Rarely does a week go by when I don’t meet with a book group, and oh, the luxury of it.  I can visit anywhere in the country from the comfort of my home, talking by speakerphone with a group of readers, all of whom have read my book.  It doesn’t get much better than that.

But I’m not in a book group, some readers cry, which is why I’m doing a live chat on Tuesday, January 12, 9-9:30 pm (EST) right here on this blog page.

But still, you say,  you want to talk with me on the phone like those other book groups?  Okay.  Form a book group of your own.  Even for one night, one meeting.  How to do it?  (more…)

Okay.  So you may not be one to go to signings, period.  But I did one last weekend that bears mentioning.  It was at the Bayswater Book Company in picturesque Center Harbor, NH, and though it was billed to run from 11 to 1, I was signing books until 2:15 with no break in the line.

If that sounds cocky of me to say, keep in mind that early in my career, I did signings to which no one – I repeat, no one – came.  I once sat for three hours at the front of a Borders at a mall in Thousand Oaks, California, and not a single person came in to buy my book.  Granted, it was the Fourth of July weekend, so everyone was likely off somewhere celebrating – and me, I was a barely-known writer trying to get her name on the literary map.

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Rule #2.  Cut – always.  Repetition bores readers.

It’s taken me many years to learn this one – but, in fairness, cutting things you’ve worked so hard to create is devastating.  I’ve often likened it to slitting one’s wrists and watching the blood flow away, which is a gruesome analogy, but apt.  Sadly, cutting is necessary.  Just as ancient doctors used leeching to remove bad stuff, so we writers use the DELETE button.

How did I finally learn?

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Are books getting shorter, or is it my imagination?  Last week alone, I picked up three books by three renowned writers, and found the length of each to be under 300 pages.  These were not short story collections, but novels.

Hey, I have no problem with this.  I’m curious, is all.  Are readers driving this trend, wanting quick reads?  Or is it the writer who runs out of plot?

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Several weeks back I recorded a radio interview.  What a fun thing to do.  Seriously.  I get to sit in my cozy office, wearing whatever and looking however, answering questions about work that I love.  Sometimes these interviews are live, in which case I have to be on my toes.  More often they’re taped, which means if I mess up badly, I can say, “Oops, please delete that, let me start again.”

Granted, doing a phone interview, you can’t look your interviewer in the eye.  Nor can you see the reams of notes in front of her – but then, she can’t see the reams of notes in front of me, either.

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Can’t think of the perfect stocking stuffer for that friend of yours who loves to read?  Here’s an easy answer: Buy the new paperback edition of The Secret Between Us and I’ll help you turn it into a one-of-a-kind gift.  Contact me with the recipient’s name, along with your address, and I’ll mail you a personalized bookplate ASAP.

Act fast!

It’s over.  After living with it for the better part of two years, we’re suddenly without.  No more news clips of campaign stops.  No more I-approve-this-message ads.  No more polls trending this way or that, or magic maps with red states turning orange and blue states turning green.  No more emails from one committee or phone calls from another.  No more multi-forwarded notes from friends.  No more spoofs on SNL.

While President-elect Obama hunkers down to pick his team and make the transition of power as smooth as possible in this remarkable democracy of ours, what are we back to doing? 

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… like I love sticky buns?  If I had to choose between a honey-glazed donut, an iced cherry Danish, and a piece of rich chocolate cake, I’d ditch all three and go for the sticky bun every time.  There’s something about brewing a fresh cup of coffee and sitting down with a warm roll of dough coiled around brown sugar, cinnamon and raisins, and topped with more brown sugar and – ta-da – pecans, that makes the day start right.  I don’t do it often, but that makes it all the more special.
 
Weekend before last, I was at a library event and had the pleasure of meeting two dynamic women.  Bear with me, here.  I’m still talking sticky buns. 

