To the land of dreamy men...

Please indulge me in a digression-- I have been trying to focus on things of substance, fiction that changes my understanding of things, places that make me happy, etc. But, the time has come to return to one of my favorite subjects... dreamy men. Ah yes, I have too long abandoned Ryan Buell, Ben Barnes, Joseph Gordon Levitt, and friends, but a recent trip to a movie theater reminded me that it was long past time to add a new name to my list: James McAvoy.

The ironic thing is that I can't think of any of his movies off the top of my head that I have loved, save for Penelope and The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe (and he is a fawn in that, goat legs automatically rendering anyone as NOT dreamy). I've seen a lot. Been OK with a few. Loved less... until now I hope, because this summer McAvoy takes on the role of one of my all-time favorite characters ever. Are you ready to see my geek? Well here it is, six words that give me chills: James McAvoy as Professor Charles Xavier. Seriously, I am giddy with anticipation.

I am also giddy with lack of sleep. I am trying so hard to wrap up a few loose ends on Book #2. I want to start talking about , sharing it, seriously shopping it, and, most importantly, put it to bed so I can work on Book #3. The publication of Max and Menna showed me, quite wonderfully, that maybe a future as a professional writer is on the horizon. Now I just need the present to give me time to make it happen :)

California Dreaming

So yes, it has been nearly a month since I last blogged. But I have good reasons!

1. I just moved. My house is a maze of boxes. Every time I look at the computer and think about writing something, I remind myself that it would be far more fruitful in the near term to unpack.
2. With school, work, and moving, the moments I have to glance at the computer are limited.
3. Max and Menna comes out in two weeks. I am trying to spend whatever free time I do have catching up on promotions, and generally doing cartwheels of excitement.
4. I am travelling soooo much.

The problem is that not blogging isn't simply not blogging. Its indicative of a larger problem-- I have written maybe two pages in the last two months. Not only does this contribute to my general anxiety, since writing is a release, but it is also a piss poor way to approach becoming a full-time writer.

So, that is it. I need to recharge. I need to go somewhere new and see something beautiful-- that always gets the juices flowing. A high school classmate seems to be on a whirlwind tour of the world. Just looking at the pictures he is posting from exoctic locations like South Africa and UAE make me salivate. I want to go there. I want to see that in person. I want to be inspired (but I promise not to write Eat, Pray, Love II-- I don't want to be inspired and write about me).

Here is what I am thinking: When I got back from my Washington/Oregon/California trip in May, I was so psyched. I wrote like crazy. It was the perfect trip-- some city, some rural, lots of spectacle.

See, I am an anglophile and a bit of a snob about it. When I was in Ireland I was young and stupid and thought "nothing can be more beautiful than this" and it IS truly one of the most beautiful places on the planet; however, Oregon showed me that there are things in my own backyard that are that beautiful... things I haven't seen.

In January, I am cashing in my airline/hotel/credit card points and going somewhere new. I see the irony in this-- pointing to travel as a reason I am not writing, but for those of you who don't travel for work, let me assure you of this: when you travel for work you go lots of places, but you seldom see anything. This is why none of you should be offended when I say "I'm here" and you say "oh, I live there-- lets hang out." I usually get about 8 hours in a 24 hour span off, and I sleep and work out.

My leaning is towards cashing those points in on a trip to Jaimaica, but the likelihood is that this may turn out to be a lone vacation. January is not typically the time most people take off to travel. I am not sure Jaimaica is the kind of place I want to go alone. Jaimaica is the kind of place I want to go with one of the dreamy men...

Thus I thought perhaps I would visit one of the 21 U.S. states I have not yet been to. But I don't know where to go! I've eliminated several based on climate (I am NOT going colder), availability of flights, and availability of hotels within my point range. What I have is the list below. Tell me, dear readers, where to go on this list. Where can I find something beautiful near a kick ass city with a great restaurant scene. Where can I go to be inspired and jump start work on my now-stalled second novel?

