Anna Reiley on Inside the Character's Studio!

Ok...it's no secret that I have a major friend crush on the fabulous Sarah Ockler. We've got some weird cosmic similarities that are seriously freaky-deaky. First, we're both named Sarah. Second, Sarah's husband grew up literally across the street from where my parents lived when they first moved to the US in Flushing, Queens, NYC. How did we discover this? Sarah actually *recognized* the spot where this photo was taken. While she was reading my blog. Which brings me eerie similarity #3--we're both awesome.

So...I am SO SO SO excited to host Anna Reiley, the star of Sarah's Twenty Boy Summer on the blog today.

While on vacation in California, sixteen-year-old best girlfriends Anna and Frankie conspire to find a boy for Anna’s first summer romance, but Anna harbors a painful secret that threatens their lighthearted plan and their friendship.

TWENTY BOY SUMMER is a debut YA novel that explores what it truly means to love someone, what it means to grieve, and ultimately, how to make the most of every single moment this world has to offer.

Welcome, Anna!

What is your favorite word?
Love.

What is your least favorite word?
Lost.

What turns you on creatively, spiritually or emotionally?
Being outdoors and connecting with the universe through nature. Traveling also does it for me, now that I finally get to go somewhere interesting! But mostly, I just like to be outside in the sun, no matter where I am.

What turns you off?
When people apologize for something they didn't do simply because they don't know what else to say, or when they try to force conversation just to fill the space so they don't have to feel awkward around you. I wish they would just be quiet, because sometimes there just aren't any words for something.

What is your favorite curse word?
I don't curse that much, so I save it all up for the big one. ;-)

What sound or noise do you love?
The sound of Matt's voice reading to me. Some days I wake up and think of him and his voice goes hazy in my memory. I'm so scared of forgetting the sound of it.

What sound or noise do you hate?
Tires screeching, and the song that was playing that day... Casey Jones.

What profession would you like to attempt?
I think I'd like to work with other teens and kids who just need someone to talk to and listen to them, especially if they've gone through something traumatic. Maybe a counselor or social worker.

What profession would you not like to do?
Hair stylist or makeup artist. I leave all things glamorous in Frankie's capable hands.

If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates?
"Matt! She's here!"

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Check out other interviews from Inside the Characters' Studio here.

On my turntable...

Ok, I lie. I don't have a turntable. Eric does, but I am not allowed to use it. Ok, that's a lie, too. I'm sure that if I wanted to play a record he would allow me access to the little black square that sits in his office...assuming it's not a Barenaked Ladies record. That's where he draws the line.

But admit, you liked the idea that I had a turntable. And then you liked the idea that Eric holds sway over the use of vinyl in my house.

I digress. This is a post about the music that I am in love with today. I know that wasn't very clear. I hope it is now, though.

I'm totally obsessed with Ani DiFranco's Red Letter Year these days. I love it. Love it. LOVE IT. Now, as I've mentioned before, I'm a huge Ani fan. For a number of reasons, not the least of which is the fact that I can map much of my adult life (including my relationship with Eric) to Ani concerts: the first time Eric came to visit me in NYC, we saw her play acoustic at Carnegie Hall; the day I moved into my first NYC apt without a roommate, Eric and I lay on my bed and listened to Reveling/Reckoning while the summer breeze blew the curtains over our heads; Little Plastic Castle is the second song on the mix cd Eric made in honor of our wedding; and the day I sold my first adult romance to Avon, November 21st 2008, we saw Ani play at Town Hall.

One might say that if my life were a Paul Thomas Anderson film, she would be my Aimee Mann.

Red Letter Year is one of her more recent albums...and when you listen to it, you can't help but notice an new, wonderful, loving, happy Ani. And perhaps it's because she played so many of these beautiful, lyric, happy songs at the Town Hall concert on a day when I was so very very happy myself that I think this album (of all of them) speaks to me the most.

You can listen to it for free over at Ani's website. And if you only listen to one song on it...listen to Landing Gear. or The Atom. or Present/Infant. *sigh* you see my problem?

Ze Frank Makes Me Less Scared

Today, I need Ze.

In which cory doctorow is a smartypants...

