The Fourth Largest Book Festival in the United States

Partial view of the Tucson Festival of Books from the second floor
of the student union 

Only the fourth largest? In its eighth year and looking forward to the ninth, the Tucson Festival of Books sees more than 130,000 visitors over two days, with hundreds of workshops and exciting author events.

This year has been my third time at the festival, but the first time I enjoyed it as a reader only. In 2011, I was pushing my own boundaries by volunteering to run some events at the festival, and in 2012, I volunteered and helped out at the Fireship Press booth. Unforgettably wonderful experiences, yes. But the freedom of being able to do what I wanted (and especially to get out of the burning sunlight whenever necessary) combined with showing my mother around the festival—she bought a wondrous quantity of books—to create bookish bliss.

Mystery authors J. A. Jance, Margaret Coel, and Anne Hillerman
at Southwest Women of Mystery 

First, we attended a panel called "Southwest Women of Mystery" in a ballroom that can hold 640, and it was packed. I'm not too current on mysteries, so I had no idea these authors were so popular. Rightly so. Each author displayed a great sense of humor as well as adventure while they discussed their research, the Southwest, and the way their work is received in Native American communities. I ended the hour with huge respect for all of them.

The Fireship Press booth, with Loose Leaves titles visible 

The Writers Studio Tucson booth with festivalgoers and bright sunlight 

We used some free time after the the first event to visit my friends and associates at the Fireship Press and Writers Studio Tucson booths. Both are Tucson literary institutions not to be missed if you are a reader or a writer.

Next my mother and I had tickets for a session titled "Star Wars, the Shannara Chronicles, and Outlander: From Book to Screen and Back." If I thought the first event was packed, I stood corrected at this one. Everyone in the state of Arizona wanted to hear this talk. Under any other circumstances, Terry Brooks (author of the Shannara Chronicles) and Chuck Wendig (author of a ton of great stuff, including the novelization of The Phantom Menace) could fill a stadium by themselves. But they were sharing a panel with someone who commanded every reader's rapt attention. When Diana Gabaldon is in the room, anyone else is forgotten.

Terry Brooks, the moderator, and Chuck Wendig wait to the side of
Diana Gabaldon's celebrity. 

Diana Gabaldon graciously humors one of her many admirers. 

Diana Gabaldon's approach to the event was a study in literary celebrity. When she appeared from the ready room, the auditorium applauded. Then, as regal as you please, she walked slowly down the aisles, allowing the masses to take her picture as she processed. It wasn't over when she went to stand next to her copanelists. That was when the queue formed for taking selfies with the famous author. Festival volunteers had to call and end to it so the panel could actually start.

Diana Gabaldon talked about the Starz adaptation of her Outlander series, Terry Brooks shared his experience with the brand new adaptation of his Shannara Chronicles, and Chuck Wendig discussed his graphic novel Star Wars adaptations, thus the "From Book to Screen and Back" title. I adore Chuck Wendig's general wisdom and appreciated the practical way he answered an audience question about film rights. Upshot: make sure you get paid for all your rights. Terry Brooks was amazing, too, with his quips about the adaptation process and a striptease that ended at a T-shirt reading "The book was better." Diana Gabaldon got the most questions and I heard a level of detail to be expected only from utterly obsessed fans, which all of them appear to be.

The best thing about this panel was that finally, after years of my fruitless efforts to convince my mother of this fact, she said, "I guess the book and the movie are different formats and you can't really judge them by each other." Amen! If Diana Gabaldon says it, it must be true.

Charlie Lovett, the UA professor moderator, Carol Goodman, and
Jennifer Lee Carrell at Shakespeare Mysteries 

After a sack lunch and a yummy gelato from Frost, we went to a session in one of the large tents. The attraction for a panel called "Shakespeare Mysteries" was the Shakespeare part. A First Folio had been residing in Tucson for the past month and there was a big Shakespeare theme at the festival, including a booth where you could put on a ruff and crown and take your selfie with Will. Among other accomplishments, these three authors had written mystery novels with Shakespeare as a character or based on his writings. As a historical fiction lover, I was salivating over their ideas and research process and was dying to buy their books. We did, and got them signed. Where else can you do that in such a gluttonously huge quantity?

