Crossing Over . . .

I remember climbing into an attic space through a small door in the middle of the wall of my dad's home office. I hauled blankets and pillows and books in with me and I camped out there for the day. After awhile, I'd just leave all my stuff there and retreat to the tiny attic whenever I could. A naked light bulb with a string hanging from it lit the space and the books I dove into lit my imagination. 

I read. I re-read. I wore out the steps leading up to the children's room at the Sage Library in Bay City, Michigan. I carried home stacks of books all summer long, and even after summer was over. I didn't know it then, but that's how I became addicted to story. I immersed myself in other worlds, made friends with imaginary people, and solved the world's problems all without leaving my little attic space. Well okay, I did take my books to the pool, the swing set, my bedroom, the car, pretty much everywhere I went. 

Once in awhile I'd finish a book and sit with it in my lap, back cover closed, and sigh. Reliving the moments with the characters, still fresh in my mind. And sometimes my mind would wander to a question something like this: If I wrote a book, what kind of characters would I write about? Where would I want the setting to be? What would my author photo look like? (gimmee a break, I was probably 12!)

And now I know. It's a bit surreal, but I've signed a contract to publish my first novel. The dream is on its way to reality and I remember those moments in the attic so long ago and though I'm excited to bursting, a little bit scared, and worried about the marketing side, what I mostly feel is . . . grateful.

Crossing over to the other side reminds me of that scene in Indiana Jones where he has to step out into thin air before he can see the path his foot will fall upon. Every scene is written in faith that it will fall into the right hands and be read by the right people at the right time.

That God would give me a dream so long ago and bring me to this moment is humbling. I'm happily grateful and joyfully pecking away at the keyboard.

Closed a book early yesterday.

Yup! I've talked about it before, but I had to do it again. I didn't care about the characters. Kinda wanted to know what happened, but the remaining 250 pages were not worth my time.

This go round, I think the problem was the point of view (POV). The main characters were all men and the few women appeared to be very stereotyped. The wimpy mom. The obnoxiously dressed career secretary who files her nails and stares out the window. The hot babe sunning herself on the back porch. Gag me with a spoon. Yes, I just wrote that. If the main character is always tramping through the woods carrying a gun, peeing behind trees and ogling a girl from afar, I cannot relate to these non-universal experiences. I'm pretty sure this is the reason men don't read chick-lit. Too much girl stuff. So this book is what they must refer to as "lad-lit." I've heard of the phenomena but never read any. Now I know why. But for all the guys out there, I'm glad the book exists. It actually won a fairly prestigious award for the excellent writing. I'm guessing the judges were men.

As I'm working on my next novel, this makes me look at my male characters more carefully. Are they cardboard cutouts? Are they placeholders/props? I want all my characters to be real; three-dimensional. How do I avoid the cliche? I'm working on finding some kind of universal experience in each character that every reader will relate to. Something to think on.

What makes you quit reading a book? (Please don't name names).

Do You Believe in Magic?

I'm not talking Harry Potter magic, either. I mean, when you read a story - seemingly normal, and then the author throws in a little bit of magic, do you believe it?

It's easy to believe magical things will happen in a magical place. For instance, we easily believe a ring found under a mountain can prolong the life of a hobbit in Middle Earth and also destroy the entire world. But what if a woman finds a ring under her bed in Muncie, IN? Would we believe it could destroy the known world?

I love to believe in supernatural stories. It's like a ride the author takes me on, painting the backdrop for amazing, irregular things to happen. But have you ever read a story where it just didn't work?

What if the setting is contemporary, the people are all normal, but "out of this world" stuff begins to happen and the author provides no reason at all? What is your threshold for believability?

I happen to believe that if the author makes me believe it, he's done a great job. It's when the "seams" of a story become noticeable that I stop believing. An author who decides to dump a magical or mystical element into the story to make it work is using magic as a crutch and nine times out of ten, it will not work. But when an author writes a story so believably that it doesn't matter how realistic things are, beautiful things happen.

One such story is The Sugar Queen by Sarah Addison Allen. She tells an intriguing story about interesting people I care about. I believe the story. But then she weaves in this subtle, magical thread and while I know it's not possible, I love it. I eagerly follow this part of the story and it brings me joy because I wish it were possible in my own life.

It's a quirky novel (I just love them!) and I'm not sure it's overly well-known, but it's worth the read. A light-hearted and serious story, not too deep, but providing quality characters I'm still thinking of two weeks after I read the last page.

Check out The Sugar Queen and tell me, did you believe the magic?

Dabbling in Non-fiction

I’m driving down the road on my way to the orthodontist with my fourteen-year-old. The book is lying between us and she picks it up. Mind you, I’ve started reading it, but am only 1-2 chapters in. She starts reading from the beginning. I steal it back while she has her braces adjusted, and then she reads it on the way home. And after we get home. And through the entire afternoon and late into the night when I make her close it so she can wake up for driver’s ed the next day. She finished it by lunchtime. And then I got my chance.

I’m addicted to fiction. When there are ten fabulous novels waiting for me to read them, it’s difficult to stray into the realm of non-fiction. But this post documents a departure from my norm.

Heaven Is For Real by Todd Burpo. Before I read the book, I already believed it. I’ve studied many Biblical references to heaven and I can’t actually remember a time I wasn’t certain I’m going there after I die (or possibly before, but that’s a whole other blog post). This book gave me chills. Made it even more real.

The story is engaging. Fascinating. And it makes you think about everything you ever knew about Heaven. It’s not that it changed my view, but it confirmed several things I thought would probably be true, but didn’t have scripture to back me up.  It also confirmed several things that are in scripture. What’s cool about that, is this  four-year-old boy would not have heard what’s in scripture on those topics. And he couldn’t even read at that time in his life. He told his story to his parents piecemeal, and things he said were exactly what scripture describes.

