the night, and the rain, and the river: authors' favorite lines - part two

I've been putting together little graphics to help promote the new Forest Avenue Press short story anthology The Night, and the Rain, and the River. My idea was to have the authors send me their favorite line from their own story, one that I could make into a sharable image - but as the contributors started sending me their quotes, I started getting really curious. What was it about those particular lines that made them favorites for the writers who'd penned them? Was it about content, theme, language? I decided to ask. And here's what they said.

Originally, I strung these all together, but I ended up with so many great and varied responses, I thought I'd break it up a little. Today's edition: Dylan Lee, Tammy Lynn Stoner, Lois Rosen and Jackie Shannon Hollis.

DYLAN LEE
From "Hunk"

This is actually the opening sentence of my story. I like that it doesn't really make sense and sets the tone, getting you ready for a weird ride—not that reading a story is really a ride, so more like a weird sit.

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TAMMY LYNN STONER
From "The Last Time"

Why did I choose that line?...

I suppose I wanted to go with something that embodied the turning point of the story. Instead of pulling out a line about how gorgeous the whale is (to make my story into a whale), I wanted to pull a line about the moment that it changed its line of sight—which, since a whale's eyes are fixed, can only be done by moving its entire body. Plus it sounded kinda catchy.

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LOIS ROSEN gave me four quotes to choose from, from her short story "Splinters." I made a graphic for all four. Here I'll include two:

I chose the lines for their rhythm and images.

JACKIE SHANNON HOLLIS gave me two from "The Pink on her Toenails." For context, I should mention that her narrator is a man.

I like the contrast of each of these two sections in the story. One comes early in the story and one later, so there is the progression of the story, and something big has happened in between.

The lines about the girls dancing create an image that I really like and it is something the reader has very likely seen but maybe not named, so they will recognize themselves or a memory in this image. It's also the narrator's observation about girls, so it tells us something about him. There is this sense that they are just dancing but there is something more going on. Which is also the case with this story, so much is not said, but things happen.

In the lines about the punch, this is a big moment for the narrator. Up until now, he has been more passive, a witness to things that cause him pain. This is a moment when he ACTS, when he responds to all that is going on for him. And because it is his friend, there is such potential risk in this.

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More to come. In the meantime, if you want to check out the book, more info is here.

The Night, and the Rain, and the River is edited by Liz Prato and is available through all the usual places, but my favorite is here.

the night, and the rain, and the river: authors' favorite lines - part one

I've been putting together little graphics to help promote the new Forest Avenue Press short story anthology The Night, and the Rain, and the River. My idea was to have the authors send me their favorite line from their own story, one that I could make into a sharable image - but as the contributors started sending me their quotes, I started getting really curious. What was it about those particular lines that made them favorites for the writers who'd penned them? Was it about content, theme, language? I decided to ask. And here's what they said.

Originally, I strung these all together, but I ended up with so many great and varied responses, I thought I'd break it up a little. Today's edition:  Gail Bartley, Matthew Robinson and Gregg Kleiner.

GAIL BARTLEY
From "More of What You Already Are"

I picked this quote because it’s so visual, and shows us Marlene (Aubrey’s mother) through his eyes. The wall between them softens her some, but they’re still worlds apart. I worked for five years in a juvenile justice center, and saw the dynamic between Marlene and Aubrey play out a hundred times with parents of kids who were constantly in trouble. Mothers in particular (many of them single mothers) were really thrown by the whole experience of having a child who commits crimes. They’d bounce radically between tough love and over-indulgence, trying anything in hopes that their kid would snap out of it, only to end up angry and heartsick when, too often, things just went from bad to worse. I think I was successful in translating some of that reality into the fiction of my story. 

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MATTHEW ROBINSON
From "Tidal"

I chose these lines because of all the lines in this short, short story, they do the most work. The whole story is in them. Everything else is the story figuring out that they're true, and that it's okay.

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GREGG KLEINER
From "The Blue Jackpot"

I chose this line because of the little girl's innocent perspective about her mother's condition. Her worry about the swimming pool water running into her mother's eyes is what's present for her, more than the greater condition the reader can infer. I wanted a line that would resonate with the reader, paint a quick little scene and be interesting and intriguing and colorful enough to make a person want to read more. So this quote has two characters, a yellow scarf, and something amiss and odd… a lack of eyebrows. I had my eyebrows (along with my head) shaved when I entered a Buddhist monastery for a month at age 17 when I was an exchange student living in Thailand for a year. It took forever for them to grow back. Now when I see chemo patients, I often think of that.

