Monday, February 05, 2018

...In which I attend three literary events in 24 hours

"One of these things just doesn't belong here..."



And I don’t even live in Manhattan!

Friday night I went to an author event for Kelly Corrigan’s book Tell Me More. Although I read fiction until my ears migrate to the front of my head to compensate for the deteriorating eyesight, I’d somehow missed the nonfiction phenomenon that is Kelly Corrigan. This is great, though: now I can binge-read everything she wrote, because I adore her.

This is a lot like my experience with the Harry Potter books; I was clueless until Book Six or so. And then…180 miles an hour.

Back to Kelly. Luckily, my friend Jeannine knew all about her and invited me, knowing I would love her too.

Imagine the scene. A Barnes & Noble filled to the gills, the organizers having to bring out more seats, freeflowing wine and appetizers…we had to be wristbanded to be there. I marveled and thought someday I want people to be wristbanded to hear me.

And pay $45 a ticket.

But the ticket price was fine because it included a gift bag with her hardcover, a wonderful little book light which I’m very excited about, a Random House stadium cup (wristbands, stadium cups: I think they’re working on converting authors to athletes) and a copy of …Glamour magazine. Jeannine laughed and said she didn’t think that had been preapproved by Kelly. I bet she’d want Mother Jones in there.

(In case that sounds mean of us, one of Kelly’s ongoing riffs is about foregoing showers).

Kelly is freaking funny. I found myself laughing very hard, the sharp bark of surprised laughter, and the murmuring laugh of “oh yes.” Women everywhere were exchanging glances as we/they laughed, because much of what Kelly said was universal, bonding.

And then she spoke of loss, and even though I made a vow a few months ago to cry less, I just couldn’t stop some of these tears. Jeannine said she’d been listening to the audio book on her way in to work and bawling her eyes out. I would add some hard-earned advice to readers here: don’t listen to Schindler’s List in your car.

If you have a chance to see Kelly in person, take it. It’s incredibly rewarding and will make you feel good about being a human.

The line to have your book signed snaked around and around, and thanks to our arrival time, we were literally the last people in line. And when I finally got up to Kelly, what did I say to her? “Thank you for all the feels.”

It would be good if Barnes & Noble could provide a trapdoor immediately in front of the author signing table for people who say stupid things like that. I never even use the phrase “all the feels.” How did that come out of my mouth? Worse, it sounded glib after Kelly had just evoked truly genuine emotions out of all of us and shared some devastating things about her own losses, which reminded us of our own losses, and connected us in the communality of grief.

Accordingly, she responded, “What’s your name?” and signed my book.

Jeannine and I went around the corner, had gin and tonics and some weirdly-cold (but delicious!) truffles with raspberry dipping sauce and only went home when her husband texted us that he was falling asleep watching our brood of kids.

I went home, I slept. I recharged for …Literary Round Two! Ding ding!

Saturday morning, I went into Sacramento for our monthly brunch gathering of the Historical Novels Society friends. We have no agenda and just meet to talk shop and encourage each other. I love this group so much. We meet for two hours in a closed-off room at Ettore’s Swiss bakery and there’s always good talk and laughter.

This time, we were all asking about our leader’s situation with a dearly loved one that is facing cancer for a second time. He’s such an incredibly kind person (and a great writer) and it was hard to see the struggle etched in the lines of his face. It’s always so difficult to know what to say, but I hope he knows how much we all are concerned and want to be supportive and listen while his family undergoes this horrible time. Mark, I hope everyone who reads these lines will pause and send a little heartfelt ping of support to you.

There’s another Erika M. at the group, and she just released a lovely early reader book called Big and Yellow. It has wonderful illustrations and so far, a neat story. I read the first chapter to my kids last night and they were enthusiastic, wanted me to keep reading when it was time to turn off the light. 

The Adventures of Big and Yellow by Erika Nyhagen


She’s using a pen surname Nyhagen, but it was still fun to see her signature on the title page as a flourished Erika. The book involves two bears fretting about being released to a new caregiver now that their boy has grown up (one thinks they are being given away because he failed to learn how to fly when the boy tossed him in the air). It is sweet and funny thus far. And the illustrations threaded throughout are absolutely gorgeous, created by a former Disney illustrator. Nice work, Erika!

