New Year's Resolutions: I'm giving them an A: Avert, Act, Affirm.

I know I'm not here as much anymore.

I miss it, the blogging. I do.

It's been a year. So much has changed about our world -- our country -- been painfully unearthed, laid bare and oozing, all jagged teeth and slime, like some alien thing from the deep.

I know for many the evil has been visible for a long time, like some movie clown in the sewers, red eyes glaring, calling for others to climb in. And climb in, they did, and now they've all climbed out again, with the worst of the oozing, pus-filled aliens at the helm.

For most of us, it feels like a waking nightmare, one many of us never thought we'd see in our country. For our kids' sake, I hope we survive it. . .

But I digress. 2018 is on the horizon and there is much to do for as long as this oozing sore of a country is still dragging its sorry ass awake each morning with the sunrise, and to bed after dark. So here are my resolutions. I'm giving them an A. Or three. AVERT. AFFIRM. And, ACT.  

AVERT: When THE PULL OF GRAVITY came out years ago, though my editor adored the book, it had very little in-house support. Having taken nearly 10 years to get a book deal, I wasn't about to let the book, which garnered pretty stellar reviews and a Bank Street Best designation, disappear quietly into the ether. So I did what I knew how to do: I put my marketing hat on (yes, my undergrad degree is in marketing) and began to scour the internet for mentions of the book and/or mentions of OF MICE AND MEN being taught, so that I could try to make connections and get the book in readers hands around the country. Checking on my book morning and night, finding ways to promote it, became what I did. I'd often spend three or four hours a day reaching out to schools and trying to get the book seen. It's a habit that has continued through THE SUMMER OF LETTING GO and THE MEMORY OF THINGS. The problem is, it's both a time suck and an easy distraction (at least compared to writing something new), not to mention a rather narcissistic sort of endeavor that often only leads to comparison and disappointment. So, for starters in 2018, I am resolving to avert my eyes from all that, and to only to spend a minimal allotted time looking under the guise of marketing or otherwise, assuming anything I need to know will come to my attention. Maybe fifteen minutes on Fridays. The rest will be a battle not to search and click.

There's a second way I'm needing to avert my eyes. There is a lot of divisiveness and angry discourse taking place in Children's Publishing right now. If you want to see one small example of the nature of it, you can read THIS PIECE and then THE COMMENTS to it. The business has grown frustrating and upsetting to me in that way: that, while all of us seem to agree on underlying issues and values, the callout culture and dragging has become ugly for those of us who may not agree with the methodology, who might prefer a more mindful, nonjudgmental conversation. I, for one, try to affirm and hold up, but never tear down on the basis that there is little we can know about a person from a single tweet, or even a single snapshot of their life during a period of time. But we are living through a callout, dragging, tear down culture:

I don't know Eric Smith but have redacted the photo and name of an author I do know
and otherwise respect who is here describing another author's public excitement
about "dragging" Joyce Carol Oates as "levity."
This breaks my heart and I certainly don't feel it elevates the conversation.

Yes, I've saved many screenshots that speak to my concerns, though I won't share more than this single one here, now, because I don't want to have an online faux or half discussion. I am saving them in case I ever have an opportunity to have these conversations in person or on panels if anyone really wants to mindfully dig deep into the complexities of the issues rather than merely championing one side in an angry echo chamber.

What I do know is that it feels very much like a microcosm of the macrocosm that has been unfolding for the past years in the democratic party, where very little true listening and hearing goes on, only angry barked agendas. And, it frightens me because I believe long-term it will hurt us more than it will help. I believe we need to proceed non-judgmentally, without anger, and that, instead, we not only conflate issues (which undermines their seriousness), but also that there is a large amount of hypocrisy taking place within the movement (people doing the very thing they righteously tell others not to do, by coming up with excuses why it's okay for them, how their behavior is differentiated). In my very humble opinion, twitter has never been the right place to have REAL CONVERSATIONS. TO LISTEN AND BE HEARD. Yet, watching the twitter community is like rubbernecking -- hard to turn away from though it upsets me to no end. So, in that regard, too, unless I have a way to add healthily to the conversation, I'm going to stop reading -- Avert -- and stop wasting time, and stick to what I've always done which is do my best to hold up and share those pushing positive messages (Affirming) and  do a better job of averting my eyes from the rest. It's a waste of time which I can otherwise spend taking Action.