Marja Mills speaks about her relationship with Harper Lee and her family. 

We started the second day at the Arizona Daily Star tent. We didn't know with what authority Marja Mills would be talking about Harper Lee, and we didn't count on the tent being so totally packed. It was silly of us. Of course everyone wants to know what Marja Mills thinks about Harper Lee: she lived next door to her and her sister for a year and a half! Marja wove a tale of a charming pair of brilliant sisters who could tell you stories for hours on end, and a town where everyone was in everyone's business. Most importantly to me, Marja believes Harper Lee wasn't in favor of the publication of Go Set a Watchman, but what's done is done.

The Arizona Center for Medieval and Renaissance Studies booth. Their imprint
Bagwyn Books is publishing my Seven Noble Knights on December 15! 

My mother has a moment with J. A. Jance. 

I think most bibliophiles would be satisfied with one of these events alone. But there's all this and so much more going on at the Tucson Festival of Books. Great local food, children's events, Science City, more bargain books than you can count, a literary circus, live music, a mariachi competition, and, and, and... This year, there was also the convenience of the First Folio being in the Arizona State Museum, which is walking distance from the festival. So we started with contemporary mysteries and ended with the Bard himself. No wonder it takes a week to recover.

See you in 2017!

Best Books of the Year and What's to Come in 2016

It's been a great year. I won a prize for flash fiction, got seriously started on my editing business, released Unpredictable Worlds and received some recognition for it, released Tree/House in audiobook, spent ten gorgeous and hard-earned days in Spain, took part in Launch Lab, made it safely to my new home, and had Seven Noble Knights accepted for publication, to name just a few of the best events.

I also read quite a few good books. Which were the best?

That's really not a fair question in the year when the grand finale of a trilogy I have passionately, unreasonably adored came out.

The Map of Chaos by Félix J. Palma

Which book is best is hardly fair in light of another fact: this one is the manifestation of a historical novel I hoped would materialize some day to dramatize the life of Queen Emma for this Anglo-Saxon enthusiast.

The Price of Blood by Patricia Bracewell

So there you have it, the best novels (in my humble opinion) of 2015. The best nonfiction book was undoubtedly La nación inventada by Arsenio and Ignacio Escolar. I enjoyed this book more than I expected to (which is saying a lot) and will probably tell you more about it in future posts.

The year 2016 will see the debut of my darling Seven Noble Knights, so many of my resolutions have something to do with getting it into the limelight as much as possible. I also plan to draft the sequel this year. You didn't know Seven Noble Knights was going to have a sequel? It's a pleasant surprise for all of us! For those of you waiting patiently for more of my unusual contemporary work, I've resolved to get Awash in Talent published this year. More on that soon, for sure. In my personal life and "day job," I've got a lot to do to make this latest move make sense. In the meantime, if you need an editor for your awesome novel, call on me.

Vague as they seem, these are my professional resolutions, leaving room for the surprises that always seem to crop up.

What are your plans for 2016? Happy new year!

A selection of some of the other best books of 2015:

Eleanor & Park by Rainbow Rowell

Along the Far Shores by Kristin Gleeson

Station Eleven by Emily St. John Mandel

Mermaids in Paradise  by Lydia Millet

Raven Brought the Light by Kristin Gleeson

Lucky Us by Amy Bloom

The Gracekeepers by Kirsty Logan

Love in Infant Monkeys by Lydia Millet

Retracing Our Steps

As you'll note in the video above, it sounds better in Spanish: Volveré sobre mis pasos. I'm going to retrace my steps. 

Since I'm in my beloved New England now, you might think the next step would be Pennsylvania, where my husband and I moved from Massachusetts in 2010 to accept a job. No, we're skipping that formality and heading straight to the unavoidable: Arizona. 

The first time we went to Arizona, there was little purposeful about it. It was a desperate move to keep us from insolvency and to help my bereaved sister-in-law. 

Looking back, we actually liked quite a bit about living there, even though while we were there, we never tired of dreaming of getting out. This time, our move to Arizona is full of purpose. I intend to reconnect with people I still know there and get some of that desert mojo that was so productive for my writing before. 

Connecting with people is the most important thing, not location. 

Other things to look forward to in Arizona:
Great Mexican food
The Tucson Festival of Books
Coyote and bobcat sightings
Springtime
Et cetera...

