April Lindner's Blog, page 4

Forging On

All school year long I wait impatiently for extended writing time--a stretch of days when I can put my head down and focus with few interruptions.  And now that time is here--theoretically at least.  While I wait to hear more about the fate of the Greek novel, I've been trying--with uneven success--to get my head back into my next novel--the one set in a New Jersey river town.



Lambertville, NJ
But summer--and serious writing--comes with its own pitfalls.  I may hypnotize myself into believing I'm on the top deck of a ferry pulling into Santorini, or wandering the charming streets of a small New Jersey river town, but my body knows otherwise.



So to fend off the Vitamin D deficiency and a bad case of the blahs, Andre, the dogs, and I went for a walk in Valley Forge...


...a green world where locals and tourists alike walk trails, ride bikes, and commune with ghosts.

Captain Von Steuben looks out across the fieldsOn other visits, we've opted for a deeper experience of Valley Forge, poking our heads into the cabins where various military heroes slept, or wandering the Revolutionary War museum, taking in the exhibits.

This time, though, we just skimmed the surface...





...guzzling fresh air and sunshine against the work week to come.

Shad Fest 2015: Researching the Next Chapter

  A local celebrity
As I may have mentioned (about a thousand times) Andre and I have been living in limbo these last few months.  Our house is in the market and half of our furniture is in storage, while we wait for the next chapter of our lives to begin--hopefully in the town of our dreams, Lambertville, New Jersey.

What's so special about Lambertville?


It's a small town--charming, picturesque, quirky, and with a startling number of artists per capita--the kind of place that would make the perfect place to live--or the great setting for a novel.


You can probably guess where this is going, right?  Over the last few months I've been working on a new writing project. Another YA reimagining of a classic work of Brit Lit, it's set in a fictional New Jersey river town that bears a passing resemblance to a certain actual New Jersey river town.


The Delaware Raritan Canal
So of course I take every opportunity I can get to research my novel-in-progress.  One great recent opportunity was Shad Fest--an annual event that celebrates the arts in the Lambertville, local small businesses, music, and--of course--the annual running of the shad.

Shad fishing demonstrationAs we wandered from booth to booth, I took a ton of photographs and tried to soak up the small town spring festival vibe.


The shimmering river town light:


and the low-key, dog-friendly atmosphere:


While we wait, fingers-crossed, to see where life takes us next, at least I can build my own imaginary little river town, word by word, photo by photo, memory by memory.

We can't get no satisfaction

Clash By Night: A Visit From Poet/Punk Gerry LaFemina

One of the highlights of spring 2015 was a visit by my old friend and collaborator Gerry LaFemina.  Gerry read from his poetry and fiction for a rapt crowd of students at Saint Joseph's University and he answered our many questions about his life as a writer, an advocate for poetry, and a punk rocker.


Gerry also treated us to a preview of his latest project--one that's especially thrilling to a poet-slash-music enthusiast like myself.

Yes, that's Gerry on the cover!The first in a projected series of anthologies inspired by classic albums, Clash By Night gathers poems responding to specific songs on The Clash's seminal album London Calling. 

For instance, this classic--



--which inspired this poem by George Yatchisin:


Clampdown
It wasn't the socialism--I had
the Gang of Four for that.
Plus who doesn't want 
to chuck work, especially when
there's rock 'n' roll, a chance
to chant with our chosen
likeminded young believers.
No, it was the pull across the pond
when the song dropped Harrisburg,
and TMI's threatening cooling
towers, close, so close to home.
Atoms split with the power
of a guitar chord and the shock wave
ripples still, accents, angers, all
the things we share in the terror
we hope never bores us to death.

And this blast from the not-too-distant past:


--which kick-started this poem by Chryss Yost:


Guns of Brixton
This whole place has been blasting open
since before it was a place, before there
was a surface to the earth.  Violence
what we're made of.  We are stardust,
tarnished and repelled by the rest
our own dusty breath.  God is a bullet.
The rest of us, we're nothing but targets.


***
The hits keep coming in Clash By Night.  I look forward to future album-inspired anthologies in Gerry's inventive Lo-fi Poetry series. And I told him that when he's ready to take on Born to Run he should be sure to give me a call.

The Greek Novel Revisited

Snack shack, Tinos, Greece (photo by Shawn Krahmer Heal)It's been a super-busy spring.  I've been struggling to balance teaching and a flurry of events promoting my most recently published YA novel, Love, Lucy.  In the middle of it all, we put our home on the market, so this spring has been a blur of renovation, cleaning, and dog wrangling to get the house ready for potential buyers.  

That's why you haven't seen me here for a long time.  But now that the spring semester is more or less over, I'll be back, sharing my thoughts about writing, travel, music, etcetera. And now (at last!) I hope to get back to some serious, sustained writing.  I've got several projects in the works, all too new and fragile to discuss in public just yet.   

And then there's my Greek novel--a reimagining of Jane Austen's Persuasion, set on a high school study tour of Athens, Santorini, and Crete.

Mule on Syros, Greece (photo by Shawn Krahmer Heal)
Last week, amidst the grading and end-of-year meetings, I found time to dip back into the manuscript, reading it over to make sure it's ready to go back to my agent. After a lot of proofreading and a little tinkering, I sent it back out into the world last night, fingers crossed for its safe passage into (I hope) eventual publication.


Bon voyage!  (photo by Shawn Krahmer Heal)So please think some good thoughts for my newest heroine, Anne, as she sets off on her journey.