ACT.

With amazing assemblywoman Christine Pelligrino (who won a special election in a deeply red district),
and with my personal superhero, NY Attorney General Eric Schneiderman at a recent fundraiser for
progressive causes.

Campaigning for a local candidate for Town Supervisor 

At the women's march with my mom and sisters. <3 td="">

So, I am hoping step one, Avert, will give me more time to Act. Whether that action is writing, protesting, swimming, doing yoga, teaching writing, or playing with the dog, it's all good. I just need to DO all the things I want to do, and NOT DO all the things that rile me up but ultimately waste time because they don't get done what needs to get done.

As far as the resistance goes, I know we're all exhausted, but we're just getting started. We need to turn the country blue in 2018, and that means there is no tiring of marching, of speaking out, of making phone calls, of trying to help in whatever way we are each able.

Which leads to me to this: AFFIRM.

It's this simple: There are many ways to help in this world (and, likely, an equal many ways to do harm). I am resolving to help in the best way I know how, which is to always be as mindful as possible, to leave judgment (and righteousness) behind, and only to lift up and amplify where reasonable, right, and possible, while NEVER tearing down.

These are my resolutions for 2018. I will also renew two longstanding resolutions: to be a good confidante, and to take the stairs.  Oh yeah, and to stop sleeping so late, even in the face of the endless cycle of depressing news to wake up to.

These are my resolutions for 2018. What are yours?

2014 into 2015: Shifting (and Settling) Sands (Renew, Resolve, and Relinquish Redux)

Study in blue. . . 

I shouldn't be blogging as I am steeped in revisions on a deadline, if mostly a self-imposed one.

Still, old habits die hard, and if I don't blog, this New Year is going to roll in in utter silence from me... with the saddest little whimper on record.

Well. it appears it's likely going to do so anyway.

The sands of my life they are a shifting. Starting with New Years Eve.

For the first time in seventeen years, I will be ringing in this new year's eve quietly.

Without either of my children at home.

Without their friends or mine.

Without the food, and festivities, and the noisemakers,

New Years Eve 2010-11 Photo credit: Rick Kopstein



without the party guests,

and the glow sticks and the confetti in the air.

2011-12 photo credit: Rick Kopstein

2012-13. . . and so on... photo credit: Rick Kopstein

The writing has been on the wall.

Each year for the past four, a group of kids has aged out, gone off to college, stopped by on their way to and from other plans.

The girls whose faces I painted,

who made wearable art jewelry with me,

whose New Year's Eve henna tattoos lasted for weeks after they'd all gone home.

And the boys,

who eagerly arrived to dinosaur scavenger hunts before retiring to the basement for video games and pizza.

Who fought over glow sticks, who trashed my floor with spilled sodas and scarred my ceiling with exploding caps from holiday "crackers," which half made me cringe, but more made me smile, at the sheer fact of it.

Of the fact that we all were here.

For seventeen years, on this one night, we were all here.

Somehow, I thought I had more time.

This year, most of the adults bowed out, their children off on their own adventures, they too have decided to make new plans. In the city for fancier dinners. For theater or concerts,

off to celebrate with their grown children.

glow sticks headband in the aftermath. . . 

Other plans.

My youngest son feels the weight of it too -- "I looked forward to it every year, Mom. It was magic," but he too, is ready to move on.

Needs to move on.

Like sand in the hour glass. . .

But, oh, how that sand rushes through.


So, I'm trying to be big about it.