I discovered long ago that there are no guarantees, especially where location is concerned. But here's to intentionality.

We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring 
Will be to arrive where we started 
And know the place for the first time.         —T. S. Eliot

Six Years of Christmas

Having a full time job has made me into one of those people who just can't do it all. This blog has suffered most. I've worked hard on it for years and appreciate every single one of my readers, so my New Year's Resolution will have something to do with establishing a regular schedule here again.

Looking back on the year at this holiday time has brought to mind all the travels (and accompanying emotional ups and downs) my husband and I have done since we met. And so, enjoy photos that represent Christmas through the past six years.

2008

We had been living together in Massachusetts for half a year when Christmas 2008 rolled around, and it was a small apartment and so had only a tiny potted Christmas tree at home. But we had love, and my husband was determined to fulfill a promise he'd made sooner rather than later, so we also had Mickey! At Disneyworld! An unbelievable Christmas.

2009

Christmas 2009 was bare-bones. We had moved to Pennsylvania only days before. But at least we had love, and Saxophone Santa (still our favorite holiday toy). See Saxophone Santa in action here and with a friend here.

2010

The following year, we had placed our stuff in storage and moved in with my gracious sister-in-law in Arizona the previous month. It was the beginning of an explosively creative period in all aspects of my life, but I wasn't aware at the time. Holiday 2010 is represented by fake snow for the wondering Arizonans at the Winterhaven lights display.

2011

By 2011, we had moved to our own apartment in Arizona and both had interesting jobs, and I was writing like crazy. But we hadn't been able to get our stuff out of storage, so at home, we decorated a tree with candy canes and a beautiful compass rose ornament I received from an author who had already become a good friend. This year, we had even more fun at the Winterhaven display because we found this gorgeous Christmas rhino!

2012

We moved from Arizona to Georgia in 2012, but didn't make it to Christmas there. Instead, we went from the boiling pot of water that was summer in Georgia to the icebox winter of Illinois. This was the Christmas my husband realized that I own four giant tubs worth of Christmas decorations, enough to decorate our tree several times over. My mom got me started when I was a kid, and you can't throw away memories like that. I accomplished the amazing feat of finishing my first novel, Seven Noble Knights, in November 2012, and it's commemorated with the cake and the thumb drive, and the new ornament.

2013

Christmas 2013 was probably the most surprising of all, as my husband and I had been living in a hotel in North Carolina since May. We never expected to stay there for so many months, and yet again, our stuff was in storage. We got a little tinsel tree and set it on top of the dehumidifier I insisted on earlier in the year. Those North Carolina summers might be even wetter than the one in Georgia!

2014

And that brings us to this year! In the photo, our tree with a lot, but not all, of the ornaments from the four tubs, stands out in front of a medieval Christmas banner I picked up at a museum in New York City and stacks and piles of other memories. Note the Fight for Rhinos sustainably sourced wooden ornament, front and center.

Finally, this photo was taken on Thanksgiving Day, but the bare trees, the church tower, and roofs covered in snow scream Christmas.

Coming soon: a guest post from outstanding author Kristin Gleeson!

Happy Holidays!

The Flowering and Wilting of Writing Groups

Some of the best ladies in the world, my critique group.

We left our saga in Arizona, an epic place, to be sure. I was involved with that critique group in person the entire year and a half we were in Arizona and made it through about half of the first draft of Seven Noble Knights. The worst thing about leaving Arizona was the possibility that I would no longer be involved in the group. Luckily, these are some of the kindest, most generous people in the universe, and I've been allowed to Skype in every month since I left despite a key clause in our bylaws that specifies this as an in-person group.

Skype at its best can really give you a sense of personality. They added an in-person member when I departed, and I'm amazed to think I've never actually been in the same state with her, much less the same room. Based on that cyber-support, I finished Seven Noble Knights. What I most remember about living in Atlanta is writing the last chapter of Part I and the next several chapters getting away from me in length and complexity. Should I devote so much space to the migrating sheep? Which details of all the research I've done really develop the characters?

I tried to get into writers groups in Atlanta (the South is so wordy, it seems everyone writes!), but was daunted by two thoughts: Would I have to start over the critiquing of the entire novel? And I knew in my heart I was not in the right place and we would be leaving soon, so there was little point in investing as much effort as is necessary to find a group that really works.

