Down the Rabbit Hole to Book Awesomeness.

It's been a long time since I thought of this one...but in a fit of late-night procrastination that involved:

1) a search to see how likely it was that Sandra Bullock could be rewarded for her most recent pain and suffering (is that Jesse James a dillweed or what?!) with a marriage to George Clooney,

2) the discovery of this incredible timesuck (Findthebacon.com), and

3) realizing that Kevin Bacon was in a movie that I somehow have never heard of called Pyrates...

I remembered that I've always wanted to do a blog post about George MacDonald Fraser's book The Pyrates (no relation to the KB movie, which, I might add, looks awful). The Pyrates is one of those books that you read, you love, you reread, and you still love, but it's so different and so odd that you always forget to mention it when people ask you to name your favorite books.  Am I the only one who does this?  Please tell me I'm not.

It's hilarious.  And not in that, "Oh, that's funny" kind of way. It's uproariously funny and ironic and it's the perfect mix of classic hero and stereotype and history and Hollywood and...yeah...whatever I say here will not do it justice.  This, I promise you.  In this case, though, I will tell you that you can judge a book by its cover...at least, it's UK cover.  I bought my copy when I was in High School at a bookshop at Heathrow before I got on the plane to come home after a summer in England.  I bought it 70% for the cover and 30% for the cover copy.  Oh. And the title.  Because who doesn't love pirates?

Anyway...this one is in the must read pile.  You.  Must read it.

Oh, Olympics, How Do I Love Thee?

I do not like to watch sports on TV. I'll go to a hockey game, or to the US Open--and when I was in high school I had a big fat crush on a soccer player so, yeah, I've been to my fair share of soccer games--but when it comes down to it, I'd rather do anything than watch sports.

But there is something about the Olympics. Every two years (although I still think of them as every-four-years kind of things)...a bunch of kids from around the world come together and they compete. And every year, I am glued to the tv. Because there is something about the Olympics. Something really remarkable.

I think it's hope. I think it's the fact that today, in this world that is filled with people (myself included) who are filled with boredom and ennui and a real sense that there is nothing that can really awe us, there are hundreds of athletes in Vancouver who are literally experiencing the most amazing days of their lives.

You can see it on their faces when they enter the opening ceremonies in the parade of nations. You can see it in their eyes when they stick their landings. In the way they clutch their partners when they finish their remarkable iceskating routines. In the way they collapse to the ground when they cross the finish lines after the Nordic combined (did you SEE that?!).

They are awestruck. And they are hopeful. And they know that TODAY is the greatest day they have ever had.

And that is some serious mojo.

Serious enough that I feel it through my tv.

Eric makes fun of me. He thinks I'm silly to care about curling. But I do care. Not because I know anything about curling or ever will. But because these guys care about it. And they've been working their whole lives to be the best in the world at it.

And that's something. Because I recognize that I'm not the best in the world at anything. So I give mad props to anyone who can lay claim to that superlative.

So, to the Olympians...all of them...go you. I'm watching.

9 Books that I Can't Wait to Read

I'm on deadline.

Like, that awful, I-have-to-work-every-waking-minute-between-now-and-two-weeks-from-now-to-make-my-deadline kind of "I'm on deadline."

It's always right about now in the process of writing a book that I get this burning desire to read books.  But I persevere and ignore it...and make a list of all the books that I'm going to read once I turn in my book.  I have them in a pile in my house...and they are my prize.

Here are 9 books I will read the very second I can:

1.  Lisa Kleypas's Tempt me at Twilight - which has been pretty much torturing me since it came out in September.  When I'm working on a book, I always take one romance novel by one of my very favorite authors and set it aside as my "I finished the book!" treat.  This one is it.  And OMG I'm DYING to read it.

2. A.J. Jacobs's The Year of Living Biblically: One Man's Humble Quest to Follow the Bible as Literally as Possible - I love nonfiction that follows an author through an insane journey.  This seems like a completely insane journey.

3. Alison Weir's The Lady in the Tower: The Fall of Anne Boleyn - I will pretty much read anything that Alison Weir writes.  If you like British History, you should do the same.

4. Carrie Ryan's The Dead-Tossed Waves - Carrie is a dear friend, and I've been wanting to read DTW for months.  Finally, I'll be able to!

5. Charles Dickens's Great Expectations - I know. This one is just embarrassing. But, no, I haven't read it.

6. Elizabeth Gilbert's Eat, Pray, Love - I appear to be the only female on earth who has not read this book.  It's time.

7. Julia Child's Mastering the Art of French Cooking - It seems weird to want to read a cookbook, I know.  But I feel like this one has so many fantastic little nuggets of information...I'm in.

8. Sandra Hill's Viking in Love - Uhm.  Romance novel about Vikings.  Yes, please.

9. Steig Larson's The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo - Because I don't read enough thrillers...and this one has a heckuva title.  And I don't think I've heard of a single person who didn't love it.

Ok, readers.  What did I miss?

Dream Occupation: Romance Novelist

I think I've blogged before about the fact that I've always wanted to be a romance novelist...I usually tell a story about a silly "tell us about yourself" project that I had to do in high school that still lives on my bedroom door in the house where I grew up, on which I wrote: Dream Job: Romance Novelist.  Well, thanks to Eric's iPhone, I can now share the proof with you!

There I am...17 years old.  And there it is...my dream job.

17-year-old me would be "wicked stoked" right now.

Also, because I followed that 11th Commandment to the letter.

Mostly.

At least...I didn't date a lot of actors.

And I didn't *marry* an actor.

She'd also tell me I had to get back to work or risk having to become an economist or something.

You Say You Want A Resolution...

Oh, January 1st, how you tempt me with your big, fresh, blank slates and fresh, exciting promise.

Every year, I make New Year's resolutions. Every year I break New Year's resolutions. And, in the immortal words of Paul Thomas Anderson, 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."

And so, here we go again. It's January 1, 2010. A new year, a new decade, and here I, Sarah MacLean, do hereby resolve to:

1) Write every day. Even when I'd rather watch The West Wing for the 43rd time.

2) Finish three books. "But Sarah!" you say, "You only have two books due in 2010!" Ah hah! See what I did there? I aimed high.

3) Make Pate de canard en croute. Yes. That requires deboning a duck. I know. I'm wicked adventurous.

4) See at least one movie, in a movie theater, a month.

5) Read Great Expectations. All the way through.

6) Use my elliptical for more than a clothes hanger. At least once a week.

7) Take fewer taxis.

8) Do more yoga.

9) Do a better job of keeping in touch with old friends.

10) Learn one new skill. I haven't decided what this will be. Any ideas? Should I learn a language? Pick up an instrument? Take a photography class? Join an archery club?

Ok...so what are your resolutions?

Readers' Questions: Answered! (GIVEAWAY BELOW!)