On the long list of things I like, Cory Doctorow ranks pretty high. I think he's thoughtful and interesting and the fact that he refers to YA sections of bookstores as "Parallel universes of little-regarded awesomeness" only makes him that much better.

As you know, I've been a bad writer recently (ok, ok, let's refrain from making the obvious snarky retort here...'recently?'...you're very funny), and yesterday Eric found this piece of genius somewhere online...Cory Doctorow: Writing in the Age of Distraction from Locus Magazine, in which the Doctorow shares his tips and tricks for writing on a machine that is basically connected to everyone, everywhere, all the time. Certainly my computer is one of the biggest problems with my work regime...if I can twacespacechatbookmail instead of writing, I will.

Enter CD, and his six techniques to staying "on top of your workload and your muse."

1. Keep a short, regular work schedule
2. Leave yourself a rough edge
3. Don't research
4. Don't be ceremonious
5. Kill your word-processor
6. Realtime communications tools are deadly

I'm intrigued by this list...and have tried to incorporate it into my writing this weekend. Here's what I'm thinking:

1. Of course, the short, regular work schedule is critical. Writing is a skill more than a talent, and practice definitely brings us closer to perfect. Also, I find that if you get out of the habit for even one day, you've got an enormous uphill battle coming when you start again.

2. This is my favorite of his techniques. CD says, "when you hit your daily word-goal, stop. Stop even if you're in the middle of a sentence. Especially if you're in the middle of a sentence." I love this, because the next day, when you start, you don't have to think at all about what to write first. You finish the sentence. A friend who is working on her Ph.D. told me that she refers to this as "Parking on the Down Slope." I call it awesome.

3. I'm struggling with don't research, frankly. I write historical, so the research process is critical. While I definitely see his point that a half-hour researching what kind of pants Regency men wore to the opera is not helping the arc of my story at all, I also know that, for me, I need to have those details in my head to make a scene as rich as possible. I'm gong to try leaving that stuff out and then returning to fill in the research, but I'm not sure it will work for me.

4. I can't agree more with him on Don't Be Ceremonious. I carry a notebook with me and write longhand as much as possible. This means writing on the subway, in line for my morning coffee, waiting for friends in restaurants and on my couch. Write when you find time. It helps with keeping your skills honed.

5. He's basically saying here that you shouldn't be formatting/spellchecking/etc. I get this, and respect his ability to ignore bells and whistles, but the idea of a .txt document scares the bejeezus out of me.

6. Agree. IM is a time suck. As are all the others. I turn off my AirPort when I write. This doesn't mean that the first thing I do when I pause isn't check my email. But it helps not to see the message indicator pop up.

I would add one thing to his list....the thing that works best for me...Write long hand as much as possible. That way, you're not only not distracted, but when you type your words into your computer eventually, you're actually on your second draft...not your first. Also, I feel way less pressure to write something good if I'm scrawling in a notebook.

Ok...thoughts? additions? what's your trick for staying focused on writing in this insanely distracting world?

How Did I Miss This?

I usually don't miss Maureen Dowd...both because she's awesome in her snarkiness and because I envy her gorgeous hair. But somehow...I missed her on Saturday, when she and the ever-so-brilliant Aaron Sorkin teamed up to make the conversation I have fantasized about for 18 months a reality.

Yes. Barack meets Bartlet. O. M. Gee.

OBAMA Wait, what is it you always used to say? When you hit a bump on the show and your people were down and frustrated? You’d give them a pep talk and then you’d always end it with something. What was it ...?

BARTLET “Break’s over.”

Obama...get CJ and Josh and Sam together and knock it out, for god's sake!

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Other musings you might enjoy...

Bartlet for President
The Farnsworth Invention

bartlet for president

confession: i think aaron sorkin is a genius. when crafting a list of writers i admire, he's at the top of the list. i know that literary purists will laugh at me, claim that i'm somehow less of a writer myself because of it, but it's true. he has a gift for dialogue that i covet with white hot envy--he's the only writer who can use repetition in dialogue to an advantage without making it seem like a device to lengthen a scene or add a few seconds before a commercial break. his characters are vivid and deep. his ability to make hour-long drama out of a few people locked in a room the whole time. the way he weaves history into everything he writes, deftly coloring his own stories with little-known figures and stories in history without making it heavy handed and unpleasant. the way he thumbs his nose at standard expectations of entertainment and tells the story he cares about. not the story that will naturally sell. let's face it...he's about the only person who could get me to care about the story of facebook.

i met sorkin with the american president and a few good men, but i didn't really get to know him until sports night, which i honestly believe is the greatest half-hour television show ever. and then there was the west wing, built from outtakes of the american president, a show that gave me hope in our government and made me believe that presidents could be not simply egomaniacal, but really GOOD. Bravo is currently playing blocks of the west wing, i assume their programming department is capitalizing (like so many companies) on the nation's current election fever.

