Big Chaos, Little Package

I was all set to write about entropy today, but the subject suddenly feels rather depressing to me. Entropy isn't much fun at all, is it? Entropy is creeping chaos. Ew. I prefer my chaos to be more straightforward than that!

So, meet Scout.

Scout is a ten week-old black and tan rat terrier mix adopted from a shopping cart at a local grocery store. We didn't know we were going to bring home a puppy on Sunday, but there he was. There were apparently seven puppies in the litter. All but Scout and one of his brothers had been given away by the time we got there. And I must say that the five that went first must have been extraordinarily cute, because, as you can see, Scout was hardly homely!

Rat terriers grow to be between ten and twenty-three pounds. But since Scout's a mix--and we don't know what he's mixed with--we have no idea how large he'll be. He's a bit bow-legged, front and back, and stands a lot like a boxer. And he has a whip-like tail that others would probably bob, but we will not. His tiny needle teeth are sharp, but he's none to fierce, though he has a pert little bark when he's attacking his red rubber toy.

Suddenly we find ourselves on constant potty patrol. But the rugs are all rolled up, so we're prepared. The hardest part about having him around is his propensity for being underfoot. We're all afraid of stepping on him! He's also turned our three year-old lab, Hrothgar, into a kind of elder statesman. Or Hrothgar would be, if elder statesmen couldn't help but obsessively lick people on the face, the hands, the feet.

I didn't know how strong my desire for chaos was until I heard myself tell the kids, "Sure, we can take him home as long as Daddy says it's okay." We're just winding up a three-month remodeling project, I'm editing CALLING MR. LONELY HEARTS, starting the next novel and I have lots of other writing projects and appearances on the horizon.

But a writer doesn't just pull words out of chaos and manipulate them. Writing comes from life. I've never understood writers who are able to write and write and not have much contact with the visceral. Certainly we draw deeply on our past, our childhoods. But how can we imbue our characters with life if we're not living it?

Ah, living it I am. And right now it's curled against my back, its damp nose resting on its paws, sighing mightily. I'm kind of afraid to move because, when I do, I'm going to have to take it outside. Again.


While I'm away, here's a link to an interview with my husband, Pinckney, who talks a bit about The World, the Flesh, and the Devil, a story he's just published in Image Magazine. He has some rather revealing things to say about our darling Hrothgar....

Catching Up With CJ Lyons

CJ Lyons is one very busy thriller-writer chick. Her cross-genre novel (thriller, medical suspense, steamy romance) LIFELINES debuted back in early March, and she's been in constant motion ever since. Once upon a time she was a pediatric ER doc. Now, she spends her time writing, traveling, teaching other folks how to write and being one of the nicest people on the planet. When I first met her in the lobby of the Grand Hyatt in NYC at Thrillerfest (2007) she was literally dashing through the lobby on the way to her next speaking engagement!


Serendipity, Kismet, and All that Jazz…by CJ Lyons

Thanks, Laura for inviting me to come join the fun here on Handbasket! I just got home after visiting 13 cities in 8 weeks to launch my debut novel, LIFELINES, so if I seem a little random and wandering, it's not your imagination, lol!

My little tour seemed to have a life and a theme of it's own: "fortuitous" was the word I found myself using most often.

The fact that I'd been asked to speak at several major meetings this spring and teach workshops at others and that all this paid-for-by-others travel coincided with the release of LIFELINES was the first piece of fortune. (And no, publishers rarely pay for book tours for anyone these days, much less a debut author—it all comes out of our pocket unless you've been lucky enough to be an invited speaker)

Then, Berkley moved LIFELINES' release up a month to March and I was able to launch at Left Coast Crime in Denver with so many of my friends—and how convenient that Left Coast Crime wasn't on any coast this year, but in the middle of the mountains!

Add to that an unexpected invitation to the VA Festival of the Book (a most totally awesome week-long celebration of books and reading in Charlottesville, VA) and I was starting to get goose-bumps…what would happen next?

