Writers are also readers

Most writers are also voracious readers. Lately, I've had a run of good luck with books--finding some gems that I would not have ordinarily picked up but for Borders' $1 book sale and discount bins. Only one of these is a recent offering, but that's not important. I've rated the books on the 5-star system, five being the best, one the worst. * - *****.

The Beautiful Miscellaneous by Dominic Smith (Washington Square Press,2007). A finely crafted work about Nathan Nelson, an ordinary, average young man who has a terrible auto accident and wakes up from a coma with new and amazing mental abilities, including eidetic memory and synesthesia. Nathan has grown up in the shadow of his genius/scientist father's enormous expectations for his life, and has never been able to live up to them--he knows he's not exceptional, but he can't seem to convince his father or his mother, (who spends most of her time detaching from her incomprehensible husband and distant son,) that he is truly only ordinary and happy to be so. When he comes out of his coma, he is shoved even further toward the edge of the inevitable confrontation with the things his father wants, or seems to need from him, and the things he aches for within himself. The writing is somber, the characters well-realized and the story will be familiar to anyone who has ever been told they were an "underachiever." It's a thoughtful and absorbing read. ****

Dead and Gone, (Sookie Stackhouse #9) by Charlaine Harris (Ace Hardcover, 2009) The ninth offering in this popular series finds Sookie torn between her sense and her emotions, as per usual. This one is not the best of the series, unfortunately, but it is the one where you finally get to know Eric, though that might have been handled a bit better. Overall, the tone of this volume is one of confusion and moroseness over losing a grandfather she hardly knows and hasn't' spent much time getting to know. I love the series--I love the characters, and I wish that Harris had put some more time and effort into making this offering better--but I also felt that way about Dead in Dallas (#2) and the series picked up from that slump just fine. I'll try the next (and any that come after, of course!) but this one didn't leave me hungering for the next installment, as I expected it would, as the other installments had. Still, it's Sookie, it's Harris, and it's what happens next. ***

The Brief History of the Dead by Kevin Brockmeier (Vintage, 2007) This is a little gem of a book, which has seemingly gone entirely unnoticed. The story draws you in immediately, and absolutely refuses to let you go until you've reached the conclusion--which you will not see coming. It's basically an apocolyptic story: a virus is spreading through the world, wiping out the population. The narrative jumps between the only human left, a woman at the South Pole doing research, and the actual dead themselves--who live in a city and are carrying on their lives as if they were not dead--making relationships, opening businesses, eating breakfast, playing music, adopting pets--their very existence is puzzling, but something rapidly becomes clear: that it is entirely dependent on the memories that those still living have of them. This story will haunt you for a long time after you're finished with this small, wonderful little book. *****

Nothing with Strings by Bailey White (Scribner, 2008) Any time Bailey White comes out with a book I snap it up like it was water and I was in the desert. This woman is such a fine and amazing writer that she can make things like the dirty house of an elderly woman a fascinating odyssey into the end of one's life, and bring tears to the eyes doing it. This is a collection of her NPR "Thanksgiving" stories, and it is simply luminous. I am at once frought with writer-envy and a deep-seated need to re-read the entire thing after I finish the last sentence. *****

The No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency series by Alexander McCall Smith (Anchor, 2003 and later)
I am late to this series, having passed it up a number of years ago because I honestly did not think it would be very interesting or something I might enjoy. I take it back--and gratefully so. These are small jewels in my library--I'm up to book 5 with 5 more to go (so far!) and I hope they never end. My only complaint is that these books are far too short, but rather than complain, I just keep putting my money aside so I can buy the next one. They revolve around a small cast of characters from Botswana: Precious Ramotswe, the owner and founder of the titular agency, her love interest, Mr. J. L. B. Matekoni, who is the owner of Tlokweng Road Speedy Motors, a fine place to fix cars, and Mma Ramotswe's secretary, Mma Makutsi, who is incredibly conscientious and ambitious enough to not only become indispensable to the Detective agency, but also to the garage, her dying brother and herself as well! These are unforgettable and LOVABLE characters without being overly sentimental, or having a rose-colored viewpoint. These books do not sugar coat the world--the detective agency must investigate everything from witchest who kill children to make "medicine" for rich men, to philandering husbands (and wives!) and even beauty contestants! I probably would never have read them had I not seen the HBO series by the same name--and fallen in love with the country, the portrayal, the people and the stories. Smith is a master at telling stories and evoking a culture at the crossroads between African tradition and modern life in his folksy, round-about way--and the skill with which he writes will etch these tales on your heart and mind. ****

These are only a few of the things I've enjoyed over the past couple months. I hope you will find them enjoyable as well!

More writing for sale!

My second novel has been published and has finally hit Amazon--The Goddess Loves Your Shoes!

This is the one I really want to be successful, because it has the potential for being the first in a series of books.

