October 2007 Archives

Thanks so much to everyone who entered the knitting contest. The winner is Tami Shaughnessy from Olympia, Washington. She'll be receiving a Berroco kit that contains 20 skeins of Pure Merino yarn, a pair of #9 bamboo needles, and the Family Tree Knitting Collection pattern book. Way to go, Tami!

BTW, a new contest starts tomorrow. It doesn't involve yarn, but does involve Family Tree. See my next blog for details.

Also, here's a head's up to you knitters. As we head toward the holidays, I'm knitting up my usual roster of children's hats. Since I'm very into using my sock yarn for other projects, some of these hats have involved taking an adult pattern and altering the gauge. I've never done this before, but there does seem to be a method to it. Look for a how-to blog on this within the next few weeks.

More urgently, have any of you out there altered patterns this way? For instance, used fingering yarn instead of worsted? Or used way-smaller needles to make an adult pattern work for a child? I'd like tips on this. Please send them in!

I went traveling this week. Surprised? Yup. You know that I rarely travel, as least, not for work. But traveling for breast cancer is something else.

I flew to Texas Wednesday night to keynote a survivor’s luncheon Thursday, put on by the Tarrant County Affiliate of Susan G. Komen for the Cure. I flew home Thursday night, which made it a quick trip. But I have to tell you how incredibly wonderful it was.

Breast cancer survivors are something else. They are full of life, love, and hope. They smile all the time. And they are grateful – grateful to be alive, grateful to be with friends, grateful that I’d flown down to talk with them. They were positively effusive, thanking me again and again. Some stood in line for over an hour to have their copies of UPLIFTsigned, and they thanked me for that, too!

The pleasure was all mine. I was awed by the work that so many of the 600 people in that room have done with the Komen organization to raise money and awareness for this cause. I paid my own way there, which was a pittance compared to what they all do. And they thanked me? My thanks to them, on behalf of us all!

I write novels. I’m no doctor. But certain things make sense, one being that exercise is good for the human body.

Characters in my books are so often runners that readers ask if I’m a runner myself. I am not. I did try, but my knees refused to join the team. So I walk. I do aerobics. I use an elliptical trainer. I used to swim, before I got tired of total immersion – which leads to the brutal truth.

I hate exercising.

Thirty minutes a day is all I can take of the formal stuff, and I do it as much for flexibility as weight control. But, believe me, I’m watching the time read-out on the elliptical. Thirty minutes. That’s it. Thirty minutes. On a good day, there will be an engrossing (interesting, humorous, even infuriating) interview on tv, and five or ten minutes pass before I think to check the time. More often, it’s minute by minute, but I do feel a sense of accomplishment at the end.

I also try to exercise on the fly, like by parking at the far end of a parking lot and walking to a store, or skipping the elevator and walking up three flights to the dentist’s office, or meeting a friend for a talk walk. During these times, like watching that tv piece, I’m distracted and, therefore, not thinking about how much I hate exercising. But every two minutes of body movement helps.

I’m telling you all this prior to the publication of The Secret Between Us so you’ll know that I practice what I preach. The protagonist of this book, Deborah Monroe, is a family doctor who pushes exercise on her patients. She finds it easier to do that when she is seen working out at the local gym, which she does. She leads by example.

I write about real people who face real problems. The Secret Between Us is not, in any way, shape, or form about obesity. But obesity commands its own everyday drama, and there is a brief side message here. One of Deborah’s patients has bad ankles that are made worse by her weight. Pampering those bad ankles, she gets no exercise, which makes the weight problem worse. Deborah suggests she walk around the house – that’s all – just walk around the house, one room to the next, several times a day. It’s a start. In my dreams, I see a reader or two following suit, taking that first step by walking at home, one room to the next, several times a day.

Do you work out? If so, what do you do? And how do you beat the boredom of it? Any and all tips are welcome!

What's a yarn stash? It's the collection of yarn that a knitter amasses when she can't resist buying more. Some is earmarked for specific projects, but much is bought on impulse -- i.e., you're sure you'll work it into an FO (finished object) one day, but right now you simply, desperately, need to see it, feel it, own it. That makes you happy. So the stash builds.