Nothing much, except little things like a schedule mix-up leading to my first ever signing being with the wonderful and delightful (I'll let you decide which is which) Rhys Bowen and Steve Hockensmith; being in the right place at the wrong time and thus giving several TV and other media interviews; helping the marvelous and most generous Heather Graham and her band of Slushpile Players perform for the kids at Children's Hospital of Pittsburgh, my own alma mater….not to mention the huge coincidence that RT Book Convention was in Pittsburgh this year where LIFELINES is set!!!

The list goes on and on and on….like my aunt needing surgery in Pittsburgh (she's not from Pittsburgh) the same week as RT, so I could commute from the conference to the ICU at Presby to see her (she's doing fine, thanks so much to all the kind thoughts everyone at RT sent!); or the fact that while I was rushing from hospital to hotel and back again, every time I needed transportation either a bus or taxi (unheard of in Pittsburgh) would miraculously appear…..

Wait, it gets better! My second book (revisions done while on the road promoting the first, yikes!) is also set in Pittsburgh and had a scene involving the River Rescue guys. So, on the final day of RT, I hop off a bus from the hospital, and am walking back to the hotel when who do I meet but Hank Phillippi Ryan (more on Hank in a sec) and she wants to go for a walk.

We head over the Clemente Bridge to the river walk only to find the River Rescue guys out with their boat—Hank brazenly talks our way on board and voila! These guys spent an hour with us, answering all my questions, taking me on the boat, and just being the nicest, most fun research ever!!!


Then Hank and I meet up again the next week at Malice Domestic. And how is she rewarded for her random act of kindness? She wins a freaking Agatha!!!! How's that for Karma? Yeah!!

Well, that only scratches the surface of the Wonderful Mystery Tour for LIFELINES, but I think you can see that official book tour or not, there's just nothing like throwing yourself out into the universe and seeing who or what catches you….trust me, it's all good!

Thanks for reading!
CJ

No, Not That Cinderella

Cinderella is my new favorite horror movie. Scary as all get-out, yet oddly beautiful. The actors are visually perfect, and completely committed to the story so that even when the film dips into the occasional horror-film cliche, it works. It's a riff on the 1960 Georges Franju film, Les Yeux Sans Visage (Eyes Without a Face). Now that I think about it, they would be the perfect Saturday night double feature. Boo!

Big News. I Mean Really Big News!

I received some amazing news a couple of weeks ago and have been dying to share it. Now I can!

I've been invited to the 29th annual Kentucky Women's Writers Conference in Lexington. It happens in September and I'll be teaching a workshop, which I always enjoy. But the really exciting news is that I'll be doing a reading with Joyce Carol Oates!

Joyce has chosen me to appear with her at the conference's Hardwick/Jones reading, a reading that, according to the press release, "honors the roles of influence, mentoring and friendship in women writers’ lives." We'll be conversing onstage--or at least she will be conversing. I'll be the one looking stunned! Joyce has a brilliant mind and I could listen to her talk for hours.

The invitation is such a blessing, and an honor. I still can't believe it. If you'll be anywhere near the University of Kentucky on September 12th, I hope you'll come to see us. Really, if you haven't heard Joyce speak, you don't want to miss it!

In other news--Kelli Stanley tagged me. Since I just did one here last week, I thought I'd answer directly on her blog. I love hanging out there. She always has incredible stories to tell.

Also, did I mention that I'm the volunteer maven for Thrillerfest 2008? If you don't know about this remarkable gathering of thriller writers and their fans, you should! I'll have more details next blog.

The Mess Behind the Meme

So, I've been meme'd. And because the adorable Sophie Littlefield asked, I cannot say no.

While I've had a myspace blog for well over a year and this one for a while, I'm still not clear on the rules of these things. Do I have to continue the same meme? Can I change it? What happens if I cheat?