Next, I carpooled with my friend Gina and her husband to Jackson, California, for the book launch of another HNS friend, Kathy Boyd-Fellure. Aside from Gina’s brilliant book launch on a boat on the Sacramento River, I have never seen this many people at a “real” person’s book launch before. I mean, she nearly approached Kelly Corrigan levels! I was thrilled to see so many friends support her as she launched her book Language of the Lake. She held the event in the upstairs of Hein & Co. Bookstore, where there is a charming area that has been built out to look like Sherlock Holmes’s Baker Street. She had a wonderful spread of cheeses and Snook’s chocolates. And five of her eight sisters were there! (or maybe she is the eighth). As one of four sisters, I find that thrilling. Can’t wait to start reading, Kathy, and congratulations!

The Language of the Lake by Kathy Boyd-Fellure

Can you tell I had fun staging these book photos?




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Wednesday, January 31, 2018

When God closes a window, he opens a door


Today's view from Bridget's attic window


It's my last post in #BlogADayJan and I'd wanted to end on a really high note. I was going to write about Bridget's attic window. I had something interesting to say about it. But it's 9 p.m. and I've been brought low by events of the day.

I had planned to get three projects off my desk today, and maybe even four if I was especially productive. These ranged in significance from an email to which I wanted to pay special attention to crafting well, to a big layout job I do for a nonprofit a few times a year. I didn't get those three jobs off my desk.

I didn't even get one off my desk.

So tomorrow I face the same to-do list. Luckily, an out of town overnight trip got canceled, so I have the entire day to face these same jobs and maybe move them from "pending" to "completed."

Will I continue to blog daily? No way.

Will I blog more frequently? I think so. But...I'm not totally sure. I track statistics at my blog and while there has been steady traffic this month, it's been small. Loyalty is wonderful, but if there are only so many hours in a day (and I understand some people say they are finite), I guess I'd rather address my attention to writing fiction.

So, those who read World of Mailman, I'll be back in a few days to post about Bridget's window...but not too soon.

Statistics: Of the 31 posts this month, here's how they break down by topic:
Lizzie Borden: 13
Travel: 10
Rambling posts: 4
Writing/other authors: 2
Straight-up history: 1
Martin Luther King, Jr.: 1
 
I gently ease the blinds closed.


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Tuesday, January 30, 2018

Mark Twain's cabin on Jackass Hill

It requires a little uphill drive from Angels Camp on a dirt road to find this cabin. You pass some donkeys who give their name to this place, Jackass Hill. You think you're the only history-minded person trying to find it, and you arrive, park, poke around... and then five other cars come and you exult that other people care!

It may seem at first flush that the cabin looks too fresh, too new to have been a place where Mark crashed in 1864.

Yeah, it's made of wood, but it doesn't look OLD somehow

 But you still walk around and marvel.



At least the fireplace looks old, right?

So, if you read the plaque at the site, you learn that this is not the original cabin. It was rebuilt 2002-2005 by the Rotarians. However, not even the original cabin was original! It was built in 1922 to commemorate Mark Twain's stay approximately 60 years earlier. Now who feels like a jackass??


Turns out the cabin is an imposter
This is a nice old plaque. Let's focus on that instead.

1929 plaque also deemed "not old enough"

Am I the only one who wants to put a "C" in the word plaque? I always type "placque" and then fix it.

Sometimes it can be hard to chase down history. If Twain wanted the cabin where he stayed to remain into perpetuity, he should've asked for brick.

It's interesting to contemplate that Twain wrote "The Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calaveras County" here, as the placque suggests. Especially since the other plaque suggests the cabin is situated in Tuolumne County. #Hm.


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Monday, January 29, 2018

Angels Camp

Mural in town, showing Twain holding a frog


This small Gold Rush town in northern California is also known as Frogtown, because Mark Twain based his short story, "The Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calaveras County," on a story heard here in 1865. The hotel where he heard it still stands. PETA members, please don't read this story.

Each May, Angels Camp hosts a jumping frog contest, and a plaque gets laid in the sidewalk for each year's winner.

I think this is the biggest jump I saw, at 19'11"


This one is a wink-wink, based on the story


The town is sweet to wander through and straddles a beautiful creek.






It has an arts center.


And of course it has to have a saloon.


And not too far away, a Barrel of Monkeys, described as "If you were given $5,000 and told to open your own version of John's Incredible Pizza":



Built on a hill, Angels Camp has many staircases that link parallel streets:



And statues throughout town celebrate the froglike history.




