The Bookworm

Yesterday evening, after a terrible, no-good, very bad day, I watched Summerland and if that wasn’t emotional enough, I followed it up with the final episode of The Good Place. Chidi describing a wave … friends, I sobbed. And swore off Netflix for the rest of the night.

Tonight, two of my kids are at the Greek food festival with their friends and I’m watching The Lake House while I have dinner. Great movie – so much pining. But I should probably watch something light after this, like Toy Story 3 or Up.  

Anyway, today, I have a story to tell. A friend posted a meme on Facebook about shopping for books with a bookworm and it reminded me of a shopping trip with my MIL.

Many years ago, during the 90s era of the book desert, a Borders moved into the South Hills of Pittsburgh. The store was a new concept for us – a cafe, big comfy chairs, two stories! It was magnificent and we loved it. 

Ken – who was a bookworm’s bookworm – convinced his mom to go there with us. He knew how much she loved books and thought she’d really enjoy the luxury of a bookworm’s bookstore.

She did not. 

We were at least an hour into this particular visit, each of us lost in our pile of books, when she found me and said, “I’m ready to leave.” Now, it’s important to note that my MIL and I got along very well but … nonetheless … this was my MIL talking. So, of course, I said we’d wrap it up and get going. 

I hadn’t counted on Ken, though, when I promised we’d leave. I’m not sure how long he would have been there, ultimately, but after ANOTHER 45 minutes, Margaret said that she was going to the car, the locked car. And she did. She stood at the locked car, waiting, while I dragged Ken to the exit. 

When we finally got to the car, I expected fireworks, a battle scene out of Lord of the Rings. Nothing like that happened. Ken unlocked the car. Margaret got in. That was that. 

But there was no question who had won.

He didn’t take her to any more bookstores but over time he and I spent so many hours at various bookstores throughout the city. Nowadays, you are just as likely to find me and the kids in used bookstores. We seek them out on vacations too, especially the hole-in-the-wall kind. 

One time, on a trip to Kentucky, we spent most of a rainy afternoon at a dusty old bookstore that was full of lovely out-of-print treasures. The owner snoozed in a big comfy chair while we wandered through the store. And then when we took our books to the front, we had to wake him and he made us pay in cash because he couldn’t get the credit card machine to work. Since we were the only customers, I don’t think he tried very hard. And we didn’t mind.

The Bookworm

Clean Sheets & Dirty Books

The clean-sheet feeling is fantastic, isn’t it? I don’t get to experience that feeling very often because cats and dogs like clean sheets too. 

Most nights I reluctantly share my bed-for-one with at least one animal. This is not of my choosing but as I’ve mentioned before, there is no door to my bedroom. Doorlessness is both invitation and mandate to cats. My husband’s Maine Coon often sleeps upstairs. He’s the loudest snorer you will ever hear, worse – by far – than Ken ever was. He’s also a blanket hog, a trait he definitely learned from Ken. 

My daughter’s rescue cat also likes to sleep on my bed. She makes bread for at least 15 minutes every night while she purrs loudly. Then, she cleans every single piece of fur on her very furry body – also loudly. After that, she circles around like a dog, making her bed, and then sleeps like the dead for hours, until, that is, I disturb her by getting up to use the bathroom.

Like the cats, the dogs are not invited guests but when they’re not kenneled, they occasionally sneak to the third floor for a snooze. The doxies can’t make it onto my bed directly; but like crows, they have mastered rudimentary tools, such as jumping to the bed from a nearby futon or footstool. The pitbull needs no assistance and is often the instigator of bed-ageddon. (In case there’s a question, the bed is the good guy in this battle.)

First, the dogs get on the bed. Then, they unmake the perfectly made but de-pillowed bed. The littlest doxy – the runt of the litter – likes to crawl between the sheets to nap. The furry doxy likes to build a blanket throne and climb up to snooze. The pitbull prefers pillows, thus my daily de-pillowing efforts.

By the time the dogs have been discovered on their illicit snuggle island, the bed is a wreck. Unmade. Dirty footprints on the blankets and sheets. Dog fur everywhere. Sometimes there’s slobber too if the pitbull has decided that one of “her puppies” needs to be cleaned. Perhaps because it is still technically standing at the end of the battle, the bed generally wins but oh the cost. 

Tonight, after I diligently foiled every effort by the dogs to sneak upstairs, I am tucked between truly clean sheets. And it is delightful. I’ll only have it to myself for a brief span. My daughter’s cat is on the futon, waiting for me to finish typing so she can jump on the bed. She abhors typing (though she loves to sit on the warm keyboard).

Today’s success against the dogs was not without its own price tag. The pitbull was so mad at me this afternoon that she refused to look at me. She sat on the sofa for over an hour, grumbling, which sounds a little like the noise an angry toddler makes while sitting in timeout. 