Here's the one Sophie sent me:

1. Pick up the nearest book.
2. Open to page 123
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the next three sentences.
5. Tag five people, and acknowledge who tagged you.

This one was harder than it looked for me. I won't even describe the state of my desk. Actually, here's a picture of it.

Ask anyone who knows me--my shame threshold is pretty high and there are many things about myself I don't hesitate to share. (I hear, "TMI, Mom" a lot!) Even when the rest of my house is spotless (uh, not very often), I indulge in desk-messiness. I just can't help it. I am known for covering horizontal surfaces with things--lots of things.

At first, when I looked around, I saw no books. Then I realized that just under my son's George Washington essay and the teabag package sat the last draft of CALLING MR. LONELY HEARTS, my next novel. But, really, that seemed a little blatant to me, a little too self-serving. Plus, it's not technically a book yet. So, I looked further and saw the copies of LIFELINES and NO ONE HEARD HER SCREAM, books by my friends CJ Lyons and Jordan Dane. They were still in an open Amazon box, ready for delivery to my favorite dental hygienist, Tracy, who is going to the Bahamas next week. LIFELINES was on top--so LIFELINES it would be.

Then I noticed the red case just beside my computer. You can see it there in the picture with its little brass closure. It's my travel Bible. Why is it on my desk? I should probably say that I keep it there for inspiration and guidance--but it's really there because Pomegranate borrowed it to take to Europe and dropped it on my desk to return it. (Geo. Washington essay, borrowed books on my desk. I'm seeing a pattern here. No wonder my desk is a mess!)

Page 123 happens to be in Leviticus, Chapter 25, in which God is handing down some serious rules beyond the ten commandments.

'And if you say, "What shall we eat in the seventh year, since we shall not sow, nor gather in our produce?" Then I will command My blessings on you in the sixth year, and it will bring forth enough produce for three years. And you shall sow in the eighth year, and eat old produce until the ninth year; until its produce comes in, you shall eat of the old harvest.'

How strangely appropriate given that many folks are celebrating Passover this week, and people have begun to hoard rice. I'm just glad God wasn't telling Moses to keep his desk clean, because that really would have spooked me.

So I'm supposed to tag five people now. But I'm feeling lazy and hurried, so I'll only annoy three! Margy, Jen, Joe Frick--you're up! (Because I know they'll come up with something way more interesting than just what's on page 123!)

How Did I Miss This, and What Must Charlie Rose Think?

So, what's up with the spider?

I was looking for images from Bowling Green, Kentucky as I spent some time there this weekend for the Southern Kentucky Bookfest. Horses in pictures of Kentucky are so overdone--and Bowling Green is stunning and rural, but not particularly horsey. While searching the Internet for something appropriate, I came upon Steven S.Kirtley's photos. Gorgeous stuff! His insect photos seemed particularly appropriate given the full onset of spring and the imminent arrival of the orb spiders that haunt my front porch all summer.

I made lots of new friends at the Bookfest and encouraged everyone who purchased ISABELLA MOON (thank you!) to email me and let me know what they think of it. And I was delighted that Bookfest took a big chance and let in several more of us unsavory mystery and thriller-writer types. I finally got the chance to meet Harlan Coben, as well as the ubiquitous Con Lehane. Fellow newbie, the talented Will Lavender was promoting his debut novel, OBEDIENCE. And the always fun JT Ellison and were in the row just behind me and my table-mate, Kentucky native Janna McMahan. I also became acquainted with yummy Lorna Landvik, who came all the way from Minnesota, and better acquainted with Leatha Kendrick, whom I first met at the Appalachian Writers Workshop almost twenty years ago! (That's also where I met my husband, Pinckney, so it's quite dear to my heart. We'll both be teaching at the annual workshop held at The Hindman Settlement School in the summer of '09.)

