The Other's Gold

Not the best shot, I know.
We were in a restaurant.
It was late and rainy.

I know. I know. It's the Brownie's mantra:

"Make new friends but keep the old. One is silver, and the other gold."

I quit the Brownies after just a few weeks.

Knowing me, I didn't like the uniform.

And, here's the thing. I'm not really a "saver."

Maybe I'm a little bit buddhist in that way. . . people come and go from my life; material things are just that. When I'm done with them, I'm done. My children aren't their childhood drawings or crappy ceramic pots. Or maybe it's just too painful for me to look back. . .

Either way, I'm not a scrapbooker, and I'm usually pretty good at moving on.

I've been blessed to make many friends in the last several years, and many amazing women friends,

my wonderful writer friends, Christine and Megan

My gorgeous, peachy friend, Heidi, who makes
me laugh and keeps me stocked with dizzy skull bags.

A few of my swimmy women friends who save me...

with my friend and partner in crime, Annmarie

More swimming girls, after a swim.

which is something I never truly appreciated as a twenty or thirty-something.

Maybe, it's because I'd been burned plenty of times in my life by my female friends, or maybe it's because I was insecure. Take your pick. One is no more right than the other.

At any rate.

April, 2012 in Columbus Circle, NYC

Yesterday, I spent the day in the city with my best friend from high school.

Understand, we were joined at the hip in high school.

We shared clothing, adventures, boyfriends,* and plenty of heartache.

As always, the relationship was fraught with complexity. The truth is, I envied her: her athleticism, her particular type of smarts, and her beauty.

As a teenager, I wanted to be her.

During periods of my life, when we weren't in touch, she permeated my dreams, and arose with love and, yes, pain in my writing. Here, from a still-unpublished manuscript of mine, is a snippet of my very-fictionalized first view of her:

"The first time I see Joanie, she is in fitted Lee jeans, a white button-down shirt and cowboy boots the color of wet sand.  A cherry red wool sweater drapes across her shoulders and her flaxen hair slips midway down her back in a perfect blunt line.  But it is not her hair or her moon-shaped ass I am in awe of, but rather the ease with which she wears the battered leather boots."

Maybe that captures some essence of the childlike awe I felt for her.

Jennifer, this month in Hawaii. :)

Yesterday, I spent the day in the city with her.

With my best friend from high school.

I still envy and admire her all the things I did when we were 16.

I still love her with a connection that is deep and visceral.

Turns out, the Brownies were right.


- gae

*rarely at the same time ;)

Fanfare.

So, it's official. You can all un-shhh.

The cat is out of the bag. Or, in the case of Frankie Sky, maybe the frog.

From Publisher's Marketplace today:

I'm delighted.

And, honored.

And, grateful.

As ee cummings once said, in just spring the world can be mudluscious. Today, it certainly is.

- gae

p.s. blogger, I do not like your new format. Just saying.

Assorted, Discombobulated Things

Frolicking in the waves at West Neck the other day.
We are way farther from shore than we appear.

It's been a good, busy few weeks.

The water at West Neck has warmed up so much that, after our last swim this past Monday, Carole and I stripped off our wetsuits, booties, gloves and caps before we got out and enjoyed a little Scandanavian ice bath. ;) It was so warm -- I'm guessing close to 60 degrees -- that we got out, looked at each other, and raced back in to frolic once again in just our bathing suits. It was a brief frolic, but still. A sure sign that the regular, daily swim season is just around the corner.

I cannot wait.

On the writing front, some of you might remember this blog post from my YA blog, That Wee Bit Heap, in which I compared my publishing life to a game of Chutes & Ladders. I was about to go out on submission again, for the first time with my new (and fabulous!) agent, Jim McCarthy of Dystel & Goderich, and was feeling kinda hopeful again.

Then months passed, out on submission, with no good news.

I spent the winter slipping down lots of seriously long and ego-crushing chutes.

But, guess what?

Yep. I made it here.

That's all I'm saying right now, because I'm not really at liberty to discuss more. Or, probably not even that, for that matter. But no one reads this blog anyway, right? ;)

Plus, I've known for like two weeks, and I'm missing enjoying the fanfare with you, although, I've decided it's good to learn to not  always need the fanfare. At least, I think it's good for me.