The unnamed town where we lived in Illinois was a cultural wasteland that required a car to get anywhere, so the Arizona ladies were my only lifeline to the outside world. My most vivid memory of Illinois is scribbling the last few lines of Seven Noble Knights by hand because they wouldn't come while I stared at the screen. Oh, and completing it before the Mayan Apocalypse.

Then came North Carolina. You'll forgive me if I never felt settled in there, since we never lived anywhere but a hotel. I thought it might be the right place for us, and tried out a couple of critique groups, but while some of the writing was really enjoyable for me, barely one or two people ever seemed to understand what I was trying to do, whether it was historical or contemporary. Several months in, I saved myself the frustration by no longer attending. I had Skype to fall back on!

The reason I'm thinking about all this is that I'm now in a place I don't intend to leave within a year, so my best way to put down roots is to find a critique group. I have time to find one that works! I'm shopping around, but have already become a regular at one that meets every week.

Meanwhile, the writer the Arizona group added when I left has herself left, throwing all five of us into surprise and grief. She made her exit saying that the group wasn't giving her the regular discipline she needed. Not everyone has been able to submit writing on a regular basis, while she has been churning out the pages in an admirable fashion. I thought for a moment that this might mark the end of the Arizona group, and I was terribly sad, because it's become about much more than writing. It's a group of friends who all like to write and who support each other through many of the other things life throws at us.

Luckily, the remaining members agreed with that part. I'm still in transition, and deciding how to use all the wonderful local resources in order not to feel alone in this writing thing. But at least I haven't lost my best gals. Further critique groups may come and go, but Low Writers are forever.

The Evolution of Writing Groups

Most people, I think, realize that writing is a lonely business if you don't have some kind of support group, a magical few people who either read your writing willingly or understand what you're going through because they're writers, too — or, in the best of all possible worlds, both. When the support group does both those things, they're called a writing or critique group.

When I first decided to take fiction writing seriously, back when I lived in Cambridge, Massachusetts (sigh!) (I'm not quite back there, but I'm within commuting distance), the first thing I did was dig through my files to see what I had. The close second was to look at Meetup.com and find out whether there were any writers in the area willing to meet.

Of course, now there are plenty of groups to choose from all over New England, and they fill up and get waiting lists. Only five years ago, it was a different scene all together. I had to try running my own Meetup, and it was disastrous. The most I ever got was one other attendee. I didn't know exactly how it should work, so I have to give myself a break on that. How painful to wait in some café and feel like a sore thumb with a Meetup sign, only to be joined by someone who confrontationally wanted me to have a better handle on what the heck I was trying to do. (That was the worst time. The other times I tried were more low-key and vaguely disappointing.)

Then, the moving saga began. I married my husband in September, and in late December, we left Massachusetts during a snowstorm for the middle of nowhere northeastern Pennsylvania. It was so cold, overnight all the tires on our tow trailer deflated. And it got colder and more desolate from there.

I'm sure Pennsylvania is wonderful. Indeed, I love Philadelphia and the beauties of the mountains. But I was trapped in a mountain home, in utter isolation, with no possibility of even the half-hearted attempts at Meetups from before. I would write it off as eleven months of nothing, except that I was in PA when I began getting published in literary magazines and when I began this blog. Reaching out through cyberspace!

And then, Kismet. We moved, against our wishes, to Arizona, but I was determined to build or join a community. That place is chockablock with writers of every age and ilk! I started through Meetup again, and met the founder of Fireship Press, which led to my editing career. Then, another writers Meetup was such a behemoth that smaller groups began splintering off, and that's where I found the critique group I still Skype into today. You know it's working when people willingly add technology into the mix. The group has been a tremendous comfort to me through too many moves and oodles of rejections. What a relief!

Tune in on Wednesday, March 12, for the continuing saga of the writing group!

The New York Literary Scene

On a frigid (though less cold than it had been the past few days) night in the East Village (a place I'd never been before in my life despite a few jaunts to Manhattan), we approached a bar (which is not something my husband and I would normally do) that held the promise of a fine literary evening (which it delivered).