I've been saying that I would do a Readers Q&A post for ages...and finally...here it is! I've received a ton of questions by email, twitter and facebook, and am psyched to have a chance to respond!

So, in no particular order, let's get to it!

Q. Will there be a sequel to The Season?
A. Ok, this is probably the question I get asked the most...online and in the real world...and I'm afraid I don't have a great answer, except to say that, as of now, there are no plans for sequels to The Season.

Q. When will Freddie, Lord Stanhope get his book?
A. When I wrote The Season I had no idea that Freddie would be such a popular character--although I shouldn't be surprised, because we girls definitely like our bad boys. Of course, there's nothing terribly wicked about Freddie--he's more bark than bite when you really get to know him. That said, Freddie has many many oats to sow before he'll be ready to settle down--but when he does meet his match, I can assure you that fireworks will ensue! I'd like to write Freddie's story one day--but he needs to cook for a few years before he's ready to fall in love.

Q. How long does it take you to write a book? What's your process like?
A. This question makes writing a book seem way more organized that it is for me. I love the idea of having a process, but mainly I spend a lot of time being insane before I actually get myself into a zone. My books take between 4 and 6 months to write, and then require another 2 or 3 months for editing and revisions. I'm very lucky to work with two of the most incredible editors in the world--they're brilliant, insightful women who make me look like a far far better writer than I actually am. :)

As for Process, so far, all three of my books have come to me with the very first scene: The Season began with Alex's dress-fitting for her coming out; Nine Rules... began with a meeting that happened 10 years before the actual book is set (which is now the prologue); and I met my current WIP's heroine while she was receiving the news of her father's death--and responding to it in a rather bizarre way.

After I meet them, though...my characters can't do anything else without me knowing precisely where they're going and what they're doing. I'm a heavy outliner...my outlines are very stream of conscious--they tell the story from beginning to end, but range in format, voice, tense, tone and can even be snippets of dialogue that pop into my head and ultimately become a part of the finished book.

Once I have an outline, I write longhand...everything related to a book goes into a single notebook and then I edit it into my computer...so I tell myself that I'm really handing in a second draft when I send my editors my first draft.

Because of my deadlines, I write as much as I can, whenever I can. There's no rhyme or reason to it. It's just all the time. This makes my process harried and harrowing--but boy is it awesome when you write that last word!

Q. What's your favorite part of writing? Your least favorite?
A. Revisions are my favorite part, because that's the time when you're really working to make it a terrific book. Editors are incredible. My editors are two of my favorite people in the world because they look at my messy, unpleasant manuscript and they see the gold in it. And then they help me mine it. I like the "team" feel to revisions. They're hard, but you're not alone.

My least favorite part is the second to last chapter. Always. In my books, it's usually a chapter where lots of stuff is happening, plots are at their climax, characters are having their moments of clarity, loose ends are tying themselves up into (I hope) neat little bows. And I'm SO CLOSE to the end. But not there yet. I HATE not being there yet.

Q. When did you know you wanted to be a writer? When did you first know you ARE a writer?
A. When I was in high school, some teacher in some class asked us to make an "About Us" card--it's a half a piece of construction paper with a picture of 16-year-old me and a bunch of random facts...favorite book, favorite movie, weakness, etc. One of those things was "dream job." I wrote Romance Novelist. So, I don't know when, exactly, I knew I wanted to be a writer, but it was pretty early on.

As for the second half of that question, well...I guess it shows a bit of my weakness that I don't usually show...but I still don't think of myself as a writer. It's such a scary, amazing, unbelievable thing...it's almost like i'll jinx myself if I actually say the words out loud.

Q. What music inspires you when you write?
A. I listen almost exclusively to classical music (on my Pandora station) when I write. Boccherini, Strauss, Mozart, Beethoven, Rossini, and dozens of others. But almost all of my books have a pop song that serves as their modern inspiration. Nine Rules... was inspiried by Jason Mraz's I'm Yours, my current WIP's theme song is Brett Dennen's Darlin Do Not Fear.

I think that's a good list for now...if y'all would like, I'm happy to do this feature more frequently...maybe once a month? If you're interested, post your questions for November in comments or tweet them @sarahmaclean! I'll answer them...and give one lucky questioner a signed copy of The Season!

ode to eric, on our second anniversary

my husband, he is pretty nice...
he manages my crazy and disposes of our (unwelcome) mice,

he takes the late-night dog walk when i'm in bed...
he makes me laugh when i could see red,

he accepts the fact that i write romances...
even as i sigh over darcy at country dances,

he brings me flowers just because...
and out of the sink, he cleans the scuzz,

he worries about me when i am hurt...
and, man, can that guy make composted dirt!

and, two years after we vowed in health and sickness...
i still see him as an embarrassment of riches.

**with apologies to poets everywhere.

Redecorating!

You may have noticed that some things have changed on the blog in the last few days--we've gone from plain, old blog to new, improved and chocolatey awesome website!  With clickable header links!  And nifty pages promoting other authors and goodies from around the web!

This website has been a long time coming--my insistence that the blog remain the centerpiece of the whole thing sent at least one web designer into fits and it fell to Eric to pick up the pieces and make the whole thing work.  And work it does!  Go on...click around!  Revel in the new pages!  And the lovely red links!

And, of course, you can't have missed the incredible art.  That is all thanks to the lovely and talented Joanne Renaud, illustrator extraordinaire.  Joanne has a gift for turning historical costume into stunning art....you must go right now to her online portfolio and check out the fantastic work there.  I was very very lucky that she wasn't busy illustrating for someone far more famous than me when I asked her to draw the girls from The Season and the hero and heroine of Nine Rules to Break When Romancing A Rake! Thanks, Joanne!

Thanks for coming over and checking out the new digs...let me know if there's anything that seems wonky!

Signs of Autumn

Fall has officially fallen here in Brooklyn--Eric, Baxter and I took a walk this morning to buy a large pot that will be the winter home of Eric's incredibly healthy, entirely accidental chili pepper plant (which grew over the summer from a batch of dried chilis tossed into an empty windowbox after they had collected dust long after I bought them on a trip to New Mexico)--and I'm reminded of all the reasons why I love New York City...and the East Coast.

Fall weekends in the city are stunning...all blue skies and crisp breezes...and my very favorite thing about city living--the fact that every corner deli doubles as a flower shop--becomes even more awesome. Pumpkins are piled up outside of the entrances, waiting to be bought and carved, mums are lined up down the sidewalk in an explosion of fall colors, and dahlias make their appearance.

