GCC Presents: Marilyn Brant

I am so, so behind on my GCC posts! I have three new books to tell you about, and I'll kick things off with Marilyn Brant, whose debut novel ACCORDING TO JANE was released last month to great fanfare. A Family Circle reviewer called it "charming," and Barnes & Noble Review selected ACCORDING TO JANE for "The Long List" in mid-October, dubbing book "Fresh, original, and lots of fun." (And what a gorgeous cover!)

About the book: It begins one day in sophomore English class, just as Ellie Barnett's teacher is assigning Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice. From nowhere comes a quiet "tsk" of displeasure. The target: Sam Blaine, the cute bad boy who's teasing Ellie mercilessly, just as he has since kindergarten. Entirely unbidden, as Jane might say, the author's ghost has taken up residence in Ellie's mind, and seems determined to stay there.

Jane's wise and witty advice guides Ellie through the hell of adolescence and beyond, serving as the voice she trusts, usually far more than her own. Years and boyfriends come and go--sometimes a little too quickly, sometimes not nearly fast enough. But Jane's counsel is constant, and on the subject of Sam, quite insistent. Stay away, Jane demands. He is your Mr. Wickham.
Still, everyone has something to learn about love--perhaps even Jane herself. And lately, the voice in Ellie's head is being drowned out by another, urging her to look beyond everything she thought she knew and seek out her very own, very unexpected, happy ending. . .

About the author: As a former teacher, library staff member, freelance magazine writer and national book reviewer for Romantic Times, Marilyn has spent much of her life lost in literature. She received her M.A. in educational psychology from Loyola University Chicago, dabbled in both fiction and art at Northwestern University, studied the works of Austen at Oxford University and is an active member of the Jane Austen Society of North America. Her debut novel According to Jane won RWA's prestigious Golden Heart Award® in 2007.

The interview:

1) Now that you are published, what (if anything) have you changed about your writing routine? I have far less time to actually write! That has been one of the biggest challenges for me. I now have to split my true writing time with promotion and publicity. In some ways, it’s helped me use the real writing time more efficiently--I don’t have a half hour to web surf for just the perfect name for some character’s pet, I need to get to the heart of the narrative much faster and save some of the detail hunting for later.

2) Do you listen to music while you write? No. I wish I could. I LOVE music, but it’s wildly distracting to me while I’m writing. (Probably because I love it so much and am too often inspired to sing along. :) I reference songs quite a bit, however, in the narrative itself, so I listen to a lot of music while I’m working on a story--just not when I’m actually sitting at the computer and typing. My favorite way is to go on walks with my iPod and think about scenes, testing out different songs to see if they provide the right musical subtext. For According to Jane I have an entire soundtrack of ‘80s tunes amassed. (I put a bunch of these song titles on the “Extras” page of my website.)

3) Have you found that as you've developed your writing and storytelling skills, you watch movies or read books 'differently?' Sure. I think this is a natural result of studying any craft deeply. I remember reading the book Ice Castles as a kid, not long after the movie came out, and there was this one scene where the teen ice skater was trying to recapture her feeling of freedom on the ice. She used to skate with her eyes closed, just dancing across the frozen pond. But, after her strict training, she’d forgotten how to skate naturally. Though she was now blind, she could no longer just close her eyes and skate. She was too aware of her posture and her positioning; she couldn’t forget her lessons... I’ve felt that way about all aspects of storytelling. When I reread books I used to enjoy, I find myself pointing out flaws in the structure, noting sloppy characterizations or being annoyed by certain writer tics that I’d simply skimmed over before back when I used to be able to read just for “story.” On the one hand, that’s a loss. I was able to LOVE a lot more books back then! On the other hand, these craft skills were hard won, and the awareness they’ve given me is necessary if I want my writing to keep improving.

4) What vacation would be most inspiring to you as a writer? A grand European tour. I’ve done that with my husband, but it was before I became a novelist. Now, I think I’d appreciate the whirlwind sightseeing, the different regional dishes and the quirky characters a traveler encounters on a long trip even more than I did then…and I enjoyed them all quite a lot at the time!

