A DINNER PARTY
The galleys of The Improper Life of Bezellia Grove arrived yesterday morning. I had hoped to hug the FedEx man, but he dropped the box and ran before I had time to properly thank him. I had wondered if the second time around would be less exciting, but it wasn’t. Not at all. In fact, I have to say it was just as thrilling holding this almost-official book in my hand as it had been when the Dairy Queen galleys arrived more than two years ago now.
And for some reason, all day yesterday I kept thinking about the birth of this book, and the on-going balancing act I strike between writing and living. It’s very easy to settle into a routine of sitting behind my desk and writing about the world and not taking the time to go out and be a part of it.
When I was writing Dairy Queen, I started working two days a week in a small gift shop in San Marino, California. It kept me part of the real world and even dealing with the very occasional rude customer was a welcome experience.
When I moved to Nashville, I immediately started volunteering in an inner-city school, again, to be a part of the world — to hear things, see things, know things, I wouldn’t otherwise have experienced sitting at my desk looking out the window.
And my dear sweet Bezellia was born at a dinner party. I still remember what was on the menu from the jasmine rice to the Chilean seabass. (You will hear more about this later!) The woman across from me introduced herself as Zee. I told her that was an interesting name. She replied, “Well, if you think that’s something, my name is Bezellia!.”
“That is something,” I admitted.
“Well, if you think that’s something, I’m fifth-generation Bezellia.”
“That is definitely something!” I told her.
But I knew at that very moment that Bezellia was more than an interesting name — she’d be a girl that that would take me on an exciting and memorable journey.
GOOD ‘OL GIRLS
NYC bound! And I can’t wait.
Last week, I got a very unexpected offer from my sister and brother-in-law. It included a luxurious coach seat on Continental Airlines to and from New York City, a limo ride in a black Hyundai mini-van, a 5-star meal at either McDonald’s or Sbarro’s (my choosing) and the best seats in the house to see the off-Broadway production of Good ‘Ol Girls. They said it was an offer one could not refuse, and they promised that they really had splurged on the most expensive seats in the theater!
Good ‘Ol Girls is the musical based on the writings of two of the South’s great literary voices, JILL McCORKLE (Going Away Shoes) and, yes, my seventh-grade English teacher, LEE SMITH (The Last Girls). The songs were written by two of Nashville’s biggest hit-makers, Marshall Chapman and Matraca Berg.
Needless to say, I’m going.
Both Lee and Jill write so visually, so beautifully,but to see their words come alive on stage, well, I cannot wait. I really feel like a little girl waiting for Christmas morning. And as soon as the curtain closes, I will be sure to share the experience with you.
THE READING DOG?
Last week, I spent some time with a Nashville book club. As always, I totally enjoyed myself and even ate another Dilly Bar — not sure how many that makes since Looking for Salvation at the Dairy Queen came out in hardcover in February 2008 but imagine I’ve come close to eating my weight in DQ treats.
But for me the highlight of the evening was meeting Hinckley, the reading dog! OK, he really doesn’t read but he loves to be read to. In fact, Hinckley, a standard poodle, is an official Reading Education Assistance Dog or R.E.A.D. dog. The READing Paws program utilizes nationally registered animal-owner/handler Therapy Teams who volunteer to go to schools and libraries as reading companions for children.
How cool is that? For a child struggling to read, what could be more comforting than to read to a non-judgmental friend like Hinckley?
I was well aware of therapy dogs but was completely unaware of this creative, gentle, effective reading program. To Hinckley and his devoted owner, Dianne May, thank you for taking the time to help a child discover the wonderful world of words.
Hinckley is enjoying Looking for Salvation at the Dairy Queen
THE BLURB
For the past couple of weeks, I have been collecting blurbs for The Improper Life of Bezellia Grove. It’s a bit like a treasure hunt really. You approach an author you know and respect and ask if he/she would be willing to read your book and write a glowing (definitely glowing!) statement about it that your publishing house can then proudly display on the back of the jacket cover.
Hopefully, if someone is contemplating whether to buy my book or the one next to it on the shelf, these wonderful blurbs will convince them to buy MINE! MINE! MINE!
I am really excited about the people who have agreed to read my book but at the same time I am incredibly nervous — feeling very much the same way I did right before Looking for Salvation at the Dairy Queen was released — this sudden realization that people are actually going to read the book you spent two or three years writing and then freely offer up their opinion.
For now, I’m keeping the blurb-givers a secret. Hmm. Maybe if you can guess three of them correctly, I’ll name a character in my next book after you. Good luck . . . and more to follow!
SOUTH CAROLINA BOOK-LOVING PEOPLE
I spent this past weekend in Columbia, South Carolina. Temperatures were in the high 50s, sun was shining, and I was holed up in the city’s convention center with more than 4,000 book-loving, book-reading, book-writing people who had chosen to attend the 2010 South Carolina Book Festival.
Yes, it’s fun to rub shoulders with the likes of Ron Rash and Jill McCorkle, Robert Hicks and the darling Lee Brothers. And often that was all it was — literally rubbing my shoulder against theirs as I passed them in a crowded hallway.
I met some wonderful writers like South Carolina novelist and master gardener Mindy Friddle, New York Times best-selling author Karen White, writer and humor columnist Celia Rivenbark who reminded of the expression “just a half bubble off plumb” and Nina Bruhns who writes romance thrillers and definitely has me thinking of today’s romance genre very, very differently.
I sat on an extremely well-attended panel with Celia and Nina, sold out of books, ate too much food, danced a little and came home dog-tired.
But the best part of all was that I spent time with incredibly passionate, voracious readers that inspired me to sit down at my desk this morning and tell another story.
LETTERS, LETTERS!
