Crowd Sourcing for a Book Title!

So yes, I am a lax blogger through and through. The last few weeks have been chaotic, to put it mildly, and I am having a hard time remembering to do anything! This morning I got out of the shower and was completely dressed before I realized that I hadn't rinsed the conditioner out of my hair.

But, in the interim since blogs, a whole lot has happened, personally, with work, and in terms of the writing. The big news is that I am posting this immediately after finishing...drum roll...novel number two.

I must say that finishing a book (both times) has been rather anti-climactic to me because I am absolutely the perpetual editor. I periodically have to remind myself that I cannot make further changes to Max and Menna because it is only a few months away from publication. But, because of this, a story never feels done. I am anxious to see if holding the book in my hands, if reading reviews, and hearing feedback on the book will somehow finalize it in my mind, or if I will always be thinking of ways I could have kept going.

So, I did "finish" my second novel. I am going back and forth on titles. May be My Stranger Husband, but Q insists that this title, combined with its subject matter, make it seem like fodder for a Lifetime TV Movie. The alternate is Chocolates for a Comatose Man. This is a strange feeling for me, because Max and Menna was always called that. The idea of changing the title to me was tantamount to bastardizing the story (I know, I know, a melodramatic writer). But here, I am just not sure which title is more befitting, or if I should care was Q thinks :0)

So-- thoughts? Vote! Tell me what you're thinking! I am pasting a description below because I am at a loss here...

This is the story of Gillian who begins telling about her life as she sits by the bed of her comatose husband. While nurses and doctors come in to reassure her that he will recover well from a mysterious fall, Gillian mulls over the events that have made up their cold, and loveless marraige. She secretly delights in the freedom of a house to herself, a delight that is cut short when her husband awakes.

Upon opening his eyes, Ricky seems to be a very different man. He has few memories of his life and doesn't recognize Gillian. Convinced that this is a continuation of the cruel mind games her husband has always played, Gillian begins to tell him stories of a life that never existed. She makes up children that were never born, and helps him through learning of his mother's death, despite the fact that his mother is still very much alive. Through all of this Gillian hopes to draw him out and force him to admit the manipulation, but ultimately begins to question not only the validity of his illness, but also how far she can go to punish a man for sins he can't remember committing.

Technically speaking...

So I becoming a lax blogger. Life has been absolutely chaotic, some really good, and some really bad. Positive or negative, nonetheless, lots of chaos stimulates me and I have been writing like crazy. I am days away from finishing book 2, and I am rather excited about it.

We have about another month or so of “quiet” around Max and Menna before the real busy stuff starts. As of right now, I am just waiting on reviews and advanced praise. Anyone who knows me knows that patience isn’t one of my virtues, but I am distracted by so many other things that time is just flying by. It will be November 1 before I know it.

And so, I want to keep up with sharing some of my great loves—story loves—with all of you. I was so tempted to call on my sick day movie for fodder for this blog, which is Aliens. I adore the movie, but more for the great explosions and the combination of a totally kick a*s heroine and lots and lots of explosions. Ellen Ripley rocks my world.

Nonetheless, I have been focusing my good energy on stories that move me, and Aliens may be the perfect accompaniment to Chinese food and my couch when I have a day off. But there is a book that has been on my mind lately, because it is a book that so beautifully captures the concept of beauty from, or even in, tragedy.
If you haven’t read A Prayer for Owen Meaney by John Irving, I cannot recommend it strongly enough. There are two things about this novel that absolutely floor me:

1. Its deliberation. So many times during my first (of many) readings of this lengthy novel I asked myself “what is the point of all of this?” Luckily, it was a school assignment so I had to wade through pages and pages of description and seemingly unconnected events. However, when you get to the end, the last ten pages of the book let you know that not a single word of the novel was wasted. The sheer skill required in crafting a story this complex and yet this perfectly planned amazes me.
2. As mentioned, this book is very much about understanding the need behind random tragedy, and the motivations behind sacrifice. The movie takes an event, very much like something you might see on the nightly news and mull over it slightly before moving on, and gives it so much purpose and importance.

I’ve read lots of John Irving’s novels, some of which I have loved, some of which I have not, but all of which I have appreciated. However, this is one of my five all time favorite books (and for me to pick only five all-time favorite books is a daunting task for me because I love so many), and its construction is one of the first things that made me start to consider the technical ability that has to accompany talent in order for writing to be truly moving (at least to me).
I hope all is well for all of you, my few dear readers.

No dreamy men on my hospital TV

Well, the good juju worked. I got a super awesome quote on Max and Menna from one of my writing heroes. This is a prime line for the front cover, and I couldn't be more over the moon about it.

However, on my end, I have some terrible personal luck! While staying with mom at Hospital A, I ate at the cafeteria. Eight hours later, I woke up (still staying with mom) with an awful stomach ache. I started to drive home but only made it about halfway before I was too sick to keep driving. I pulled into an ER at Hospital B, and here I am, a day later, still in the hospital with food poisoning.

Luckily, there is free wi-fi, because my TV has offered me no dreamy men to comfort me! Certainly no HBO, so no Alexander Skarsgaard on True Blood.No A&E, so there is no Ryan Buell on Paranormal State. Couldn't even find any Big Bang Theory to offer me some Johnny Galecki last night. The closest I have come is a commercial for the new Brenden Frasier movie.