5) What is one of your strangest / most quirky author experiences? Well, I’m a debut author so--for good or bad--I haven’t had too many strange or quirky author experiences yet. I’ve been “found” online by a few people from my past, and that’s surprised me. But, so far, these haven’t been unwelcome reunions. Oh, wait! There was one thing. Someone from high school sent me a letter (and this was a couple of years before I sold my first novel) saying she wanted me to help her publish a children’s book she and I had jointly written as sophomores. She figured my “connections” in publishing would make that easy. When I wrote her back and gently explained that, while I remembered doing that project when we were 16, it probably would be difficult to have something that we dashed off in an evening or two hold up to the rigorous standards of today’s children’s book market (plus my writing area was contemporary women’s fiction not children’s lit), she never responded. So, yeah, okay--THAT was strange.

~~~~

Thanks Marilyn! Best of luck with your debut. Next up, Jessica Brody and Melissa Senate.

One of Those Truly Weird Nights

Is it the cooler fall weather that's making me a sluggish blogger? Is my attention span that short? (Hey, look! A squirrel!) Well, I finally have some new blogworthy material to share with you.

Last night J and I (and my parents) attended a stimulating debate hosted by UW-Oshkosh as part of their ongoing speaker series: The Great Porn Debate...Horny vs. Holy. Ron Jeremy vs. Craig Gross.

I know.

Turnout was incredible, with 200 kids stuffed into an overflow room to watch online. Now, if just the thought of attending such an event with your parents makes you break out in a cold sweat, imagine if your mother, polite to a fault, tried making small talk with you prior to the event by asking, "So....do you watch a lot of porn?"

You know, it just occurred to me that I never did answer her! Let's leave it at: "None. None at all."

The debate was spirited, and each side made some valid and thoughtful points. It was a colorful and interesting change of pace.

But let me back up a bit...

Earlier in the evening an elderly woman knocked on my front door by mistake. She was looking for her friend Bea's party: "I'm sorry I'm late!" Then, as her predicament began to dawn on her: "Where is everybody?" I felt absolutely horrible for her when I responded with a gentle, "May I ask who you're looking for?" I invited her in while I looked her friend up in the phone book...apparently, this poor, confused, very lost 84 year-old had been driving around for an hour trying to find her friend's place, and she landed on my porch, just ONE BLOCK from her destination. J came home to find this unfamiliar old lady sitting at our kitchen table, chatting away with Bea on her cell phone, her giant boat of a Cadillac parked in our driveway.

While I walked Helen out she told me that getting old was no picnic. "Would you believe I used to be a professional ice skater?"

"It's a good thing we wrapped this up now," I replied. "We've got to go see a porn star speak on campus."

I'm totally kidding about that. I actually replied, "Are you fucking kidding me?"

No, no, of course I didn't say that. I smiled and laughed and listened to her talk about growing up a few blocks from me and moving to Florida. It kind of broke my heart that she told me the bit about ice skating...it was important to her that I didn't just see her as a confused older woman who came to my house by mistake, but that I know she too was once vibrant and young. I don't look forward to that. To the feeling that you have to prove your value, justify your continued worth as you lose your independence, health, and even dignity in dribs and drabs every day.

I'll say this--she may have been confused, she may have been a bit shaky on the stairs, but if I'm still in good spirits, resilient in the face of adversity, tooling around going to parties with my friends fifty years from now, I'll consider myself unfathomably lucky.

Tick or Teat!

I threw a smallish Halloween party this weekend, which is partially why I have been so quiet lately. I had decorating! I had pumpkin carving! I had savory autumn leaf pies to make, bishes! And let me tell you. Those bastards sucked a chunk from my life that shall never be returned. (They were delicious, but their wee, sassy leaf shapes shall never grace my kitchen again. Because of the time suckage factor.)

An hour before trick-or-treating (and three hours before the first guests were to arrive), Daisy peed on the back rug for the second time in 24 hours, so I had to make an emergency run to Target to buy a new one. And more candy (because we kept eating it) and pint glasses (because we kept breaking them) and ice (because…well, because we wanted to get all fancy with beverages in a galvanized metal tub). The melted water from said cubes would later lead to a toilet overflow emergency at 1 in the morning. But what’s a Halloween party without the toilet overflowing at least once??

We only had 55 trick-or-treaters this year. I almost typed “tick,” and wouldn’t it be funny if you had a kid actually come to the door and ask,“tick or teat?” Because what kind of choice would THAT be? Anyway, that’s kind of a poor turnout, so we have lots of candy left. My FUPA is happy about this, but I most certainly am not.