I know I have broken my commitment to blog everyday but sometimes life happens. And that’s what I’ve been doing lately, tending to life. But I’m back in the saddle, umm, chair and writing and blogging and tweeting, etc.
I need to briefly return to the subject of letters, one more time. Now you may be figuring out that this will be a reoccurring theme. But after my last post about letters, I received this email from writer, blogger and letter writer, Stephanie Garrett, and wanted to share it with you.
Wow! Every time the voices of doubt try to gain a foothold in my brain, someone writes or post something that spurs me forward. While I am by no means an accomplished writer, there are thoughts and stories within me that are screaming for release. Because of being overcome by tax returns and financial aid submissions I have not blogged in the past couple of days. Just as I’m wondering “does it really matter if I post today?” I find your posts about letters!
Letter writing is one of the most rewarding tasks I do each week, both in sending and receiving. I actually blogged about letters on February 2nd.
I started writing letters on a regular basis after reading “The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society.” Regular written correspondence with my husband’s 82 year old aunt has brought us even closer in a relationship that is more mother/daughter than aunt/niece-in-law. She no longer cares to receive by-monthly phone calls, she is waiting for her letter. I average two a week to her. She returns two a month to me. Should I fall behind in my schedule to her, I am quickly called to task by her son who has picked up how important this communication is for her.
Thank you for the book suggestions and may we never forget that there is always someone in cyber-space who needs to read what we have to say.
I read this comment and picked up my pen and wrote one of my dear friends a nice, long letter. 
Thank you Stephanie for spurring me forward!
THE READER
If you’ve followed my blog for long at all, you probably know that I work very closely with a reader. Someone asked me recently if a reader is the same thing as a book doctor. The answer is NO. A book doc is someone who takes your ms and turns it into something better, hopefully something sellable. A reader is more like a trusted advisor. Someone who gives you honest feedback but leaves the writing to you.
I’m fortunate. I have two readers. First, there’s Becky . She’s a young mother in Nashville — born and raised in the South, a voracious and intelligent reader, dedicated English teacher — Becky understands the subtle nuances of Southern writing.
And then there’s Bonnie MacDonald. I trust Bonnie with every word I’ve ever written. And that’s a lot of words because Bonnie and I have worked together for more than 15 years. But Bonnie is more than a reader, a writer, an editor and a good friend. She is a CASA volunteer. That’s right, a COURT APPOINTED SPECIAL ADVOCATE. She has mentored and cared for children in the foster-care system in Orange County, California, for almost two decades. She has truly made a difference in so many young lives and has provided children hope and love in a world that seems to have forgotten them. She’d never tell you this, but she was once named Orange County’s CASA Volunteer of the Year.
Now Bonnie is blogging about CASA and the foster-care system for Dr. Phil. com. And I would really appreciate it if you would check out her blog, leave a comment, and as she suggests, smile at a child today.
MORE LETTERS
Dear Reader,
Since my recent blog post where I openly confessed my love for The Woman of Independent Means, I’ve learned that I’m not the only one still in love with letters and letter writing and books written in letter form! I’ve even begun to wonder if all of us letter lovers should start some sort of secret club. Maybe we promise to write one letter a month? Maybe to one another? Oh dear, I guess we all know how long that would last.
But at least I can share some of the other titles written in epistolary form that you have shared with me. The Griffin & Sabine Trilogy, Helene Hanff’s, 84 Charing Cross Road, and Alice’s Tulips by Sandra Dallas. (Wasn’t that the name of a song from the 1920s?)
Anyway, the weather is still cold here in Nashville, but I have spent the last few days in the house — painting and cleaning. We are moving to Chattanooga this summer, and we list our house tomorrow. All has gone well except for the unfortunate accident which is the name now given to the spilling of a gallon of taupe paint all over on an old but loved rug. Of course, I was covered in paint too. No doubt my neighbors heard me screaming two doors down!
I do hope your week has been warm and accident free. Please take care and stay in touch.
Sincerest regards,
Susan
LETTERS
The other day I was doing some painting around the house – this time walls — when I came across one of my favorite books of all time, A Woman of Independent Means. This book was written more than 30 years ago, but it is one that I go back to time and time again. It’s a beautiful collection of letters from one woman, spanning most of her adult life.
I am very drawn to books written in letter or journal form. The Diary of Anne Frank was one of the first books I truly fell in love with — and most recently The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society.
Looking for Salvation at the Dairy Queen originally included some twenty pages of letters back and forth from Catherine Grace and Martha Ann. My editor felt that the voice was too similar in the sisters’ letters and suggested I return those belonging to Catherine Grace to first-person narrative.
Lately, I’ve been asking myself why I am so drawn to this form of writing, and I think the answer is very simple. His name was Nolan Nuckles. He was a family friend, and when I was a very little girl, he was already well into his eighties. Oh, but Mr. Nuckles would write me the most wonderful letters, full of information and stories and scribed with a penmanship that was nothing short of artistic. I remember feeling so special that he had taken the time to write me. I saved each and every one of of his letters for years, and unfortunately in one of my many moves, they disappeared.
But that’s just it. In a letter, we all have the opportunity to become story teller — to share with our reader a part of our life that has been worthy of writing down. And receiving that letter is, in my opinion, an honor — especially now in the age of emails and texting and tweeting when writing by hand seems like a laborious task.
I, too, love a good 140-keystroke message message and sometimes forget to stop and take the time to write a friend a letter. (Although a few years ago I wrote my 7th-grade teacher, Lee Smith, a very long letter inside an exam blue book — only seemed appropriate!) But as my head spins with ideas for a fourth and fifth book, don’t be surprised if it’s a collection of letters — each one a special moment shared between a writer and her reader.