Here's the thing...the last season of west wing is more about the battle for the white house than it is about the bartlett administration, but it throws into stark relief the issue of life imitating art and vice versa. It's eerie to watch this season on the eve of our current election, with references to vice presidential candidates "a heartbeat away from the presidency" and a republican nomination all shored up while the democratic battle becomes more and more heated (while concern of getting to the convention without a confirmed candidate throws the party into chaos). and the funny thing is, sorkin created two characters in Vinick and Santos (played brilliantly by Alan Alda and Jimmy Smitts, respectively) who actually seemed reasonable, livable, and not so bad--even though you can't manage to quash your wish that Bartlett would have stayed for a third term.

if only life could imitate art on that one.

mike doughty reminds me why i love writing...

I'm cleaning the house, so I can't really sit and chat, but I was inspired to write a quick blog post.   I have this issue with music.  While some people have music playing in the background at all times, I can't listen to it unless I'm doing something mindless, like cleaning the house...and this is because, as eric puts it, I don't actually listen to music.  I listen to lyrics. 

This is also why I tend to listen to the same collection of albums over and over...only when a song's lyrics are committed to my memory is it added to my "top rated" list, which is always played at ear-splitting, baxter-fleeing decibels while I clean/workout/chill.  Today, my album of choice is Mike Doughty's Golden Delicious.  Now, not to sound like an obnoxious music lover, but I've been a Mike Doughty fan since he was the genius behind Soul Coughing.  Soft Serve is one of my favorite songs of all time.  Long story short, he kicked several addictions and turned into what eric refers to as "the kind of music my mom would listen to." But to this I say, Mike Doughty has become a poet.  And this is ok by me.  Because, as with Ani Difranco, Fiona Apple and other songwriters whom I deeply respect, he reminds me why I can't imagine being anything other than a writer. 

Case in point: 

In his I Wrote a Song about Your Car, he asks: Will you be my friend?  Or will you be a friend of mine? 

Such a loaded question...such a perfect example of how words, in the wrong order, are weighted so very differently, have such a vastly different meaning. 

And, as your cookie for reading all the way to the end, here's a video of the man himself playing an acoustic version of this song in what I can only imagine is his living room.  enjoy!

my celluloid saint

there are rare moments when i believe that god is visible in film...it's uncommon--sure there are films that entertain me...ones that engage me...ones that make me chuckle...and I don't often ask much of the movies I watch. I'm thrilled with the mindless joy of a silly teeny-bopper movie or romantic comedy...in the past few days there have been three that, while not the best in the world, have been just what I was looking for, one after the next after the next...i'm embarassed to admit.

but there is one director who constantly keeps me in awe...who seems to consistently entertain, intrigue, and engage me....who makes me envy his skill to the point of greenness...and who provides me with immeasurable quantities of those rare moments when i forget to breathe because the film is so incredible. he occupies that space just inside the front hall of household name-dom...and he deserves a place at the dining room table as far as I'm concerned.

paul thomas anderson, catapulted to the heights of my consciousness when I saw the film that has become my personal jesus--magnolia. Magnolia is a complicated story that leaves the viewer constantly in awe of the art and craft that went into both writing it and making it. It is a constant reminder of the power of our personal demons, and the reality that life, however strange and inconsistant, will go on. It is the film that changed my life. if you haven't seen it, you should. (not to mention the fantastic soundtrack from Aimee Mann). Summed up in one line, Magnolia: 

There are stories of coincidence and chance, of intersections and strange things told, and which is which and who only knows?