Sunset, Syros (photo by Shawn Krahmer Heal)

Ubi Bene, Part Two: An Afternoon in Lambertville, NJ

The Delaware River Yesterday, Andre, the dogs, and I were exiled again, this time while prospective buyers checked out our house.  Combining business with pleasure, we took a daytrip to our longed-for future hometown of Lambertville and went for a stroll along the Delaware & Raritan Canal.  



The path that runs along the canal is state park--a very long and skinny one.  On it, we passed families fishing for trout and were passed in turn by little kids on bikes.   We glimpsed five hawks wheeling above the canal, and inadvertantly scared quite a few fat Canada geese out of our path and into the water.

The canal
A day later we would see the first green spears of crocus and daffodil poking up in our Pennsylvania garden, but last Saturday New Jersey seemed in a perfect state of suspension between winter and spring.  Between the old life and the new.

Kind of like us.

Downtown Lambertville

Ubi Bene, Ibi Patria: Revisiting Asbury Park

In this time of scrambling to sell one home and buy another, Andre, the dogs, and I needed to vacate our house while our floors were refinished.  So why not take advantage of our weekend-long exile to feed our souls with a visit to Asbury Park?  Epicenter of the Jersey Shore music scene, Asbury's also home to many wonderful places to break bread with friends.

Dinner at the homey and delicious Porta


We ate at Porta, a family-style eatery that always manages to feel warm, festive, and authentically Italian, no matter how gray and cold the weather.  Then we made our way to the legendary Saint.
The wonderful Toby Lightman was on the bill that night. 



We soaked in the warmth, the music, the lights...




...before returning home to spiffy new floors and a little statue of Saint Joseph awaiting burial in our backyard.  Not to mention the packing, cleaning, and Goodwill runs that must be done--all in service of moving to a place we hope will be our hearts' true country.

In the Air Again: Lucy Takes a Fantastic Flying Book Club Tour

Thanks to my friends at The Fantastic Flying Book Club for taking Lucy on tour.  Check out her itinerary here.  There will be reviews, interviews, and a giveaway, so visit any of the stops along the way for  chance to win a copy of Love, Lucy.

Off The Air

Yes, I have been.  You see, we're in the process of getting our house fixed up to put it on the market, because we've found a house we love in a river town we adore.  

Yes, I do have a thing for river towns.

So wish us luck, because this business of trying to simultaneously sell one house and buy another is fraught.  I promise to be posting soon, when my life isn't in quite such a state of disarray.  

An L.A. Interlude

Audrey Hepburn on Sunset BoulevardWhen the L.A. Teen Writer Series invited me to appear on a panel with some very fabulous writers--Susan Adrian, Jennifer Niven, Amy Talkington, Sandra Waugh, and moderator Mary McCoy--I wasn't about to let a whole continent stand in my way.  



I've never been to Los Angeles before, so of course I had to squeeze in a little sightseeing.  First stop: TCL (formerly known as Grauman's) Chinese Theater!



After that, I set off for a stroll down Hollywood Boulevard.  In New York City you can tell the tourists because they're looking up.  But on Hollywood Boulevard, the tourists are bumping into each other because they're all looking down--at the Walk of Fame.



Here's what I noticed about L.A.  They do things with a special flair.  Take, for instance, the lowly shopping mall...


Hollywood and Highland Shopping Center...where a person might buy herself a plain old-fashioned smoothie.


D'LushEven the local high school is pretty darn flashy.


Hollywood High

Record stores hardly even exist anymore, but Hollywood's Amoeba Music is a super-funky work of art.

And the Central Public Library's not too shabby either.



By the way, our panel was loads of fun.  Here's photographic evidence--a collage by author Jennifer Niven:



And a post-panel get together proved that L.A. has a lively, vibrant community of Young Adult authors to match everything else that's stellar about the place.



Oh, and here's a link to a little interview I did with the LAPL Central Library Blog.


Hollywood Still Life: A Star, Crushed Roses, and a Weave

Home is So Sad: A Poem By Philip Larkin

Not long ago,  I was in Florida, taking care of my mother who was recovering from pneumonia.  My Mom is doing better (knock wood!) but the illness took its toll on her body and her psyche, and made her a sadder version of herself. 


Even being home in Florida felt sad.  Something about the contrast between the piercing blue skies and balmy weather and my mother's newly circumscribed days.  The visits from nurses and physical therapists.  The meals--carefully prepared but barely eaten.  The soft boiled eggs and canned peaches and Ensure.  


This visit was like a new, gray layer in a pentimento.   The early layers are bright: Christmas with my parents, my sister, my husband, my uncles and aunts.  Disney World with my sons.   Lobster dinners on the water.  Pilgrimages to the power plant where the manatees gather in cold weather.  Boat tours on the Indian River.  And then, six years ago, my father's illness and death.  

Now the things that used to signify homecoming and vacation mean something a bit sadder.  The Melbourne airport with its relentlessy cheery carpet and festive manatee statue. 


The wall clock that chimes a different song on every hour.  Even the weather--the tossing palm fronds, the sunshine, the blue, blue sky.

How can I not think of this magnificent poem by Philip Larkin?

Home is so Sad
Home is so sad. It stays as it was left,
Shaped to the comfort of the last to go
As if to win them back. Instead, bereft
Of anyone to please, it withers so,
Having no heart to put aside the theft

And turn again to what it started as,
A joyous shot at how things ought to be,
Long fallen wide. You can see how it was:
Look at the pictures and the cutlery.
The music in the piano stool. That vase.  Flying home