On Clubbing Books (you know what I mean)

While reading the local paper I saw a brief notice that the Winona Public Library Monthly Adult Book Club would meet while I was in town. As an author, I've "attended" conference calls and Skype-ins while my books were clubbed (well, you know what I mean), but never have I been able to attend a book club meeting from the readers' side of the discussion. I'm filled with envy when I hear my friends talk about their book clubs, but it just never works out.

Although I'd never heard of the title mentioned in the newspaper spot, I picked up the phone and called a local book store to see if they had a copy. Yes, a used one. Perfect. Within a couple hours, I'd made my purchase and settled into my lounge chair, feet up, iced tea nearby, determined to finish the book by the time of the meeting, a mere five days away. Considering I had my own book releasing a few days afterward, and the fact that I'm a slow reader, this would be no small accomplishment. My PR machine was cranking. It was all I could do to keep up with it. Nonetheless, I was--still am (not done reading it yet, and the meeting is tomorrow afternoon) dedicated to this task.

I was hoping I liked the book, because if I didn't--and especially since I had my own book coming out--I didn't wish to take part in a discussion just to blast it. After all, an author wrote that book too, and we can be sensitive. :)

Then I read the first line of The Rich Part of Life by Jim Kokoris.

The day we won the lottery I was wearing wax lips that my father had bought for the Nose Picker and me at a truck stop.


After one line, I already loved the storyteller and the mood. Wax lips. Calling your sibling a Nose Picker. Truck stops. Random wealth. Genius to me, because they're all elements--words with images--I find either fun (wax lips), can remember myself (sibling names) or invokers of warm memories (truck stops and my father.) By the time I got to page 206, I loved the story even more. Quirky characters always float my boat. I hope to find time to get to page 327, The End, by tomorrow's meeting.

But if I can't finish the book, my dilemma will be agonizing: Of course I'll want to go, I think. Hey, it'll be my first book club meeting! I'll be anxious to hear how others enjoyed, or not, the storytelling--the story. But what if they give the ending away, and I imagine they surely will. I assume satisfactory endings is a part of book club discussions, right?

To those of you who are used to clubbing books (I'll know what you mean), please weigh in here. If I don't finish, should I go? HELP A NEWBIE CLUBBER (well, maybe) OUT!

Seeking Perspective

My eldest grandgirlie is Star of the Week in her first-grade class. It's quite the honor which offers her, as well as any student whose turn it is, the opportunity for lots of cool things, like bringing special show and tell. She invited me to come read a book to her classmates, a humbling honor, which I gladly and gratefully accepted.

I asked her to pick out the book, but she already had one in mind. It's a book I keep at my house, a book purchased at Paperbacks and Pieces, my favorite used book store of all times. Barely a visit goes by when the girls don't ask me to read The Piggy in the Puddle.

The class loved hearing it as much as I love--every single time I read it--the way the illiterative language (nice, eh?) rolls off my tongue.

But before I was up on the docket, and while the teacher gently and with great patience and humor put the kids through their morning routine, I walked around the room and absorbed the creative energies.

Profound Perspective 

How profound are those words?! I got out my camera and snapped a photo. What if every single day we asked ourselves to define those three short lines using a single word.

• Yesterday was ... busy. That's one way to put it.
• Today is ... grace filled. I'm here with my grandgirlie!
• Tomorrow will be ... Hm...Pleasurable. 

It is good, I thought, to find kindness and perspective, to filter our mental filing, and set a tone for the future of positivism. To be honest, it was a deeply profound interior moment for me.

It wasn't until later I noticed the days of the week beneath the lines. I only noticed them then because the teacher asked one of the children to come correctly place the days of the week next to the lines.

Perspective: through a teacher's creative spark, a child's learning curve, and an aging woman's goals.

Perspective.

Words We Underline

Once in awhile, when it's time for a new read, I close my eyes and pick a title from one of my many stacks of books. Noting The Ice Chorus was an Advance Reading Copy, I knew I'd snagged it at a booksellers convention somewhere along the line. The release date on the cover announced  "February 2005". This should give you some idea about the organization of my "stacks."

The opening line in The Ice Chorus (wonderful book trailer here), a novel set in Ireland, set a sensuous tone. "An ocean-hued piece of silk rests over her hand like a landed butterfly." I use the word sensuous in its broadest and most lovely form, which is, according to Dictionary.com,  something perceived by or affecting the senses. Although I'm not quite half-way through yet, the lushness of the writing continues in wonderful ways. Sarah Stonich, the author, renders visual and emotional details, helps us see through the lens of a camera, witness the fluidity of movement in an artist's brush strokes, and feel the power of human touch, no matter how faint. Publisher's Weekly said about the book, "Midlife renewal and the power of art to transform life are celebrated in this bittersweet tale." 

Then I came to a line that caused me to get up out of my chair and grab a pen. A line on page 122 of my ARC, one I just had to underline, then star in the margin, then tell you about .

"Of all the stories she's ever been told, watched on screen, or endeavored to make herself, she understands that only those that unfold naturally endure."

It is a line that could have changed by the final edition. No matter to me. This is the copy I own, and even though I wasn't sure why, the power of  that line grabbed me.