Accepting.

But I'm a creature of habit, especially when the habit is having my children.

Yet, I have to accept. Let the sand settle down all around me.

Accepting, I think, is the buzz word of our fifties.

But how to accept without atrophying?

This post is a mess. I apologize.

I meant to be witty, make lists. I mean to resolve, and I will. Yes, that's what I meant to do.

I like to resolve and many of them I actually keep, even some of the bigger ones. Take these from 2010: http://gpolisner.blogspot.com/2010/12/three-rs-of-2011-renew-resolve.html

although the burpees may have fallen by the wayside. . .

But it is nice to go back, reflect on some of the things I've accomplished. I know I feel like I have less energy and resolve than I had in 2010, so it gives me incentive to make new goals, to set them in (virtual) stone, and give myself less of a chance to just settle here.

So in echo of 2010 into '11, here are my 2014 into '15 R&R's:

Renew: see, e.g. 2010, yes even the burpees, if more of a yogic burpee... (http://gpolisner.blogspot.com/2010/12/three-rs-of-2011-renew-resolve.html);

Resolve:

yoga me, circa 2012...

more yoga, less sitting. 50-year old bodies need both the flexibility and balance of a yoga practice. I don't love yoga, but I'm convinced of this in my (very achy joints and) bones;

more writing in new genres. I have always wanted to write a picture book, a play, and am suddenly interested in writing short stories, which never appealed to me before, so that's cool). I have a collaborative project about to go out on submission, and I also have started to explore new publishing options for some of my unpublished work, at least the work that has garnered the approval of at least one reputable NYC literary agent (if not two or three, which some of them have!) and one reputable editor, but never made it through "acquisitions" for whatever various marketplace reasons.

Try something brave and brand new. Stay tuned. I don't know what this is. It could be a longer swim (which means longer than a 10K which could be hard!) or a swim in a brand new environment. It could be the new publishing endeavors (see above) or it could be something brand new and exciting all together.

This I know, I have to do something. It's the new things, the brave things, that keep us from feeling irrelevant.

Relinquish.

Social media. Not altogether, no. But it has to give. It has to make room for more permanent successes. This one is hard for me. To find the balance. And, equally, to find the discipline.

My view of myself and my physical body. I need to stay in shape because it's healthy and invigorating. But one glance at my legs in downward dog makes it clear there is no holding on to that body.






My children as they were,


embracing all that I can hold on to:



the wonderful young men that they are now.

This is a process. I'm figuring out how to let go.

It helps when I hear them sing and play guitar.

https://soundcloud.com/samuelgraymiller/that-western-skyline-cover

https://soundcloud.com/holden-miller-1

But, man, what an unfathomably short time we get to borrow them. . .

Relinquish: so many things. Let go.

Move forward, rather than stew. After all, 2014 has been good. It's seen the release of my new book, seen me complete a 10K in the open water. Seen Son One really find his place socially, have success with his music, know he's good. See Son Two make the varsity basketball team, himself become a really good musician.

For all of us, it's been full of successes and struggles, accolades and "rejection."

But more than anything, we're lucky. It's been good.

And so, if I ring it in quietly with my husband and our dog, and a list of things I still need to do -- want to do -- what can be blue?

How can I be anything but grateful?

Charlie at the edge of shifting sands... photo credit: Laurie Capobianco

Wishing you all a peaceful, healthy New Year full of hope and love.

xox gae

Paperback Party, complete with essential footnotes. . .

me, begging pleady eyes.

This is me, close up, in your face.

Are you sick of me yet?

(please say no, please say no, please say no...)

It's okay, sometimes I'm sick of me too.

Still, it's a dog eat dog world out there, and sometimes writers just have to promote themselves.*fn1

So, once again, here I go.

If you prefer not to read any further blatant self author book promotion, here's a lovely place to sit, instead,

looking out over my father's gardens. Feel free to stay here and relax:

Nice, right?