When my friend and (now long-distance) critique group co-founder Reneé Bibby mentioned that she would be in New York City doing a reading, I was still living in North Carolina, but I planned and hoped that I would be at least somewhat established in New England by January 26, the night the reading happened. And I was! My husband and I had to drive for a while and then take a train for quite a while, and as it turned out, we didn't get home until 2 a.m., but it was a small effort to attend such a momentous event.

I'm sure it's going to be far from one of a kind, however. Reneé is so talented, there will be many more publications and many more readings. This first one was in honor of the branch sites of the Writers Studio, an institution that promotes the craft of writing and produces award winners like so many snowflakes. Reneé teaches lucky students at the Tucson branch. (See an excerpt and a link to her first publication at her site.)

My husband and I were wearing all the layers of clothes we could manage to sit down in, and it was a good thing, because the KGB Bar is a little walk from a subway stop The breeze wasn't warm enough to have anything gentle about it, but we were aided by a new app called Street View, suggested by my brother, another talented writer. I had heard of this bar before, but would later learn why we were headed there: it's often the host to cozy, classy literary events. In the gloom of 6:30 pm, we found the KGB Bar by its neon lights and ascended the outer stairs.

From there, the only real choice was to follow the urging arrow up more stairs. Already I was put in mind of that percolating atmosphere I encountered at college readings and in many parts of Iowa City — a sort of shabby chic irony fueled by burgeoning creativity, posters, and peeling paint. The bar itself is smaller than my new apartment and crowded with tables and USSR paraphernalia, most importantly, perhaps, a statue of Leon Trotsky behind the bar. The walls are painted thickly red with black accents. Reneé was perceptive enough to compare it to being inside a heart.

After a happy reunion with Reneé, my husband and I sat with some of the many Tucson writers who showed up to support her. I knew some of them, so it was an unexpectedly comprehensive and fun blast from the past. I'm so impressed with the enthusiastic set of supporters Reneé has! Even when I gave readings in college I only ever had one or two people cheering and whooping, but here it seemed like 75% of the audience was there for one special person, and I know I was one of them.

Five people read at a podium with a circle of red Christmas lights behind them. It seemed as if Reneé was the only one tall enough to make a proper halo out of it. All the readings were stellar excerpts from each author's opus, but Reneé's story was the most achingly beautiful, the most painstakingly perfect. I know firsthand that every line had been labored over in draft after draft for about two years, and that effort of love resulted in something deceptively seamless, smooth, and surprising.

I'm definitely a city girl. That day, I felt energized and creative in spite of a draining journey that required three days to recover from. You just don't get that spark from anywhere but a good city. Or I don't, anyway. What a wonderful welcome back to the Northeast!

What I'm Leaving in Arizona

I said, "Take this child, Lord

From Tucson, Arizona,

Give her the wings to fly through harmony

And she won't bother you no more."

-- Paul Simon, "Under African Skies"

When I was growing up listening to Graceland, I never thought those Tucson lyrics would apply to me. But now they do.

Although we've been trying to move on since we got here a year and a half ago, I have established some roots in Arizona that I'll be sorry to leave behind. And, I never would have guessed it, but living in the desert has the following advantages:

1. Smooth, silky hair all year round!
2. You don't even have to close up a box of crackers or cereal, and it will remain crunchy and fresh for months. My husband and I ate some freshly popped popcorn on our housing-seeking trip to Georgia, and it seemed stale to us after eating desert popcorn for a year and a half.
3. Amazing and endearing flora and fauna you won't find anywhere else in the world.
4. The unspeakable awesomeness of the dinosaurs outside the McDonald's at the corner of Kolb, Grant, and Tanque Verde. I've eaten at McDonald's only twice in the last twenty years, and both times were to enjoy the Dinosaur Learning Center.

The disadvantages are numerous, but I won't dwell on them.

The most important thing I'm leaving here is an astonishing tendency toward Kismet that has furthered my writing and publishing in ways no other place has, as well as vastly improving my offline social life. More specifically, I'm leaving behind that rarest of all beasts, a writing group that is supportive, useful, fun, and actually keeps meeting. Founded by Reneé Bibby (center in the picture) and co-managed by me (in the polka dots), the Low Writers have been going strong since before we drew up guidelines in March 2011.

