Angela Sage Larsen's Blog, page 10

"Swelter"

Some words sound like what they are. Some words are their own onomatopoeia (yeah I did. Look it up).

Today it's hotter 'n blazes…it's sweltering…which means heat waves swooning off of every surface. It's got "melt" and "sweat" right in there. It conjures up a piece of cheese that even flies have misgivings about.

Swelter is one of those words that could inspire a novel.

I can picture the cover now (I made one so you could picture it, too).

Just say the word out load and the plot unfolds before your eyes:

"Swelter. Lana Chastain's friends and family had abandoned her, all gone north for the summer. Staying behind to house-sit in the creepy Louisiana plantation that once belonged to her great grandmother, Lana intends to finish her doctoral thesis on human behavior so she can ditch Louisiana once and for all and make a life for herself in New York City. However, Lana's plan is thwarted at every turn: the unbearable heat and record-breaking temperatures; the strange noises she hears at night in the attic; the unexplained disappearance of a little girl from town and the arrogant county sheriff who didn't even bother to ask before searching her family's estate; these distractions not only change Lana's summer plans, but they may also threaten her life."

What word makes you want to write a novel?

P.S. Stay tuned for my super-hilarious non-fiction exposé, Corn-fed. A great beach read!

I never got to be on the Oprah show

Thank you, Oprah! We love you, too.

Today is the last first-run episode of the Oprah Winfrey Show (in case you didn't know. You're welcome). I'm admittedly a little verklempt. Oprah is a controversial figure for many reasons, but the thing that might summarize her controversy best is that she appears on the cover of every issue of her magazine. Oprah often appears bigger than life. Her brand is huge …and her brand is herself. When she recommends something, millions respond instantly, which really scares others who aren't fans; they find this rather alarming and tantamount to hero-worship.

But Oprah's ultimate message, as any fan can tell you, is "live your best life." Hard to find controversy there. I've watched Oprah pretty regularly since I used to come home from school on the bus, watch an episode each of Gilligan's Island and Brady Bunch and fix myself a bowl of carrots and celery drowning in Italian dressing. That's 25 years ago. I haven't always agreed with Oprah or her guests, not by a long shot. As we all know, her original vision for her show was less lofty and more sensational; when she decided to focus on uplifting her audience, the world was changed like no one could have ever predicted. Here's a partial list of the results of Oprah being part of our daily lives for 25 years (like it or not) -

Oprah made philanthropy cool. Everyone wanted to find a way to give back, big, small, didn't matter, as long as it was from the heart. She drilled the message in to her viewers that we all have something to give. She redefined success to mean how much you could help others (you might not think that's a big deal now, but her show started in the mid 1980s– an era that reeked of materialism and success was measured by how many toys you had acquired and how big they were. Also big hair, but that's another story.)
Oprah made reading cool. She started a book club in 1996, which started a movement across the country. Some even credit her with saving an ailing-even-then publishing industry. She promoted 65 titles. There's a conservative guesstimate that 55 million books were sold because of Oprah's Book Club. People started reading again for pleasure and to expand their horizons; people also started to discuss what they were reading, sharing ideas, insights and inspiration.
Oprah reminded women (and men) that being a mom was cool ("the most important job on the planet"), and so was being a woman who worked outside the home. She reminded men that being a dad was cool and it was OK to work at home as a dad.
Oprah inspired viewers to take charge of their physical, mental and spiritual well-being and to not dally in victimhood. Her own life was an inspiration for millions.
Oprah taught us that sisterhood was a good thing. Cooperation would get us further than competition.
Oprah educated people…literally. She built schools, provided scholarships, inspired people to get an education who otherwise would not have. In total, she provided an education for  64,688 people. That's people going to school and college; it doesn't even include the education she provided for her fans and viewers!
Oprah reminded us it's cool to have a sensitive, feminine side. Femininity is not weak or helpless, it is strong, necessary and beautiful. Girls can rule the world in that special way that only girls do: without domination, but with kindness, creativity and collaboration.
Oprah encouraged viewers to ask questions if they wanted answers and to rally themselves to seek answers, even if it meant striving for them.
Oprah reminded us that there is more that connects us than divides us. She brought onto her show "outsiders", even criminals and convicts, treating them with respect for the simple fact that they are human, even if we can't understand or relate to their actions. She also gave voice to that little piece of each one of us that feels like an outsider.
Oprah grew a massive movement to stop texting and driving (seriously, DON'T)!!!
Oprah inspired and motivated her viewers to look for the goodness that they embodied and find their "dream" and go after it.
Oprah made God cool. She didn't apologize for being spiritual, Christian or a God-believer. She also didn't make anyone feel stupid for disagreeing.
Oprah told us it's OK to have a little fun and to take time for yourself in order to be your best self and help others.

