by Emma Donoghue. Everything about it captivated me, from the author's brilliant presentation to the voice of the narrator, five-year-old Jack, who has spent his entire life in an eleven-by-eleven space.

It's one room with two who steal your heart. You have to read it.

What book would you recommend today?

Giveaway winners... in poetry!

I'm away from home,
didn't expect to be.
But still, I've got the winners
of the books I listed--all three!

Instead of Giveaway Guy's help,
because he's not with me,
I've put to the task my mom--
We'll call her Giveaway Grandy.

And so now I've got
everyone's names in the pot(s).

Let's draw, Giveaway Grandy.
(I have no pictures. Sorry!)

Up first, Willow Run.
And our winner is...
Angie Muresan!

And next, for Midnight Pearls:
pull our name, Giveaway Grandy...
Lisa Dovichi!

Last is for Flirting With Pete...
Wendy Paine Miller!

Congratulations to the winners! If you could each send your mailing addresses to jannawritesATyahooDOTcom, I'll send the books out just as soon as I can.

Thanks, everyone, for participating! And congrats again, ladies.

Delicious Pile of Books

I'd guess we all have bedside tables. I'd bet each is piled with books.

Wanna peek at mine?


The stack to the right is of those I've started reading. They are The Help by Kathryn Stockett (love it, flawless, will finish it first so it can return to the library), dwelling places by Vinita Hampton Wright (beautiful voice, excited to try her other titles), and Breaking Dawn by Stephenie Meyer (want to finish the series, you know... and oh yes, Team Jacob).

Those on the left were purchased over the weekend. Brand new, under $2 a piece. (I made my husband drag me from the store, because I needed more books like a need a cracked tailbone.) I got Angela's Ashes by Frank McCourt (RIP), Painted Dresses by Patricia Hickman, A Summer Affair by Elin Hilderbrand, and The Bondwoman's Narrative by Hannah Crafts. Each of their spines drew me in, as did their premises (save McCourt's, and his was the familiar name that did it).

Seriously, is there anything more appealing than a towering stack of books? (Well yes, but a towering stack of fudgy brownies has its own delicious benefits.)


Tell me, have you read any from my table? And what's yours look like?

Can't Explain

I went to the library, all by myself. My intention to look for a particular title was waylaid. There were no instigations, no distractions from other people, no. What kept me from my plan, for only moments, was something not just anyone noticed. Not the way I noticed.

I stood, still and in awe, eyes and heart engaged.

New releases. They were lined just so, how do you call it? Staggered. So you could peep a view of each cover, get that first impression. Each stood, bold and proud. They announced arrival, but moreso attainment of a writer's destination.

I wanted to turn to other patrons and shout, "Do you see these? Do you understand how beautiful, how important they are? Do you know what these represent?"

And when the head librarian passed by, asking if she could help with anything, I wanted to cry, "This is my goal, do you know? Do you feel it! One day you and I will stand here together, and my book will occupy this spot we see."

I felt it. It was powerful, for only moments.

I just can't explain.

A Weekend of Women

A lone Janna
three states (okay, just the corner of one)
food aplenty
and antiques.

Priceless.

A couple Saturdays ago I left town, bags loaded with reading material and edible goodies, mind set on time away and important visits.

I put almost a couple hundred miles behind me and met fellow writer and bloggy buddy, Melissa from Grosvenor Square. (And I kick myself for not asking her to pronounce that G-word for me. I stumble over it every time.) We had lunch at a quaint little hole-in-the-wall, where we talked shop and life. Melissa, a doll in her own right, was accompanied by her daughter, a sweet, talented little thing. We had a great time!

Afterward, I continued on to see my grandma. She's been in a care facility of sorts, since a car accident left her slow to move and confined by a neck brace. She's doing well, and our visit was pleasant. I admit, we've never been close, and the warm fuzzies and bonding I'd hoped for didn't come to pass. Still, our one-on-one time was important, and I'm glad I went.

