On we go...

In an effort to not worry about whether the most forward thinking and clearly most brillant agent in the world will take me on as I client I have begun (or gone back to working on) a new novel. I am posting the epilogue (though epilogues are generally looked down upon) before editing it to give my multitude of readers (hi MJ, hi Susie) an idea of what a novel starts with in the hopes that I will finish and you'll see how completely it is changed.

Feedback is always welcome as are FANS!! (see become a fan button, please!)

And Because....

Epilogue


I was sitting around a campfire with friends enjoying a heated but friendly political exchange when my friend John said, “Hey wait! Did you guys just hear that?”

Being a mature group of 30ish adults we immediately assumed a Jason like being was lurking in the woods waiting to chop us to bits so we quickly fell silent and listened; hard.

“I didn’t hear anything, “ I finally said feeling it my duty to rescue John who was now looking a little sheepish at having staunched the flow of conversation for what amounted to nothing.

“I’m telling you I heard something BIG in the woods over there,” John said hoping the addition of a size descriptor might help in the group’s auditory effort.

“Yeah, I think I heard it too,” said Brian, my neighbor who had been working all day and was just glad to be relaxing with a cold beer.

“Anyway,” I said as I raised my eyebrows and looked to Brian’s left at his Rebecca. “You were saying?” Rebecca had been proselytizing about how the nation had made a huge mistake by voting for Obama.

“Right,” she said as she jumped back into her monologue. “Obama just let those prisoners out of Guantanamo without having any kind of plan. Where did he think they would go? Where…”

John sprang from his chair interrupting Rebecca, “See? Did you see that?”

“I did! It’s big alright,” said Brian. Whether this was to agree with John for the sake of it or whether he actually heard a BIG noise I’ll never know.

Both men got up and slowly started to tiptoe while trying to look manly (which is all but impossible). They pranced over to the tenuously constructed wooden lean to that was the home of my haphazardly stacked firewood. They got about five feet from the lean to and paused; heads tiled toward the wood listening.

Rebecca and I gave each other a quick eye roll and took the opportunity to refill our plastic wineglasses. This act apparently was too “loud” for the men who immediately started wagging their hands and ssshhhing at us.

A faint rustling could actually be heard. Rebecca and I looked at each other in surprise. The noise was distinct but clearly not coming from the woodpile. It seemed to originate from a plastic bin I used to store kindling wood. Based on the noise we were all now hearing it was clear that the creature making the noise was not so much BIG as very small. John and Brian, relieved that they weren’t going to have to battle the famed New England Lion approached the plastic bin with renewed swagger.

“Oh look,” said John as he flung pieces of wood from the bin toward the wood pile.

“It’s a baby mouse,” said Brian leaning over the bin.

“Oh!” said Rebecca as she got up to look. Rebecca was a lover of all animals both small and disgusting. It was only democrats she couldn’t stand.

“Well, get rid of it!” I said. I may have followed that with a religious epithet directed at John but it doesn’t add to the story so better left unsaid.

Once all of the kindling had been flung from the bin John tipped the bin slowly in my direction, most likely in retaliation for the previously mentioned epithet. The mouse started skittering out of the bin and I lifted my legs making a clear path under the bench into the woods behind me.

To my right the fire blazed and flickered in it’s cobblestone cave. The mouse, as mice do, darted to the left and to the right as it approached my bench and then, against all logical reason, ran directly into the fire.

“Aahhhh!!” I screamed before I could help it.

A huge intake of breath could be heard from the group at large. We all stared into the fire aghast.

“Why would he do that? I asked expecting some logical explanation.

“Maybe he was cold?” joked Brian.

“But that was just so stupid,” I said.

“It was a mouse, they aren’t that smart,” said John sitting back down and taking a sip of his beer.

“I know but…” I said stopping when I realized everyone else had lost interest in the suicidal mouse.

While the others picked up the political discourse I continued to ponder the fate of the mouse. I wasn’t sure why it was bothering me so much, I’m not a lover of animals and certainly have no use for mice but it was so clearly the wrong decision.

Then it came to me. We all make decisions we wish we hadn’t. The smallest things we do can change our lives. Take a right instead of a left, buy a coffee instead of a tea, go the grocery store instead of the post office. The most mundane activities can change the course of our lives and we can’t do a damn thing about it.