I try to have fresh flowers in the house as often as possible...when they cost $5, there's really no reason not to have something beautiful on my kitchen counter...but dahlias are my absolute favorite. They're only around in the fall...and they come in these stunning colors, brilliant deep reds that hint at purple, burgundies that look more like burgundy than the wine they reference, oranges that bend into yellow, or is that red? They're gorgeous. And they're special to me for a number of reasons...they were the cornerstone of my wedding bouquet (we were married in October), of the little posies that littered our wedding reception...and they were my grandmother's favorite flower.

My grandmother was British...the most British of British women, and, while I often regret that I was not able to spend more time in England with she and my grandfather, one of the things I do remember is that she loved freshly cut dahlias. Apparently that's a genetic thing. Because when I saw them in my corner deli today, I got more excited than I should have done. And now there is a bright, burgundy bouquet in my kitchen.

And a newly potted chili plant with one, beautiful red chili on it. Any suggestions of what we should do with it?

Those three little words..."Time for Copyedits"

As many of you know, I'm in the midst of copyedits on my first Avon Romance, NINE RULES TO BREAK WHEN ROMANCING A RAKE.

Now, those of you who were with me during copyedits on THE SEASON remember that I don't much like copyedits. Actually, I kind of loathe them. I know there are authors who love every second of CEs, lovingly removing commas or adding hyphens or calmly steting things that they think should be steted. I simply do not understand these authors.

Because I obsess. I have a whole process of obsession, a 12-step program of copyediting neurosis that one day, when I am less of a paranoid author, I will share, and we'll all have a good laugh over the whole thing. But, right now, the wound is too raw, so let's just drop it, shall we?

Now, I should say, my current copyeditor seems lovely. I say this because she has left me darling little notes in the margins that indicate that she does not hate me for using discrete when i mean discreet. Or, at least, if hatred did flare when she saw that, it waned once she read the scene in the modiste's shop. (I like to think she secretly didn't care a whit about discretion and just wanted the hero and heroine to make out, already.)

But she's in a tough spot. Because, lovely as she is, she's the smarty-pants who casually mentions that words and phrases to which I am quite wedded didn't actually exist in the English language in 1823. Which is no fun at all. In fact, it's rather maddening.

Here are three words that I really REALLY wish existed in 1823. Really.

Neckline. 1904.

Fantasize. 1926.

Addictive. 1939.

These are good words. GOOD ONES. I want them back, dammit.

But no, I shall rise to the challenge and persevere, in honor of the good and patient woman who so painstakingly read and reread my dirty manuscript, and I shall find other words that wield similar power.

And I take this moment to publicly acknowledge the awesome that is the copyeditor--the all-too-often unsung heroine of the modern novel. And, to make up for any name-in-vain-taking I have done over the course of these copy edits, I'm going to sponsor a word in my copyeditor's honor in the Online Etymology Dictionary.

Do you think "stet" is too cheeky? Probably. I'm going with "rewrite."

9 Rules For Chillin at the Airport

Ok...so those of you who follow me on twitter know two things about me...

First, I hate flying. I use the word hate because using the phrase "am afraid of" makes me sound very very weak. So I 'm going with hate because it makes me sound way more badass than I actually am. On the best and most beautiful of days--like the one when Eric and I flew across the Aegean Sea to the stunning island of Naxos--I still white-knuckle my way through the flights.

Second, I am currently sitting in the airport, waiting for a flight to take off for Nashville. I have been sitting here, at gate D3, since 2:15pm. It is now 5:30. My first flight was supposed to leave at 3:30. It was cancelled due to thunderstorms. Now, I love me some thunderstorms. Big, earth shaking, Summer thunderstorms make me very very happy. It's the east coaster in me. Summer just isn't summer without them. I do not, however, love me some thunderstorms when there is a possibility that the long, skinny, metal tube in which I am FLYING might be struck by lightning and send me crashing a full on MILE to the hard, unyielding ground.

For several years, I've suffered through the anxiety of flying, until recently I had a long chat with my dr., who assured me that this was entirely manageable and not through some kind of meditative state (I've tried that stuff, too). She told me to take a pill an hour before I fly. A chill pill if you will. And I tried that this time. Now, it's totally possible that it will wear off before I actually get myself to Nashville--more likely, it will wear off before I actually get myself on the plane. But...what it has done is calm me down enough to notice how cool airports can be, when not consumed by thoughts of which one of my friends will accept responsibility for my romance novel collection should I fall out of the sky.

So...9 Rules for Chillin' at the Airport:

9. Buy Auntie Annie's Pretzels. They're yummy. And incredibly bad for you. But it's the airport, and everyone knows that travel calories don't count. This is also true for Nutter Butter cookies and Chex Mix (Now with 60% less fat!).

8. Stake out a chair near an electrical outlet. It will definitely be in use when you arrive. But eventually, that person will (hopefully) go somewhere where you are not going. And when they unplug, you plug in. immediately. securing that electrical outlet will take cunning and skill. Outlet-landing is my proposal for the next Olympic sport.

7. If someone strikes up a conversation with you...don't give them the brush off. This is particularly challenging for people like me--born and bred in the Northeast and now a full-blooded New Yorker--but these people can be a godsend. First, they are willing to watch your ridiculously heavy carry-on if you have to go check the status of your flight -- Now Cancelled -- and second, they have TERRIFIC stories. I literally spent an hour talking to a 65 year old man who was trying to understand why his 47 year old wife wanted to leave him because he drank too much. It was a lot less depressing than you'd expect...and I was sad when he got called to leave. Godspeed, Pete.

6. Watch CNN. I love CNN and I don't get to watch it enough, except for my (as you know) secret passion for Anderson Cooper. Wolf Blitzer is loud and I wonder about his regimen for keeping his beard silky smooth, but CNN is the best of the cable news networks, and it's nice to just be able to just chill out and think about the world. Also...as an aside, jeez you guys...stay out of tanning beds!!

5. Drink Water. Airplanes are dehydrating. And, if you're like me, you don't drink the required 8 8-ounce glasses a day. There's no reason not to start here, where you might be stuck for way more hours than you think.

4. Goggle at the children who are required to wear the same clothes as their siblings. Parents, you realize that this really doesn't make it easier to find your kids. Also, it's just embarrassing. Really.

3. Wonder about the guy across the aisle reading Bon Appetit. Dapper...nice shoes...dark jeans...grey blazer...strong, patrician nose. What's he doing going to Nashville? And does he want to cook me dinner there?

2. Feel sorry for the poor saps who are stuck on the tarmac. For THREE hours. Are you kidding? I'd be murdering someone out there right now. It'd take a lot more than an anxiety pill to cure me of that angst.

1. Wonder what the odds are that you're ever going to actually get off the ground. And realize that it's cool...the longer you are here in the terminal, you're not out there.

And, hey! Your blog got updated, right?

Calling All New Englanders!

I'm super excited to be reading at "Rhode Island Author Night" on this Friday, May 1, at the Barnes & Noble in Smithfield, Rhode Island. When I was first invited to be a part of the event, I had no idea there were so many authors in RI...and a fair share of romance novelists to boot!