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My blog of 6’18 referred to An Accidental Woman as a “companion” to Lake News. Does that mean sequel? In my mind, no. I think of a sequel as a book that picks up the same characters where they leave off in an earlier book and tells more of their story. An Accidental Woman does use the same little lake town and does revisit the same characters as in Lake News, but the main characters from the first book become secondary to allow focus on a different group of people.
OK. Maybe I’m arguing semantics here. But I truly don’t see An Accidental Woman as a sequel. Both books stand on their own.
I first conceived of the Lake Henry books as a foursome, each celebrating a different New England season. There would be apple cider making in the fall, maple sugaring in the winter, leafing out in late spring, and tourism in summer. Truthfully, it was a marketing move; readers love revisiting the same places. And hey, I’ve designed and built more towns than you’d ever believe. The idea of not having to create a town from scratch was appealing.
I wrote Lake News in 1998, wrote The Vineyard in 1999, The Woman Next Door in 2000, then, in 2001, wrote An Accidental Woman. I thought it would be easy. Wrong. Although An Accidental Woman focused on Poppy Blake, the handicapped sister of Lake News’s Lily Blake, many of the other characters carried over – and I had to get them right. By “right” I mean keep them consistent with the first book. Their appearance, their interests, even the streets of the town had to be consistent – because if there’s one thing I’ve learned as a writer, it’s that if I make a mistake, you readers pick it up.
Way back, in Coast Road, I referred to a Volkswagen having radiator trouble; an astute reader pointed out that Volkswagens don’t have radiators. More recently, in The Secret Between Us, I referred to Dylan Monroe playing in the ninth inning of his Little League game; a savvy reader reminded me (how could I have forgotten, after sitting through so many of my sons’ games?) that Little League games only have six innings!
By the time I was done writing An Accidental Woman, my copy of Lake News was riddled with so many Post-Its that I didn’t know which ones marked what. More importantly, by that time, I was tired of Lake Henry. Creating a town from scratch, with the freedom from accountability that allowed, suddenly didn’t seem so bad!
Many readers have asked if there will be a third or fourth Lake Henry book. Right now, none is on the drawing board. Perhaps you can understand why?

Last night I made my first visit to a book group discussing The Secret Between Us, and I have to say I was a little nervous. For one thing, I had laryngitis and had been whispering for two days to “save” my voice, but even then, I wasn’t sure could make myself heard. If you’ve ever had a bad case of laryngitis, you know the sheer effort it takes to produce sound.
Secondly, I wasn’t sure what I’d be asked. I’ve made many dozens of visits to book groups discussing Family Tree, but The Secret Between Us? This was the first. Okay, now, I have loads of things I would ask if I were talking with the author of this book. But what would this group ask? I had no idea.
An hour before the meeting, drinking hot tea laced with lemon and honey, I pulled The Secret Between Us off my shelf and flipped through just to remind myself of the story. If that sounds awful, take pity, please. I am up to my ears in my next book, which means total immersion in the characters, the plot, the themes. Wrenching myself from that and reimmersing myself in a whole other book takes some doing. Funny, though, the act of flipping through the pages did the trick. That quickly, it all came back.
Dinner was a silent fifteen minute thing with my husband, who is getting tired of my not having a voice, but there was no help for it last night. Leaving him to clean up, I came up here to my office to read up on the group I would be visiting. In planning each of these visits, my assistant asks for as much information on the group as possible. It helps me envision them and makes the time more fun.
My phone rang at eight on the dot. I took a breath and answered, forcing out a hello as best I could. It wasn’t pretty. But at least the women on the other end could hear me. So the voice worked. And the questions they asked? Amazing. They started by observing that I have children (they’d done their homework, too), and asking whether I would have done the same thing as Deborah if what happened to her daughter and her had happened to one of my sons and me.
It was a really thoughtful question. The answer is “yes,” to which several of the women voiced their agreement – and that set the tone for the evening. We went back and forth discussing what mothers do, agreeing for the most part but raising thought-provoking points – like after reading the book would we still have done the same thing in that situation? These women made me think in the way friends around a table would do.
Thirty-five minutes passed in a wink, and though my voice was growing worse for the wear, I would have talked even longer if – would you believe? – I hadn’t had another group to visit at nine.
The Secret Between Us turned out to be a terrific discussion book. Let me tell you, that’s a relief. And my voice is better today. Still not great. But better. And I don’t have another book group visit until next Tuesday. Should be perfect by then!