Posts Tagged ‘events’

I do a lot of events, and most of said events usually include a question and answer session at which I am asked a question something like this:

What do you think of Twilight/Harry Potter/vampire books/fanfic/The Downfall of Literature?

I get the feeling most people expect me to launch into some kind of tirade about how they suck and are diminishing the grand world of books for one and all, but they are bound to be disappointed.

You see, I’m what you could call a catholic or voracious reader, a person who will peruse the shampoo bottle or the Penny Saver as long as it’s covered in words.

Somewhere along the line, I got hooked on reading.  Not just by Dickens, Alcott, Wilder and Brontë, but by the lesser goddesses of literature…V.C. Andrews, Francine Pascal, and Ann M. Martin, to name a few.

I don’t have any problem with books that get people hooked on other books.  In fact, I would rather someone read 29,252 Sweet Valley High SuperSpecials (if only!) or Dollenganger monstrosities or Twilight/Miley Cyrus crossover fan fic and never encountered a word of Austen or Colette than never learned to love reading at all.

Books can be gateway drugs, my friends.  I saw my brothers become voracious readers thanks to a nerdy magician named Harry.  I watched my English as a second language, indifferent-to-books-on-a-good-day mentee get reeled into the wide world of YA by issue novels of questionable quality.  After all, who am I to tell someone what they can or can’t enjoy?

My own reading habits are not always high-brow or impressive…in fact, I could (and probably should) write a whole blog post about my love/hate relationship with women’s magazines.  I’m never going to apologize for loving me some series romance, fan fiction, or celebrity memoir.  And neither should you.

Ever feel curious about the oh-so-prolific painter of the fabled Sweet Valley High covers?  Here’s a great pic of Jimmy at work via The Dairi Burger. Is it wrong that I really want to commission a piece of SVH-style art from him? 

One of the motivations behind The Heroine’s Bookshelf was to remind readers (and myself) that we are protagonists of our own lives.  Call me egotistical, but I don’t see any reason why we can’t see ourselves as heroines, stars of our own particularly tricky novels, no matter how mundane or convoluted.

Tonight I had the pleasure of speaking with the North Metro Area Writers’ Meetup on the idea that leaning into your unique voice, purpose, and path can bolster a writing career. In my experience, when you stop thinking like a supporting character and start accepting a leading role in your writing life, interesting things happen.

Ordinary Jerrica...or Holograms Lead Singer Jem?

Too often, we’re fed the line that writers merely have their ear to the floor, that they’re glorified secretaries taking dictation from finicky muses.  I’m never going to claim that writing isn’t (freaking) mysterious, but I do think that it’s too easy to discount ourselves in the process.  Instead of railing against the unfairness of there being approximately three story ideas ever, none of them original, we would do well to lean into what we bring to the table.

Maybe our Brooklyn childhood and WPA political schooling taught us to look out for detail about the poor immigrants who make the machine of the United States go (Betty Smith).  Maybe our brother shot us in the eye and taught us to see things slightly askew (Alice Walker).  Maybe we want to bring a bit of magic into the world (Frances Hodgson Burnett).  Each of these authors tackled the coming-of-age story, but they did it so uniquely and with such beautiful difference that we will always view them as individuals.

Along with many writers I know, I’m thinking a lot about My Next Step.  What do I bring to the table?  What do I suck at?  What can I live with?  What perspective is unique to the enthusiastically vestigial Southern Californian history nerd with the scarred-up roller derby knee and the obsession with the everyday details of history?  At times like this, I lean into the possibility of Erin-as-protagonist, secure that at the very least, I’m in good company.

Notes from my first edit of The Heroine's Bookshelf. It was bad, people.

There are lots of things I never anticipated when I hit “send” on the manuscript I named and renamed silly things like “Fabulosity Squared” and “All-Around Documentness” just so I could get. through. writing.  Enough to fill another book entirely.

A three-event week, for example, mere days before the six-month anniversary of The Heroine’s Bookshelf.*

An amazing invitation that I’ll talk about later.  A really personally satisfying rights offer that will be disclosed in its good time.

Imagine my surprise when yesterday I was congratulated by one, two, then three other authors at the Englewood Public Library’s annual Meet The Faces Behind the Books Fair.  I was clueless, but gracious.  And then confused, but not for too long.

You see, the congratulations of my much savvier colleagues were followed by confirmation that The Heroine’s Bookshelf is one of three finalists for the non-fiction category of the Colorado Book Award!**

*jaw drops*
*blink*

I didn’t write my book for recognition.  I wrote it as a thank-you to the books that helped me get through life for so long and that still bolster my mood and my confidence on down days.  I wrote it because I couldn’t find the book I longed to read on my own shelf.

Recognition?  That’s a bunch of sprinkles on top of the cherry that’s already on top.  Completely unexpected…entirely satisfying.  On June 24, I’ll be in Aspen feeling nervous and excited for my own chance at recognition and the other nominees.  Until then, I’ll work on getting this jaw closed.

*which anniversary is tomorrow, and shall be celebrated apace!
**as announced on their Facebook page this Friday

Ah, author events.  They’re always a crapshoot.  I haven’t had a single nobody’s-there affair yet, but I always prepare myself mentally for a very small, tough, or otherwise unexpected crowd.

Last night I had the pleasure of doing a book talk at Littleton’s Bemis Public Library…and was pleasantly surprised by a room full of early, engaged, and extremely bookish women who spanned 15 and 85 or so.  They listened intently, asked killer questions, and were altogether lovely to spend an evening speaking with.

As usual, I learned much more from them than they did from me.

One of the women told me that she’s a member of Friends of the Library and that she derives great pleasure knowing that her contributions of time and money keep the library open. She remarked that even in an age of Kindles and closing book stores, it means a lot to her to have a library where she can meet with likeminded people, check out books, and contribute to her community.

Her comments really made me remember what I love about libraries.  Libraries are our gathering places, our public spaces, our portals to something that is bigger than us but part of us. Libraries are run by gracious, hardworking, often underpaid staff members who must remain invariably patient and tolerant of their patrons, their budget restrictions, and the challenges that come with their ever-changing profession.  They’re patronized by people of all ages, ethnicities, gender identifications, religions, and political persuasions.  They belong to us, and they’re here because of us…reluctant readers and friends of the library alike.

Maybe it’s because it’s National Library Week, but I find myself getting verklempt just thinking about it.  Truly, madly, deeply — I love libraries.