So...those of you who are in or around the Ocean State next Friday evening, be sure to come out and hang with all of us! Aside from yours truly, Rhode Island Author Night will feature the literary stylins of:

• Edward Lee, Jr, author of Ripper,
  
• Jim Ignasher, who writes nonfiction about my homestate,
  
• David Bettencourt, author of a history of the amusement park of my youth, Rocky Point Park,
  
• Fr. Matthew Powell, author of Performing Parables,
  
• Thomas D'Agostino, author of Haunted RI -- and, as one of the 13 original colonies, I'm guessing there are LOTS of ghosts in RI,
  
• Donna Russo Morin, author of Courtier's Secret,
  
• Annette Blair, Romance Writer,
  
• Dr. Ed Iannucilli, author of Growing Up Italian (which I imagine will be a portrait of my youth),
  
• Hannah Howell, Romance Writer,
  
• Patricia Grasso, Romance Writer,
  
• Eric Sturtvant, Illustrator extraordinaire.

It should be a really fun event...hope to see you all there!

In which the author covets walls.

Ok. So I think I've said that Eric and I are casually looking to buy an apartment. I say casually because we're not entirely unhappy with our apartment...where we pay a fairly low rent for a fairly large kitchen and a terrific neighborhood that we simply couldn't afford if we were to buy.

That said, I go through my moments of wishing that I could sit on the couch, look around the apartment and cackle "MINE!" at the top of my lungs. But mostly, I refrain from doing this. And then I see things like these super amazing wall decals from Dali Decals at Etsy, and I WANT them. I want these swirling poppies... and i want this fancy chandelier... and i want this tree, complete with bird (i also want to be able to keep an orchid like that alive for longer than 6 days)... and, i'll confess (although this will scare the pants right off the Eric), this makes me kind of want to decorate a kid's room. Although I totally understand that is not the same as wanting to have a kid inside the kid's room.

But man do they all make me want walls to call my very own.

in which i reveal my dreams. literally.

last night, i had a dream that i was surfing. in a full body wetsuit. in southern california. with matthew rhys.

in the immortal words of texters everywhere, wt*?

there are several weird things about this. (at this point you're saying, "uhm...yeah, sarah. there are." i know. it just takes me longer to get there, ok?)

1. i don't surf. i've never surfed.

2. my wetsuit had a lovely apple-green stripe on it. why do i remember this?

3. why am i surfing with matthew rhys? i don't think about matthew rhys. not ever.

4. in the dream, i left the beach and entered a large house, decorated in a moroccan theme, where my mother and sister were cooking dinner. when i announced that i'd just been surfing with matthew rhys, they were not impressed, as one rather expects they should have been by one of the three critical points of the following: *i* was *surfing* with *matthew rhys*.

and the weirdest thing? i woke up thinking, "wow. i really enjoyed that."

huh. so i did what most people do. i told my coworkers about this. and one very intelligent coworker did some hard hitting research and discovered two things:

• To dream that you are surfing, indicates the ups and downs of some emotional situation or relationship. You may feel overwhelmed. One minute you can be in control of your emotions and the next minute you are not. It may also indicate that you are going with the flow.
  
  
• To see or wear a wet suit in your dream, suggests that you are slowly and safely exploring your inner feelings and emotions. You may at a point where you are comfortable in acknowledging your vulnerabilities and feelings.
  
  
• Green signifies a positive change, good health, growth, fertility, healing, hope, vigor, vitality, peace, and serenity. Green is also symbolic of your strive to gain recognition and establish your independence.

**There was no entry for "Matthew Rhys."

So, internet, i ask you. What do you think it all means?

5 things that are helping me stay focused.

those of you who follow me on twitter and facebook know that i'm in radio silence for the weekend because i'm trying to finish the book by sunday night. this is how it works when i get so close to the end of a book that i can smell it. i hibernate. i go underground and don't look up or come out until it is done. i try to ensure that this happens on a weekend, so i can take friday off from my day job and really power through. this is where i'm at right now. and it hurts. some writers say that the last three chapters of a book feel exhilarating...like all they can imagine doing is running a marathon afterwards. not so with me. the last three chapters of my books feel like what i imagine the last three miles of the new york city marathon feel like. ie...you're doing it because dammit you won't get this far and not finish, but you question your motives, your sanity, and your will to live the entire time. welcome to the end of a book, sarah maclean style.

so...here are the five things that keep me focused during this time:

1. Cranberry Juice. I don't know why, but I go through gallons of the stuff when I'm down to the wire.
2. Beethoven. Specifically, Piano Sonata 23, aka the Appassionata.
3. Baxter. Because warm, fuzzy dogs who love you even when you're gross and cranky are possibly the best thing in the world.
4. My bookshelves. They are full of published books. Most of them were finished successfully.
5. My friends, because they don't call me. And because they won't be mad when I finally call them. Because they will know precisely where I have been.

and...this wouldn't be an honest post if I didn't list the five things I'm depriving myself of because they are too distracting and awesome.

1. The West Wing. Because Aaron Sorkin wrote that show specifically to keep this book from ever being written. He's prescient. Its a little-known fact.
2. Mike Doughty. Because while I usually love listening to him and he did, after all, write Alex's theme song, his music is not always Regency appropriate.
3. Facebook. I should think that would be self-explanatory.
4 Lisa Kleypas and Julia Quinn novels. Because I could read them over and over and I'm just a severe enough procrastinator to do just that.
5. My bed. Because right now, I could seriously take a nap.

and, finally...here are the five things i will do to celebrate the end of my book.

1. do a little dance in my living room.
2. wear my new, custom made, yellow chucks. more on that later. but i'm too superstitious to wear them yet.
3. buy myself a bonnie cashin bag.
4. watch the entire first and second season of The Tudors.
5. play the new Quantum of Solace video game that has been in its shrink wrap SINCE CHRISTMAS because i am a goddess at resisting temptation.

but in order to do those things, i gotta leave you.
peace out, internet.

I <3 My Dog...

especially when he sleeps like this...

