Tag: Literary fiction

Consumed by Politics

When I was a kid, my dad yelled at the news. The news is now dystopian and the GOP are thinly-veiled demons that feed on poor people.

If any Trumpers check out my website and ask, “Doesn’t DOGE have clearance to get into federal agency computers?” Nope, they don’t. They’re breaking laws left and right. It’s like Musk’s preschooler said, “We have Space-X and we just quietly do whatever we want.” Also, explain to me why anyone alive would want to dismantle the CFPB? This is the GOP’s war on the poor and disabled. If they get their way and kill the Dept of Education, there goes the federal funding for special ed programs, Buh-bye.

I Got My McSweeney’s Lunchbox!

I finally opened yesterday’s mail and it was NOT a friggin’ COVID test! YAY!! I feel like I’m 10 years old again and it feels great! Author cards and everything! I wonder if they’re anything like Whacky Packs. I wonder if there’s gum inside. I wonder if the authors have haughtily arched eyebrows or big crusty teeth?!

Yesterday I slogged and skimmed through the Middle Ages. My character Giselle should be able to learn to read because her dad is very progressive and with the decline of the feudal system and the increase in capitalistic town wealth which benefited royal coffers, the time was favoring individual endeavor to some extent. Good King Louis the IX had helped start the Sorbonne when he heard some whining about poor kids not being able to become doctors. So I don’t see why, as a vintner’s daughter, Giselle could’t learn to read. So, we got that taken care of. Now. Does the plot require her to read? I bet I could think of a great reason for her to read. It’ll come to me. If I could just work Wacky Packs in somehow. That would be fun! And easy. This book goes back and forth between contemporary time and 15c cuz, baby, it’s about reincarnation. I can do WHATEVER I WANT!!!!!

I Retired So Now I Have to Hurry the Hell Up and Write Before it’s Too Late

It’s totally bizarre not to be driving around suburbia knocking on doors for The County anymore. I left in July. And was very busy with family obligations for awhile there. But. But now I just want to become more and more myself until I metamorphosis into a psychedelic butterfly. I was always secretly a psychedelic butterfly. I finished the sixth edit of Don’t Get Burned. The next day I read through the first three chapters really quickly and said, “Woah, Bessie, this is reading for fun, not edit #7. You have to Start Over and Slow Down.” But the fact that I COULD just read three chapters so quickly is heartening. It means I’m almost done! Which I’ve been lamely saying for years. But I AM ALMOST DONE. I REALLY AM. And if I don’t finish this book by July then I am just a sad sack of procrastination that deserves no literary whipped cream. Or whatever. But damn it, I DO deserve literary whipped cream. I have been sick for several days, but maybe tomorrow I will be able to get myself moving. I have to because I am officially OLD. I could die at any moment. Barbara Kingsolver has written a bunch of books and I am barely at 1.75 books. It’s terrifying. For someone who always knew writing was her passion, I’ve had a very poor output. Phoebe, do not shame yourself. Angels Carry the Sun was a really good book. Maybe luck just wasn’t on your side with some things. Luck changes. I keep thinking about that Tom Petty song, “Even the Losers.” It resonates cuz everyone feels like a bunch of losers, lol. I dreamed I accidentally walked off with someone else’s Nobel Prize in Lit, and I was just pressing this medal against my forehead in a state of extreme angst. So silly. There is hope for me yet. Maybe not Nobel Prize hope, but hope. I AM NOT DEAD YET.

Let me tell you the story about how my first novel Angels Carry the Sun came to be published. Sometime around 2008 I joined a writers’ group in Lambertville, NJ, lead by the poet, Judith Lawrence. Judith was also the editor of a literary magazine called the River Poets Journal. We had monthly (on the full moon, I believe) open-mic events at (of course) The Full Moon Cafe. It was wonderful because these open-mic events were writer-centered, and often packed. For a small fee we’d get hors d’oeuvres, good company, and entertainment! We would vote on the best reading of the night and the winners would win the prize of a great fuss–and once in a blue moon even money (I once won $50). During this beautiful hobnobbing era, I was also trying to find an agent for Angels Carry the Sun. This was pre-internet and I was using the Writers Market Guide. Big heavy tome which lead to one polite yet supportive rejection. I set aside my search. One day, when I’d invited Judith to lunch for the first time (I loved her poetry and wanted her in my friendship circle), I was utterly surprised when she offered to publish my novel. She asked how I was doing in finding an agent, and when I said that it wasn’t going that well, she said, “Well, if they’re too stupid. . . I would love to do it.” And that was THAT! All I remember after that was screaming with joy as I drove home. It was truly one of the happiest days of my life–the answer to a lifetime of labor and wishing! Later, Judith nominated the book for the PEN/Faulkner Award. We both worked very hard on the whole endeavor and in the end sold 2400 books. It wasn’t nationally distributed, but it did very well, considering. We didn’t have major media attention or machinery behind it. It was a magical time in my life.