Tag: Winter; Cricket and Grey

In My Hands

pretty coverI can’t stop smiling right now.  You can’t see it because I just got it and haven’t photographed it yet, but I not only got the paperback edition of my book in the mail this weekend (as seen above), I also have the hardback in my hands.  This book represents 4 years of work.  Two for the writing and one for the rejected submissions to agents and this last one for Philip to edit and prepare all the files, Sharon to paint the cover, endless hours of research into the best self-publishing platform to use, and then Philip (again) laying the whole thing out.

I’m going to share something surprising with you.  I think I’m more proud of this book having self published it than I would be if a big publisher had taken it on.  I’m not saying I wouldn’t be superlatively thrilled to have had it taken on in the traditional way, but this is how I usually do things best – on my own.

(Except for the selling part.  fuuuuuuuuck.  I’m going to have to promote this book like my soul is on fire.)

If I had gone through a traditional publisher I wouldn’t have been able to have my friend Sharon paint the cover.  Authors don’t actually get to have a lot of say in their book cover design.  I can’t imagine my book having any other cover than the one Sharon Painted for it.  My dear and incredible artist friend of 23 years.

ma book in motion

Shut up.  You might have prettier thumbs than me but your toes are probably squat and foetid.

This is my book.  It’s not for everyone but I think it’s for a lot of people.  You definitely want to get to know Cricket and Grey.

I think you should know that I’m listening to “Only You” by Yaz because I haven’t been able to stop listening to it since hearing it during my Fringe-Binge.  This is adding to my happiness factor.

chapter four

I can smell figs splitting in the heat while sitting on our old wrap-around porch in Ashland Oregon reading books all summer in the moldy wicker chairs.  Those were the most delicious moments of my summers as a kid.  I did a lot of running around with friends, down in Lithia park and at friends’ houses, but my favorite thing was to read around the corner from the front door smelling the ripening figs and getting lost in books.

I don’t even like fresh figs.

And all of you old-time readers of my blog have helped me get here to this place.  You helped me navigate through hell and back, you encouraged me and held me up through such dark times.  Knowing you were there was sometimes what got me through the day, that I wasn’t shouting into an empty universe was such a buoy.  You listened to my every twisted thought, deviation of character, and told me my insecurities were bullshit.  You listened to me freak out about Safeway COUPONS and how they’re the fucking devil and I’d (apparently) rather starve to death than wrestle competing coupons for a living.

Thank you.

I want to list all the names of the people I know have been reading and supporting me but then that would sound like an Oscar speech and that’s not becoming to a completely unknown author.

But listen up: I believe my series will become a movie some day and I’m already designing the outfit I’m going to wear to the premier.  If you can imagine something you create a path to achievement.  My friend Sean Bonner said it best:

“It’s a mental scaffold”

Those of you who know me well must know that I’m already feeling spooked expressing such happiness and hope – what flying bricks of shit am I unleashing by allowing myself to feel so much confidence?

I’m going to shut up now.  Before I spoil the magic moment.

I want to give all of you this feeling for yourselves if you don’t already have it.

**Shhhhhhh**

All of you.  Seriously, I’m not drunk, I’m just feeling a whole lot of love and gratitude tonight.  It will pass.  But before it does I think you need to understand how much your support has meant to me over the years.  When I was wishing I could go to sleep and wake up just before it’s time to die – you all made me get up and keep looking for the light.  When I was excited about things I was doing, I couldn’t wait to tell you.  When I was brutally honest you all gave me a net to catch my terrified spirit and then you thanked me for being raw.  When you told me something I shared hit you in the solar plexus, it gave me purpose and made me feel connected in all the ways that matter.  When you told me I was your lifeline I felt honored and useful on a molecular level.  So now I’m going to say your names real quiet-like.  I might be missing a few and if I am I’m going to feel dreadful when I realize it.  You know who you are, I think, but I need to say your names tonight.  I might never end up amounting to much in the world at large, but you all have amounted to a lot in my life:

(Taj, Jay, Emma, Robin, John, Jin, Pam, Melissa, Laura, Laurie, Angela, Diane, Lonnie, Jen, Aimee, Sarah, Tonia, Kathy, Riana, Nicole, Lucy, Skye, Ann, Renee, Alice, my other Sarah, Erin, Tarrant, Denise, Nicole, Kelly, Amy, Jess, and Monica.)

Winter; Cricket and Grey: buy your e-book version today!

CandGcover-EUPHEMIA

Before I say anything else I need to say that my friend Sharon Eisley painted this cover for my book and it is everything I imagined and hoped it would be.  She’s an incredible painter whose work I’ve seen evolve over the last 20 years.  Please check out her other work at her website Sharon Eisley.

You can buy my book now in e-book formats at Smashwords:

Winter; Cricket and Grey

I started writing this book in 2009.  4 years, 6 complete edits plus a thousand minor edits, and a book cover later and here it is!  It’s not at all like giving birth, in case that analogy came into your mind.  It’s exactly like spending an obsessive amount of time shutting the rest of the world out in order to hear and write a story that was waiting to be told, that was living in the alternate universe that all fiction comes from.

Philip has directed me to write a kick-ass post about my book.  No pressure or anything.  This is the first day of my life as an official author and the hour is dead.  It’s 12:55am and everyone is asleep.

I want to be Cricket Winters.  It is a well documented fact that authors always write characters who embody themselves – that somehow reflect a part of who they are whether it is invisible to the naked eye or well known.  But I am nothing like Cricket.  She’s the person I am too anxious to be, the person who will get in a fist fight to defend an underdog in a brawl.  She’s the person who will say exactly what she’s thinking no matter what price she has to pay.  She isn’t infallible, nor is she impossibly flawed.  She’s as real as we are.

Why I loved writing Cricket: small boobs, freckles, red hair, fistfights, loves good catgut, honesty, fearless, fleet.

Why I loved writing Grey: loyal, gives dead grouse like wildflower bouquet, loves good catgut, fearless, honest, doesn’t have perfect teeth.

At the core of this story is the question of what we’ll do for medical supplies when they are no longer readily available to us, what would we all be willing to do to get Ibuprofin and to get cancer treatments and what if it was just as hard to get either?

I’m lying.  The core of this story is the fact that every family has its own lore, its own lies, and we all have to figure out where we belong in the quagmire of our own family shit.  What would you do if you found out your parents were both living double lives?

Would you let yourself be wrapped up in bandages you knew someone had to die for?