You know you have a problem when you run out of places to hide your stash. You've used up most of your available closet space and have run up a bill at The Container Store on plastic bins that look nice when stacked. Some of the bins are semi-transparent, so you load these with your brightest yarn. Out of desperation, you've raided your basement and reposessed several large baskets that, years ago, held silk flowers. Now they're filled with yarn. What's next?

Apothecary jars. Put one in a prominent place, like a bedstand, a coffee table, or the corner of a desk, and fill it with some of your favorite yarn -- and voila! A decorative accessory! Your S.O. may not even see this as an extension of your stash. There is absolutely no need to tell him that by filling a large apothecary jar with yarn, you've freed up space in the closet for your next purchase (which he won't know about, since it will be out of sight).

People often ask how much of me is in my books. Remember the opening scenes of Family Tree, when Dana is going into labor, and her husband opens the closet for her hospital bag and encounters ... yarn? That's me.

I can't take credit for the apothecary jar idea. My knitting teacher first mentioned it, and my LYS (local yarn store) uses these jars to display yarn. It's a cool idea, don't you think?

Got any others? I'd love to hear them.

I confess. I was a Robert Parker fan way back. I mean, when the man had written only ten books, I had read every one of them. That was before I started writing myself, at which point my reading time was dramatically reduced and, for the most part, I had to read books in my own genre to see what the competition was doing. That’s a fact of professional life.

But I didn’t forget Robert Parker. I read about each new book of his, and watched Spencer for Hire on tv. Both being Bostonians, we’ve crossed paths once or twice. I have to confess that there was zero professional chemistry, mostly on his part. I guess I can understand it. What did I have to offer him? He was the star.

He still is. When this week’s Boston Globe magazine (Sunday, 10-14-07) ran a Q & A with the man, I read it avidly. Much of it was ho-hum, which may mean that I’ve reached the point in my career where Robert Parker doesn’t have much to offer me either. But there were two things that resonated, two moments where I said, “Hey, you’re right. Well said!” The first had to do with a writer’s boredom, but more on that another time. Right now, I want to talk about the second. It had to do with the fact that Robert Parker doesn’t read anything written about him or his books. Why? It upsets him. He quotes Hemingway as saying, “If you believe the good stuff they write about you, you have to believe the bad.”

Which is why I am beside myself with delight at the starred review that Publishers Weekly just gave my book, The Secret Between Us, which debuts on January 22. You can read the full review here, but let me explain the significance of it. PW is the weekly trade journal of the publishing industry. Booksellers read these reviews and, based on a starred review, may order more copies of a book, read the book themselves, or more enthusiastically recommend it to their customers. Hollywood reads it, too, and while movie options are a dime a dozen, there is nothing an author likes better than to be able to say that a book has been optioned even before its publication. It’s all about building hype.

BTW, a starred review is as good as it gets. I’ve never even come close before. Reviews of my earlier books have been either neutral (little more than a plot summary) or begrudgingly kind. Never raving.

This one feels good. As Robert Parker says, in the same above-cited piece, “The bad stuff hurts my feelings.”

Right on, Bob!

First our homes. Then our toys. But how about this week’s report that more than half of 33 brand-name lipsticks tested contained lead?

I'd definitely call this everyday drama. I mean, lipstick is a staple in most of our lives. Apparently, the worst offenders are the reds. Do you use red lipstick? Are you worried?

I use a lighter mauve color, but still, I find the reports unsettling. Nothing I read tells how lead from lipstick might enter our bodies. Is it from lipstick we happen to swallow? Or is the damage done just by putting the stuff on our lips? And what about makeup? Blusher can be pretty red, and, technically, it covers a larger area than lipstick.

I’m always attracted to stories like this because of the mercury poisoning element in Looking for Peyton Place. Or maybe I wrote the issue into that book because it interests me.

The tricky issue with lead on the lips is that, like mercury poisoning, one exposure won’t do the harm. It’s cumulative. That’s lots of lipstick over lots of months, which is, I guess, how women use it. Oh boy. I’m starting to scare myself. If I was pregnant, I’d probably switch to lip gloss and, even then, put a coat of chapstick underneath.