(Are you still here?)

If you are still reading, guess what?

Square Fish did a fabulous job with the new cover!

My paperback is out! Well, the official release date is February 5, but the ship date is 1/17 which means boxes and boxes of the The Pull of Gravity in paperback are now circulating all over the country. *fn2

Meaning this: It would make me really happy if:

a) you buy one for yourself;

b) you buy one for a beloved tween or teen;

c) you already read it and loved it and now told two friends to a) buy one for themselves or b) buy one for a beloved tween or teen they know.

also, it doesn't hurt *fn3 if you put up a review on Amazon.

But what would make me happiest -- at least if you are local -- is d) if you come and join me to celebrate the paperback release on 2/10 at the wonderful Huntington Public Library (it's a Friends of the Library fundraiser). If you want to read more about the launch party, you may do so HERE or HERE (you must register to come!).

If you don't come, be warned. You will be missing:

a) monkeys *fn4;

b) jugglers *fn5;

c) flame-throwers *fn6;

d) delicious cupcakes *fn7; and

e) a live, bravura performance by an internationally-acclaimed musician! *fn8.

Plus, clearly, I will be doing the entire reading standing in a pool. *fn9

So, see, in the end, this isn't really about me and my blatant self promotion.

This is about YOU, reading a good book, telling your friends about a good book, and having an awesome Sunday afternoon in February with live cupcakes and live music. *fn10

Also, there's a Writer's Workshop and Publishing Q&A beforehand, if that's your cup of tea. *fn11

So, that's it. I love my readers and need my readers and I'm grateful if you spread the word.

Speaking of which, my next book, still unnamed but referred to as Frankie Sky, comes soon from Algonquin Young Readers. They've launched their Fall 2103 line of galleys into the Universe and have gone live on Twitter (@AlgonquinYR) and facebook. If you're either place, you should check them out and follow them. I'm sure there are monkeys and jugglers galore! *fn13

Thanks for reading.

xo gae

footnotes:

*fn1: did you skip over that link? Because seriously, at least if you're a writer, it is one of the funniest things I've ever read. Just in case, I'll give you the link again. Hell is My Own Book Tour.

*fn2: this may be a slight exaggeration.

*fn3: it actually helps -- some Amazon algorithm that does something to do something.

*fn4: lie, no monkeys.

*fn5: lie, no jugglers.

*fn 6: lie, no flame throwers

*fn7: all completely true!

*fn8: I promise "David and David" are talented, plus, we must have some relatives in another country somewhere who will vouch for them...

*fn9: hey, I will if the Huntington Library will let me! :)

*fn10: okay fine, no such thing as live cupcakes, you say? What if I put spirulina *fn12 in them?!

*fn11: my cup of tea lately is Tazo Zen Tea (I mean, come on! Lemongrass and Spearmint?!). I'd be genuinely curious what yours is, if you want to tell me. I'm an excellent listener that way. :)

*fn12: i promise not to put spirulina in them.

*fn13: has no idea if there are monkeys and jugglers. You'll have to buy the books and open the pages to see. . . :)

where water and wonder meet

i love artistic people.

i love the creative spirit.

i love when i connect with someone's work so deeply that I try to inhale it, internalize it, make it seep in through my pores.

(although it simultaneously pains me that i can't possess it wholly, wrap myself in it, make it happen through my fingers, or my lens).

no, i am not above coveting.

speaking of which,

this is lori.

photo credit: lori landau

she is where water and wonder meet.

she is, among other things, a poet, an artist, a friend.

i have known her since i am 15.

as teens and college students, we wrote poetry together as we pined for boys, made sense of the world, yearned for more. i have always coveted her words.

now, i also covet her art.

i admit this. oh, how i do.

last night, i was lucky enough to attend the closing of her show Works in a Series at the New York Open Center  (a meshing of her work from Elemental Soul and Nature of Mind). Did I mention the photographs are all of water?

