The Grass, Softer and Greener. . .

me, a few, brief years ago. . . 

I look at this photo and I think: wow, look how much younger, sexier, bolder, skinnier, more entertaining I was.

I crave her. I miss her.

I wonder how she drifted.

I forget that she was also depressed,
anxious,
lost,
wanting, waiting, wishing, and, um,
not eating much.

I forget how she stumbled through the dark house trying simply to hold onto things.

My life since then is happier,

less on edge,

more content.

And, this is a good thing.

But sometimes, I look back on her -- that me from a few short years ago -- with longing.

me, the other day, shorter hair,
more shadows and lines,
a bit less longing,
and yet. . . 

Maybe that's just how I am.

Maybe I am made up of longing.

So that, if I'm not longing someone,

or something,

I am just longing for that old me.

Maybe it's a writer thing. Maybe we must keep scratching at the surface, picking, turning over emotions, until we hit raw nerves.

Maybe we're afraid we'll be stale and staid (boring) if we're not in some glorious state of pain.

And the truth is, it's not hard to get there -- stay there -- wanting,  wishing,

fretting,

longing.

Life obliges,

makes it easy to feel unsettled,

by making it all so tenuous and fleeting.

Face it.

In front of you, it's all a blur,

whooshing by faster than you can catch your breath.

So, behind,

back there,

you,

then,

"ago"

seems stretched out,

heightened,

nearly gilded.

The grass back there is softer, somehow,

isn't it?

Younger,

and greener.

gae

*post script: this blog post has been resonating with friends -- both on my facebook page and in my email -- it made me remember this other post of similar theme, with this beautiful  "green" poem by my friend, and poet and artist, Lori Landau. You can see it HERE.

My Writing Life: Chutes and Ladders

I've been thinking lately how much the whole 'publishing thing' is like a game of Chutes and Ladders.


I mean,
maybe all of life is like a game of Chutes & Ladders and that's why it has
remained such a classic
(or maybe it's just that it's so dang fun to slide the little colorful pegs up and down the curly slides), but, certainly, my publishing journey has felt a lot like playing this game.

Here, I'll show you what I mean.

Imagine my first attempt at writing a manuscript in 1998 as the Start Space, and the completion of the first rough draft of THE JETTY (4+ years) as Space #4.

Up, I go to Space #14 where there's a yummy cake waiting for me. Yay, cake! You know how I love a good cake.

Perhaps at space #15, I submit to my first round of agents, which all come back rejections. Space #16, down I go! But at Space #9, I get a bite, my first agent request for a look at a partial or full.

Woohoo, I'm off and running on Space #31!

At Space #36, THE JETTY makes it to the Semi-finals of the first-ever Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award contest, but at Space #47, I'm eliminated (luckily, I land in water).  

Space #28 is totally elusive for most of us -- there's a forcefield around it or something -- but it's back to Space #36 again, where I get my first real NYC literary agent who loves THE JETTY and my writing and is convinced we will get a six-figure deal.

Up to Space #44. Look how tall I feel now!

At Space #51, I finish the revisions she's asked for and we begin to send the manuscript out to publishers. At Spaces #53 - 63, the, "we love this, but. . ." rejections from said publishers start to roll in.

At Space #64, while at work on a new middle grade manuscript, I fall and break my arm.

No, really. I fell and broke my arm. Totally lost all mojo on that manuscript. It still sits half-finished somewhere.

Instead, on Spaces #61 - 79, I begin work on my second to-be-completed women's fiction manuscript, SWIM BACK TO ME and, at Space #80, it's ready to be submitted.

I land on Space #87. What more can I say?

For a while, I see stars (no, really, I'm telling you, I'm pretty sure I saw stars), but by Space #31 I'm off and running again. This time, it's a young adult manuscript, THE PULL OF GRAVITY.

At Space #36, I get an amazing editor at fsg interested, and at Space #51 she loves it!

Look at me just sweeping up over there.

But at Space #56, another in-house editor says, "Not so much," and sends me sneezing back to Space #53.

I engage in rewrites, my agent newly-confident in the manuscript and on space #71, the editor calls us back to say she misses the manuscript and, voila! I have a book deal.

It's a book deal, peeps. I eat an entire ice cream sundae!!! (Though I am careful to put my bib on.)

After 18 months of Space #91 glee and nerves and joy and revisions and line edits, the book comes out to very good reviews.

Woo hoo!

Good reviews!!!

*looks for ladder space*

Er. Um.

WE COULD USE A LADDER HERE, PEOPLE!!!

What? You say there there are no ladders here? Only more potential chutes? Ah, my TPoG cover hasn't made the Macmillan catalogue (most bookstores buy at least partially based on cover appeal), and, as a non-lead title, I receive only mininum marketing support from my publisher.

At Space #93, I scribble profanities all over the walls of facebook and start to slide down.

Days and nights turn into endless self-marketing ventures instead of writing ones, trying to get word of my title out there. I also work on what I think will be my "option" book -- an upper YA called JACK KEROUAC IS DEAD TO ME, which I finish in rough draft and my new agent loves.

Oops, might have left out some chutes and ladders, didn't I? As a result of a layoff at an inopportune time, I split with my first agent and am quickly taken on by a new one who is ready to pitch SWIM again after deep revisions. She also loves JACK KEROUAC, but I've started a second "option" effort, called FRANKIE SKY, which she loves too, and we agree to submit that for my option.