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More to come. In the meantime, if you want to check out the book, more info is here.

The Night, and the Rain, and the River is edited by Liz Prato and is available through all the usual places, but my favorite is here.

blog hop!

There's a fun exercise hopping around lit blogs and I've been tagged to participate. It's called a blog hop and the idea is to answer seven particular questions about your novel and then tag two writers to do the same thing a week down the line. 

My tagger was the lovely literary-force-to-be-reckoned-with, Laura Stanfill. I can't say enough about Laura. I've been privy to the pages of her novel in progress, which she writes about in her blog hop post, and it's lush, nuanced, quirky, funny, gorgeous writing. She is also the publisher of Forest Avenue Press - with remarkable editing and design chops, great taste, and amazing energy and drive. I seriously don't know how she does it and am overjoyed to have been able to attach myself to her coattails and enjoy the ride as I design book covers for her lovely books.

Here's Laura's post about her novel The Serinette.

And here are my answers to the same questions, about my novel in progress.

What is the name of your character? Is s/he fictional or a historic person?

The name of my narrator (a totally fictional character but, of course, with a lot of me in her) is Emmie Matzo. She's named after my favorite film noir movie star, Lizabeth Scott, whose real name was Emma Matzo.

Actually, all of the characters in the book are named after Lizabeth Scott in some way - many of them from the film Too Late for Tears. For instance, Emmie's best friend's name is Lizabeth. Her two guy friends (much of the story revolves around the odd and dysfunctional relationship of four former high school buddies) are Danny and Fuller, named after the film's male lead Danny Fuller (played by Dan Duryea, my other favorite film noir movie star). That's him there on the poster, smacking her around.

My book has nothing to do with anything remotely film noir. It was just a thing I decided to do, to stick something I love into the book in a kind of weird, roundabout way. It's actually very convenient. Whenever I need a name I jump on IMDB and scan the cast list for Too Late for Tears or one of her other movies, find a name that works, and then I can keep writing.

When and where is the story set?

Most of the story takes place in Portland, Oregon, in present day, and there's a small chunk that happens in Los Angeles. There's also a short interlude set in Scranton, Pennsylvania. Which, OK, is where Lizabeth Scott was born. I'm a little obsessed.

What should we know about him/her?

Lizabeth Scott? Well, she was this fabulous... Oh, you mean my narrator.

Emmie is a liar. We all are, of course, and that fact is part of what my book is about, but Emmie is a big time liar.* She'll tell you this is because of her mother, who was / is a flighty narcissist who rarely paid any attention to her until Emmie got used to saying anything she could in order to get Mom's attention. And then again, she'll tell you this is because of her father, who was a liar himself, and good at it. And then again, she'll tell you this is because lying is part of a person's right to privacy. And then again, she'll tell you this is because she likes people to be happy, and isn't it better to go through life thinking that vegan pumpkin cheesecake you baked for the party was delicious?

But the real reason Emmie lies is that she's desperate for human connection. And desperate to find one person, in all the crazy people she knows, who will like her for something other than what they can get out of her.

She somehow hasn't figured out yet that lying and telling people exactly what they want to hear all the time is not the way to attract the kind of friend who's going to like you for something other than what they can get out of you.

What is the main conflict? What messes up his/her life?

Conflict comes when Emmie decides to try to grow up and get honest. Being honest when you've lied all your life is very difficult. Trying to remember not to reflexively lie. Trying not to hurt people with the truth. Trying to navigate between the lies you decide to tell and the lies you hope to bury. But things can get dangerous when one of those people you've lied to for years in order to gain friendship, someone who has always wanted more out of you than you wanted to give, holds a grudge - and knows all the secrets you're not ready to tell.

What is the personal goal of the character?

Of course, I got ahead of myself and already answered this one, but let's see. Other personal goals. To get a job so she can move out of crazy Lizabeth's crazy house, which she moved into when she returned to Portland after that bad thing she doesn't like to talk about. To reconcile with her dad. To master the fight scene (including being dragged off stage kicking and screaming) that she somehow has to be able to perform since she let Fuller talk her into being a super (which is to say, an extra) for the opera.

What is the title of this novel, and can we read more about it?