Truth is Nameless, archival print
credit: lori landau


that was one of the many that made me hyperventilate. . .

you can imagine how i was mesmerized. . .

this is also lori

At the end of the show, lori spoke a bit about her creative process and what moves her as an artist and a photographer:

"Every photograph, every painting, and every drawing I do starts from the same place: that small, nameless force inside that seeks connection to myself and the world around me. . .

Art making is not an act of doing—it is a way of being in the world, a way of filtering all of those ordinary moments we all have—of being mindful about the little things: the way the light touches the top of the mountain when the sun is coming up. . . the sound of the ocean when you realize that it is breathing just like you are."

the audience listened, rapt, as she continued:



Breath of Light, archival print
credit: lori landau

"I don’t think you need to make art to get this. You just need to open to the experience.  

Both making art and viewing it are acts of deep listening, of deep feeling.
I know that you get this . . . 

We are all vulnerable. We all want to understand a little more about mystery.

We want to touch it. We want to be it.

We all want to matter."


when you look at lori's photographs,

you feel,

you connect,

but moreso, there is a certain tranquility, coupled with a stirring,

that allows you to open yourself, breathless,

to be moved.

in this way, her art matters.

***

If her photographs are tranquil, her paintings demand a bit more,

they pull and push,

they promise comfort, but house pain.

they evoke our own discomfort

but offer a path to calm.

top left Yama; top right: Dharana
middle left: Vyadhi; middle right: Tapasya
bottm left: dhyana; bottom right: Samadhi
4 x 5 paintings acrylic on canvas

credit: lori landau

". . . my desire is to do something with my feelings, to rise above them, to transform them, to transcribe my own interior. I consider my camera, pen & brush an extension of my hands, a translator of the “everyday me” a way to evoke the idealized part of myself. . . The photographs and paintings here rain into my heart and my hands from somewhere other than self, but I recognize myself more clearly when they arrive."


This particular show of Lori's closes today, but there will be more, trust me, and when there are,

you should go see them.

connect,

reflect,

be moved.

"Photography and art remind me that

like water,

everything is constantly changing. . . 

(they) are a visual documentation of where I have been,

the only way,

other than memory,

to hold on to something. "

 

 

- gae

---------------

More about Lori:
 

Writer, artist and photographer Lori Landau’s work explores the intimate connection between meditative and creative states. As a certified yoga and meditation teacher, Landau is deeply inspired by the Buddhist concept of interconnectedness. A spiritual nomad at heart, her work
symbolizes her exploration of sacred mystery.

Her articles and poetry have been published in a wide range of magazines, books and blogs; most recently, in the upcoming An Anthology of Babes: 26 (or 30) Women Give Motherhood a Voice." In addition, Landau is a visual artist, whose work has been exhibited in several group and solo shows. Her concept-driven and interdisciplinary art spans a range of mediums, including photography, drawing and painting. Landau regularly uses her art and words as a platform to raise consciousness about both global and meta issues.

You can find more of her work on her own blog,

www.consciousnesscreativity.com, as well as the women’s section of
Technorati.com.

Finally, her new monthly column for iPinion will debut this Sunday! 

 

Swimming to Euphoria (Just another Manic Monday)

I used to be such an even-keeled person.

Oh, not when I was a teen, maybe, but as an adult. I was generally one of those people that didn't have wild mood swings or bouts of depression. Sure, if something particularly difficult or unhappy was going on, my mood would go with it, but as a general proposition, I was steady and rolled with the punches.

Then, a few years ago (oh, you bastard 2007-2008, you know who you are), my life went through a minor bumpy period.

I was struggling with a difficult child, struggling to get my writing sold, and struggling with the feeling I wasn't digging my husband all that much anymore (no worries, readers, turns out he had no love lost for me either at that point ;)).

Still, everything went reeling.