One of the highlights of my trip was visiting antique stores along the way and back: Most of you know it's one of my favorite pasttimes. Plenty caught my eye, but I seemed in a bookish mood. I bought two old texts, one called the Essentials of English Composition, published in 1912, and the other Journalism. Its moss green cover caught my eye first, but then I was endeared by cursive handwriting that claims the inside cover. And its date, 1916. When I scanned the table of contents and read the following passage from within, I had to have it:

Women in Journalism
It seems to be a mooted question whether the newspaper world has anything much to offer them. According to the best opinion only those who feel that they have special talent for the work, and who are willing to deprive themselves of home and social life to an extent not required in any other business, except that of acting, should think of taking up journalism as a means of livelihood. Unlike teaching or almost any other calling, the labor of news getting and news editing is, from its exacting and severely practical nature, essentially a man's work...

Ohhhh, I could go on, but that's a decent taste. Isn't it a hoot? I had to bring it home.

All in all, a worthwhile weekend of women.

Have you had any special weekends of late?

Bestsellers... of All Time!

It seems like we're forever looking for something great to read, right?

This morning, when I flipped through my desk calendar, a notebook-sized spiral angled at writers with trivia and notes of encouragement (published by QPB), I stumbled across a list of The Bestselling Books of All Time! And I thought, why not share the titles? It would appear these are the somethings great.

*The following information is copied word-for-word from the calendar.*

The Bible holds the number-one spot, with somewhere between five and six billion copies sold. In fact, religious titles--the Koran, the Book of Mormon, the Book of Common Prayer--all have boffo sales figures. But they would skew the list. For that matter, so do Harry Potter novels. So regard this as a partial, yet utterly fascinating roster of the kind of sales figures authors dream of.

Don Quixote by Miguel de Cervantes, 1605 - 500 million copies
Clear away the sacred texts and this is the first secular book - and novel to boot! - with seriously impressive sales figures.

The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas, 1814 - 200 million copies
Who knew swashbuckling, a quest for vengeance and suddenly becoming really, really rich could have such broad appeal?

And Then There Were None by Agatha Christie, 1939 - 115 million copies
You may also know this classic mystery novel by its alternate title, Ten Little Indians.

The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger, 1951 - 65 million copies
We debated whether to include this one, since it does apear so often on high school and college reading lists, but, a sale is a sale.

The Da Vinci Code by Dan Brown, 2003 - 64 million copies
One can only sigh heavily.

Heidi by Johanna Spyri, 1880 - 52 million copies
This one took us by surprise, too.

The following are all tied at 50 million copies

Ben-Hur by Lew Wallace, 1880

King Solomon's Mines by Henry Rider Haggard, 1885

The Curse of Capistrano (aka The Mask of Zorro) by Johnston McCulley, 1920

How to Win Friends and Influence People by Dale Carnegie, 1936

The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupery, 1943

The Common Sense Book of Baby and Child Care by Dr. Benjamin Spock, 1946

The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho, 1988


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So what do you think? Were you in the know? How many/which ones have you already read?

I've Been Banished

From book stores, book aisles, and online booksellers. It had to be done. I banned myself. Because I've been buying so much, and haven't been able to make myself stop. I've ordered four new ones online in the last week!

My stack of books to read is large. Some are novels, some are non-fiction that spoke to me on some level. Others are books I've started but need a fresh crack at.

Dare I anytime soon utter the words, There's nothing to read.

Behold: Books!

My mom got me Stephen King's On Writing for Christmas, and I can't tell you how much I'm loving this book. I'm halfway through, and the paperback already has pen marks and a dog ear or two. (I do plan to share some amazing nuggets from King, most likely in tomorrow's post.) My mom also gave me (Mom, you rawk!) a gift card to Amazon... with which I pre-ordered my very own copy of Kimmi's The Unbreakable Child. Though I know its content may be difficult to read (check the link for details), I can't wait to hold her story in my hands - all while supporting a writing buddy. The bad news is, I have to wait until April for shipment...

My sister gave me Donald Maass' Writing the Breakout Novel. I haven't cracked the cover on that one yet but, given his success as a literary agent, I expect it to be great. High hopes, my friends! My sister also gave me (Jill, you rawk!) a gift card to Starbucks, where I can go sit with any one of these books, and lose myself amongst fine coffee smells and that coffeehouse vibe. You know the one I mean. It's like creativity oozes out of those places.