But the genius of anderson is in all of his films--from Hard Eight, a fantastic first film that is, on the surface, about gambling, and at its core about the realities of life; to Boogie Nights, which proves that no world is perfect; to Punch Drunk Love, which leaves us all with the valuable lesson that, no matter how we have limited ourselves in the past...the future can always exist with hope.

The joy of watching any Paul Thomas Anderson film, however, is his ability to demand and draw out the most amazing performances from any actor--Magnolia proves this 100 fold with remarkable performances by Philip Seymor Hoffman, William H. Macy, Julianne Moore, Jason Robards (in his final film) and others...but the cake topper here is the completely uncharacteristic performance from Tom Cruise--as insane as Cruise has proved himself to be recently...he has never been more talented and less egocentric in his acting than he was here, under Anderson's tutelage.

If he could do it for Cruise, is it any wonder that Marky Mark turned Mark Wahlberg under the same mastery? That Adam Sandler proved his own acting skill with Anderson behind the camera in Punch Drunk Love? It shouldn't be...but it is always amazing to see the performances that PTA pulls from the actors he works with. But don't take my word for it...check out this article from Esquire...and believe what you read.In all of his films, however, he has demonstrated a natural filmmaking flair, a bent for risk taking, and a predilection for taking actors where they might otherwise never get to go. But what further distinguishes him is a skill much rarer among modern young filmmakers—his ability as a dramatist.

PTA has made a name for himself as an ensemble director--a young Robert Altman (and, actually, the director Altman selected to complete his last film on the event of his death prior to the end of production). But, this year, he stretched his skill, his limits and showed himself the greatest director of his generation--blowing Quentin Tarantino and others who were vying for the title clear back to film school with There Will Be Blood. Based on the Upton Sinclair novel Oil! and starring Daniel Day Lewis--a man who I think is one of the best actors in film, ever--There Will Be Blood is the Citizen Kane of the 21st Century...a movie that is so darkly allegorical and telling and just...true...that I can't imagine our children and our children's children looking back at it as proof that film, as art, was alive and well during our time.

I leave you with the quote from Magnolia that I think speaks volumes about what art means...and how life imitates it so very well.  

And we generally say, "Well, if that was in a movie, I wouldn't believe it." Someone's so-and-so met someone else's so-and-so and so on. And it is in the humble opinion of this narrator that strange things happen all the time. And so it goes, and so it goes. And the book says, "We may be through with the past, but the past ain't through with us."

a genius speaks of love

I've learned something that many women these days never learn: Prince Charming really is a toad. And the Beautiful Princess has halitosis. The bottom line is that (a) people are never perfect, but love can be, (b) that is the one and only way that the mediocre and the vile can be transformed, and (c) doing that makes it that. Loving makes love. Loving makes itself. We waste time looking for the perfect lover instead of creating the perfect love. Wouldn't that be the way to make love stay?

Love is the ultimate outlaw. It just won't adhere to any rules. The most any of us can do is to sign on as its accomplice. Instead of vowing to honor and obey, maybe we should swear to aid and abet. That would mean that security is out of the question. The words "make" and "stay" become inappropriate. My love for you has no strings attached. I love you for free.

(sigh)

Tom Robbins...timelessly eccentric. Worth a try.

Read Still Life With Woodpecker...if not for a treatise on the true meaning of love...for a heroine with an unhealthy crush on Ralph Nader. When you're done...try Skinny Legs and All...if not for a smarter look at the Arab/Israeli conflict than any middle eastern scholar can give you...then because it opens on "newlyweds driving cross-country in a large roast turkey."

I promise...you may be perplexed...but you won't be disappointed.

ani difranco is my muse tonight

a confession: i will never string words together the way ani difranco does. there are days when this depresses me because, as a writer, it's my job to string words together well. but most of the time, her genius inspires me and pushes to strive to be a better, more thoughtful wordsmith.

consider my favorite of her songs, You Had Time, which, captures in the most beautiful way the emotional turmoil you go through when you know you will disappoint the person in your life who you love the most.

how can i go home
with nothing to say
i know you're going to look at me that way
and say what did you do out there
and what did you decide
you said you needed time
and you had time

you are a china shop and i am a bull
you are really good food and i am full
i guess everything is timing
i guess everything's been said
so i am coming home with an empty head

wow. is it any wonder she's my muse tonight?