Oh, you wouldn't have known it to look at me. I continued to show up at school committees, to enjoy my paid mediation work, and to get the kids to their various activities and attend social functions here and there. In fact if any of my friends are reading, most of them (though not all) might be slightly shocked to read this.

But there you have it. I had a period in my life where everything went reeling.

For a year or two, I swirled at the edge of some precipice.

It wasn't pleasant, but it gave me an empathy I never had before for those who battle anxiety or depression. I understood now what it meant to not be able to just snap yourself out of it.

During that period, the only things that felt like they were saving me were my kids, my sense of humor, and, mostly, my ability to plunge myself daily into some water.

Then three things happened. I got a book deal, I found open water swimming, and my hubby and I miraculously liked each other again.

See, here we are in NYC last spring, still liking each other

(Ok, fine, that last part was less than miraculous, and actually took a lot of work, but, hey, sometimes you have to put the time in.)

Everything got better again.

Life resumed.

My more difficult kid began to mature.

And there was even some excitement with the new writing career.

La di da di da.

Except it was never exactly quite the same.

I don't know if a part of me is just more jaded now, or less trusting, or if this is just something that happens with age. And, I do tend to think it's the latter. That my cosmic crisis just happened to coincide with dipping my feet ankle deep into my forties. And, of course, I'm now in them up to my waist.

Still, I wake up so often feeling angsty, dissatisfied, and melancholy. Some days I can shake it. Other days, not so much. I suppose a lot of it depends on how well my writing career is progressing on any given day.

*points to today, coughs, backs away from the precipice.*

Still, I keep pushing myself. Trying not to give in to the quicksand.

Thank goodness, my kids are still here. My hubby is (mostly) a gem, and we now seem to have stretched the open water season well beyond any bounds of reason or good sense. ;)

Yep, I confess, I went again yesterday.

That's me, at the top of the screen. With my friend Annmarie (with the orange safety buoy -- i forgot mine...) who is willing to swim with me at every whim. (How will I ever thank you, Annmarie?) and our friend Carol, of the Water-Blog, who had swum the day before and was, thus, kind enough to stay ashore and film us, instead.

Together, we are kicking away the angst and the blues of middle age. Together, we are swimming to euphoria.

I'm with you and you're with me
And so we're all together.
So we're all together
So we're all together
Swim with me, I'll swim with you
And so we will swim together
As we swim along, oh:
We are swimming to Euphoria, Euphoria, Euphoria
We are swimming to Euphoria, Euphoria today.

I don't know what I'd do without it. I am very, very grateful.

Meanwhile, it's Monday again. And, I'm feeling slightly manic.



In no small part because half of you reading won't even know who the Bangles are. ;)

But, anyway, have a happy one.

Good luck to us all.

- gae

Jetsetting & the Glamorous Life

even the sky was showy...

Yeah, yeah,

<--------- that's just me in there,

jetting off for a book release party this past weekend.

Don't hate me because my life is glamorous.

I flew all the way to Tacoma, Washington, to celebrate the launch of my dear friend Megan Bostic's debut young adult novel, Never Eighteen.

And, oh, there was glitter,

and wine,

and parties,

and french pastries,

and fancy clothes.

Annmarie, Megan and me... I put us in a movie box to make us look extra fancy.

Heidi and me, posing for the endless paparazzi
(okay, whatever, someone took this shot with my cell phone).

For two whole days, I lived the glamorous life.

Okay, sure, fine, maybe the glitter came with me in my suitcase and I tossed it around when I got there,

and maybe some of the parties were just us girls, sitting around in our pj's, drinking wine and giggling over cardboard cut-outs of our friends. . .

Some of our best friends are merely cardboard heads...

... but we treated them well...

and, we didn't judge...

Still,
all kidding aside,
there was a fabulous party, set against the sparkling backdrop of the Puget Sound, to celebrate a new piece of art being launched -- a  baby book being born into the world:

Megan, reading from her baby book...

and there were fabulous new sights in a distant city:

Chihuly glass bridge in downtown Tacoma at Union Station

and, even a stolen bag:

me, with the awesome sequined skull bag I stole from Heidi Peach

All in all, it was a wonderful weekend.