Here are my options, unless Ryan Buell, Joseph Gordon Levitt, or Ben Barnes are free for a Jaimaica trip!

Alabama
Arizona
Arkansas
Colorado
Indiania
Kansas
Mississippi
New Mexico
Oklahoma
Utah

Something of a rant in defense of Ryan

OK, so I try very hard to steer clear of political and/or religious discourse in a public forum. I mean, I am a novelist-- who cares what my political leanings are, right? I am trying really hard just to get people to care that I am a novelist. My beliefs are mine, and I don’t see the need to force them on others. I am sure people who‘s beliefs are opposite of mine feel them just as passionately and often have just as many salient points to their arguments. But, today, I am irritated.


Ryan Buell, near the top of my dreamy men list, apparently admits in his forthcoming book that he is bisexual. This is according to Perez Hilton thus far, so I will have to wait until my copy arrives to verify. Regardless, for me, this changes nothing. He is bi, so clearly there is still opportunity for me to sweep the man off his feet, right? ;0)


However, I am totally appalled by how Twitter and the rest of the interwebs are going crazy over this. Buell is Catholic, and his faith forms the cornerstone of some of his work with the paranormal. Now, one would think that might be enough to draw some annoyance from the Church, but apparently his bisexuality crosses a line. Some meanie on Twitter told him that he should be excommunicated, and was zealous enough to post a link so he could go figure out what that meant.


Really?


With each passing day I realize two things more and more: 1. I miss my mom, and 2. I learned so much from her. She wasn’t a self-professed liberal. She actually would probably be annoyed if I called her that. What she was, however, was tolerant. My mother saw the best in everyone ALWAYS, sometimes when they truly did not deserve it. She didn’t so much care how people lived their lives, as long as they didn’t hurt anyone else in the process. She was so full of faith—I am still, to this day, amazed by how she managed to have so much faith in the midst of all of the pain and turmoil she went through—but she always used her faith as a comfort, not as a weapon.


I miss my mom. I am surprised by how much the hateful words of one ignoramus towards someone I have only met once brought this all up for me (though, since she has only been gone a month, it is still pretty near the surface all the time). I just miss her goodness, and her kindness, and her tolerance. She would have responded to this news by telling me that she hopes Ryan Buell finds a really good man OR woman, as long as he finds someone who makes him happy. And she is totally right.


I am even more private about my faith than I try to be about my politics, but why would God make people a certain way and then damn them for it? And you know what, even if He did, why on Earth do people completely removed from the situation feel that it is their place and duty to spread their hate?


For those of you who haven’t read Max and Menna yet, if/when you do, you will see just how important an issue tolerance is to me. I think the world would be a better place if we were all just a little bit more like my mom.


As for me, I am just glad the dreamy men list is verrrryyy long, since I now have more of the population to compete with over Ryan Buell!

Calling for your great loves!!

I am back from a totally relaxing weekend of camping, which included great food, great friends, and a great amount of much-needed doing nothing. I was totally relaxed, until I came back to a passed deadline on final Max and Menna edits, school work past due, and a really long backlist of other stuff. Ugh. Adulthood is tough.


I am moving at the beginning of October. I’ve been packing up boxes all weekend, and, as always, am shocked by the sheer number of books I own. I packed up 4 full egg-carton sized boxes of books, and this only cleaned off one of four shelves, and took care of the stacks of books lying all over my bedroom.


We’re moving to a smaller house, and I feel somewhat compelled to shed some of my considerable clutter. I am, believe it or not, incredibly sentimental, so I have a hard time parting with things. Apparently, the idea of parting with books is detestable to me. I tried. I convinced myself that I did not, in fact, need more than 500 paperbacks (from my bedroom alone), and that at least 50 of these are books that I didn’t even like. Despite, I found only 8 that I was able to put in the Goodwill pile.


And why is this? I’m actually alarmed by my inability to get rid of books. I am sentimental, for sure, but these hold little to no sentimental value to me. I am surely not materialistic, and so it isn’t the number of my possessions that is crucial. Nonetheless, even books I didn’t like contribute to this symbol of my collective knowledge and experience. I also firmly believe that books have the capacity to change you.