For those reasons and many more, Oprah inspired me. Many of my projects had that little impetus behind them that if I did them well, I could be on the Oprah Show and inspire others, too. It only recently dawned on me (belatedly!) that I won't get to be on the Oprah Show. I never made a dreamboard with a picture of myself on her stage (my bad), but I know how much she'd love Petalwink and Fifties Chix and my other lit brands with a conscience for kids that are still in the planning stages. I've literally had dreams where I've been hanging out at her house (the Montecito house, by her pool), discussing the Bible and spirituality; I've walked out onto the Oprah Show stage and hugged her, feeling my heart throbbing throughout my whole body and seeing my friends in the audience who came to support me (and meet Oprah, natch); and gone to a concert/theater vague dream thing with Oprah, my girlfriend, at my side.

For sure, my books coulda used the boost in sales a visit to the Opra Show would have provided, but I realize that–as cheesy as it sounds–I have been on the Oprah Show. Every time I've watched and been inspired, had an "a-ha! moment" (TM Oprah Winfrey), my heart has sung, ached, soared or roared with a guest, laughed, cried (let's not talk about how many times that show has made me weep. Embarrassing!), or made me go have a much-needed but dreaded conversation with someone that made all the difference…every time, I've been on the Oprah show. As Kristin Chenoweth sang in the second to last show, she's "left her handprint on our hearts."

In the end, Oprah is still "just" a person. I'm not advocating sainthood or hero worship, but I do believe we all owe her two simple, heart-felt words: Thank you. And to that I'll add, I can't help but miss you, girlfriend.

What do you get the mom of quintuplets?

As you all know, I'm not a mom…but I think I have an idea of what it's like to give birth. When the baby arrives (after usually 9 months…or in my case, several years), it is only the beginning. The first glimpse of the sweet idea who has been so long expected is pretty amazing, but quickly gets overshadowed by every extraordinary, progressive, subsequent moment.

So today, as my Fifties Chix book officially soft launches, I am filled with wonder, delight and excitement…but also a knowing that this is just the beginning. I might be awakened in the night numerous more times; be forced to empty my pockets–financially, spiritually–when it's not convenient to do so; be required to live by the words that I utter to be a good example/forced to live up to a higher standard…and be blown away by the surprising blessings that will surely overflow.

The Fifties Chix concept started with drawings I did of five very individual girls in 1955 and the idea of them time traveling to present day. I wrote most of the story and got impatient to have it published and so posted it as a blog for readers to subscribe to.  When we found our publisher, we redesigned the website…and I finished the book. But then an editor got her hands on it and the entire thing needed to be rewritten. After a few days' worth of deep depression (and denial), I gathered my strength to revisit the manuscript. I discovered some major points I'd overlooked in the first versions (editor was right after all. Hmm…) and then, re-inspired, dug in to rewrites. Longer story short, now I'm so happy with the book and grateful for the journey (and now we have an amazing award-winning artist, Astrid Sheckels doing the cover and interior art, which makes me feel like I've "arrived").

Behind the Fifties Chix story is the real story…every struggle, victory, giggle and  tear of Mary, Maxine, Ann, Judy and Bev echo my own. And hopefully they'll resonate with you, too. Get your copy here and tell me what you think.

Now, I think I'll go enjoy some baby shower cake

Dads like it, too!