I'm lucky to have such talented, funny, warm and generous friends.

Jetsetting glamour? Who knows.

You keep the jets and the glamour,

leave me with the cardboard cut-outs, the glitter, and the friends.

- gae


(and I say there was glamour, so there was.)

Swimming Through Angstarctica

I love my Psycho gloves so much that, yes, I want to marry them.

I've been saying for a long time -- before I'd even discovered the bliss and exhilaration of the open water -- that I was hoping one day my wetsuit would turn me into a super hero.

Today, I got one step closer.

Thanks to my dear friend (and lovely, adorable, fellow-lunatic), Annmarie, who delivered an early Christmas present, I am now the proud owner of new, improved swim booties, and, more importantly, a pair of 5mm Psycho gloves.

The name says it all. They're the ones in the photo that look like they belong to Iron Man. And they are the Swim God's gift to womankind.

Despite 47- 49 degree temps in the Sound today, we swam 40+ minutes and, even then, I wasn't ready to get out.

It was crazy!

It was delirium!

It was likely this winter's salvation.

Because December is here. The crush of the holidays (I'm a Jew, you know, we just don't get all that excited). The cold, dark days. The oppressive weight of Seasonal Affective Disorder.

For the past few winters, I've barely made it through.

But, now I've got a plan. And my plan now seems attainable. Thanks to an early Christmas present, from a dear friend who seems to need the bliss of the open water just as badly as I do.

Thanksgiving Day. That's me in the center. Losing my religion. (Annmarie, photo left)
Plus, the other hardies of the West Neck Pod.
Btw, if you want to read more about our open water swims, go here to the Water-blog.

Together, with Psycho gloves, we're gonna swim right on through it. We're swimming through Angstarctica. We're swimming till we meet the shores of spring.

So, don't worry about me. Because the water will buoy me, and my fingers won't feel a thing. <3

- gae

p.s. This just in:

Me, with my PSYCHO GLOVES today!

http://thewater-blog.blogspot.com/

Weather, Whims, and Waiting

Washington Square Park, NYC 10/28
sleet and roses

<-------- that, my friends, is sleet.

It snowed the other day in New York.

Not in Alaska, mind you.
Not even upstate, northern New York.
But on Long Island and New York City.

It snowed wet, cold, slushy stuff that rained down on my head, soaked my jeans through to my legs, coated the streets of NYC with just the kind of hazardous, slick, gray sludge a person like me can kill herself on.

I cursed the weather gods, as I ran from the LIRR to the subways, to Washington Square Park, trying to get my kid and his friend to their Saturday NYU math class* on time.

By the time we got back on the LIRR to go home, my jacket was soaked and frozen, and my toes were all but numb.

I don't remember a time when it snowed in New York in October. And I'll be happy if I never see such time again.

And, yet.

This morning, still October, the car thermometer reads 33, and the lawns are covered in a definitive blanket of white frost.

In another world, in another lifetime, that might be pretty. But, for me, in my world, it means only one terrible thing:

there will be no more open water this season.

suited up, mid-october at
West Neck Beach

I can do waves and wind and water at 53 degrees, if I can emerge to sunshine and temps above 45 on dry land. But I cannot do wind and water at 48 (the last reported temp before the snow and frost of this weekend) and emerging to dry land temps below 40 degrees.

I wish I could, but I cannot.

That means, for this season, I am out.**

I knew it was coming. I tried to brace myself.

In an effort to release land-based endorphins, I may have even bought some bright red hair dye on impulse and worked it through my hair.

Don't kid yourselves about it; I'm not sorry.

Even if I know, perhaps, I should be.

My hot-cherry red hair is making me very, very happy.

As happy as I can be on dry land.