Regency Books On My Desk

So...in a fit of procrastination from the 6000 words I have to write today (yes, you read that right), I've decided to cover the books that I've got on my desk within a foot of my computer--because they're too valuable to my writing process to be any further away. If you're interested in the Regency (writing or reading about it) at all...these are essential adds to your own bookshelf. In no particular order:

Regency Era Fashion Plates: 1800-1819, A Collection of Fashion Plates and Descritpions by Timely Tresses. Quite literally, two hundred or so Fashion Plates from a variety of clothing journals published during the Regency. When you have to dress a character, this book--more arty than informative--is essential inspiration. Then, you can turn to,

English Women's Clothing in the Nineteenth Century by C. Willett Cunnington, which is invaluable. My copy is dogeared, flagged with little colored papers, highlighted, and filled with notes in the margins. Aside from pages and pages chronicling the fashion trends of every epoch in 19th Century fashion, it's filled with more than 1000 pen and ink sketches of everything from corsets to muffs to spencers to turbans to evening gowns. The book covers 19th Century fashion by YEAR...which is awesome...including fashionable colors, intricate changes like half-inch drops in waistlines, they types of fabrics and accessories that were en vogue...and, the best part? PRIMARY SOURCE material like quotations and references from of-the-time publications. I mean it when I say there is no better costume resource on 19th Century England than this one! If you have read The Season, I can tell you that the scene where Alex dresses for her first ball would not have existed without this fantastic resource.

Periodically, characters have to eat. Or shop. Or read. Or play games. And they didn't have McDonalds, Bloomingdales, US Weekly or Scrabble during the Regency. For those moments...check out Daniel Pool's What Jane Austen Ate and Charles Dickens Knew: From Fox Hunting to Whist--the Facts of Daily Life in 19th Century England. While a better resource for the latter half than the earlier half of the 19th Century, I can't deny that this one is also dogeared and flagged and highlighted and scribbled in...this is great for overviews of things like country houses and sport and clothing and the layout of 19th Century London. It's got a fantastic glossary that helps with keeping dialogue sounding of-the-time and, in general, is a good go-to resource to get the beginning of an answer to a bizarre question like, "Where would Ralston's fencing club be?" No..you don't know who Ralston is yet...but give it a year and it will all be clear. ;)

You can't write about the Regency without acknowledging the fact that, for much of it, England--all of Europe, really--was at war. There are about 200,000 books about Napoleon and the the Napoleonic Wars, much of which is military history and not entirely what you need when you're writing lighter fiction about the era. I'd recommend two books which, together, provide a primer of both the history of the wars and a sense of the part high society played in them. The Napoleonic Wars: The Rise and Fall of an Empire by Gregory Fremont-Barnes & Todd Fisher and Dancing into Battle: A Social History of the Battle of Waterloo by Nick Foulkes. Now...the Fremont-Barnes and Fisher book is BY NO MEANS a comprehensive history. It's a quick primer, to bring you up to speed on what happened when and why, and to keep you honest when setting your book in place and time. If you're writing about a specific battle or a particularly historic moment, you're going to need more than this one. Foulkes's book is specific to Waterloo, and set mainly in Belgium--covering the Brits who lived there. It provides an excellent sense of how intricately intertwined society and the military were at the time, however, and it's worth reading for that alone.

Not everything about the Regency was lovely dresses and handsome gentlemen, though. The darker side of the time was rife with pickpockets and poverty and body snatchers and highwaymen. For a great primer on this more nefarious world, don't miss The Regency Underworld by Donald A. Low. It's a great read, and filled with all sorts of sordid tales that make a writer's mind reel. Definitely worth a look.

For the record...none of these books (aside from the fashion volumes) can do justice to the rich primary source material you find in The Times of London. For a fee, you can subscribe to the archives of the paper (or, for free, New Yorkers can find it in the microfilm room of the New York Public Library) and browse the full Regency-era archives. Which are completely mind-blowing.

Finally, no Regency author should set fingers to keyboard without something nearby to give her a little inspiration. Which I why this book is prominently on display. Aunt Jane (and lovely Colin Firth) wouldn't steer me false.

The best of 2008...

Had to share this...am at my parents' house, snowed in for New Years with them, my sister and Eric...watching the ball drop in Times Square...and talking about the big events of 2008. Of course, November 4th 2008 ranks pretty high on my list of the biggest and best of events. That reminded me of Ani DiFranco's performance of her song "November 4th 2008," which is awesome. Awesome. Enjoy, peeps. And Happy 2009.

xoxo

New Feature! Tour Dates!

I'm adding a Tour Date feature to the right sidebar of the blog (and a readings and visitations tag)...right now, it's quiet, but hopefully there'll be lots to share in no time! I'll link there to events I'll be attending, readings I'll be having, and blog tours I'll be doing. (And...speaking of blog tours...I'd love to come hang out on YOUR blog for a day or two if you'll have me! Just shoot me an email at sarah at macleanspace dot com)

I'm super excited to say that I'll be participating in the famed Teen Author Reading nights in March in NYC... I'll be reading from The Season along with the fantastically talented Donna Freitas, Siobhan Vivian and P. E. Ryan at the Jefferson Market Branch of the New York Public Library on March 4, 2009 from 6 - 7:30pm.

If you're a New Yorker (or even a tri-stater)...please come hang out with us!

The Teen Author Reading Nights are the brainchild of the incredible David Levithan (author of, among other things, Boy Meets Boy and Nick & Norah's Infinite Playlist)...and they take place once a month at the Jefferson Market Branch of the New York Public Library, 425 6th Avenue at 10th Street, New York, NY.

For a full list of the readings, check out Madeleine George's awesomely organized list over at her blog, By George (Madeleine is reading as part of the February 11th group).

OMG! It's totally for real! The book is COMING! Gak! (cue freaking out about what passage to read aloud!)

Smiling's Our Favorite!

Send your own ElfYourself eCards

Merry merry! xoxo

The Increasingly Less Than Friendly Skies

Eric and I are currently en route to California to celebrate Christmas with his family. And it’s been a heckuva route. We left our cozy NYC apartment on Thursday night to bring Baxter to my parents’ house in Rhode Island for a spa week while we wing our way to lovely Shaver Lake, California, where Eric’s nature-loving parents have built the home they plan to retire to. It’s a stunning place, which I’m sure I’ll have more to say about later in the week. (Hopefully they will prove less dramatic than Thanksgiving.)

Suffice to say that with a 4 hour drive to RI on Thursday night and a 3:30 am wake up call this morning (after a giant snowstorm no less) to get to the Providence, Washington, DC, and Denver airports on time, respectively, I was thoroughly prepared for things to be less than perfect. After all, this is the Holiday Season and a three-leg flight is NEVER a good idea. But, we were leaving at 6am ET, expecting to be in Fresno, CA at 2:30 PT. No biggie. A long day, sure...but I am prepared. I am zen. I am the walrus.

Yeah. Right.

As I write this, I am sitting on the floor of the Denver International Airport. I have been sitting on this patch of floor for approximately 6 hours. I'm thinking of getting a ficus tree. And maybe recarpeting.

Oh, our flight out of snowy Providence went off without a hitch, but things in DC were not nearly as well organized (I suppose we shouldn't have been surprised by that), and we ended up missing our Fresno connection by mere minutes. Like, 7 minutes. Then, there was the hour stuck Dante's 14th level of hell (United Airlines customer service--go back and check the Inferno. It's there), after which we were FINALLY supposed to get out of lovely Colorado at 6pm MT. No go. Plane delayed. Maybe you'll see California before Christmas Eve, suckers.