Forewarned is forearmed, I supposed, so let's wear the reds in moderation. But here’s a thought. If your lips are dry and you don’t need color, try bag balm. Country vets use it on the udders of cows, and it hasn’t killed a one yet.

Here’s another confession. As soon as I see an interesting book going on sale, even if not for another three months, I preorder it. Naturally, out of sight is out of mind. Two months later, I may see (what I think to be) another book going on sale, so I preorder that one, too. You guessed it. Same book.

Does this ever happen to you?

It isn’t a major problem for me, because (a) I believe in supporting authors and (b) I love giving books to people (and the library), so that an extra copy never goes to waste.

But I feel stupid each time. I curse the online retailer for not catching my mistake, but it isn’t his responsibility. I should have checked my CART before clicking so impulsively – which raises the whole other subject of the too-speedy click. I.e., have you ever sent an email that you wanted to take back the instant you clicked SEND? But that’s for another blog.

I still believe in preordering. I love having that book arrive at my door when it’s hot off the press – which is why I urge you all to preorder the trade paperback of Family Tree and the new hardcover of The Secret Between Us. Hey, order two or three copies of each, and pass them around. Ahem. Just do it knowingly and with purpose!

I read the ending of books first. Well, not first first. I read the opening first. But then, if I come to care about the characters, I read the ending. I need to know that these characters, whom I now like, are going to do okay. Once I know that, I can relax and enjoy the process. To me as a reader, that means savoring the author’s writing style, rereading particularly brilliant passages, and calmly analyzing plot twists and character quirks. When I'm writing a book, I know what my ending will be before I ever know how I'm going to get there. I cried my heart out when I wrote the ending of Three Wishes. I shudder to think what would have happened if I'd been taken by surprise!

I was thinking about that this weekend, as I carefully avoided our family room, where the television screen alternated between the Patriots and the Red Sox. My kids don’t want me in the room during games; they think I jinx the teams. My out-of-state sons will often call after a particularly bad quarter or inning to make sure I’m not watching.

The truth is that the only reason I’d want to watch is to knit. I don’t like the noise of football (is New Year’s Day the worst, or what???), and though baseball sounds remind me of Norah Jones – slow and easy, with only the occasional rise – I’d opt for her CD over the game any day. Because – here’s my point – when I care about a team, I’m on edge. I want my team to win.

Watching sports broadcasts live, I have no way of knowing how the game will end. I hate the suspense. Sure, I could TiVo the game and watch later with the outcome known, but when it comes to football or baseball, as opposed to reading, I’m just not into the process.

So, getting back to books, is it a cop-out to read the ending early on? Some people say it is. I say not. “Different strokes for different folks,” I say in the truest liberal tradition. As long as I don’t tell you the ending, if my knowing it early enhances my own reading experience, what's the harm?

During my recent Family Tree tour in the South, I was surprised to learn that even in 2007, I am considered to be a “Yankee.” Despite the fact that none of my ancestors donned a blue uniform – or even lived in America during the 1860’s – I am, to the average Southerner, a Yankee because I live above the Mason-Dixon line, and even more so because I am a native of New England.

What makes this label particularly startling is that when sensitive New England ears hear the word “Yankee” these days, it means one thing only: someone who wears a pin-striped uniform and plays a mean game of baseball. You can interpret the “mean” part any way you want!

Isn’t it interesting how the lexicon of different regions of the same country can be completely different?

At any rate, I was interested to learn that there’s rumble in the press that the Boston Red Sox have become “America’s Team.” Watch any Red Sox game on TV, whether they’re playing in Toronto or Kansas City or Tampa Bay, and you’ll come face-to-face with a sea of blue Ortiz shirts and hear your speakers shake with the resounding “Let’s go Red Sox” chant. Take that, Yankees!

Okay. So maybe I’m jinxing it. As I post this blog, the Red Sox have won their first post-season game and the Yankees have lost theirs.

But … dare I say it? If the Red Sox end up wearing 2007 World Series rings and the fan base continues to skyrocket, maybe on my next book tour in the South, I’ll simply be labeled an American because I am a lifelong fan of America’s Team!