So it's likely not going anywhere soon.

And, yes, fine, we'll see what color it turns when the chlorine starts mixing in.

In the meantime, I'm back to waiting. My Frankie Sky revisions are with my agent. He said he would have feedback to me soon. Then, if approved, we go back to the other waiting. The harder waiting.
Waiting for the editors to say yay or nay.

And, don't I know how often the nays have it.

But, really, what choice do I have?

So until then, me n' my hot-cherry red hair will be here, on dry land, or immersing myself in the chlorine. Waiting for good news. Waiting for spring. Waiting for another open water season to begin.
---


*please note that my son is taking said class at HIS request. I would NEVER suggest anyone take a math class on a Saturday. ;)

** hope looms eternal: as I finished typing this blog post, an email from my swim buddy appeared in my inbox promising temps back up near sixty this week. Could one more open water swim be  possible . . .?    ;)

- gae

I HEART INDIES!!!

I went with the hot pink photo
in honor of Laura & Lisa's
Liar Society

Yeah, yeah, you were hoping I said undies (I do suppose I heart undies too...).

Speaking of indies with an I, the fabulous Lisa and Laura Roecker (authors of The Liar Society) have declared May 31st I <3 Indies Bookstore Day, and have asked those of us willing to give a quick blog shout out to our favorites.

I have a few. So, here goes:

First and foremost, there's the wonderful Book Revue, in Huntington, NY, a landmark of sorts in Huntington Village. The best of the best have been there, from Alice Hoffman to Elmore Leonard, from Bill Clinton, to -- ahem -- me. That's right, Book Revue was kind enough to host my Pull of Gravity launch party and you'd better believe I love them for it. 

Signing books, assisted by the lovely Anne Davidson of
Book Revue

                             
Of course, there are a few other Indies I love and would be remiss if I didn't give them a shout out today, too.

The Strand Bookstore. The Strand is a definite NYC landmark on 12th Street and Broadway.

In my twenties, I lived in NYC and was probably inside the Strand at least twice a week.

The Strand is books. Walking in, you feel as though you've entered the belly of a book. It just smells, breathes, lives books.

Me, in the Strand Bookstore on 5/10/11
in front of the shelf bearing TPoG

As it is still primarily known for its used books, I was actually shocked and honored when they ordered TEN copies of The Pull of Gravity in, and, indeed, I chose the Strand as the place to spend the quiet

Stack of signed copies now residing in
the Strand.

morning of my actual book launch day signing a few copies and marvelling that I had, somehow, made it in there. . .


Books of Wonder. BOW was one of two magical Indies that hosted The Class of 2K11 in and about NYC
last week.

Books of Wonder is really just that: a bookstore
of wonder.

If you take a trip inside you'll see why. It is a beautiful, beautiful bookstore. There, we read to a packed house (they even ran out of chairs!).

My dear friend, Amy Fellner Dominy
author of OyMG, in front of the fabulous
display welcoming us on 5/25

The place is enchanting and I hear they have cupcakes to die for in the connected Cupcake Cafe. BOW is often voted the Best Bookstore in NYC, and, trust me on this, there's a very good reason why.

The Voracious Reader.

And, last but not least, if you happen up to Larchmont, you must stop in and meet the lovely Francine (and Rose!) of The Voracious Reader there.

Her bookstore is a beautiful, cozy haven for children, teens and grown-ups alike! And, soon it will include the addition of a tea shop.

Class of 2K11 books on display at Voracious Reader

From l -r: Alissa Gross, Amy Holder, me, Geoff Herbach and Angie Smibert
after our readings at Voracious Reader.
Tell me Herbach wouldn't look just spiffy in an apron
serving tea. :)

(Without permission) I have already promised her the assistance of Geoff Herbach (Stupid Fast) in an apron, because what better way to be served tea? 

And there you have it. A few of my favorite indies. I'd love you to share a few of yours!

- gae