Back when I was preparing to be zen about the whole travel thing, I had plans. "No problem!" I said to myself. "I'll take any extra layover time I can get to write!" Yes...well...as you can probably imagine...that didn't happen. Instead, I read an entire romance novel on my new Kindle (OMG how I love the Kindle...but that's another post for another time), confiscated Eric's DS to play Super Mario World, and took the world's most impressive nap (during which a child nearby had uncontrollable, unmutable hiccups for 2 HOURS. Jeez! Get thee to a doctor, kid!). Not a lick of writing done. My editor (who hopefully is not reading this) would be le disappointed.

Boredom finally set in about 10 minutes ago. You are the lucky recipient of the product of that boredom. If all goes well, when next you hear from me I'll be in the snowy foothills of the Sierra Nevadas plotting to avoid actually going out INTO nature (Hazards of marrying a Californian--wilderness walks).

So...I'm thinking of you guys...may you have safe, speedy travels to wherever you're going this holiday.

xoxo

54 things...

Via JE MacLeod.

1. Started your own blog
2. Slept under the stars
3. Played in a band
4. Visited Hawaii
5. Watched a meteor shower
6. Given more than you can afford to charity
7. Been to Disneyland
8. Climbed a mountain
9. Held a praying mantis
10. Sang a solo
11. Bungee jumped
12. Visited Paris
13. Watched a lightning storm at sea
14. Taught yourself an art from scratch
15. Adopted a child
16. Had food poisoning
17. Walked to the top of the Statue of Liberty
18. Grown your own vegetables
19. Seen the Mona Lisa in France
20. Slept on an overnight train
21. Had a pillow fight
22. Hitch hiked
23. Taken a sick day when you’re not ill
24. Built a snow fort
25. Held a lamb
26. Gone skinny dipping
27. Run a Marathon
28. Ridden in a gondola in Venice
29. Seen a total eclipse
30. Watched a sunrise or sunset
31. Hit a home run
32. Been on a cruise
33. Seen Niagara Falls in person
34. Visited the birthplace of your ancestors
35. Seen an Amish community
36. Taught yourself a new language
37. Had enough money to be truly satisfied
38. Seen the Leaning Tower of Pisa in person
39. Gone rock climbing
40. Seen Michelangelo's David
41. Sung karaoke
42. Seen Old Faithful geyser erupt
43. Bought a stranger a meal at a restaurant
44. Visited Africa
45. Walked on a beach by moonlight
46. Been transported in an ambulance
47. Had your portrait painted
48. Gone deep sea fishing
49. Seen the Sistine Chapel in person
50. Been to the top of the Eiffel Tower in Paris
51. Gone scuba diving or snorkeling
52. Kissed in the rain
53. Played in the mud
54. Gone to a drive-in theater
55. Been in a movie
56. Visited the Great Wall of China
57. Started a business
58. Taken a martial arts class
59. Visited Russia
60. Served at a soup kitchen
61. Sold Girl Scout Cookies
62. Gone whale watching
63. Got flowers for no reason
64. Donated blood, platelets or plasma
65. Gone sky diving
66. Visited a Nazi Concentration Camp
67. Bounced a check
68. Flown in a helicopter
69. Saved a favorite childhood toy
70. Visited the Lincoln Memorial
71. Eaten Caviar
72. Pieced a quilt
73. Stood in Times Square
74. Toured the Everglades
75. Been fired from a job
76. Seen the Changing of the Guards in London
77. Broken a bone
78. Been on a speeding motorcycle
79. Seen the Grand Canyon in person
80. Published a book
81. Visited the Vatican
82. Bought a brand new car
83. Walked in Jerusalem
84. Had your picture in the newspaper
85. Read the entire Bible
86. Visited the White House
87. Killed and prepared an animal for eating
88. Had chickenpox
89. Saved someone’s life
90. Sat on a jury
91. Met someone famous
92. Joined a book club
93. Lost a loved one
94. Had a baby
95. Seen the Alamo in person
96. Swam in the Great Salt Lake
97. Been involved in a law suit
98. Owned a cell phone
99. Been stung by a bee
100. Read an entire book in one day

What about you?

It isn't Thanksgiving without some drama, right?

As I write this, I'm curled up in a big armchair in my parents' house, post-Thanksgiving smells wafting through the air as Eric online Christmas shops (hopefully for me?), Baxter snoozes, and my dad reads his Daniel Silva book.  

It's warm and cozy and quiet today...about the exact opposite of twenty-four hours ago, when I was at one of those crazy wonderful giant family Thanksgivings, complete with thirteen adults, six kids under the age of 7 (and one yet to come), three dogs, an enormous bird and more stuffing than any 19 humans should be able to consume.  Holidays at our house are way too loud, way too political, and really really fun...but, as the old adage tells us, it's all fun and games until someone gets hurt.  And last night proved that saying very very true.  

In a triptophanic, apple-pie-induced food coma, my sister...pictured above, much smaller, balder and fuzzier than she is now...had a devastating meeting with a model train and a flight of stairs.  She came out of it with a dislocated and fractured shoulder.  Lesson learned.  In battle, model trains will win.  

So...Eric (who earned his keep as new husband/brother-in-law) and I brought her to a sleepy little emergency room in a small town in Massachusetts (quoth Eric: "Chiara!  We brought you to 1952!"), where my sister was wheeled into Trauma Room B and a lovely nurse pumped her full of morphine and a remarkable ER doc (v. cute...no George Clooney, but maybe Noah Wylie-esque) slowly and impressively relocated her shoulder.  She came through it like a trooper...I'm certain that was no picnic...but I was in the room and she neither lost her cool nor her consciousness, so...wow.  

At some point, I looked down at the floor and saw a lone penny, lying face up.  Just as I was about to reach down and pick it up, because certainly my sister could have used some good luck right about then, I realized that, at some point, someone in Trauma Room B would need better luck than we had.  Because while she's definitely in some serious pain, she's going to be just fine...soon able to once again wave her hands around like the Italian she is.  

And for that, I am thankful. So I left the penny where it was. For someone who needs a little good luck for themselves.  

The Jackal...

I'm having a pretty great day, for reasons that hopefully I will be able to share in a bit. BUT...I did share them with Eric today. And, because he is a fantastic husband and knows exactly what I need at all times, he sent me an mp3 of Ronny Jordan's The Jackal. Because good news makes me feel like CJ Cregg. I can't share the mp3 with you...but I CAN give you this little gift from the Sorkin gods:



xoxo

Win a copy of The Season!

I'm very honored that My Favorite Author (one of my favorite blogs) has selected The Season as their November ARC giveaway! I'm so thrilled that Angela enjoyed reading my little book...and that she's willing to share it with the readers of MFA!