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Then of course there's the one *ahem* I got myself for Christmas, Writer's Workshop in a Book. And see, I'm pretty good at this, I also bought myself two new journals (remember my fetish?) during after-Christmas sales. The larger drew me in with its colors, even though the binding was torn. But I gladly paid the super-clearance price, slapped some scrapbooking paper over the spine, and embellished the front cover with five simple letters: w.r.i.t.e. The other is gorgeous brown leather, with roses embossed on a portion of it. This is one of those I may never actually write in, because its beauty would be marred by my sloppy handwriting...

What about you? Did you get amazing goodies for Christmas? Something that encourages your pasttime or passion?

[My apologies... there was an issue with the formatting of this post, and when I tried to fix it I encountered a publishing snafu. I think it's fixed now; sorry for the errors.]

Presents!

I have Christmas presents on my mind...

I got a little shopping done a few months ago, put a decent dent into what I need yesterday, and have a trip planned with my mom today. How exciting is it to seek out the perfect gift for a loved one? It puts such a spring in my step. (Though, to be fair, any kind of shopping does that.)

And a present came for me! Kind of, anyway. I'd ordered a book for myself, and it was delivered yesterday. But I'll wrap it, mark it from Santa, and no one will ever be the wiser. Mum's the word, alright?

I'm excited to open this one; it looks to have some good stuff, by good writers. Yippee!

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While we likely agree there's much more to Christmas than gifts, it can be fun to think about what our family and friends may get us. What did you ask for this year?

I Have a Fetish

With books, in general. But especially notebooks and journals. Does it have a fabulous cover? And blank, inviting pages? Then my fingers itch to touch it. And it shall be mine.


I carry them in my purse for shopping lists. I tuck them around the house, for easy access when a great thought bursts onto the scene. And, of course, I keep 'em at the ready near my computer. (I should also say they always - ALWAYS - end up with at least a few pages of preschooler doodles.)



Here's my current collection:

Some you see are filled with miscellaneous scribbles and jots. The two upper-right ones are the journals I fill with tidbits about my daughters' childhoods. The floral in the middle, top row, is the one someone personalized as a gift for me. And then the celery green and mauve-y books, together in the middle, along with the light blue (sandwiched in the corner between the two beefier blues), came as a packaged set from a hobby store. They're thin and smooth, with beautifully blank pages.

I am going somewhere with this.

The sandwiched blue one is the new home to some very crucial notes for my WIP. After yesterday's post about whether or not I should outline, I decided I'd make an effort. Especially after Jenna suggested maybe I was turned off by the word "outline," and the connotation it came to have through years of school papers and reports, not the actual output of one. Call it a blueprint! she said.

And so I am. The little notebook is perfect. Thus far I'm designating one page for each chapter, for key points. (Those will be written along with the book, as I see where each chapter will take me. So it's kind of outlining, kind of not.) The margins are already being stuffed with things I'll need to keep in mind down the line. And I started writing a character sketch for the main character, as well.

It pleases me. And not just because I'm using an adorable notebook.

Do you have a (healthy) fetish?

Whatcha Readin'?

As most writers tend to be, I'm also an avid reader. Right now two novels divide my readerly attention: A Tale of Two Sisters, the story of close sisters who abandon their relationship when circumstances make it easy, written by Anna Maxted, and Emma, the classic tale by Jane Austen.

What are you reading now? What do you recommend? Help create a list to keep nearby for the cold winter months ahead.

Stuff and Things

I feel like I've been neglecting this wee little blog. In reality it's just that I haven't posted in, what, four days? Certainly that doesn't rock the writing world, but I feel a little less... involved. I think, in part, I can blame my "vacation brain," whichs still hangs around after our trip two weekends ago. And then, too, we've had an incredibly packed schedule, trying to do all the doin' before school starts. Somehow none of it's conducive to blog post idea after blog post idea; even though recently it had been my habit to churn posts out daily. Maybe once school starts, for which I'll be sending one off to kindergarten *sniffle*, I'll get myself lined out into a better routine. I'm hoping, anyway.

