By Marie A Bailey Caveat: Cinthia Ritchie, author of the memoir Malnourished: A Memoir of Sisterhood and Hunger, is my friend, and I read her memoir keenly aware of my affection for her. I don’t claim to be objective in my review, but, in all honesty, I don’t know that I’ve ever been objective when […]
In a perfect world, I would spend as much time reading as I spend writing, or as much time writing as reading, depending on the day. Reading inspires me to write and often when I’m reading, I yearn to write. Reading also teaches me how to write. What is it about that first page, first paragraph, or even first sentence, that makes me want to curl up with the book for a long afternoon? What is it about that poem that makes me linger and read again as something tugs at my heart.
I’ve got books on my mind. A book of poetry, a memoir, and a novel to be exact.
A Book of Poetry
Earlier this week Nightingale & Sparrow published my review of Birdy Odell’s chapbook, Cemetery Music, which you can read here: https://nightingaleandsparrow.com/review-of-cemetery-music-by-birdy-odell/. I’m usually hesitant to review poetry because I feel rather ignorant about it. It was not my favorite genre when I was studying literature a few centuries ago. Now, however, thanks to poets like Merril D. Smith, Luanne Castle and Jane Dougherty, I often feel I can’t get enough of it. So when N&S put out a call for reviewers, I raised my hand.
Here’s a snippet from my review:
Anyone who has spent time in a cemetery, particularly ones where the dead have lain for centuries, will read Odell’s poems as those epitaphs etched into granite, sandstone, or marble, some so worn by time and weather that words seem “rubbed with the balm of love.”
Cemetery Music should be available soon (forthcoming December 10, 2019). Click here to read more about Birdy. I also hope you pick up a copy of her lovely chapbook. I definitely want a print copy because, included with her poems, are lovely “whimsical little birds with silly hates and balloons.”
A Memoir
Cinthia Ritchie’s new memoir, Malnourished: A Memoir of Sisterhood and Hunger, has arrived … at my house!! This is a long-awaited memoir, and I am so thrilled for Cinthia. I pre-ordered directly from Raised Voice Press (here’s the link) which, I believe, is why I received my copy before the official release date.
I am so excited to support Cinthia, one of my favorite peeps in my writing community. I fell in love with her through her first novel, Dolls Behaving Badly, and been looking forward to another opportunity to hold one of her books in my hands. If you don’t already know Cinthia, head over to her website here. Order Malnourished through your favorite local bookstore, through Indiebound, or directly through Raised Voice Press.
Here’s a snippet from the Prologue:
Memory is a funny thing, isn’t it, how it adds and subtracts, takes something as simple as watching a whale swim along the shore and mixes it up in your mind so that your sister is there beside you, even though she’s been dead for years. Still, this is what you remember: the wind and the smell of the marsh, the silver-blue tint of an Alaska twilight spreading the water, and beyond it all, the small and simple feel of your dead sister’s hand slipping inside of yours.
A Novel
By now anyone who hasn’t been living under a rock should know that Kevin Brennan recently released a new novel called Eternity Began Tomorrow. EBT is kind of a road trip/political thriller/romance-type novel. In other words, it has something for every kind of reader. Of course, I snatched up a copy, as I do with all of Kevin’s books, and wrote a review: https://1writeway.wordpress.com/eternity-began-tomorrow-is-that-one-true-thing-bookreview/
You’ll want to get a copy of your own, of course, and you can do so by clicking here. But stay tuned for more! I’ll be posting an interview with Kevin later this week, and you’ll learn all about what went into writing such a timely novel. While you’re waiting to read the interview, take advantage of EBT being yours for just 99 cents. Yup, when you click this Amazon link, you’ll find an offer you can’t refuse.
Thanks for reading! If you’re anything like me, you might be groaning at the thought of more books to add to your leaning tower of TBR. But, if you are anything like me, you’ll also be excited to find new books to buy and read.
And here’s your bonus gratuitous cat photo … The Three Amigos: Junior, my husband, and Maxine.
One of the few things I like about my work place is my immediate access to nature. Why, just the other day a moth tried to hitch a ride on my leg. When I tried to transfer it to a tree, it went trekking up my arm like nobody’s business. I did manage to change its direction (God help the poor thing if it had gotten into my hair) and set it on the closest tree. It then traveled straight up, its orange wings fluttering to keep balance.
The next day I found one of these moths inside my building. Assuming it wasn’t there applying for a security guard position, I decided to usher it outside.
A moth in the hand tickles.
I set it on a tree and then went back in to work.
Later that day I found a number of these moths in a seemingly comatose state on the three oaks that line the sidewalk outside my building.
I was enchanted.