It’s a discussion I have had with my roommate many, many times. She is mystified when I tell her that stories have changed me—not my mood, but the way I think about and interact with the world. Now, the books (and movies and songs) that have done this for me comprise a very short list of the best of the best. But they do exist. And I can’t get rid of books, because what if I happen to pick one up at just the right moment, when I am in the perfect state of mind, and it becomes the next book that changes me. I love that feeling, and I cannot get rid of something that may someday have that power over me.


And so, I ask everyone—what books/movies/songs (if any) have changed you? I don’t necessarily mean your favorite book/movie/song, or the one that has the most awesome explosion, or the best sex scene or anything like that. Are there other people out there who have been so moved by a story that it changed them on some basic, fundamental level? Or am I just weird? If you do have a life altering book, share a little bit about it with us.


I am aiming to have some life-altering sushi from Chiyo tonight and settle in with a Paranormal State DVD to guide me through my edits… as I’ve mentioned, Ryan Buell (Paranormal State’s founder and a man who is near the top of the dreamy men list) has written a book that comes out this month. Apparently, we can demand that his book tour bring him through Baltimore. Another chance to chat with him might alter my way of interacting with the world. I think you should all go DEMAND IT! You know... for the sake of... literature :0)
http://eventful.com/performers/ryan-buell-paranormalstate-book-tour-/P0-001-000237801-0

Back from hiatus...

Hello all.

I want to apologize for the lengthy gap between my last blog entry and this one. I’ve had a lot on my plate. Quite frankly, I still do, but I also feel that, as someone who wants my book to be read, I should be able to commit to sharing a blog more regularly.

So, why has my plate been so full? I lost my mother on August 13. There isn’t much more I am yet able to say about it. This isn’t a forum for me expressing grief, nor is it appropriate for me to try and work out some of what I am thinking/feeling here. Thus, though it is trite and not at all fitting, I will simply say “it is what it is” and assure everyone that I am working through this incredibly difficult time privately.

And, back to my true aim here—to spread and share my love of the story!

About a month ago, I bought a new copy of an old favorite. This was a book I read two or three times during my early teen years—I am sure I would not have been allowed to do so if my parents actually knew the content. Rereading it has been invigorating and created such a whimsical nostalgia in me. The feeling I get from returning to these pages alone has been enough to push me (albeit slowly) through the 1100 pages of this tome. However, I have been very pleased to find that the book contains as much appeal for me as an adult as it did when I was 12. Perhaps this book is even more appealing now that I actually understand some of the “adult content.”

If you have not yet found the time, I encourage everyone (over the age of 16!!!) to pick up Stephen King’s It. Most of you probably know the premise—a scary clown terrorizes the young residents of a Maine town until a band of seven kids band together to stop it. Thirty years later, when It returns, they do as well to try and end its reign for good. King isn't typically a favorite of mine. I actually thoroughly enjoy his books, and have read many of them, but he isn't on my list of "all-time favorites" as his style just isn't what I am typically most drawn to. It, however, is the exception.

The book is about a lot of things (you can cover a lot in 1100 pages), but some of my favorite themes are perhaps those that many people would read over or disregard. I am in awe of how intricately King weaves such a frightening and powerful story, and how, if you dig just below the surface, you will find the book rife with really beautiful and compelling lessons. Pervasive throughout the book is the power of belief, be it in the monster in the sewer, or the power of friendship. King teaches in the book that belief is crucial and potent, and I love the idea. This goes hand in hand with an emphasis on fate—both that it exists, but also that it is within your control. I know it seems conflicted. Characters in the book are destined to do this or that, but yet maintain the power to affect change on their situation. I like the duality.