Was I ever excited to get this feedback from Heather Vogel Frederick, author of the wonderful Mother-Daughter Book Club series about the first Fifties Chix book, Travel to Tomorrow: "Buckle your seatbelts and hang on tight as you blast to the past — and back again — with the fun-loving, time-traveling Fifties Chix. I'm a fan!" I would have loved to read Heather's books with my mom (but I'm still enjoying them on my own!) and I'm hoping moms and daughters will read the Fifties Chix series together.

I was just as thrilled to get a positive review from a dad! Dad of Divas just reviewed Travel to Tomorrow, saying among other nice things that the book is "a fun and engaging story that while geared toward young girls, is still fun for all to read."

As much as I love my books, I will always be pleasantly surprised when someone else likes them, too. I'm not a mom, so tell me, is it anything like a stranger noting that your kid is particularly cute or clever? You want to take credit and you're secretly (or maybe not secretly!) proud, but really you just feel blessed to be included in the picture at all

FANTASTIC Rant (by a 10 y/o girl)

Awesome! This post is making waves, and rightfully so. It is a ten year-old's editorial to "Boys Around the World." Check out this link and read the comments, too (particularly her mom's second comment). Good stuff!

I'm Angela and I'm Addicted to Superlatives!!

{Every}thing is billed as the {BEST} ever! the {MOST} ever! We have polls and lists and we like the stuff at the top of them; we like the biggest, prettiest, ugliest, funniest; the videos on YouTube with the most hits; the most popular breed of dog; the hottest selling gadgets. We're fans of the best baseball player of all time; we read the best sellers…

Oh, I am so not being critical! I'm just pointing out the obvious. I, myself, am a Superlative Junkie:

"I just got a paper cut. That is The Worst." ["Really? The worst?" my husband {always} clarifies].
"The sun is shining! This is The Best Day Ever!"
"I haven't had lunch. I'm Starving." [Starving is a word used all too freely by Westerners who have no idea what it means to starve. Skipping a meal is not starving. Skipping a day of meals is not starving.]

You would think being a writer would mean that I chose my spoken words more carefully. But my propensity for unedited expression {always} results in supreme generalizations. I love to love. I love to protest injustice. I love to express. Put the three together…Yowza. Oh, I also LOVE exclamation points!!!!!!

I know intellectually that the silent beats at the symphony are just as important as the swelling notes; my artistic training has been clear that white space is just as important as deep bright bold shapes; my husband is teaching me that sometimes it's OK to be quiet and let a comment pass unremarked (did you know that? is that why my mom was {always}  advising me to "think before I speak?" Is it common knowledge that not everything has to be remarked upon? This is important information people should know.)

I'm in a recovery program for people addicted to superlatives: it's called writing books. Even in writing fiction, my goal is to tell the truth and to do that, {everything} can't be superlative, especially my characters, or else it's {all} flat and lifeless; there's no rhythm, no room for struggle or progress, no silent beats to let that last note resonate to the core of your being and shake you loose, no island of "negative space" to let a sea of color saturate your soul without drowning you. I'm learning. And though I might not be the {BEST} learner EVER, I am having the MOST fun(!!!!!)

One Book at a Time

from www.velvetstrawberries.typepad.com

What's it like

to read one book at a time?

is life smooth and serene?

do you go out dancing every night

and fall into bed,

drifting easily into an exhausted happy sleep?

do you wake

in the morning

with a dewy simper, a cup of tea

and plan your day frolicking

with carefree friends

and an obedient puppy?

do you discuss politics and life

religion and astrophysics

with a disconnected comfortable self-satisfaction?

do you have time between social gigs

to polish the toilet to a sparkling sanitized shine?

is your laundry clean, folded, stacked

and arranged by color in your organized closet?

is there room on your tidy desk for a single

to-do list

with  solid check marks in an orderly row?

are your library books actually

free

–returned on the due date??

Tell me what it's like to have dustless, clutterfree shelves

and thoughts that march in manageable logical succession.

After you tell me what it's like to read

one book at a time,

do let's have brunch

and you can detail for me a life wherein

you write just

one book at a time.

 

Oh, Spring, When Will You Have Sprung?