I don't have a library card; we don't live in anyone's district. I buy books. Lots of them. Most read "keeper books" on my shelves are marked up in this way. Underlines, stars, exclamation points, an occasional "OH!" ... If, shortly into the pages, I've already noted several lines, I begin making a list of said page numbers in the front of the book. That way I can just flip from one to the next when I want to savor them.

I feel pretty certain that the novel on my shelves containing the most notations is A River Runs Through It. It's a shorter story filled with lines that caused me to stay with them, return often, even during that first read. They captured me, ensnared me, owned me. I'd read a paragraph, a page, then have to go back and read those lines again. How does an author do that to me?

The first time I received reader mail from someone I didn't know who shared she'd underlined many lines in my books, I wept. I have no idea which lines she referred to. It's hard to imagine any that worthy. I'm not a "literary" author. I can only attribute such a remarkable event to the power of the reader's spirit bringing to light that which needs to be noticed.

The only thing I know for sure is that if I ever try to write those types of lines, they suck. Pure and simple. Perhaps that's why the above quote from The Ice Chorus resonates. Only that which unfolds naturally endures. Amen.

A brilliant Top 10: Autism & Seniors

I had breakfast this morning with writer, blogger and author  Lynn Hudoba. It's the first time we've met. I discovered Lynn's magnificent Voice several months ago when I read one of her brilliant columns in a daily Patch email for my local area. I loved the piece so much, I left a comment. Several months later, I caught her Voice again. This time, I didn't leave a comment, I tracked her down. I wanted to do everything I could to encourage the fresh Voice that really got my attention.

Lynn has a unique and captivating humor to her writing, even though she's talking about a very serious topic. (Words that make a difference!) Her daughter Audrey is autistic.  Whether you're dealing with a child with special needs, or any issue in your life, who doesn't need to laugh? Although autism isn't close to my personal realm of experience, her Voice and wisdom speak well beyond her topic.

While we were eating and chatting (and changing tables FIVE TIMES in Panera Bread--and I am not making that up--because no matter where we moved, the sun was in one of our eyes), I caught several relatable similarities in stories about her daughter, and stories about little old me. When I mentioned that, she said she'd already blogged a Top Ten list on the relationship between children with autism and senior citizens. As she mentioned a few particulars, I laughed out loud. I think when you read her list, you will too.

I came home happier for having met her. I wish her the best. When someone writes funny words that matter, it's good for all of us.

Lynn's has a Kindle book available. Check it out! 

The day I decided to launch this blog

I've been noodling around the Internet, "checking in" with my Facebook and Twitter friends, curious how long it's been since I posted a Traveling Laugh. Later today, I'm planning to begin work on a  TwinkleGram.

Is there no END to your social media blathering, Charlene?!

Yet, while flicking from one set of hosted words to the next, a thought niggles. Sometimes my brain ignites a MUST-SHARE! idea, question, quote or curiosity that does not quite "fit" any of my aforementioned stay-in-touch outlets, not even the books I write.

As I type this Words to Help You Twinkle blog intro, of sorts, I am reminding myself that I do not have time to start something new. Hel-LO, Charlene! Your estrogen powers are waning in this twilight season of your life. Nonetheless, here I happily go anyway, Pandora cranking in the background, launching this new endeavor. I can't stop thinking about WORDS. Words that make me twinkle with every layer of  definition.

Case in point. Earlier today I was reading a recent copy of Shelf Awareness. In it, I found an article called Wi7, which stands for Winter Institute 7: Social Media. In the second paragraph, I read about author John Green who wrote a book called The Fault in our Stars. Seems his book has been a  bestseller. My blinking (not quite twinkling) rapid-fire thoughts went something like this: Never heard of the guy. Never heard of the book. Why can't I keep up? How did I not notice a title with the word star in it? What is the book about anyway? I'll look it up later. And ... I'm on to the next paragraph, which is a recap about a guy named Dan Cullen who cites statistics from PEW Research. HAHAHAHA! PEW Research. As in P.U. pew-ey! As in ... that's juvenile, Charlene. You're 66. Snap out of it. Then I read where Cullen says that my demographic, whom he refers to as "wired seniors," is the fastest growing segment using social media. Wired senior, huh? As much social networking as I do, my nickname should be The Electrified Geezerette.


I finish reading that article and move on to the picture below it. I love pictures. The cutline explains who the dudes are, and it happens again! I learn of another book title which I've never heard of. Film School: The True Story of a Midwestern Family Man Who Went to the World's Most Famous Film School, Fell Flat on His Face, Had a Stroke, and Sold a Television Series to CBS, by Steve Boman. How much do I love THAT title? Lots. So I try to Tweet it, but it's too long. Even Deck.ly, TweetDeck's answer to Tweets longer than 140 characters, has a problem sending it. [Sidenote: While nabbing the link for TweetDeck, my home computer Tweeting choice, I learned TweetDeck is aimed at "power users". STAND BACK!]


If only you had your own blog, Charlene, you could talk about that book title there!


Next thing I know, I'm playing with Blogger templates and ... Here you go. Words to Help You Twinkle, blog post number one.
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END NOTES:

--I did look up this John Green chap. His interview (wait till you see who's conducting it!) on B&N made me laugh out loud.  I've now added The Fault of Stars to my reading list. Curious words beget searched words, beget another book on the pile. Amen.


--The PEW Research Center isn't funny. It's smart. I checked. You might wanna too.