I should work harder on that. Let 48 be the year of no fanfare.

(Um, who am I kidding? I love fanfare. ;))

Anyway, I'm writer-happy. And, well, that's all I'm going to say for now.

More soon. I promise.

In other news, I am totally obsessed with this Goyte song.

I mean, OBSESSED.

In fact, I had to stop and listen to it again before I kept working on this post. Which is now twice in the last hour, because I also put it up on my Wee Bit Heap blog post and listened to it then.

I don't know what it is about it *coughs* but it just strikes a chord.

So, I'm sharing.

And, speaking of sharing, I need to share this one last thing.

It's a brilliant reduction of a complex truth to a very simple understanding.

I'm convinced if everyone could hold on to this, the world would be a gentler, happier place. I know, for me it would be.


I'm trying to hold on to this. I'm trying. I'm trying.

- gae

How Haircolor, Nailpolish and Chunky Rings are Saving My Marriage

Okay, fine, my marriage isn't really in trouble.

But, believe you, me, it has been through its tough spots.

And, given what I do for a living (um, the other living), I know how tough it is to keep one's marriage together.

Especially after hmmnyhmm years.

*runs to count on fingers and toes*

And, truly, I love my husband. He's a great guy. Handsome, funny, talented, gentle, kind. And, way, way smarter than I am.

But I love cheesecake too, and part of the reason I'm always craving more, is because I can't eat it whenever I want to.

Wait! I didn't mean it like that.

*coughs*

*wonders what she's thinking when she types and releases blog posts like these*

At any rate.

This June, I will be married 19 years.

*stares numbly at number*

I've decided what's truly saving my marriage at this point is not how wonderful my husband is;

or my fabulous cadre of friends, both virtual and in the flesh, which (trust me) I'm grateful to have.

Nor is it my at-times-scintillating and at-rarer-moments-glamorous writing life (since that likely threatens to crush me way more often than it promises to save me).

Nope. I'm pretty sure at this point, it's the momentary "more cheesecake" high I get from donning a variety of $10 chunky rings,

ever-changing the color of my hair,

and/or plucking from the shelves an endless array of nail polish colors bearing names like

Tangerine Scene

and

Neon Flashback.

Hey, if it saves my marriage, it could be worse, right?

Although I am suddenly wondering what's saving my husband's . . .

-gae

Casting Marcia Brady and Pie in the Sky

The Pull of Gravity has been optioned for film.

Don't throw confetti or sound the party horns just yet.


First, I know this may be news to you, but it isn't news to me. I've known since last summer there was interest.

In fact, the Producer and I have emailed and Skyped on and off for months and we seem to be dilly-dallying and taking our sweet time about getting the option agreement signed, even as the film plans forge ahead.

(I tell you this: Lawyers are their own worst clients. Author/lawyers, likely worse than the worst).


So, I know I don't sound uber excited.

But, I am.

But, here's the thing:

A movie option is a very Iffy thing. Like that, with a capital I.

IF they raise the money, and IF they get the right people, and IF blah, blah, blah, etc., etc., THEN a movie will (might?) get made.

I know a bunch of writer friends with stalled or dead option deals. It's just the way that it goes.

So, it's not that I'm not flattered and excited, because, trust me. I promise you, I am.

It's just that it's all very pie in the sky.

Now, I like pie.

And, there's no better place to enjoy some nice pice than in the sky.

(why not?)


You just can't count on it. Not yet.

But, what I can count on? The news bringing me some laughs.

"I want to play Scoot. Sure, I'm a middle aged
black guy, and he's a sickly white teen. . ."

For a facebook addict like me, the best thing about good
(or fun or exciting) news
is sharing it
with my ridiculous virtual friends.

True story: I typed virtuous by accident first, instead of virtual.

And, trust me on this, my facebook friends are anything but virtuous.*


But they are funny and sincere, and, on the high and low days, especially, a source of constant comfort and entertainment.


So, yeah, good news is fun, like, say, if you have a movie option on your book.


But it's really only fun if you have good peeps to share it with, and join in the fun. Which I do, and am grateful for every day.*

- gae

* if you are under the age of 19, and because we are not always virtuous on my private page, please join me on my public facebook AUTHOR PAGE HERE.

If you are over the age of 18 and want to join me on my private page, it's HERE.