Thus, I figured out how to stream Netflix (using ultra-slow free-wifi)and have been watching one of my all-time favorite shows, prompted by one of the original dreamy men. That's right ladies and gentleman-- my computer is now all Sea Quest all the time. Interestingly, this show got me wondering how much different being young must be in this time (she says at the ripe old age of 29). Here's why:

When I was 12, I was SOOOO in love with Jonathan Brandis (hence the Sea Quest reminiscing). He was the original dreamy man. My entire room was decorated with Jonathan Brandis photos, I bought every magazine with a photo of him, and poured over every interview to learn of what we had in common. He'd read It, I loved that book. He loved STP, I went out and bought an STP CD. And this was back in the stoneage of entertainment communication, circa 1992.

Clearly, I have progressed past the point of decorating my closet door with Tiger Beat photos of dreamy men that make me swoon. I have graduated to looking for a "real" boyfriend (sort of...maybe...when I have time)...and twitter :0)

I started following some tv personalities on twitter and facebook when the book deal came through to try and watch what these people were doing, and how it was working to build community around them and connect them with the people that love their work. My hope was that one days people would love my work, and I wanted to see how other people connected in that situation. Ryan Buell was the first person I followed, and I think he is awesome about making his fans feel like part of his life.

But, here's what I am thinking. If I was 12 NOW and knew on a daily basis what Jonathan Brandis was doing, I think it would have driven my obsession to startling heights. Of course he would have been meant for me if I knew at 11 a.m. that he was heading to McDonalds. And, hot damn, had he responded to one of my tweets... frenzy.

So, social media is awesome because it helps us all connect. But, in a way, I am glad it wasn't at my disposal circa 1992. I had a hard enough time focusing in school knowing that math class truly only served to fill the hours before Jonathan Brandis came to whisk me away. In a way, its ironic. My first real understanding of how real-time and instant news had become was when a tiny little ticker marched across my screen in 2003 to tell me had passed away. Even a decade after I outgrew obsessing over celebrities so wholly, I was saddened by the news.

If this post makes no sense... well... I did just get a dose of morphine :0)

Good juju Round II

So I have this co-worker who is reading Max and Menna. She is one of the people I have met in my life who I instantly and wholeheartedly liked. Why? Because she is a successful, approachable woman balancing work and motherhood and everything else that life throws at you… with a life-sized cut out of Robert Pattinson on the wall of her office. Since Robert Pattinson is high up on my “dreamy men” list, I do appreciate the occasional opportunity to duck in her office and stare at that smoldering face and escape the world.

Alas, I digress.

Wonderful Co-Worker said nice things to me this morning about the book. I needed that, since I have gotten mixed reactions elsewhere thus far. Which leaves me wondering—is the good juju working. (For those of you wondering, just as I requisitioned “feeling infinite” from a well-known young adult writer, “juju” is a phrase from the George of the Jungle movie, which I love, and not just because Brendan Frasier—another on the dreamy men list—looks phenomenal in it).
Thus, since the good juju does return, I shall continue giving kudos to another story that makes me feel infinite.

I have a special love for movies and books that make you feel sad and hopeful all at the same time. It’s a rare skill to close a book, or pop out a DVD, with tears streaming but somehow feel exhilarated at the same time. As a self-professed movie fanatic, I have a hard time picking one as my absolute favorite, but were I to do so, it would be The United States of Leland, which is the best example I have ever seen of making tragedy understandable and optimistic.

For those of you who aren’t familiar, the movie has a phenomenal cast—Ryan Gosling, one of my absolute favorites (and another dreamy man who, ironically, is also the star of one of my least favorite movies, but this blog is about good juju), Don Cheadle, Lena Olin, Kevin Spacey, Chris Klein, Michelle Williams, and Jenna Malone to name a few.

The movie opens as Leland, our protagonist, is arrested for allegedly murdering the mentally retarded brother of his ex-girlfriend. What amazes me about this film is that, for all of the grisly implications of that sentence, Leland is very much our hero. The movie never ventures into the realm of gory or trite, but maintains a mission of convincing its audience how someone guilty of such a horrific crime could in fact be the tragic hero. The film in and of itself is quiet, understated, and focuses on the relationships we have—good or bad—and how one interaction can not only alter the course of our lives, but change the way we think about it.

In the movie, a character says something to Leland that sticks with me. Broken-hearted, this minor player says “You have to believe that life is more than the sum of its parts, kiddo.” And do we ever.

This sticks with me so much as I have helped with care for my mom since she got sick. Many, many nights spent in hospitals, or sleeping on the couch, listening to my mom try to sleep, or call for a nurse, or get sick, or pray when she doesn’t think I hear, this line rolls through my head. This has to mean something more than what it is, or what is the point?

If you’re ever feeling whimsical, or confused, or a little down and want to watch something that will both help you indulge your self-pity and help you snap out of it, this is a movie to watch. You will feel infinite.

So I leave you with another quote from the movie, which sums up my mood for the day: “This one is something a friend of mine said to me. "You have to believe that life is more than the sum of its parts, kiddo." I remember it right now to the "kiddo" part. But when I think about what she said, the same thing always comes into my head. What if you can't put the pieces together in the first place?”