I’ve learned that these are Orange-tipped Oakworm Moths. Such lovely creatures. I also learned they can be pests. They can and have defoliated oak trees. Yet, these trees seem as yet unharmed.
These oaks give us very necessary shade during the hot days of summer (and fall) in Florida. I’m hoping the Orange-tipped Oakworm Moth doesn’t find their leaves too tasty.
Raised Voices Press also has a nice little write-up about Cinthia. In case you don’t already know how awesome she is, click here. You can also learn more about Cinthia on her blog at https://cinthiaritchie.com/
. . .
How are you about picking up insects? Or am I the only weird one in the room?
I must reblog this guest post by Kevin Brennan! I always enjoy hearing (or reading in this case) about the “back story” of a writer’s novel, what propelled him or her to write this particular book. And, what for me is icing, Kevin mentions Charlotte Perkins Gilman. Yes, that kind of name dropping does get me excited ;)
Not only is Brennan one of my favorite writers (author of Occasional Soulmates, Yesterday Road, Parts Unknown and Our Children Are Not Our Children), but he writes women characters that are so authentic, so complex and flawed and human and real, that it’s impossible to believe that they were written by a man. I think this is because he secretly harbors a woman’s soul, which is one of the biggest compliments I can give a writer.
But I’ll shut up for now, grab some chocolate and let Brennan take over.
(P.S. I couldn’t get the caption to come through but the vivid painting at the top of this post is Welcome to Utopia by Julia Di Sano.Source: fineartamerica.com. See more of her work here.)
Kevin Brennan contemplating his next book with his dog, Hitch.
One of the pleasures of participating in NaNoWriMo is losing myself in my writing. When I come up for air, I might be a 30-something, petite, blonde who works as a city attorney, wheeling and dealing with developers while trying to keep safe her own parcel of heaven.
Or I might be one of those developers, in particular the guy who looks like he just walked out of the Dukes of Hazard, leather-skinned and chewing tobacco, but astute enough to own practically the whole town.
Or maybe I’m the newly appointed county sheriff, brought down from one of the northern states to try and get this southern backwater law enforcement agency back in shape, without getting killed in the process.
Then again, I could be the former sheriff, the guy who was forced to resign because nobody could stomach the depth of his corruption anymore, especially after the gruesome death of his wife, to which he claimed complete innocence.
I’m sure you can imagine which characters make for a small word count because even I can’t stand be in their presence very long. And, yet, I must. Crazy is as crazy does. And writing is how I get my crazies out.
So I’m still plugging away. Right now (on a late rainy Sunday afternoon), I’m at 15,051 words. But tomorrow is Monday and somehow the workday just makes it hard for me to find time to write. But I have some rewards waiting for me, urging me on to that 50,000 work mark.
Chocolate, chocolate, flower seeds, stones and shells–all from Alaska!
And while I’m enjoying my Alaska chocolate bars with my hot Alaska chocolate drink, I’ll be reading this:
Kevin Brennan’s latest novel!
And this:
John W. Howell’s latest novel!
And possibly at the same time since I have one novel (Kevin’s) in paperback and one (John’s) on my Kindle. Yup, that’s the other pleasure of NaNoWriMo: When you’re done amassing 50,000 words, you can put the laptop away, shut down the computer and just READ.
(Comments are closed while I busy myself with writing and visiting your blogs!)
The sweet aroma of warm cinnamon coffee cake circled the kitchen, enveloping the cousins as they sat in their usual spots around the table. Randy was pouring coffee into plain white stoneware mugs. Mary had conceded to using the mugs instead of the usual delicate teacups she preferred. Randy wasn’t clumsy by nature but he seemed to channel Elizabeth from the British sitcom Keeping Up Appearances whenever he handled fine bone china.
Mary was passing around slices of the coffee cake. Maggie was knitting, and Melissa was leafing through the book they would discuss that morning. She handed the paperback to Randy, and he grinned as he placed it beside his mug. (more…)
It was dark, and there was no sound, no smell. When I opened my eyes all I could see were silver bubbles escaping from my mouth.
It was about 9 p.m. and I was swimming across DeLong Lake on a windy evening, the sky still light but overcast, the temperature, which had been close to 80 degrees earlier, cooling off so that the few people on shore wore jackets and baseball caps.
My goggles had fogged over and I could see nothing but the grey and choppy water, and my partner’s bright blue inflatable pack raft/boat. The waves were high enough that water splashed on my face and in my mouth. It was difficult to breathe and soon I lost all sense of where I was. I simply swam, my arms and legs moving through that cold water.
Yet when I opened my eyes on the underwater strokes, it was…
Marie at 1 Write Way 