It’s a good read, but definitely a commitment given the length. I have been grateful for the chance to dwell within my own past, and find re-reading it as an adult definitely gives me perspective on if and when you can ever go back to childhood, either in place or in state of mind.
There is much to look forward to this fall, and I am focusing on it with maniacal intent. We are now only two months away from the publication of Max and Menna. I am truly amazed at how fast these past several months have flown by, and am very much looking forward to promoting the book when it is a tangible thing!

Also, this fall, a new season of my second favorite t.v. show (True Blood being the first) premiers. All of you ghost story fanatics should join me in my excitement to see what Paranormal State has to offer when (dreamy man) Ryan Buell is at the helm as executive producer. Ryan’s first book comes out in September. I am contemplating braving another potential foot-in-the-mouth moment to go to his book signing party. We shall see.

And last but not least, some amazing movies on the line up for this fall. Tron is on my must-see-over-and-over list. Stay tuned. I will keep on sharing amazing stories as I come across them.

For now, my advice to everyone in Baltimore is this: Get to Joe’s Squared this week for the special skins. Roasted eggplant and feta. A.M.A.Z.I.N.G.

Smiles!

An entertaining escape...

My plan for this blog, moving forward, had been to focus on the positive things. Rather than an endless rant to let you into my world and know all about me (because hey, I’m really not that interesting) I have enjoyed sharing my positive juju with the world and planned to keep going with that.

But, in the immortal words of John Lennon “life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.”

And so, beautiful boys (and girls), the time has come when my personal life must encroach upon my creative psyche. I found out a few weeks ago that my mother’s long battle with cancer will be ending soon. We won’t call it a loss, she fought too hard for that. We’re going to call this one a tie. Tie or no tie, nonetheless, this is clearly devastating news. I haven’t been much of a blogger as a result, opting instead to share my feelings with the world through the emerging art of text messaging.

But, ars longa, vitae brevis est. I had a recent affirmation of that, and in my faith in the power of storytelling. I hate to hear people refer to books and movies as “entertainment.” They are this, no doubt; however, I think the stories we tell ourselves and each other become a part of our cultural identity. Just as the Greeks are remembered for (among many other things) the beauty and intricacy of their mythology and epic poems, I think we will be remembered partially for our stories.

This is a scary concept, I know. I really would not want to be a member of the generation remembered for bringing The Hot Chick into our canon. But, that said, I would be proud to be part of the generation that contributed A Prayer for Owen Meany, The United States of Leland, Flight, True Blood, Braveheart and many others.

Here’s why I feel so strongly that movies are crucial: Because whether it is to make a point (like The Life of David Gale, even though I don’t agree with the point), or expose a new facet of our world to those who would not otherwise see it (Slumdog Millionaire) or simply to create a world that will allow us to marvel (bless you Harry Potter), at the end of the day all of these help us to see a world outside of our own little lives.

This weekend I had the unique and delightful opportunity to enter a world that made me forget my own. Honestly, for over a month I have had little else on my mind then my mom. It’s nearly impossible to focus on anything. And so, when I went to the movies on Saturday and sat through the entire film and realized, as I left, that I had been so completely immersed that I had gained two hours of freedom from my own thoughts, I was ecstatic.

The film, ladies and gentlemen, is Inception. The graphics and effects and cool concept will pull you in. Astoundingly good writing coupled with simply flawless acting will keep you there. When I left the theater, it felt odd to find myself simply in a parking lot looking for my car. I had so become part of this world, and been so enthralled by the story that re-entering my life startled me.

I don’t want to go too much into the plot because it is hard to explain without actually seeing it. The whole point is to experience it. Stories are what help us understand, cope, and even escape from our lives. I will be eternally grateful to this filmmaking team for helping me have two marvelous hours on Saturday. This film is what the “entertainment” industry should strive for. This is a film that, I hope, will help to define us not because it makes any bold proclamations or advances any special issues, but because it is an example of how an excellent story can hold you, keep you, and impact you.

And FYI, I am officially adding Joseph Gordon Levitt to the dreamy men list. He can chill with Ben Barnes, Brendan Frasier, Jonathan Brandis, Ryan Buell, and Robert Pattinson there for a while :0)