Remember these faces: we'll all be famous some day!

Each member brings a different talent to bear on their critiques, making for a highly creative variety of perspectives. Their acceptance and good humor have made writing into something much better than the lonely pounding at the keyboard. The members have been so kind as to request that I keep sending them chapters of my work in progress, The Seven Noble Knights of Lara, and at these heights, I don't see how I can turn them down. I will miss you gals! Thanks so much for everything!

It's a Go! Part Two!

I wouldn't have dared to write it, for fear it would seem too hackneyed and unlikely. We were driving through the wilds of New Mexico, almost back to our Tucson home with all our worldly possessions in a 14-foot U-Haul truck, when my husband's boss called. Yes, my husband answered the phone while he was driving, tsk tsk. I took out my left earbud and heard the most outlandish things:

"How many seats will it be?"

"How many people would report directly to me?"

These are the kinds of things I overhear when my husband has a phone interview. So after a good ten or twenty minutes of suspense, he said the most telltale thing of all, "Let me talk it over with my wife," and hung up.

I said, "What? What?"

He said, "Todd started out by saying, 'This may be an inopportune moment, since you must be almost back to Tucson with all your earthly possessions, but we've just won the contract for Atlanta. If you want the job, you can have it.'"

My husband hates Arizona with a passion, so it was pretty much foregone that we would take it. We've been trying to get out of here ever since we set foot here against our will. It was another full week of back and forth negotiation and confirmation, and now we're supposed to be moved in by the first week of June. We'll miss "monsoon" and the worst of the desert summer heat, only to dive into the dripping wet heat I understand occurs in Atlanta. But oh, Atlanta has seasons. It's everything we've been looking for! I've lived in all the other US regions except the Southeast, so it's overdue.

But more on that some other day.  Now is the time to say, "Isn't it NUTS that we're leaving only now that we went to get our stuff in storage?" I admit I had an inkling that it would happen in a way similar to this, but I would not have predicted that we would still be in the U-Haul when we got the call! Astounding.

Storage Stories

Hey, it smells like books in here!

The picture shows the back of our UHaul as it appeared before we drove it away from Pennsylvania. Chock full of good stuff. We had left it at the self-storage facility for about a year and a half, which was a lot longer than we'd hoped for and certainly longer than I've been separated from my personal library and ancient furniture, ever. How strange do I feel now that it's all in the same place as me? Did the past 18 months really happen? All that psychological strain, did it amount to anything?

Before we left, my husband had time to mention the TV show Storage Wars to the manager as an element in his unique sense of humor. It wasn't so funny when it got real and the manager replied that they'd been lucky and hadn't had an auction there in three years. There but for the grace of God...

A year and half isn't so terribly long, I suppose. A coworker of mine says she once had stuff in storage for three years! I have to doubt that she cared for the items left behind as much as I have cared for mine. To anyone else, it might look like junk, but as I've said before, my stuff is imbued with the story of my life. It hasn't been a bad life by any stretch, but it is a life meant to go on short trips while maintaining a completely furnished home base. My husband and I now hope that we can stay put. The great wandering needs to come to an end.

While we were on the road, I was reminded that wandering is an important part of my family history. When we visited for the day, my grandmother talked about how she took her husband, kids, and just the clothes on their backs and headed from Oklahoma to California in the 1950's, selling off or abandoning what few other possessions they had. California was a truly fresh start.

Now that I have all this stuff, of course it occurs to me that if/when we move again, it could be time to make a radical fresh start like that. But then I remember how Grandma ended her tale. "That was really dumb," she said. They should have at least brought a chair to sit on at their destination. Thanks, Grandma!

Fireship Press's Origins

My story has been published in North Tucson Living today! Enjoy!

It's a Go!

In the face of all the stresses my husband and I currently deal with in our lives, we decided we didn't need one of them to be the continued separation from most of our earthly possessions and physical comfort. When we came to Arizona lo these many months ago, we only took the barest essentials, and accepted donations and bought incredibly cheap items to fill in the gaps. We left most of the trappings of civilization in storage in Pennsylvania, and we've finally committed to plane tickets back there to pick up a U-Haul full of the wonders of a previous life that now seems very long ago indeed.