I have no title yet, and there's no place to read more about it. It's a novel in progress, so I don't know much more than what's going to happen next.

When can we expect the book to be published? [Or: When was the book published?]

I'd say I knew, but I'd be lying.

*

Now to tag two writers who will pick up the blog hop where I left off. In one week, they will answer these same questions on their own blogs.

Estela Bernal's debut novel for middle readers has just been published by Piñata Books, an imprint of Arte Público Press, which is the oldest publisher of contemporary and recovered literature by Hispanic American authors, and part of the University of Houston. I recently designed the cover for Can You See Me Now. Kirkus had this to say about it: "Bernal has succeeded in crafting a story that acknowledges tragedy without wallowing in it, placing her emphasis on resilience and personal growth. The quick pace and distinctive characters make for a smooth, well-crafted read. Middle-grade readers should respond to this tender story of learning to connect with others through open eyes and an open heart."

I wrote about the process of designing that cover here. You can learn more about Estela here.

Holly Goodman has written more different kinds of things than anyone I know. She's been a reporter and a blogger, has written fiction and personal essays. Even a number of fantastic how-to books, including a book on home plumbing that is not only informative but also quite fascinating. I mean it. Her amazing, recently-gone-viral essay on poverty, struggle and beauty is up on Nailed Magazine here. She's also writing a beautiful novel and I asked her to write about it for blog hop.

Holly's blog is here.

OK, I lied. I have three people to tag. But my third, Adam Strong, jumped in ahead of me and did his blog hop yesterday. Adam is a school teacher and father of two young daughters. I have no idea now he finds the time to work on his great novel-in-progress Bella Vista. Adam and I study together in Portland's Dangerous Writers fiction workshop. We have a phrase in Dangerous Writing: to burn the language or burnt tongue. This is when you mess with language to come up with something particular, a voice that will set your writing, and your narrator, apart. It has been said about Adam that his tongue is so burnt, it's ashes.

Adam's blog - and his blog hop post about Bella Vista, is here.


*Even though Emmie is, I'm sure Lizabeth Scott is not a liar.

book cover design show-off: can you see me now

Recently, I had the good fortune of being asked to design a book cover for Piñata Books, an imprint of Arte Público Press, which is the oldest publisher of contemporary and recovered literature by Hispanic American authors, and part of the University of Houston. Can You See Me Now tells the story of Mandy, a thirteen-year-old girl who's just lost her father to a drunk driver and is losing her mother to grief and neglect. It's a beautiful middle reader novel. And what struck me about it, personally, is how much the narrator feels like me at that age. The way Mandy talks about the bullies who torment her at school, for example - you could be reading my thirteen-year-old diary. Except, of course, that the book is written much better.

This was my first time designing for a middle reader, and I loved being able to strategize my layout in a
visual language that appeals to kids that age. I also enjoyed working with the text in a new way, using the letters Mandy writes to her father as a visual backdrop and having her build the title in her own handwriting by circling individual words within those letters. Oddly, that means that, at least as far as the cover the book is concerned, Mandy's handwriting is mine. What a personal thing, giving someone your handwriting.

My work on this cover felt even more personal than that. Not only did I get to give Mandy her handwriting, but her face. Her physicality. Well, the actual physicality already existed - the girl in the picture is the niece of author Estela Bernal. In all the hunting around we did for the perfect model for Mandy, I kept pushing for Estela's niece. What a great face - and what could be better, when you get your first novel published, than to have it graced with the face of a loved one?

Once I had my photographs in hand, though, I started manipulating. I flipped the picture to get the side I wanted in the frame. I played with color and tonality. I morphed two outfits together to get what she's wearing here, recreated and sculpted certain passages in her hair. I gave her a yin yang necklace, piecemealing it together from other pictures. The girl on the cover is Bernal's niece, but she's not. She's someone new. Someone Bernal conjured and brought to vivid life through description and voice, and someone (I will say with selfish pride) I gave an image to.

The concept for this cover pretty much popped into my head fully formed after some mulling over the story and its themes. I made this silly, little mock-up in Illustrator - and you'll see I did it so quickly that I didn't even get the title right.

My second step was to make up a photographic sketch of my idea to present to the author and the publisher. I worked with stock photos, and the sketch had a different girl - one who was a little too old, a little too made up, definitely not Hispanic. Not Mandy. But it was a good stand-in picture. Once in an email, after I'd gotten the design finalized, the author said something that really touched me, while talking about that original stand-in picture.