So...if you've been itching to get your hands on an advanced copy of Alex's story, here's your chance!  Tool on over to MFA and comment on any post during the month of November...and you'll be entered to win.  Just promise me that you'll come back over here when you win and let me know what you thought! 

And, while you're over there, don't miss the interview with the fabulous Saundra Mitchell, author of the fantastic Shadowed Summer, which is one of the best ghost stories you'll ever read.  

mom and dad

my parents are in town today...i'm waiting to be summoned to meet them at my mother's favorite destination. my dad and i will suffer through drink coffee and chill out until she is ready to do something that we're excited about (although I do like to look in the windows). afterwards, we'll tool down to SoHo for shopping and bonding, and then Eric will meet us for yummy lunch.

I like my parents. I'm looking forward to it.

Get Happy

In this week's Publisher's Weekly, Richard O'Connor writes the Soapbox essay...Get Happy: How authors can stay positive through the publishing process. It resonated with me for a few reasons...mostly because my second and third books went out to editors, quite literally, today...and the nerves doubt panic that comes with the submission process is sort of consuming me.

"Write well, and be proud of that, no matter what. Chances are your book won't sell as much as you want it to, but don't let that ruin your life."

Word.

Hi! I'm Sarah, calling from the Campaign for Change...

Neighbor to Neighbor enables you to talk to other people about Barack Obama and his vision for the future of our country.

In all states, you’ll be able to immediately start calling potential supporters. Once you select a campaign on the right, you’ll get a list of voters either in your state or in an important battleground state. You can pick up the phone and get calling immediately. Or if you’d prefer to call while you’re away from your computer, you can print your list and come back to enter your results.

I spent the day making phone calls for Barack Obama to voters in Pennsylvania. I did it in my jammies, with my dog curled up next to me on the couch and, while I was nervous about the first few calls, I actually had a really good time. Lots of wrong numbers and answering machines, but I got a few people who are “already voting for my guy” and a few who are still thinking. I also had some great, vibrant conversations with McCain supporters—respectful, even fun conversations that ended with us agreeing to disagree, and celebrating the fact that “only in America…”

If you have time, you should do it. It couldn’t be easier.

Visit my.barackobama.com to get your own list of people in swing states. I promise, after an hour of phone calls, you’ll have renewed your faith in America.

guess where i'm going?

i'm going to be a ladybug on the beach. :) until sunday. i might see you, internet...but i might not. :)

xoxo

in which the author is distracted by patent leather

I woke up this morning completely committed to the goal of writing 5000 words today. I know, I know...it sounds like a lot, but it's not an impossible feat for me if 1) I'm totally focused on the writing and 2) don't immediately move to the couch and watch a movie.

Unfortunately, this morning I blew it. I took the dog for a walk, came home with an iced coffee and a bagel and watched Kinky Boots. I'm a complete and utter sucker for any movie revolving around British working class characters (see Full Monty, Waking Ned Divine and Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day), so I knew I'd love it, and I did.  It was sweet and charming and funny and utterly predictable in a wonderful, heartfelt way.  Eric, of course, moaned and groaned at the start, but ended up liking it too. Bottom line? If it comes on the cable, watch it.

Now, I'm 4 hours late in starting, but I'm hoping to make up for lost time. Leave me alone, Internet...and maybe, if you're good, I'll post a little teaser of the project I'm working on later today.

YOGAmazing

I've written about YOGAmazing before...but today I did a class with Chaz called Yoga for Creativity...and I just had to write about it.  

For those of you who aren't familiar with the show, Chaz takes email requests from viewers and creates 30 minute yoga sessions for them.  Recently, he's done Yoga for Gardeners, Yoga for Summer, Yoga for Hips and Knees, and Yoga for PMS & Cramps (a great one!). Today's session (which is actually from May) was in response to a writer who wrote in asking for a workout that would help get the juices flowing and the muses talking.  Chaz just free flowed the whole workout...everything from downward dog to crow pose.  

It was challenging and fast and terrific. And I'm feeling really jazzed about my writing plans today. Even though it's 3:30 in the afternoon and the sun is sinking and I've done nothing but watch the olympics.  But i console myself with the fact that it was fencing...and there's a fencing scene in my next book...so research is important, right?

I forget how much I like doing yoga...it makes me feel so relaxed and energized and, after the week I've had, I could seriously use the destressing.  

Other musings you might enjoy...

Poetry for Karma Repair

A Genius Speaks of Love

Yoga. Yogi. Yogurt.

The New Orleans Debutante Tradition

Debutantes are big in Louisiana...especially in New Orleans. It's certainly the French influence...after all, the word debutante comes from the French débuter, which means "to begin." And New Orleans is nothing if not French-influenced (see Cafe du Monde, The Vieux Carre and the best cajun food you can find anywhere on earth).

Post Katrina, though, the debutante community in Louisiana suffered. Today's Times Picayune tells the story of Lynn Lewis, who was royal princess for the Swan's club in 1977, and who followed in a line of friends and family members who had their own Season as part of the Swan's Club in Kenner, LA.  Her two eldest daughters had their own seasons in the late 90s, but her youngest, Candace, was due for her own cotillion in December 2005, just months after the hurricane ravaged the Gulf Coast.  

Because of Katrina, the biannual cotillion was put on hold, and Candace couldn't have her coming out. 

"We had to worry about recovery and rebuilding everything," Swans President Idella Washington said. "We weren't sure when we were going to be able to have the ball, but we knew eventually we would."

But, things are finally back on track:

On July 26, for the first time since 2002, the Swan's Club celebrated its 25th anniversary and presented its Debutante Cotillion at the Marriott Hotel in New Orleans. This year's theme: "A Debs Dream: Believing and Achieving.""

And the best part?  After hours of etiquette and waltz instruction, a scrapbook and essay contest, a presentation tea, and a Mother's Day event at one of the local churches,.Candace Lewis was named queen of the ball.

I couldn't have written that one better.

***

In other news, I had brunch today with fellow debutantes Sarah Rees Brennan, Sarah Cross and Sarah Ockler...yes...four Sarah's at one table at Chat 'n' Chew and there was no rip in the space time continuum. Not that we didn't try our best. It was very fun...and so great to chill with a group of brilliant new writers.

Now, I have to be self-disciplined and stop watching Mad Men so I can write. Wish me luck!

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 Extravagant Purchase

So...I'm working on a new project. I'm about 40 pages and a full, detailed outline in...and I'm struggling. I don't even really want to talk about it because I'm at this horrible superstitious point where I feel like I could seriously curse myself and then all this work (and an idea I really love) could be up the creek without the proverbial paddle.