So I didn’t need proof of Heaven. But it’s way cool to receive confirmation. It’s like making up my own recipe for something and my family loves it. Then, I read in a magazine a similar recipe created by a professional chef. I knew it was good, but when I see it printed in a magazine, I know other people know it’s good.

I highly recommend Heaven Is For Real. There are delightful surprises within. Plus, you get to know a wonderful family and a little boy with a remarkable experience. Don’t avoid it because it’s popular. This one’s popular for a reason. It strikes a chord, and that’s a good thing.

Have you read it? Do you avoid non-fiction? What will induce you to pick up a non-fiction book?

Do you know what a pimpernel is?

It’s a wild flower, in the primrose family. I’m sad to admit I only just learned it this summer. Of course, you must know, I can now say I’ve read the Scarlet Pimpernel.

Were you forced to read it for school? Have you seen the stage play? Have you (like me, before this summer) heard about it your whole life and always wondered what in the world a pimpernel is but didn’t wonder enough to pick up the book and read it?

It’s short. It’s swashbuckling. And it’s good! If you’ve been thinking you should read some classics to feed your brain, but when it comes to actually picking one up, you yearn for something more modern, I beseech you (the language kinda gets stuck in your head J) read this one!

The story takes place during the French Revolution when the lower classes ousted the aristocracy via Madame Guillotine, watching the proceedings like sport. The author was herself, a baroness from Hungry who was forced to flee her country, losing all the family lands.

The politics from the French Revolution written from an author sympathetic to the aristocracy in France is a fascinating read in light of our current political climate. I will not opine here, but suffice it to say, there was much food for thought.

More than that, the story clips along at a good pace, the hero and heroine are wonderfully opposed to each other at the beginning and though it is a romance, the intrigue, mystery, and general adventure held my interest all the way through.

Baroness Orczy may not have been a professional writer when she wrote it, but she knew the life of an ex-pat in England and she knew how to swashbuckle. (Sorry, I just had to use that word twice – it’s so much fun to say!) Give it a whirl. You’ll find out why the pimpernel matters. And you’ll sound really smart at dinner parties when this book is mentioned and you know all about it. (FYI: you might have to be the one that brings it up. But you’ll still sound smart. J)

Have you read any great classics this summer? Do you have any classics on your "to be read" list?

Lorna Landvik writes a great cupcake!

Reading Lorna Landvik is a true delight! I read Oh My Stars! at the beach a couple weeks ago and rediscovered my love for this author of wonderfully quirky characters and stories.  

The heroine in Oh My Stars is Violet. She is so unique, so complex, she’s like a cool breeze that finds you on a sultry, cooker of a day. The characters are not mere eccentrics pasted into a story, begging to be noticed. No, the characters are slowly built, carefully crafted, revealed in the reader's peripheral vision.

I laughed out loud and I also hid some tears behind my sunglasses over the course of this wonderful story. I have to come back to that first word I used to describe it: Delight. It’s not so much an easy, light read, but the emotional surprises are what evoke that delight. Lorna Landvik has a way of writing about meaty topics in a way that is both humorous and lighthearted, but at the same time serious and pointed.

There is a cupcake shop near my home who makes very tasty treats. Last time I was in the shop I saw a sign on the wall: Icing Shots, $1. I can only imagine how good that would taste on the way down, but how spiky the sugar-headache would feel afterward. No, I prefer my icing atop a delicious piece of cake. It’s richer. The flavor is much more balanced and just . . . right.

Lorna Landvik writes like a good cupcake. It’s not mere fluff. Not like an icing shot. The story is deep and rich and balanced. 

When was the last time you closed a book and said to yourself, “Well, that was delightful!”? Read Oh My Stars! and I think you just might.

By the way, also try Angry Housewives Eating Bon Bons by Lorna Landvik. And especially you Minnesotans up there, try Patty Jane’s House of Curl.

The Saga, Part II

So, we’re talking sagas again. The long story of heroic achievement. What if Luke Skywalker found some droids, learned to use the force, and then beat Darth Vader with his light saber?  Short, sweet, to the point, and good beats evil, end of story. Why does that story fall flat with us?

I think it’s the struggle. Conflict is one thing, but a long term struggle is another. Most sagas depict a war between good and evil, right and wrong, love and love lost, etc . . . What makes a saga resonate is the series of battles, one after another. Just when we think the hero will triumph, something else stands in his way. In fact, it seems the entire world is standing in his way.

Think about someone you know who has faced a difficulty and then gone on to inspire you. If you told me about that person’s journey, I might be interested and tell you it’s a good story. But if I knew that person well, watched him grow up, knew how his personality traits affect his reactions to various situations, it would be a different story. The tragedies and triumphs become much more graphic and magnified for me, knowing what this man is like and how these events would have affected him emotionally, socially, professionally, as well as physically.

I think that’s the benefit of the saga. It takes you deeper. Sometimes way deeper. My dad used to love reading James Michener. I remember one particular book called The Source (and I’m speaking from second-hand knowledge only here, I haven't read it). My dad told me the book went all the way back to the beginning of the people of Israel, and traced them through hundreds of generations to the modern day. Now, that might be an extreme case of “backstory,” but then again, everyone I’ve spoken to who read the book has loved it.

As a writer, the challenge is to write a story with enough detail to make it rich, but not so much the story gets dragged into the depths of dull. 

Do you prefer the deep, richly detailed tale, or a "Just the facts, ma'am" approach? Why? What's your favorite example?