Archive for the ‘Incoherent Ramblings’ Category
I am a truant. It’s true. And I don’t have a doctor’s not excusing my absences, but I’ll be back to Morning LitLinks on Friday after a quick trip to:
Be right back.
We’re going dark for the holiday weekend, but in the lightest possible way. Please have a wonderful weekend, wherever you are and we’ll be back Tuesday, September 4th.
I’m by no means any sort of authority on literary conference maximization. In fact, I’ve only ever attended one conference, but I have attended it five years running, so I’ve learned one thing that always applies: if you’ve any energy to spare at the end of the evening, stick your head into the hotel bar before turning in for the night. Sometimes nifty things happen.
For instance, this past Saturday, I’d had a hell of a day. And by “hell of a day” I mean an excellent day at Killer Nashville, but still, the Tennessee Bureau of Investigation’s Patrick Looney and his presentation of the frame by frame deconstruction of the most harrowing security camera footage I’ve ever seen, well, it drove me to drink. I joke quite a bit more about alcohol than I actually drink it, but I honestly had a Bloody Mary for lunch for medicinal purposes. It helped.
Throughout the day, I’d attended presentations and moderated a panel discussion. I’d collected business cards and bought a few books and shared a few laughs. Killer Nashville is invaluable for all of those things, as they have been consistently, all years running. That’s why I drive five hours west every August. Won’t miss it if I can help it.
So after a full day of conferencing, I went to dinner with two of my writerly friends, Carole Oldroyd and Terri Lynn Coop. We did the peek-in-the-bar-before-retiring thing. Who should be sitting there, all alone, but literary legend, Peter Straub? (Ghost Story, Shadowland, The Talisman series, etc) And there were two empty seats to one side of him and a single on the other. Four hours later, I had a great affection for Jefferson’s Straight Rye Whiskey and a wonderful memory of not only one of the most lyrical writers of our time, but a generous and funny gentlemen. It was, truly, the highlight of my weekend.
(none of the pictures with me properly in the frame turned out well, so I’ll settle for looking like a goofy photobomber)
(reposted from Because I Love To Hear Myself Type)
The hardbound, official, edition is still sixth months out, but today – for the first time – I get to hold my work in book format.
Please don’t mistake my smirk for smugness, I’m just trying not to cry…
William and I are going to take a couple of days off to cozy up with our people, track Santa on Norad, eat too much, and enjoy what’s on offer for the season.
If you’re celebrating, whatever you’re celebrating, we sincerely wish you a wonderful time of it.
And we thank you for clicking into our efforts here at AuthorScoop. See you soon!
We’ll be taking today off for food, fun and family. As always, we appreciate your readership, and we’ll be back in full swing tomorrow.
Please stand by.
It’s Mondayed all over Wednesday here at AuthorScoop and technical difficulties are the order of the day. By all accounts, we should be back full-strength tomorrow.
The typing cogs of AuthorScoop were neither hatched nor grown in secret laboratory tanks, so we’ll be on a short hiatus for this weekend to tend to a few Spring-and-Mom duties.
Wishing all our readers who are mothers (and all our readers who have mothers) a lovely weekend.
AuthorScoop is on hiatus until the weekend so that we may count our blessings and likely eat too much. We’ll be back on Saturday with more news, reviews, quotes, and videos, and possibly larger pants.
As we sign off for the holiday, the obvious thing is to remind you that we’re very thankful of you, our readers.
Happy Thanksgiving from AuthorScoop and we hope you have a wonderful holiday.
Today, I like the scoreboard.
Other days, not so much.
Thanks for your patience. I think we’re all sorted out on the display issues.
We’re getting reports of a display error in Internet Explorer (version 8 for sure; possibly older versions as well) on certain portions of the site.
If you’re reading this and have the time and inclination to let us know if the links below are displaying properly, we would surely appreciate it.
We’re not hearing of difficulties with Firefox, but please let us know if that’s not the case.
Thank you for your help!
Never has it been more apparent why it’s called The Web. AuthorScoop is getting quite tangled up in it all, and as far as I can tell, that’s good news. But it’s early yet.
We’re already squawking Tweets about what we’re up to and just today, we’ve launched a page on FaceBook with updates on our articles and galleries of our staff and featured guests. Of course, every bit of this is linked, for maximum tail-chasing, with our Twitterfeed.
So if you just can’t get enough AuthorScoop, click that button over there in the sidebar to the right of your screen, and then try getting this spider’s snare off your face.
I’m begging the indulgence of Willam, here, and of the AuthorScoop readership, to post a link that isn’t really writing-related at all, except for that I wrote it.
A branch of my family is hurting. Today is the three year anniversary of the loss of Theresa Vasold. The thousand-and-some days in between these markers is feeling quite long and, for some, she feels very far away.
When I came home from her funeral, I wrote an essay on what I’d learned there. Here’s the link to Past Tense for anyone who might be interested, and I’d thank you for reading it, if you’re so inclined.
But mostly, I thank you for allowing me to hijack this little moment from you, wherever you are. In the thirty seconds you read this, you cast a thought for a beautiful girl you’ll never get to meet. As part of her family, I appreciate it. Thank you.
This week marks the second anniversary of AuthorScoop, so I would like to take this opportunity to thank our contributors, interview subjects and our readers—who visit us daily by the hundreds and, on a good day, by the thousands.
Most of all, of course, I would like to thank Jamie Mason, my partner and right hand, for a lot of hard work and a lot of patience, most of which is consumed in putting up with me.
Apology is due. While scraping spam from our grill here at AuthorScoop, I inadvertently deleted a legitimate comment or two. It’s sad when the eye and the cursor do not line up. I’m sorry.
So, if you left a comment and it’s no longer here and you weren’t one of the fools talking random rubbish to trick us into clicking irrelevant links, send a complaint about me to William Haskins, just up there to the right of your screen, and you can rest assured you’ll hear the screams all the way from here, wherever you may be. He’s like that.
Either way, I shall try to be more careful.
I read. Sometimes I love it more than others. And today is a very, very good day.
My access to the control panel here at AuthorScoop means I can blurt out my distaste for Elvis Presley in revamped headlines for other people’s book reviews. (Having said that, it was a positive review of that book, and my sensibilities on pop music are utterly irrelevant. I was only trying to be funny, both then and now.)
But I can also log in here at AS and crow. Stand by.
THE LACUNA, by Barbara Kingsolver is one of the best books I’ve ever read. It’s a gorgeous, moving novel that succeeds on both the small, personal level and also in the reach for overarching truths about history and about human nature.
I was fortunate enough to see Ms. Kingsolver launch this book here in Asheville, North Carolina, where the second half of THE LACUNA takes place. During her presentation, she defined the word ‘lacuna’ for us – it’s a missing part of a story or manuscript and, also, a hydro-geological formation, a hole in a cliff wall formed by tidal pull.
The novel makes brilliant use of both definitions in chronicling a young man’s life through servitude in a number of intriguing Mexican households, his association with the art world, his ascension to success as a novelist in the United States and, finally, to his scrutiny in 1950 by the House Un-American Activities Committee, as Senator Joseph McCarthy geared up to draw the lines that still linger under and over our subconscious crosswalks.
If you’ve the time and inclination, I can’t recommend it enough.
Technical difficulties and apologies fill the space where Friday’s features should have been.
Please stand by and we’ll all soon forget the gap.