Making a literary life

I just finished reading Making A Literary Life by Carolyn See (pub. 2002, Random House) based on a tiny mention in a Maine Literary newspaper I picked up at the seven minute speed dating style pitch session. This book reminded me of the reason I started writing in the first place - pleasure, not fame or money.
As I strove to finish it (among throwing up children and, eventually, a vomiting husband) I decided to take whatever response came from the hold out second agent in stride. I would not burst into tears as I did when the first - the one I truly believed I belonged with  - said no. I would see the message, open it and deal with it. Again.
So there I was wtih three hours sleep at the library with Alexis reading through the Webster's unabridged dictionary (she loves that thing though it weighs about 15 pounds). I checked the crackberry and there it was. I debated not opening it knowing that as much as I told myself I didn't care I really did. I clicked. She wanted the rest of the manuscript!
I swear to God I made that weird noise I have only made one other time in my life - the time a live elk almost jumped on my head! Lexi was freaked until she saw the smile swallow my whole face.
"What Mom did someone buy the book?" she asked. (This is how annoying I've been about working on the book lately).
No, honey they haven't bought the book but we're one step closer - one tiny step for Mom one giant leap for Mom-kind.

Making a Literary Life - Carolyn See
I can not tell you how great this book is if you are a writer. The subtitle is 'Advice for writers and other dreamers' but I think you must write to enjoy this book. Some of her wisdom will truly help me in the future - including the chapter on "Magazines, Grants, and Fun with the Tax Man". Who knew you could write off dinner parties because it may be fodder for your future writing, or travel - don't believe me? - apparently Arthur Miller went to court over this.
Her style is easy, her advice wise but not over-bearing. I've been trying to follow her 1,000 word a day advice but it's tough, it really is but she lets us off saying we don't need to catch up if we miss a day - thank you Carolyn! I've written a charming note to an agent from whom I got a rejection and, indeed, I do feel better, if not virtuous. But I've never been acussed of virtuousness so I'll live.

The Wrong Mother - Sophie Hannah

As expected I LOVED this book! All of a mother's worst thoughts about childrearing come to life as diary entries. It turns out, though, that the diary isn't the main character Sally's but belongs to the wife of the man she had an affair with.

Sally was drowning in car pools, snack times and play dough when her boss scheduled her for a business trip. At first she assumed she couldn't do it but after her laid back husband suggests she "could" do it she starts to embrace the trip. So much that when it's canceled she decides to go and not tell anyone. She gets caught up in her naughty behavior and has an affair with a man staying at the hotel.  When she returns home she is rested and relaxed until a month later when she hears her lover's name on the television. She turns around to see what's happened only to realize the man on the tv isn't the man she met. Then the fun begins. A wife is dead, a detective is puzzled and various characters lead us through the winding story which ends in a complex twist. Throughout the book the diary entries drop clues about the psychosis of one mother as she sinks deeper and deeper into a childrearing depression.

This book has it all, drama, great characters, humor and suspense. Really a good, quick read. I'd recommend it and will be reading more of her books.

See an interview with the author here: Sophie Hannah video interview

Great quote in a new book

The book is The Wrong Mother by Sophie Hannah. I just started it so I'm not ready to review but so far very good. Very tired Mommy-ish but some of us can relate to that.
Setting: Her husband is watching the news surrounded by the remnants of a dinner that hit the floor when the children had a tantrum.

"Sweet. Aren't you going to....?" I point at the mess.
"In a sec," he says. "I'm just watching this."
"You could do both at the same time," I say. "Watch the news and clear up the mess." Pointless; it's the sort of comment some one like Nick doesn't understand.
He looks at me as if I'm crazy.
"I'm just saying, it'd be more efficient."
When he sees I'm serious, he laughs. "Why don't I just go straight to the last day of my life?" he says. "That'd be really efficient."

Don't you love that? I'm always telling the kids and John to try to do things more logically, more efficiently. It doesn't work and what's the rush really?

On another note, I need to start writing down where I get my book recommendations from because I just finished a book by Gillian Roberts and it was awful. I finished it because I thought I might be overly critical now that I'm up on my grammer rules (though I don't always employ them on my blog). The book Whatever Doesn't Kill You  is a boring tale of two female detectives who almost (but don't) have love lives and almost (but don't) understand each other. The characters are underdeveloped and the plot is weak. There are two intertwining stories neither of which you care about plus the author is a recluse with commas.

Hopefully next week I'll have a positivei review of The Wrong Mother. It's looking good!