Now, here's a shiny object that caught my attention this morning. (It was posted on YouTube in March. Practically ancient history!) I can't believe I'm posting it, but if, like me, you are a cowardly Philistine for whom the phrase, "Let's go see a Samuel Beckett play," makes you want to twist a fork in your eye, this will give you a fit! (By way of the folks at The Very Short List.)

May I Suggest....

In another part of my life, I review books. I don’t get to choose the books I review and occasionally don’t like them very much. But since The Handbasket is my personal playground, I feel free to say whatever the heck I want—particularly about books I do like!

Months ago, my friend the U. K. publisher Jen Hamilton-Emery sent me a book of stories, BROKEN THINGS, by Padrika Tarrant, one of Jen’s Salt Books authors. From the first sentence of the first story, Darling, I was swept into Tarrant’s bizarre, surreal world:

“Until today, I always pushed a pram, just in case I find a baby.”

The reader knows immediately that something is not quite usual, here. This is no tidy domestic drama. In fact, it’s a story about a woman who adopts a dead dog out of the gutter.

These are small stories, miniatures of feeling and experience like the short, animated films by Tarrant’s hero, Jan Svankmajer (Alice, Faust). They are portraits: of the woman who believes a weeping seagull is taunting her, of the exasperated man from the housing council who is about to evict another woman from her home and is blown up at the end, of Lorna, “the last of the wise women: a mid wife to feral cats, and neck-wringer of injured things.” So many of the stories are written in first-person and speak with a single, vibrant, disturbed voice.

Tarrant’s stories are images trapped and corralled, temporarily, and put on brief display before they slip off of the page and back into the wilds from which they came. Technically, though, they are not so much stories as vignettes—the aforementioned portraits. Seldom do they strive for transformation, and at times I felt cheated when the words ended. I felt like the stories were ended before they were fully told. But, brief as they are, they are unique in the world. Each one is a like a baroque pearl--never perfect (what would perfect be, and would we want it?) but having a rough, glowing beauty that deserves to be noticed.

Another Jen, Jen Jordan, is the brains behind EXPLETIVE DELETED. If your mom is the coolest, least shockable, saltiest mom on the planet, this is the book for her!


As I read this star-studded anthology, I found myself smirking at least once, laughing out loud a number of times and, yes, skipping the occasional paragraph because I’m kind of a chicken.

The expletive in question is the F-word, of course. The stories are unflinching tributes to all that is murderously vulgar and defy the simple “crime” label. Standouts include the freaky-brilliant Oleg Steinhauer’s story Hungarian Lessons, and Anthony Neil Smith’s Find Me, which reads like Robert Olen Butler and Harry Crews got together to write the most sensitive porno film ever, and Ruth Jordan’s Little Blue Pill, which makes me proud to be a girl. Then there’s Laura Lippman and Charlie Huston who just can’t write a bad sentence. (If you haven’t read WHAT THE DEAD KNOW and THE SHOTGUN RULE, go and order them right now!) Ken Bruen and Delphine Lecompte both use voice to advantage to tell two very brutal tales. And Sarah Weinman shows that she owns creepy in Lookout, which puts a child in the picture in a most disturbing way. Really, the overall quality of all of the stories is consistently high. Also nasty—but in a good way.

F*%$ is such a versatile word. It can be expressed physically or emotionally, with affection or anger or viciousness. How interesting that Jordan has found commonality in all these stories. I think it’s the brutal nature of the word that expresses itself most vocally here. One would think that the sheer collecting of the word all in one place would do one of two things: either take the teeth out of it or overwhelm the reader with its presence.

I do find EXPLETIVE DELETED a smidge overwhelming. There’s an intensity of experience here that makes it a book to be read in small doses—to be savored as it were. (Then again, you might be ready to go all night! I'm sorry, I just couldn't leave that line alone.) But what I find most appealing, aside from the stories themselves, is the sheer audacity of the collection, the unbridled, uninhibited joy of it. Very in one’s (slightly reddened, smirking) face.