Katrina Kenison's Blog, page 23

Not an ordinary day. . .

The young, enthusiastic crew arrived at nine am yesterday, right on time.  Within minutes, our house was transformed into a film set, with cords strung along the floor in the living room, bright lights mounted on poles, a camera set up and aimed at a particular spot right next to the fireplace--that would be my spot, precisely marked off with a black square of electrical tape.  

It was less than two months ago that my book group encouraged me to make a video.  At first I resisted the idea...

Adulthood for Amateurs

Five years ago today, my husband and I signed the papers on the property that we now call home.  I remember that day well, how nervous I was, already second guessing myself and fearful that we were doing the wrong thing.  It was a gorgeous October day much like this one, cloudless and crisp, just a few leaves left on the trees. We finished the closing and drove up from town, to our new land and our dilapidated little cottage.  Sitting outside that autumn morning next to my reluctant partner i...

Halloween shopping

Every year since my younger son Jack was three or so, we have tried on Halloween masks together.  It was always Jack's holiday, the plans for some elaborate costume taking shape weeks in advance, the scarier the better.  When he was really young, he was happy to go trick-or-treating in whatever sweet little outfit I dreamed up for him--a tiny vampire, a tiger, a pumpkin.  But the age of innocence didn't last long.  He wanted to be terrifying.  Whereas Henry was content to paw through a bag...

Writing class

Sixteen autumns ago, when my younger son Jack was a baby, I took a writing class in Harvard Square.  Wednesday morning was the high point of my week.  I would riffle through my closet, trying to pull together an outfit that wasn't stained with spit up and that didn't shout out "suburban housewife," the babysitter would arrive, and I would jump into my car and head down Mass Ave., thrilled to have an excuse to buy a new notebook and a nice pen, to be out and about without an infant in a...

Connecting

"You ought to Twitter," my book publicist told me months ago.  "No thanks," I said, "it's just not me."  A month later, a friend advised the same thing.  "Want to reach out to your on-line market?" she asked.  "I'll help you get started."  Once again, I demurred.  I wasn't exactly sure what Twittering was, but I didn't think I needed to know either.  But when a writer friend from California told me how many book people she's met through Twitter, I began to reconsider; she is not a high-tech j...

A widening circle

It's been a month since The Gift of an Ordinary Day was published.  No bestseller lists, no rave reviews in the New York Times, no calls from Oprah.  There are still a lot of books stacked up on bookstore tables across the land.  And yet, to my mind anyway, the book already feels like a success, thanks to all the readers who have discovered it, read it, and then taken the time to write to me and say, "I'm glad you wrote this book, and I'm glad I found it."

Sitting on the couch in my kitchen...

Monks and memories

A month after the September 11 terrorist attacks, I drove from our house in Massachusetts up to New Hampshire to spend my birthday with a friend in Peterborough.  Lisa had been my sons' kindergarten teacher as well as my friend and running partner,  but she had recently moved to New Hampshire to be with her fiance. "Come visit," she urged.  She wanted me to go with her to see a one-woman show based on the writings Etty Hillesum, a brilliant young Jewish writer who had died in a concentration ...

Bookstores and hydrangeas

It seemed fitting that my first reading for The Gift of an Ordinary Day take place in our old hometown of Winchester, MA.  My husband Steve and I met Judy Manzo the week she bought Book Ends Bookstore, nearly 17 years ago.  She didn't know anything about selling books, she confessed to us, but she knew a lot of people in town, and figured that she'd do fine if she just ordered five copies of any book that a customer requested. It was a start.  Judy was a quick learner, and it wasn't long...