I did start on my non-fiction project. I've looked high and low for how one goes about it, and all signs point to doing your idea and market research first, gathering all the data into your proposal (and writing an overview, etc.) before writing the book itself. So I've taken those initial steps, started down that path. Though the whole kit and kaboodle is something I've never done before, I've found it a worthwhile challenge. And the brainstorming continues.

Likewise, my second novel has still been tugging at my brainwaves. And I love it. I love that there's potential in more than one project; that there are ideas which could take me different directions, depending upon my daily mood and goal. We shall see where they take me.

You may remember we're remodeling our house. It's an A-frame and, along with many other changes and improvements, we've extended the balcony off the Master loft. This new, bigger space will be my writing/reading nook, and I can't tell you how excited I am to get myself set up there. It's still probably a month out, what with everything else we still have to do, but once I'm all settled and decorated, I'll post pictures. It'll be my "special place." Did I tell you how excited I am? (Plus I get to go shopping for a few new pieces to fill it!)

I've been reading voraciously the last few weeks. I've always loved reading, and done it often, but I've been in a particularly good mood to sit down, paperback in hand, these days. Usually I prefer reading just one book at a time, though I've got three going now. The first is Freezing Point by Karen Dionne. She's the aunt of my friend Melanie [I decided today, Melanie, that calling you my "writing buddy" isn't sufficient anymore ;)], and is touted as "the new Michael Crichton." How totally cool is that? I've taken part in Ms. Dionne's virtual book tour. Here's my picture, taken in the chicken house at the Missouri State Fair, five-dollar hat to boot. Yee haw!



I've also begun Anne Lamott's bird by bird. So many people have recommended it, particularly once they've found out I write, and so far it's not the least bit disappointing. I have yet to finish Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert, which I started months ago. I've loved it so far, but fell out of the mood for it, and it's really just a matter of picking it up again.

And my last stuff (or thing, if you're keeping track), is that I haven't heard word from any agent in almost two weeks. (I say this not to whine, just to state the fact.) So, the count remains...

11 rejections, 13 queries out

The Fiction Class - A Book Review

To begin, here's the passage from the back of the book The Fiction Class by Susan Breen:

"On paper, Arabella Hicks is more than qualified to teach a weekly fiction class on New York's Upper West Side: She's an author herself; she's passionate about books; she's even named after the herione in a Georgette Heyer novel.

So why do her students seem so difficult? And why can't she find an ending to the novel she has been working on for seven years? Arabella's beginning to suspect that it's because her mother, Vera Hicks, is driving her insane. After each class, she goes to see Vera in a nursing home outside the city. Every visit turns into an argument. Arabella can't figure out how to make peace, until one day she discovers something surprising: Her mother wants to be a writer.

Slowly, cautiously, Arabella begins to teach her, and as the lessons progress along with her class, Arabella discovers that it is she who has a lot to learn about writing, and about love."

And now for my review:

As The Fiction Class, the story of Arabella Hicks, began, I was seemingly unaffected. Susan Breen's protagonist was dull, dissatisfied. Her affect as the teacher of an uninspired class, and the friction between she and her mother, Vera, didn't create a character I was readily able to connect with.

Formatting of the novel, which jumped from writing class to visit with Vera back to writing class, felt jarring to me. And the flow of Breen's more formal prose seemed stuffy, surreal.

But then, before I knew it, I realized with surprise that Arabella had grown on me. Through Breen's turns of phrase, which eventually came to resound so poignantly within me, I'd become used to Arabella's eccentricity. She was a more relatable character than I'd expected, and I found myself invested in her story. I felt sympathy as she faced her class and visits with Vera, and just as she began to see once-hidden layers in her students, and in her mother, I saw the same in her.

All said and done, The Fiction Class was a satisfying novel. The dynamics between Arabella and the supporting characters - particularly a love interest - made for an entertaining read. And the closure reached by book's end, made the discomfort between Arabella and Vera strangely worthwhile.

Susan Breen is one whose books, should she write more, will grace my nightstand.



You can view other reviews for The Fiction Class, by visiting Blog Stop Book Tours.