It's about Cassie Rivers, a 30-ish, okay-looking heroine, who has had a pretty rough year. Her dad died, her dog died and her grandma went beyond the pale--actually off the deep end (of the dock at the lake in her senior citizens complex!)--and she's just ended a long-term relationship with a soul-sucking organization that had elected her vice-president of its whiney, demanding membership. So she's sort of glad she has nothing to do except sit in the dining room of her friend Mirra's house, making beads and trinkets out of Sculpturific clay. Mirra's family is obnoxious, her house is filthy beyond measure, and her words don't always come out the right way, but she's a good and loving friend to Cassie; and so is their other friend, Gwen-Vera, who talks way too loudly, dresses way too loudly and thinks skull necklaces are cool (as long as the skulls have little red clown noses.) Mirra and Gwen-Vera think Cassie should go with them to the Pagan church--the Church of River And Pasture (C.R.A.P.) but Cassie thinks otherwise. Of course, that means she ends up going, and joining, and having the weirdest and funniest year of her life in the process.

Cassie picks a Pagan name: Alluvia--which is destined to be the name no one can remember or pronounce. She meets the denizens of C.R.A.P. at the local mental institution, where the church holds its monthly rituals in the community room: there is Sheik, the head of the Church, who weighs over 400 pounds, has rotten teeth, and minces like a girl, yet commands the attention of every female in the room; the Hareem--Shiek's two girl bodyguards--sisters both named Raven; Kitfox and Coalfire, a married couple who defy logic (and fashion sense) and who seem to run the place for Sheik; and eventually, Sheik's wife Demon (AKA Lilith) who is impossibly beautiful, sleek and accomplished, and has several personalities, including an 8 year old girl and a Frenchman. Of course, Alluvia becomes friends with her, to the great dismay of Gwen-Vera (who is inexplicably in love with Sheik!) and pretty soon she is embroiled in what can only be described as surreal intrigue: it will involve the FBI, Orthodox Indians, rented children, Babylonians, transvestites, Amish nudists, and a tornado before it's all over, and maybe even Love--with a tall, skinny vendor at a clothing optional festival. The bizarre and hilarious adventures that take Alluvia through the Wheel of the Year are pretty wild--but she copes because she has two great friends in Gwen-Vera and Mirra, a fairly resilient sense of humor, and a couple pairs of killer shoes. What else does a girl need to survive in this world?

I'd love it if you'd buy the book (only $16 on Amazon.com at the link below!) and review it for me. Let me know if you think Cassie needs to have further adventures, and if you laughed. And make sure you always have a pair of killer shoes when the chips are down!

Here's where to order the book:

http://www.amazon.com/Goddess-Loves-Your-Shoes/dp/1440484619/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1244413412&sr=1-1

Writing for Sale!

This is more an announcement than a blog post--I have just experienced the thrill of seeing my own words offered for sale on a world-wide market website! My novel "Obituary", written in November 2008, is now available for sale on Amazon.com!

What a great feeling it is to see my name in print--literally in print! I mean, I'm no stranger to the public view, or even to a very, very, tiny modicum of fame (locally, of course) and I've had many dealings with other famous people--but it's somehow different when you see your own works are up as a literary offering for others to read.

Is this a great novel? Hell no. It's a good one. But I have no illusions. I'm not Fay Weldon, I'm not Anne Tyler, I'm not a writer who can bend words and make you cry. I might touch a chord here or there with this book, but it's really not supposed to be a good novel--it was written to be something else entirely, and just turned out good enough to publish.

I wrote the book for NANOWRIMO--and for you aspiring writers out there, you really ought to try this challenge, which happens every November. If you are up to it, you can find your writing muscle is a lot more developed than you thought. If you're not, then you don't suffer for it. It's sort of the ideal way to see about getting that book done. Nanowrimo stands for National Novel Writing Month, which is, as I've said already, November every year. You sign up for free--the website is nanowrimo.org. The challenge is simple: write a book in the month of November. You start on November 1, and end at midnight on November 30, and somewhere in that 30 day period, you should be able to write a 50K-word (minimum) novel. No, you don't have to stop at 50,000 words. (I didn't--mine extended to around 64K. Most go over a bit.) You aren't supposed to edit, or rewrite--just do a first draft, upload your encoded novel for official word-counting, and if you like, participate in the forums and community there as well. There are weekly/monthly/even daily pep talks by the Nanowrimo staff and guest writers, and tips and tricks to get you started, keep you going and keep you motivated. There is a place to notify your friends, join a local network, even meet up with local writers for face-to-face feedback and encouragement. It's a really great place to try to get a book done, and get help when you get stuck!

I loved the challenge, and found it easier than I had imagined. I also found that the end product I turned out was surprisingly good. That's why I took advantage of the publishing tools at Createspace.com to publish and offer it for sale. I was pleasantly surprised at the ease of doing that, as well.

Even if you think you have only part of a book inside you--even if you don't know what's there, but think you might like to try, I urge you to give Nanowrimo a try. I did, and it paid off tremendously! And maybe even will keep paying off--if the book actually sells!

Go look, go order, go review! Here's the link:

http://www.amazon.com/Obituary-Christin-Keck/dp/1442172843/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1243442719&sr=1-1

Back so soon?

I can't believe it's been over three years since last I posted to this blog. Funny how time slips away, ain't it?