On Sunday I hit my Halloween wall and did a major tear-down of all the seasonal holiday crap festooning our house: spider webs, lights, wall décor, even black poster board bats we cut out while watching NBC all night last Thursday.

I learned a few new things at our party. For example, I learned that my friend L is also a vegetarian. And that only one of the party attendees was a parent. And that cheese really does have magical powers, especially if it’s infused with the flavor of buffalo wings.

Curiosity Killed The Annoying Bar Patron

I have some bad habits. For example, if someone shows the remotest interest (or if they make the mistake of being a polite listener), I will hold forth on subjects like:

• Farm subsidies
• GM Corn
• Confined Animal Feeding Operations
• What a carbon analysis of our hair might reveal

Wait, wait, wait. I need to set the stage for you. Did I mention we've been drinking? And we're at a cheerful bar on Saturday night--a birthday party, more specifically--while I'm delivering a sermon on what too much conventionally-produced dairy did to the participants in a controlled study in Sweden?

Meanwhile, my husband is looking at me like, Why can't you just do too many shots and jump out of a giant cake in a bikini like Jeff's wife just did?

Anyway, I decided to switch conversational gears later in the evening to avoid traumatizing anyone else. First, I was introduced to the singer of a local band and his adorable new girlfriend. Turned out it was her birthday, too. Unfortunately, the singer in question was spectacularly drunk--so drunk you could nearly see his liver glowing through his shirt--which made him quite the Flirty Gertie, all handsy and stinky and stumbly. So I decided to switch to Interviewer Mode to divert his attention back to Lucky Girlfriend, where it belonged. Here's what happened:

Me, to the happy couple: "So how long have you two been together?"

Drunk singer: "Oh, I don't know. Four months?"

Lucky Girlfriend: "We started dating on June 21st."

Me: "So how did you meet?"

Singer: "She was at one of my shows."

Me: "What first attracted you to her?"

Singer: "Oh, her Dad was hilarious. Her family is great. I just love them."

Girlfriend: *Smile beginning to fade*

Me: "But you saw her and thought she was the prettiest girl in the room, right?"

Singer, after a long pause: "Well, not really. You know, as I get older, I'm so much more interested in what's INSIDE a woman, as opposed to the OUTSIDE."

Girlfriend: *Dirty look*

Me, laughing out loud: "But she's adorable! I'm sure you thought she was beautiful."

Singer, leaning in to cup his girlfriend's face: "But it's what's on the INSIDE that matters, right?"

Girlfriend: *Glaring at boyfriend now*

Singer: "I just..I don't know...her family...they're GREAT!"

Me: *Backing silently away while their fight broke out.*

Well that was a disaster. So I decided to switch conversational approaches again. May I just say that attempting to act as Life Coach to a burly, recovering drug addict at 2 in the morning is only going to lead to tears? For him? The good thing is, you'll walk away thinking, Well, my family may not be perfect, but at least my mother never locked me in a cage when I was a kid.

Maybe I should just keep it simple, I thought. Make people laugh. Get back to my roots.

Me, after eating 6 Bloody Mary garlic pickles, to a girl I've only met once before: "Hey, doesn't my breath smell kind of like a casserole?"

So if anyone would like to learn more about factory farming or the giant mass of plastic floating in the Pacific Ocean, I'll be at my cousin's wedding in Appleton this Saturday night. Dinner will be served at 5, annoying lecture to follow.

The Giants Win the Penance!

When I was a young girl, I attended Saturday morning CCD classes, all of which were punctuated by mass, and some of which were punctuated by confession. And in that musty, confined space, a sweaty me usually confessed the same laundry list of sins (fighting with my brother and sister, talking back to Mom & Dad, lying about something, putting a recyclable in the general refuse bin, murdering a homeless man and burying his body in the crawl space ...). And was assessed the same penance, nearly every time. One "Our Father," and a "Hail Mary" or two, depending on how honest / bored I was feeling before the moment of semi-truth.

It occurred to me the other day that if I were to attend confession NOW, nearly twenty years since my last one, my penance would probably be to say the rosary over and over again while running the Chicago marathon barefoot, with a sack of ceramic garden gnomes on my back.

But the more you read the paper or simply mingle with the general public, the more you realize your own sins are probably pretty minor in the grand scheme of things. Of course, it helps to live across the street from The Jerry Springer Show, but not everyone has that luxury. I truly feel blessed. Every day I can look out the window and say, "Thank GOD I'm not keeping up with the Joneses."

Also, from the weekend: "Thank goodness I've never been called a Butter Face, especially now that I know what it means!"