This weekend, the artist blamed her tools. Clearly, the reason why my new project is struggling is because my computer was sub par. Right? Well, that's what I thought. So I trotted off to the Apple Store in SoHo and was the only person on the planet who bought an Apple product other than the iPhone. I met a lovely young man genius who sold me a fancy pants MacBook. Which is uber fast and uber shiny and oh-so-heavenly. Of course, Eric has been booting and loading and organizing since I bought it, so I haven't actually got my hands on it with the exception of the 15 minutes I was awake this morning before him and I checked email and weather...but wow! so fast!

I'm feeling really really good about this--THIS is the computer that's going to get the creative juices flowing. THIS computer is so great--it almost makes me believe it could write my book for me. But I guess Steve Jobs hasn't cornered that market.

Yet.

this little piggy went to seattle

I am traveling in Seattle on business for 36 hours...traveling on business is never as fun as you think it's going to be...it usually involves way more work than you thought you were going to do (read...no time to go to Pike Place Market or the Space Needle), it almost always means eating at the same restaurant for multiple meals in a row (although in this particular case, it's a GREAT Greek restaurant so, thank goodness for small favors.), and you miss your dog. And your husband.

But this trip takes the cake on not being as fun as I thought it would be. Besides the six and a half hour flight (have i mentioned i LOATHE flying?) and the two hour meeting this morning that turned into six hours of work on an ulcer-inducing project, I broke my toe. Yes. You read that right. I broke. My toe. My pinky toe. Who does that, you ask?

I do.

And I know it's lame and there's nothing I can do about it and I should just get over it and keep the damn thing elevated and iced and pop some advil and be a grown up, but first, ow. And second, wah. I'm in a hotel room in a city I've never been to (and one which I was really excited to visit) and I just want to lay around with my dog and watch Project Runway and be pampered and mooned over.

so...wah.

stupid seattle.

on heat. and not the good kind.

it's about 1200 degrees in new york city today. ok...perhaps that's a bit of an exaggeration.  but it's over 90 degrees, feels like it's 105 degrees, and is sticky and oppressive and they're predicting thunderstorms and hail, which wouldn't be so bad, because anything is better than the alternative, when the blacktop virtually hums with heat.

baxter and i ventured out of the house this morning, as we do every weekend morning, to scare up some breakfast for both of us.  baxter, like most city dogs who don't have constant access to the outdoors, LOVES going outside.  he's part boxer, so he does this thing called kidney-beaning where he loses control of his entire body and wriggles around in a circle until you open the door and let him bolt down the stairs.  

on days like this, though, baxter gets outside and looks up at me with nothing short of abject confusion, as if to say, "mom...why did you take me to this awful hot place? what happened to the real outside?"  poor baby.  i'm wearing a tank top and my skin is melting off...he has a fur coat.  

so...we did our business...mine slightly less base than his...and made our way back into the air conditioned apartment.  i always feel slightly guilty on days like this, when the sun is shining brightly and i'm locked in my apartment plotting my avoidance of the outside, trying to figure out how many days I can go if i don't do laundry.

and i can't help but wonder how humanity survived before the creature comforts of the 20th Century.  

i'm working on the sequel to The Season now, which spans the summer months of 1815 in London, which I can only imagine smelled about a thousand times worse than brooklyn does today.  in new york, at the same time, people escaped the city for the country, where there was more space and some room for wind to take the edge off the heat...but in London, they actually came to the city for summer.  they put on their heavy silken ballgowns, took tea in closed of receiving rooms, danced the night away in ballrooms laden with people.  Eric once asked me why people are always threatening to swoon in the regency novels i read...one imagines it wasn't a threat so much as a reality for women locked in the twin hells of un-air conditioned rooms and unforgiving corsets. 

so, yeah.  it's hot today.  but at least i have an escape.  and i can be thoroughly unladylike in my shorts and tank top and lay spread-eagled on the floor of my airconditioned apartment.  if alex, vivi or ella tried that, their mothers would have fits of the vapors.  which is a story for another time.  :)

happy summer!

The Big (Not So) Easy

So, I know that I promised to (as much as possible) blog while I was in New Orleans, but it's not easy when you're working 15 hour days and, by the end of them have lost all ability to articulate. 

I've been in New Orleans several times since Katrina...and spent much of that time in communities hardest hit by the hurricane.  What surprises me every time I'm there is that, no matter how much time has gone by since that fateful day in August 2005, little has changed since the floodwaters subsided.  

Driving through the Lower 9th Ward, the site of the first levy break and possibly the most famous scenes from the aftermath of Katrina, one thing hits you.  There are no houses. Foundations? Sure.  But no houses.  Just stone steps that lead to nowhere.  There are signs here and there, promoting the organizations helping to rebuild--the Menonites, Catholic missions, Habitat for Humanity and, perhaps the most famous organization--the Make it Right Foundation or, as it's most often referenced in NOLA, "Brad Pitt's Project." Make it Right is rebuilding in the Lower 9th with eco-friendly housing, offering the families hardest hit a chance to start over.  Any way you look at it, having Brad Pitt around is a good thing for that area that we all heard so much about in August of 2005 and then forgot. 

But then there are the places where the celebrities aren't.  Places like the 7th Ward, which has the highest crime rate in the city and one of the highest crime rates in the country.  I spent two days in the 7th this week, talking to kids and adults who live and work in the neighborhood.  I heard stories of young fathers being murdered outside of schools, of uncles and cousins being shot in drive-by shootings, of robbery and mugging and hopelessness.  One person's upbeat statement shocked me to my core: "Rapes are up, but murders are down!" 

Kids in the 7th Ward walk to school past houses that have stood empty since the hurricane, houses that still bear the spray-painted markings of the National Guard teams that searched the neighborhood in weeks after the hurricane.  And, while there is a huge truancy problem in the city, the kids who do show up to school do so for one of two reasons.  Either they have family that is deeply committed to education, or they go to school to escape to a place where they feel safe. Teachers in New Orleans are parents, friends, and counselors as much as they are educators.

Driving through New Orleans, it's hard to believe you're in the United States.  I live in New York City--where there are high rates of urban poverty and, certainly, a fair amount of inequality.  But here is a city where the poverty is so pervasive, the inequality so extreme, that you can't even imagine where you would begin to fix it.  There are thousands who still live in condemned housing--much filled with black mold and infested with rats, hundreds who live in tent cities under highway overpasses, and who knows how many who are off the grid--completely forgotten. 

For all the emotion that you feel when you spend time in New Orleans, which often translates into a deep feeling of ineffectiveness, it's an incredible city...filled with hope and resilience and strength of which I am in complete awe.  I count myself lucky that I get to spend time there--meeting the people who live there and talking to them about their experiences, their hopes, their plans.  It reminds me of the impressive power of the human spirit, and puts the little things that get under my skin into stark perspective.  

Here's to NOLA...someday soon, les bon temps will roullez again.