I've written about being parted from my stuff on this blog. I've also written posts about the absurdities we've had to endure as concerns television and the fact that we've been more or less sleeping on the floor since we got our own apartment. Though I've told Arizonans that most of our stuff is in Pennsylvania, no one is able to comprehend what that really means. For example, the citrus crop has been pretty dismal this year, but someone told me the oranges and tangerines are still good for juicing! Not for us. Our juicer is in Pennsylvania. Or, when I had the flu, I was told to relax on my couch and watch a DVD. I'm incredibly lucky to have a couch at all, but since we left our DVD player in PA, I can only watch DVD's on my computer at the work desk, hardly an area for relaxation. We haven't cooked properly for a year and half for lack of kitchen tools and all the reading I do would be incredibly enhanced by any one of a few chairs we have over there with actual cushioning. I know I'm a lot better off than most of the humans on this planet, but these slight discomforts can add up to one enormous annoyance.

It won't be easy to drive almost all the way across the country in a reasonable amount of time with gas prices what they are, and then fit everything into our small apartment. But it's going to a lot better than paying to keep it locked up 2,500 miles away! And of course I'm thrilled to be reunited with my books -- no more excuse not to look up some factoid I've read before! -- with our juicer, and oh, dear God, with our actual comfortable bed. 

So the gist of this is that I will be blogging quite a bit less in April and won't be able to participate in Six Sentence Sunday. We don't own any devices such that I could blog while in the truck, and by the time we get to an internet connection, I'll be occupied with getting a good night's sleep and planning the next day's route.

By the time I'm back here, I'll be an actual normal person with all the assumed pieces of furniture in my home. Possibly in great big piles I have to dodge around, but in my home. It's almost too wonderful to be true! 

More from the Tucson Festival of Books

Last year, my first in Arizona, I was terribly nervous about participating in the Tucson Festival of Books because I'm shy, and not having a clear idea of what exactly is going to happen is the most disturbing part of any experience in which I interact with people. This year, I undeniably had some of the same nerves, but not to the same degree. I knew it was going to be fun, possibly the best experience of the year, and also my dear husband decided to come and hang out with me for an hour or so before my volunteer shift started. He doesn't comprehend social anxiety, so it's hard to experience it while he's telling me it simply doesn't exist! He was very proud of me when he witnessed my first volunteer interactions, which involved directing some festival-goers to a place I was very familiar with.

My described duties as a volunteer included escorting an author to the place where she was giving her talk and then to her book signing. I was fortunate to escort Bonnie Marson, author of Sleeping with Schubert, a delightful book about the genius in all of us. She gave an inspiring talk about the joys of writing fiction, in the process telling us that her popular novel is only the second thing she's ever written and that when she was sitting with her New York editor, she could hardly believe it was really happening. The book is soon to be made into a movie, so the stars have really aligned for Marson, but I think she fully appreciates her luck. This story had been in a drawer for years because she didn't think she could tell it within the space of a short story. She finally began to work on it again when a friend told her, "Just write it until it's finished." What a wonderful way to think of taking a big project one step at a time.

Setting up the booth.

The publisher I work for, Fireship Press, got a really sweet booth on a corner and near the culinary tent. Most festival-goers were surprised to see that we are local and amazed by the breadth of subjects we've published books on. We did attract quite a few comments in pirate-speak. It would take me a few more days to really settle into a retail environment, but I was able to sell a discounted copy of Geronimo's autobiography to an interested customer. I was thrilled to sell a couple of copies of Tree/House and one of Dusk Before Dawn. Unfortunately, I was always away when those sales happened. One customer came in and showed interest in Tree/House when I was there, but I think my presence was too much pressure or something. I gave away quite a few of the cards I posted on Monday and a few bookmarks, and it felt exciting and nerve-wracking every time. I hope to reach a few more readers I wouldn't have otherwise.