And: "Thank heavens my doctor has never pulled a jalapeno seed from my urethra!"

(Oh, there's a long story behind that one, and it's going in a book one day, for sure.)

So, there really is a lot to be thankful for. Including the fact that you can grow up and never go to confession again, if you don't want to.

Ghost hunting old-school style

First, a correction...that was an eight-pound kohlrabi in my last post. So if you're looking for an eight-pound rutabaga at the local grocery store, you may be shit out of luck.

Mike Birbiglia was hilarious, and I so enjoyed myself that I immediately bought tickets for another upcoming show: David Cross at the Riverside this Saturday. This has all the makings of a comedian bender, so it's a good thing future weekends will be reserved for weddings and other activities.

Such as having the snot scared out of me. Two weekends ago I heard a story about a haunted section of woods in southern Wisconsin, and since I am an avid Ghost Hunters fan, of course I want to go experience it myself to see if it's real.

There is a back service road in the southern Kettle Moraine Forest that is supposedly haunted. You drive down the road at night, park, kill the engine, shut off the lights, roll the windows down, and wait. Within minutes, you hear the voices and laughter of small children running through the woods. Soon, you also hear shuffling on the gravel road. The footsteps and laughter grow louder and louder until you have the strong sensation of being watched. But as your eyes grow used to the darkness, you see nothing but small puffs of dust kicking up from the gravel with every footstep.

Or something like that.

(Spooky Count Laugh: "Ah-ah-ah-ah-aaaahhh!")

True? Maybe. I know people who have gone there and will never return because they stained their skivvies just a wee bit. So, with our freewheeling attitude toward fear-based fluid leakage, my friend and I are thinking about doing it. Hey, if nothing else, it could be good blog fodder. Or we could try to sit on the haunted mausoleum in nearby Dartford Cemetery. (Supposedly a ghost pushes you off.) With Halloween approaching, I suspect this could be a popular spot with the local teen Ouija board / Light-as-a-feather-Stiff-as-a-board crowd. There could be a line..."You must be *this* tall to ride the mausoleum!" And souvenir tees and hats.

If we go, maybe we'll take some video and post something on YouTube. Because my life won't be complete until a pasty kid with a KFC stain on his shirt leaves a comment like, "this would have been more interesting if y'all girls got naked," or, "GGGGGGGGGGGGAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" or "you two are stupid the video sucks. try not smoking a bunch of weed before you go."

Is that Sputnik?

I have been so thrilled with my first experience participating in a CSA this summer. (No, that isn't shorthand for "Can't Stomach (men named) Allen.") Look at the goodies in our HALF-SHARE box two weeks ago:

I imagine I'd need a dolly to get the full-share box home.

In case you're wondering what that giant, nubby green ball is on the right, it's an eight-pound rutabaga. And it wasn't WOODY! It was jicama-like, sweet, crunchy, and mild. Our CSA (Olden Produce) is fabulous, and I highly recommend them. The variety of fruits and veggies in the weekly boxes forces you to get creative in the kitchen and vary your diet. This is a positive lifestyle change your colon AND your tastebuds can get behind. And convenient! Especially if you're like me and tell everyone, "Oh, I just go to the farmers' market when I want fresh produce," and then you sleep in each Saturday morning and totally miss it. And okay. I hear you: "But I don't know HOW to cook an eight-pound rutabaga, Jess!"

That's fine! Neither do I! So the green beast ended up in stir-fries and mostly straight to my stomach in raw stick form. And shhh...it's okay...you can also play kickball with it if you want, 'k? But if you want to cook those potatoes in a form other than mashed, here is one of my all-time favorite recipe resources. Galettes galore, folks. Check it out.

We've only got a few weeks to go on produce this season, and I am already experiencing CSA withdrawal symptoms. But I recently learned of a NEW CSA I can join: the Enlightened Kitchen in Fond du Lac. They offer a bread share featuring organic, artisan sourdough, whole wheat, and rye breads ... and! AND! The possibility of a new vegetarian soup share, featuring:

• Curried butternut bisque with coconut cream
• Tomato and bread soup
• Black bean with roasted peppers
• Chick pea stew with creamy peanut sesame broth
• Hearty winter root vegetable with brown rice
• Italian potato gnocchi and pesto with asiago
• Indian lentil with quinoa and tomatoes

Love it, love it, love it all. And this would mean one less night of cooking each week. I am so down with that. So if this looks appealing and you live in the area, sign up! I hear they need 30 people in the Appleton area to offer the soup share, so the more the merrier. The fall season runs from October 7 through December 23rd.

I'm seeing Mike Birbiglia tonight, prefaced by dinner at Cafe Coquette. *swoon!* It's like I'm a real grown-up, and everything! Will have more on these developments next week.