"I love it," Estela said, "but I love the one you created even more, because, to me, you created Mandy."

Can You See Me Now? is available through all the usual suspects, but my favorite is here. Estela Bernal will be reading at Powell's Books at Cedar Hills Crossing on June 30th.

book cover reveal: carry the sky

Forest Avenue Press' next novel will be out in September, and I've been hard at work on its cover. Carry the Sky is the first novel by poet Kate Gray. Here's what FAP has to say about the story:

Kate Gray takes an unblinking look at bullying in her debut novel, Carry the Sky. It’s 1983 at an elite Delaware boarding school. Taylor Alta, the new rowing coach, arrives reeling from the death of the woman she loved. Physics teacher Jack Song, the only Asian American on campus, struggles with his personal code of honor when he gets too close to a student. These two young, lonely teachers narrate the story of a strange and brilliant thirteen-year-old boy who draws atomic mushroom clouds on his notebook, pings through the corridors like a pinball, and develops a crush on an older girl with secrets of her own. Carry the Sky sings a brave and honest anthem about what it means to be different in a world of uniformity.

I wanted a cover that touches on the elements and tone of the book but also one that speaks to the beautiful poetry in Kate's language. How she can take simplicity and make it swoop up into something transcendent. There was one particular passage that had my ear when I came up with the concept for the book cover. I thought I'd give that to you as a little taste of one of the two voices that tell the story in Carry the Sky. This voice is Jack Song, and he's giving Kyle (the aforementioned strange and brilliant boy who draws mushroom clouds on his school binder) an impromptu lesson in origami:

The binder goes on top of the pile of paper he wants to fold. The piece of brown package wrap in my hand goes on top of the drawing on his binder. Each fold I show him, the angles, the different basic patterns. He watches, and his eyes grow bigger than teenage eyes. They get big like a camera lens, like he’s recording. And we sit past the warning bell for dinner. And the light on the lake goes purple. We sit on the bench, and I fold, and he folds, and the light from the dorm behind us goes on, and we make cranes.

The part Kyle likes the best is folding down the wings and pulling on the head and tail to expand the body. He likes blowing on the body to fill it out. Enough air to fill enough space. We make real things. Cranes. No gravitational force needed. Cranes spill over the blast zone of his binder. Out of the annihilation, out of the mess of papers, before a lake perfectly calm at night, cranes rise.

More info on Forest Avenue Press is here.

Kate recently participated in a literary blog hop (something I'll be joining in very soon, myself), in which she answered seven questions about her book. You can check that out here.

random pictures

Once in a while, I clean out my phone of all the accumulated pictures that are languishing in there, and I find all sorts of random photos I shot and then forgot about. Here's what I've found.

Why do people think you can't talk about one without talking about the other?

Moss growing on the inside of a hitching ring at a Portland curb.

All the pillows you can imagine, and he sleeps on my jeans.

Inside a mirrored pyramid.

It's a place for meditation, but I'll bet a lot of people want to take pictures of themselves pretending to be Busby Berkeley girls in there...

W

When the Marketing Department at work was being renovated, we spent a couple months working inside the cramped conference room. It had no windows and became lovingly referred to as "Windowless-Airless." This is the window I drew on the white board. It stayed up there, un-erased, for about another month after we moved out.

After an ice storm.

Doggelgänger

a moment in the day: banana

Driving to work, me behind the wheel, Stephen in the passenger seat, he sits holding a banana - his snack for work - in one hand, in his lap. It's a funny thing, a banana. A funny word and a funny shape, and you can't help but want to play with a banana, flop it around a little, make a lazy magic wand out of it. Now Stephen can't stop himself. He lets out a noise that sounds like, "wheee!" and turns that banana upright so that it resembles what you'd expect a banana in your lap to resemble. I laugh like a thirteen year old boy.

Stephen laughs too, his eyebrows up, surprised at what he just did but obviously also quite pleased. I tell him if I mimed a penis out of a banana, he'd be horrified, and that makes him laugh more. What could be sweeter, two people laughing together over something so sublimely immature?

We drive on toward work. Morning sunshine through the windshield.  In all seriousness, now, he says, “That’s why I hate carrying a banana around with me. A banana is never just a banana.”