My big star-struck moment came when I snuck off to see Lydia Millet's presentation. I purchased her latest novel, Ghost Lights, before the event and I'm thrilled to see it's a continuation of the story she began in How The Dead Dream. In that book, the writing is so good, and the events so devastating, that I wasn't surprised that the title of her panel was "Heartbreaking Journeys." The other author on the panel was Naomi Bernaron, who's written Running the Rift, a novel about the genocide in Rwanda. The moderator wanted both authors to talk about social justice, but, as Millet pointed out, her protagonist in How The Dead Dream is the causer of social injustice, if anything. It started out a little unevenly, but once the audience got to ask questions, both authors were equally fascinating as they spoke about their craft in self-deprecating terms such as "I'm a liar," and "I'm lazy." Millet considers herself lazy because writing is such a pleasure to her, it's not really work to pound away at the keyboard for hours a day. I feel the same! I was also astonished to find out that Millet lives in Arizona. So I took away those similarities between her and me, coincidental as they are, and felt exhilarated by them. An audience member asked Millet whether she felt bad about doing such terrible things to her characters. She responded in the negative because not only are the characters not real people, but conflict is also necessary to storytelling. I'm keeping both of those points in mind as I continue with my Seven Noble Knights of Lara, in which unspeakably awful things happen in the name of revenge.

I also got to see some writers pals of mine from The Writer's Studio and my writers' group. Other highlights from the festival included the literary circus and numerous musical events, Lil Orbits donuts, and overhearing a kid telling his mom, "I didn't know books could be so much fun!" And that's what it's all about, folks. Sure, it's exhilarating to be in the presence of so many books and so many (more than 100,000) people who love books, but getting the word out that reading is fun is the most important mission of the festival. Any profits that come from the festival go back into literacy programs in the Tucson area. So much fun for such a good cause!

Gepetto operates on Pinocchio to turn him into a real boy at the Literary Circus.

The Tucson Festival of Books

What an exhausting and wonderful weekend it was! Perhaps you saw some of the proceedings on C-SPAN's Book TV this weekend? While those sessions are always informative and often fascinating, they don't really give a good idea of the festival as a whole.

I volunteered as an author escort on Saturday and helped out at the Fireship booth on Sunday. In the first capacity, I got to meet Bonnie Marson, enchanting author of a book soon to come out as a movie, Sleeping with Schubert. I sold a few books of my own at  the Fireship booth, and had a starstruck moment with author Lydia Millet, whose most recent book is Ghost Lights and who, it turns out, lives locally. Who knew!?

I hope to say much more about this, the greatest event in all of Arizona, by Friday. Work has really piled up for me, so wish me luck.

I gave out these cards at the festival. What do you think?

Front side

Back side

SSS: Desire for the Enemy

It's a big Sunday!

Daylight Savings is taking place all over the world -- but not where I live, this crazy land, Arizona. (We really don't have any use for it, I understand now, the second time I've gone through this process here.)

The Tucson Festival of Books is in its second day! Come one, come all! Don't miss it! I'll be sure to blog about it as soon as I recover.

And of course, it's Six Sentence Sunday! Thanks for stopping by. These lines don't follow on directly after last week's. In the interim, we've discovered that the husbands are going to survey the lands with the Count, leaving Sancha and Lambra to fend for themselves. Together, the aunt, the sister-in-law, and the nephews go to the inn to get some breakfast.

* * * 

The innkeeper and his wife served day-old white bread, olive oil, and wine they poured out of a skin into two wooden goblets. Lambra took a sip and set her goblet down, only for Gonzalo González to reach across her for it, thoroughly bumping his tempered steel arm against hers.

“Excuse me, Aunt.”

           How had he managed to sit down by her? Doña Lambra closed her eyes to shut out the anger, but in the dark she saw herself naked, in the bridal tent, alone. Who was coming through the door to quench her desire? 

* * *

Hmm. I fear I may be giving away a bit too much about Lambra's mental state here... I really appreciate all your comments. Due to the Book Festival, I probably won't get to visit any sites today, but I'll visit you all at the crack of dawn on Monday. All the great sentences are at SixSunday.com.

Arizona Centennial Celebration XIII

Did anyone else doubt I could come up with enough pretty pictures to celebrate Arizona all month? This picture makes it easy to show the amazing history and harsh beauty of the place.

Tumacácori Mission, near Tubac, AZ

Happy 100 years, Arizona. I've now lived here longer than I lived in Pennsylvania, and even longer than I lived in England. A Tucsonan colleague of mine says "This place is a black hole. It's easy to get in, but you can't get out." Only time will tell where my husband and I will end up.

Happy Leap Day!