It's worth a visit! The jumping frog jubilee is always the third weekend in May; here's a link. The Mark Twain story is also reprinted in its entirety at that site.

Fun fact: the town isn't angelic; it's named for early founder Henry Angell (no one could spell in the 1800s).
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Sunday, January 28, 2018

Writerly community: showcasing recent books


Part of being a writer is finding community. What we do is so solitary that we need to talk to others, realize afresh that we're not as wierd as we think (or at least we have a splinter group of friends who are also wierd), and support each other through all the ups and downs of writing and publishing.

Today's blog post is going to showcase books recently released (in the last six months) those I call friends. Crazily enough, as I started to compile the photos, I realized they all have a J or G name. Guess it's a good time to be publishing if you start with a "Jeh" sound!


Jo Chandler's Y.A. book, start of a series


Jen Laam's latest Russian historical




Gina Mulligan's book of letters written to women with breast cancer;
I sent this to my mom for Christmas





My whale loves Joe Quirk's latest




Jordan's wonderful craft of writing book, in a new edition



At an event for Jim L'Etoile's newest, Bury the Past (I also bought it besides the
At What Cost I'm holding). All of us in this photo are Writers Coffeehouse people.


 So there you have it: Jo, Joe, Jen, Gina, Jim, Jordan. 

(Don't worry, Kathy: yours hasn't released yet so I'll get you next time along with any K or C friends we know...)

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Saturday, January 27, 2018

Dav Pilkey as Captain Early Start & Anna Riphahn




We were sent this beautiful book The Timekeeper by grandparents. Believe it or not, it was written and illustrated by a 13 year old. It's part of a series that used to exist called the National Written and Illustrated By awards for kids. It used to exist 1985-1998, releasing three books a year based one age category, and occasionally one or two "gold awards." It went defunct for about a decade. It rebranded in 2006 and released a few books, and then went silent again. Too bad, because it looks such a great program.

The back of The Timekeeper has a tiled display of all the book covers and all the authors. I had a jolt when I realized I actually recognized one of the names: Dav Pilkey, the author of the fabulous Captain Underpants series.



He won in 1986 when he was 19 for his book World War One.

I just looked at his website and he has 62 books in print. We should all have such a prolific career, launched at such an early age!



Fun fact: He was born Dave but his nametag from when he worked at Pizza Hut omitted the final E, so he kept it that way for his author name.

Returning to The Timekeeper, author Anna Riphahn tragically died only three years after her book was published. She died in a highway accident. When you read through the book, you see what expressive paintings she created, and you take a big inhale thinking of everything she might've been capable of.


Look at the laborious pottery border--each page has a gorgeous border a la Jan Brett


From this History Guy video in the Topeka Capital-Journal, we learn that she tried first in 1991 with a book and won Third Place. The next year, she tried with a different book and won Second Place. Her third book was the charm, winning first place and publication.

Perseverance. I love it.


Anna's photo from the back of the book

Thank you so much for tracking down and sending us this book, Earl!


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Friday, January 26, 2018

Last post about the Klimt exhibit




(although it has nothing to do with Klimt)

In the permanent collection, my husband pointed out a plaque that made us laugh. I had assumed "The Candelight Master" was the name of the painting. But it was the name of the artist.



Forgive me if this is a big thing I missed out on. I never took Art History.

So then of course, anyone who loves Prince as much as he does has to joke, that when his town got electricity, he was "the artist formerly known as the candlelight master and now known as the fluorescent blurb master."

Of course because I feel an obligation to the paltry few of you who actually read this blog (and because it's so miserably short today), I took a moment to google this artist. 

Proving you really do have to have money to have a gallery named after you


He had the very worrisome name of Trophime Bigot (but don't worry, he was French so you'd pronounce it Bee-joe...or wait, maybe a hard G? Bee-go? I'll have to consult on this one and return)

He lived 1579-1650, was born in Arles (bullfight place I've visited and sobbed about, poor bulls), and was actively painting in Rome and Provence. He's buried in Avignon, where the popes used to live (I visited but didn't cry).

There's some controversy that he was thought to be a father and son, but historians determined that he was the same guy painting in two very different styles, depending on what his patrons wanted.

And, and, and...he did one of the Judith & Holofernes beheading paintings that I was just sharing with a class a month ago. Wow. Small world.

A lot can happen by candlelight.


Hm...murder assisted by a maid...where I have heard that before?




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