Well, that's pretty much the way things go. I guess I stopped posting when my life took a turn yet again. It's always doing that--turning, that is. I feel dizzy from the spinning sometimes.

Since last I came, my dog has died, I've moved into an apartment instead of a house, I've been sick, and sicker, and better, I've been to France, I've had two novels published and am working on a fourth, lost a couple of good friends, and gained a couple more. My sons have both gotten divorced, and one has moved back in with me. This time it's okay.

Yep--my life is, as it is said in the Chinese Curse business, "interesting." As usual. I ought to be used to it by now, and I suppose I actually am. Miracles are a way of life.

Let me tell you about this latest set of miracles--the ones that got me to my present residence.
I owned a house last time I posted on this blog. A nice little house. A house on a nice little lot. I bought that house in 2000, the Millenium year, with a sizable down payment and a good mortgage, and set about making it the place that would net me a good profit in about five years or so. The market in my area was great--like everyone's market (read: inflated.) But who could have predicted the housing collapse? No one I spoke to, that's for damned sure. My town was a college town. Rents and payments were always going to be higher than everywhere else, because housing would always be at a premium. Our taxes were high. Our services were good. Our houses were worth hundreds of thousands of dollars more than other people's houses in "normal" cities. Yeah.

I'll spare you a lot of the evil details and give you the skeleton. Five years passed, I wasn't ready to sell yet. Too many things had happened: serious illnesses and surgery. Loss of income. Inertia. Children problems. And I had the opportunity to travel; opportunities that come along only once in a life and can't be passed up. So debt climbed, the house stayed and so did I. I refinanced instead. Twice. I knew I was carrying a load of debt, but I thought as long as I can dump the house on the market I'll be okay--the debt wasn't outrageous, not really.

Then, eight years into my ownership, on a crisp, October day, the hammer dropped.

I turned on the furnace.

And--------nothing.

The verdict: broken. The solution: new furnace. That was going to cost me more than I could afford. My dreams of putting my house on the market in the spring were beginning to evaporate faster than a summer rain on a hot cement sidewalk. Instead of buying the entire heating system my HVAC guy recommended, I opted for the quickie fix--much much cheaper, but much less reliable--and decided to go ahead and put the house up for sale now. Let the new owners deal with it. I'd take the loss.

But I was not prepared for the amount of loss I was actually going to be hit with. After an appraisal, I discovered that the house I'd mortgaged for $xxx,xxx was only really worth $xx,xxx. That was a beeeeeeeeg hammer.

My house was appraised at over $50K LESS than it was mortgaged for, and there was absolutely NO hope of fixing that. Furnace notwithstanding. Even with all the updates I could afford (hardly any) it would never--EVER--be worth what the mortgage company had loaned me. The market had shifted and sand was running out of the bottom of the hourglass faster with each passing day.

Desperate, I went to a lawyer. He charged me lots of money to tell me the simple truth: that I had no choice. It was stay there and struggle and go further and further into debt with no way to climb out, or wipe the slate.

I grabbed that eraser, and started wiping.

It's a year and a half later as I write this now. I have no more debt. I have no more credit, either--but I have no debt. I live within my means on my paychecks, and I am living in the first of a series of miracles that brought me back to where I needed to be.

And, it was during those dark and uncertain days at the beginning of the foreclosure/bankruptcy proceedings that I finally gave up trying to engineer things and threw myself on the mercy of the Universe andcalled out to the Cosmos: "Okay--you got me. Now take care of me." I don't know what I thought might happen, but whatever it was, it didn't. Instead, the simple act of NOT trying brought me to a place where I found everything I've ever wanted, and more. The Taoists always told me that's how it worked.

I lost my house: I found a better place to live. One that not only was much larger, much nicer, with straighter walls and a better heating/cooling system, but also a fireplace, a terrace, a lovely gothic porch, four huge bedrooms, a full basement, carpeting, a study with floor-to-ceiling built-in bookcases, wonderful light, an attached garage/shed and a dishwasher--none of which I had in the house I owned. This place is beyond nice--it's incredible. It's also the rectory of a church. And this church happens to be the church I was baptized in when I was six years old.
If that's not weird enough for you, I don't know why. I found this place by attending a swimming class--water aerobics--at a local gym. Our teacher was a lovely woman, a teeny bit older than me, very lively and witty, and extremely attractive. We hit it off because she was also extremely personable. And in the course of talking about our lives, I mentioned that I was going to be looking for an apartment soon. She told me she knew of one--but I probably wouldn't be interested because it was in a church. That intrigued me (but I actually thought she was probably right.) Yet, the opportunity loomed--and so indeed I said I would look at it. Especially when she told me the price. (less than half of what my mortgage payments were!) It was when I learned the name of the church that I began to feel as if there was another hand in this process--it was the church my mother had chosen for us when I was six--and where I was baptized lo, these many decades ago!

It was literally coming home. The church, when I visited, had not changed one iota. The rectory was amazing--and they let me keep my cats. Of course I signed the lease.

I could hear the Universe giggling behind her hand, as she watched from above--and I swear to you--really--the day I moved in, She said in a quiet, impishly delighted little voice: "Well, hello there--back so soon?"