The whole reason for this post is to show this pic from the basket on our front door-those are eggs of our resident purple finches from last year!

This time of year puts me in the mood for good poetry (Emily Dickinson, any one?). It's because I'm a California girl at heart (read: I must have sunshine year 'round) who lives in the Midwest (read: I do not have sunshine year round). When spring comes, it's like a happy surprise. Yeah, I know it's promised every year (no, not by a groundhog, by Someone a little bigger and more reliable). But when things are gray, cold, and bleak…and I look outside and it looks like that out there, too spring feels a long time coming.

Of course, I understand the beauty of winter…all buds and roots tucked in and doing their most active–though invisible–good work, without which there wouldn't be the glory of spring. But for someone steeped in metaphor and making a living at it, I still forget what's going on despite appearances. Here's the cool thing about that though, even if I'm shaking my fists at winter, spring still comes. Annnnnd…shaking my fists doesn't make spring come faster (this just in).

I get a little better at appreciating winter each time it rolls around. I know how it works, when I make peace with it, we'll move somewhere sunny! I just wanted to write, in case you're like me, and remind you that even though they are predicting yet another snow storm (um, yeah, it's April…), spring is on its way! If it's time to tuck in, then let's use this time like the plants and trees…let's use it to do our best growing,  foster our creativity, let our precious ideas be warmed and nurtured and held close, out of the sight of others, so when the spring comes, we can bust out and boldly show off our pretty glories for all to see as if it was no effort at all…

NEW feet within my garden go,

New fingers stir the sod;

A troubadour upon the elm

Betrays the solitude.

New children play upon the green,

New weary sleep below;

And still the pensive spring returns,

And still the punctual snow!

-LII from Part Two: Nature by Emily Dickinson

What's the plan?

My husband said the most brilliant thing yesterday. He does that a lot. He said he had been watching one of our favorite TV shows and wondering how the episode would resolve; he had realized that the writers knew how it would end and so worked backward from there, fitting all the pieces in so the end would make sense and wrap up perfectly. He said he thought, too, of the Fifties Chix series and how I already know how it ends and so each book fits into the plan. His telling me this was in context of life…or Life…how we all fit into a plan, how everything we are challenged with, everything we love and enjoy, everything that forces us to grow is part of a perfect divine plan. The creator knows how the story "ends," so to speak (although the Great Forever knows no ending, but you get my drift).

I keep mulling over this. If I really accept this, think how liberated I would be–how not-anxious, how not-selfish, how not defensive. My characters are free to be who they are and to a certain extent, I'm not worried about what they do or say because it's all in context of the story line and I know where they end up. They are individually special and important, but they are also indispensable to telling the whole story and playing their unique role in it.

Hmmm…that must be a metaphor (did you get the sense this is where I was headed?); each one of us is indispensable in the story of the universe.  We are necessary. We are loved. We're each a special part of a universal plan. I don't think that means that fate has already decided everything for us; just that "all things work together for good." And the plan is good.

Writers are Deciders

US President #43 was mocked for his insistence, "I'm the decider!" but I think he was on to something.

As I am finishing final edits on the second Fifties Chix book, Keeping Secrets (due out this fall), I am realizing how true it is that if I am unclear about a character's development or motives or where a particular story line will eventually lead, my readers FOR SURE will be unclear about it! This calls for some decision making. Forget good editing or a great concept: the superhero who will save the day (the book) is The Decider.

Writing cannot be an escape from real life; real life is making decisions and living with the consequences. Same with writing. I have had a few points that I thought I would save to address in the last book in the series, but guess what? That's me avoiding my role as Decider. Another way of putting it is: that's me being lazy!! I wish I could tell you the things I've been Deciding this week with my Decider superpowers, BUT I will give away why Miss Boggs caused the Fifties Chix to time travel and I would give away if James O'Grady (who we all know is adored by Mary and Ann) like either one of them back! Even if I'm not willing to spoil the surprises for the reader, I'm learning that I still have to make some decisions. And fortunately for me, it's still pretty interesting stuff because 90% of the time, I'm surprised by what the Decider decides!