She knows – as do I – that tomorrow is another opportunity to sneak onto the bed. Since she regularly outsmarts me, I’m determined to appreciate the luxury of clean sheets. So, even though it is 19F outside, the windows are open and I’m pretending that a balmy spring breeze is rustling my curtains. (I don’t actually have curtains and the breeze is anything but balmy.)

I’ve been working on a blog post about the current round of book bans in schools. The anger and disappointment I feel are currently getting in the way of productive words so for now, I will just challenge you to read some of the books on the ban lists. You can be sure the people who are advocating book bans haven’t read these books. Knowledge is most threatening to the un- and ill-informed. 

The frustrating thing – as I’ve posted elsewhere – is that book bans hurt the most vulnerable children, those who don’t often see themselves in books, those who can’t buy books, those who aren’t safe at home. My kids have library cards, ready access to the public library a 10-minute walk from our house, and a parent who will buy them any book they want.

That’s privilege and that’s part of what this book ban is about.

My beloved husband would be so angry about these bans. He would have bought copies of all the banned books and driven to Tennessee or Texas or even Ohio to offer free copies to students. It’s not a viable solution for a lot of reasons, but there are advocates with reach who could make free books available to these kids, these kids who need to know that we care and that we’re not sitting by while the book bonfires are being lit. 

Maybe you are one of those advocates ….

Be safe. Be loud. 

Much love.

Clean Sheets & Dirty Books

Banal Banter And Other Glory

An agent — we’ll call him Agent A — wants significant revisions to one of my manuscripts. He actually probably wants a different story than the one I offered him. Now I’m terribly conflicted: do I change Jooney’s story (she’s my main character) or do I write him the story that he’s looking for? I love Jooney and I’ve invested a lot of emotional energy into her character arc BUT if I don’t make the changes, perhaps her story will never make it to print. 

Regardless of my decision, I feel the need to offer some applause for his choice insults. Many years ago, as I think I’ve written about here, I was part of a project team that received some glorious feedback. If you’re going to insult my efforts, I want you to go all in. Don’t tell me that I suck. That’s uninspired. Say, instead, “Your website sucks sea water through a rusty scupper.” Now, that is an insult! I’d like to meet that person and tell them how much I still admire that phrasing 20 years after it was offered. 

Agent A does not think Jooney’s story sucks and his comments did not reach these glorious heights. He did, however, provide some input using a charming amount of alliteration. And for that, he definitely gets points. 

The writing process is so painfully personal that it can be hard to separate oneself from criticism. This is not the career path for the sensitive. I, however, am delightfully insensitive, and I’m having a great time! One agent even called me a meanderer. Since I AM actually a meanderer, I felt very SEEN. That’s an agent who gets me.

I missed a writing day this week to attend a funeral. It was in another city so I spent 4 hours in the car for a 30 minute service. However, in exchange for that, I did get to spend about 5 hours with a dear, quite elderly, family friend. The family asked me to be her chauffeur. Because of their own grief journey, they didn’t want the task (she walks very slowly and is starting to have memory problems) but I found it lovely.

We didn’t attend the graveside service because it was a torrential downpour (with no shelter!). Instead, while we waited for the wake to start, we chatted and drove around the city, visiting places she hasn’t seen recently. The day was an unexpected gift in the midst of their loss and sorrow. I’ll have to make up the time (I do have deadlines, people!), but I’d do it again in a heartbeat. None of us know how much time we have left. 

Speaking of loss and grief, have you taken the time to watch The Farewell? It’s a movie about a Chinese woman who doesn’t know that she is dying of cancer. Her family throws a fake party so they can all see her before she dies. The movie includes a lovely exploration of the Qingming Festival, which I’m coincidentally also reading about in a Grace Lin story called Dumpling Days. 

Writers are supposed to read a lot. It can be tough, not because I don’t enjoy it, but because the days are already very long. By the time I pick up a book, I’m often so exhausted that I only get through a chapter or two before I’m dozing over the pages. That doesn’t stop me from juggling books though! In addition to Dumpling Days, I’m currently reading Stay Sweet (by a local writer and I had high hopes but I am sad to say that I’m really not enjoying it), Beloved, Maybe You Should Talk to Someone (almost finished!), and a free online economics textbook called Economy, Society and Public Policy, a book club read about how all of these things actually work together. (It’s a lot more enjoyable than the title makes it sound. If you have an interest, speak up and I’ll share the link.) 

Back to work: while I ponder Jooney’s future, I’m working on a time travel novel. It’s full of danger and sand and deprivation, which seems to be a continual theme for me. I’ve been playing with this story for several months and have about 8,000 words down. It’s a middle grade novel so it will be around 30,000-40,000 words. The really dark novel that I’ve also been writing is at about 12,000 words right now but I have a lot more to do on that one. It’s probably going to top out at about 80,000-100,000 words. There was a time when I couldn’t really envision finishing a story but here I am, writing three at a time. 

Much love.

 

Banal Banter And Other Glory