At Space #93 (what is it with that space, I ask you?) my editor rejects FRANKIE SKY as too commercial, but loves a new manuscript I've also started called IN SIGHT OF STARS. At Space 94 she's taking it up to the exec board, but unforseen objects sometimes have a trajectory of their own, and, at Space #95 she rejects it. At the same time, new shiny agent #2 -- not so new or shiny anymore -- loses steam with everything, becomes unresponsive to anything to do with my career, and we part ways somewhat less than amicably.

What day is it?

What year is it?

WHAT SPACE AM I ON?!?

At Space #80 -- aw, come on, you didn't really think I would land on Space #80...

At Space #79, I get a shiny, new agent -- one who comes highly recommended by a writer-friend, and in whom I have lots of faith. He takes me on for FRANKIE SKY but asks for revisions which are (gratefully) made. At Space #96 I kick ass (avoiding that damned broken window) and my revisions get approved.

There are just three spaces left that stand between me and a second book deal.

Three.

Little.

Spaces.

And,

one chute. 

*stares at dice in hand, and tries not to pull any cat tails.*

 - gae

Some Rambling and Random Thoughts on a Big Deal

This is me standing in front of an already shelved copy
of THE PULL OF GRAVITY at the Strand Bookstore, NYC. 

So, after nearly 12 years of trying, and nearly 18 mos. of post-success waiting, my book came out yesterday.

Cool? Yes.

Surreal? Yes.

A big deal? Sure.

Nothing in the scheme of things? Yeah, that too. (at least in the zen, drop in the ocean sort of sense. . . ).

So, how to celebrate something that's everything and nothing? I knew it was important for me to get away from the computer yesterday (and the sort of incessant "checking on things" a computer allows us to do). I wanted to try to do something to make the day stick -- to have it be something more than anticlimactic if I could.

Believe me, you, when you gear up for something for 12 years and 18 months respectively, it's hard to really make it climax. Er. But, ask any debut author and they will tell you the same thing.

Lucky for me, my extraordinary editor, the lovely Frances Foster, invited me to lunch at the Union Square Cafe. I already had an enviable plan. :)

Given that lunch was at 12:30 and I love to train in on the 8:55 am with my dear friend Selbern who is the editor who cleaned up my TPoG book trailer and made it emmy-worthy quality (yes, Selbern has 3 emmys in his house, so, um, yeah -- I'd show you a photo, but he'd get mad), I had some time to kill first in the city.

I made plans to meet two dear friends, Lori and Donna (and a dear tag-a-long -- thank you, Ellen!) at the Strand Bookstore on 12th Street first, in order to take a photo with the book there on the Strand shelves. This is what good friends do: they schlepp across, or into, the city to buy your book they've already bought, so they can buy a copy in front of you, and climb ladders to get a shot with you and the book. (see photo above).

Bear in mind, the Strand was a hallowed place for me -- I practically lived there in my twenties, when I still lived and worked in NYC, didn't have kids or a real career yet, and still had time to read 2 -3 books a week. I'm sure I bought most the used classics there when I went through my read-the-classics phase (I should go through a phase like that again!).

When I got there, only one copy of TPoG had been shelved; the rest were still boxed in receiving. Lucky for me, the Strand is full of awesomesaucey people, like the cute dude with long hair whose name sadly escapes me, and the manager, Laura, both of whom were so very kind to me, told me they'd get them out pronto, and that I should return after lunch to sign all ten copies, and that they'd then display the books on the "Bestseller" table in the YA section. I didn't see a Bestseller table, so maybe they meant the New Arrivals table which would be totally cool with me!  

Lunch with Frances was delightful. Despite a large menu with a variety of delicious offerings, we both ordered the same thing without pre-planning, which made me wonder if the same thing that made us both desire the "spring greens ravioli" made her connect with the early manuscript of The Pull of Gravity.

After the main course, we shared some deliciously-decadent, chocolately-caramelly thing, in celebration of TPoG's release.

I sat in a teeny tiny chair at a teeny tiny table and signed copies. Surreal.

After lunch, Laura at the Strand had made good on her promise, and the copies of TPoG were waiting for me. I sat at a kiddy table in the children's section and signed copies, all the while trying to get it to settle in my brain that I had a book out; that I was signing copies where it would be sold to people from the Strand; that people would read it, and maybe a few people would truly love it, and they would remember it for years and years.

Instead, all I kept thinking was, there are a gazillion books in here. Gazillions of people have done this before. How can it be so hard?

On the train home, I was tired from weeks of marketing, and interviews, and (UGH) photographers, and a general sense of trying hard to get the name of my book out there. Upon return home, my facebook page was flooded with well-wishes, one of the things that has made this journey so extraordinary.

Throughout the evening, people kept asking, was it a good day? Was it a good day? Was it everything you hoped?

And, it was a good day. A lovely day. But, you know, somehow still anticlimactic. I think partly because there's just no way to internalize what it is.

But you know what? This morning, I woke up smiling. The photos from the Strand fill me with joy. I love my friends dearly. And, I will always remember that lunch with Frances.

from a Yoda quote in the book. .  .

Oh, and, if you're in NYC, and you walk into the landmark Strand Bookstore on 12th Street and Broadway in NYC, you can pick up a copy of The Pull of Gravity.

Signed in indelible ink by me.

Anticlimactic? Maybe.

Big deal? Who knows.

But very, very cool.

xo gae