Rachel Toor's Blog, page 3
July 23, 2014
Mt Adams
We like to camp in beautiful places before marathons.
July 20, 2014
Ivy and Rachel run another 5K
Ivy and I ran her first 5K together in November. I wrote about it for Athleta.
In June I went back to Chicago and we ran another one, a real race, a grownup race, that happened during Pride Week. This is the video her dad made of our run.
This is why I run.
In June I went back to Chicago and we ran another one, a real race, a grownup race, that happened during Pride Week. This is the video her dad made of our run.
This is why I run.
July 16, 2014
Quotes
Quote Roundup: On the Road to Find Out by Rachel ToorJuly 16, 2014 | Comments: None Yet - Post a Comment
On the Road to Find Out
by Rachel Toor came out on 6/10/14! Are you planning on picking up a copy? We’re certain the words from the book will convince you to read it.
Share these quotes on social media with #OnTheRoadToFindOut, get
On the Road to Find Out
today, and let us know which quotes are your favorite!SHARE THIS
Share these quotes on social media with #OnTheRoadToFindOut, get
On the Road to Find Out
today, and let us know which quotes are your favorite!SHARE THIS
July 13, 2014
From the Huffington Post
10 Super Fun Teen Summer Novels That Adults Will Love Too
Posted: 06/19/2014 7:54 am EDT Updated: 06/19/2014 7:59 am EDTPrint Article
Share214Tweet120Email9Comment0
Originally posted on Kirkus:We’ve combed through the many, many teen novels being published in time for summer reading to highlight a few stories you’ll find difficult to put down (whether you’re an adult or an actual teen!).
For more from Kirkus, click here!
Teen Summer Books10 of 11
July 9, 2014
My book the movie
Saturday, June 21, 2014Rachel Toor is currently associate professor of Creative Writing at the Inland Northwest Center for Writers in Spokane, the graduate writing program of Eastern Washington University. She lives with her dog, Helen, who raced in her first half marathon in February.
Here Toor dreamcasts an adaptation of her new novel,
On the Road to Find Out
:
Here Toor dreamcasts an adaptation of her new novel,
On the Road to Find Out
:This is a huge problem. A ginormous problem.
Plenty of great actors could play most of the characters. A younger undiscovered Ellen Page or Jennifer Lawrence would be great for my main character, Alice. I wouldn’t want her to look too much like a runner; she’s just a normal girl who decides to take up running.
If he could get himself a little paunchy, Tom Hanks would be perfect for Walter-the-Man, the family friend who treats Alice like a friend and speaks honestly and bluntly to her when she needs to get out of her college-rejection funk. Mary-Louise Parker is one of my favorite actors because she comes across as smart—I’d love to see her play Alice’s dermatologist mom.
I have no idea if she can act, but Olympian Deena Kastor as Joan, the former elite runner who mentors Alice, would be totally cool for the running geeks. And Miles, the teen love interest—a tall skinny dude with floppy hair who loves to read and watches old movies with his grandma—no problem. Plenty of guys like that around. Casting all of the parts but one would be a breeze.
The big problem would be who could play Walter, perhaps the best and most loveable character in the novel. Walter is smart, funny, wise, athletic, and a total hottie.
He’s also a rat.
Now, I’m not saying there aren’t plenty of rats who could play him. Great rodent actors would leap at the opportunity—there aren’t that many sympathetic roles for vermin. No, there’s a bigger issue. Balls. Rat balls. They’re ginormous. Pornographic. Like if a man had cantaloupes between his legs. It might be off-putting to a movie audience unaccustomed to seeing colossal testicles on screen.
I based Walter on my rat, Iris. But for the novel I wanted the rat character to be male. The boys are more chill; women rats are busy all the time and I needed someone who would be able to provide a certain amount of calm for Alice during a turbulent time. Alice does mention that the size of Walter’s balls freaks some people out, but it’s not something she spends a lot of time thinking about.
If a male rat were cast in the Walter roll, everyone would come out of the movie saying “Rat balls!” and not pay attention to the story. But if they cast a female, the rat people would know that Walter was being played by a chick. They might feel the moviemakers weren’t knowledgeable about rats, a bad thing for a work that argues that bigotry and prejudice rely on ignorance to thrive.
The bottom line is that I think the book won’t be made into a movie. Unless, maybe, possibly, they wrote in a scene about neutering Walter. That might work. But the male audiences who will silently admire Walter’s nuts might get a little queasy. Right. Probably not movie material.
July 4, 2014
Some of these guest blog post are fun to write; some are just plain hard
Dear Teen Me from author Rachel Toor
Teen Rachel on piggyback!Dear Teen Me:When the crystal says you will get into Yale you don’t believe it, don’t believe her, think she’s only trying to make you feel better because she can see—anyone can see—your frantic need not to be rejected.Your mother’s flower-child brother has come to visit and has brought his girlfriend, Abby. Her armpits are fuzzy and when she speaks she sculpts the air with her fingers. The two of them offer to do a “healing” on you. You are skeptical, to say the least.Religion, you learned, is the opiate of the people. Your father’s brand of Judaism is to be on guard against anti-Semitism. He will not buy German products, at least until he finds a good deal on a VW bug. You learn to be embarrassedly ethnic. You long for a Christmas tree, an Easter basket.Worse than mainstream religion is the woo-woo spirituality these hippies bring. We don’t tolerate that kind of thing. But you like Abby, this girl-woman a half-generation older, who confides in you like a peer and doesn’t cower in the presence of your father. You let her and your uncle do the healing, their hands hovering above you. You don’t feel anything, except maybe love.When Abby pulls out a crystal and asks if you want to know what which colleges will admit you, you think, Nut-job! You surprise yourself by agreeing. She seems to know things. She is calm. The weather in your house is squally, unpredictable.The crystal says Yale will say yes and you feel a little less feverish. But you don’t believe it, not for a minute. You also don’t believe Abby when she tries to make you hear that it’s not you. Your father is an angry and hurt man and it’s not you. It’s not you. It’s not you.Your teenage rage and frustration manifests in a refusal to conform. When it comes to offering forceful opinions and harsh judgments, you are generous, relentless. You attract the attention of boys, even though you are clearly unattractive. You work too hard on being interesting.A handsome black-haired senior who drives a car the same blue as his eyes becomes devoted to you freshman year. You kiss him for hours in the front seat. He writes earnest ungrammatical love letters that make you cringe. When he doesn’t go to college you dump him. You have learned to demand much of yourself and others.You join a few random clubs for the sake of your college application. You show up for track practice but decline to run; you pretend to throw a shot put and pass time lying on the high jump mat. You refuse to wear a uniform. If you allowed yourself to run, fury would make you fast.Your father quotes, “No ideas but in things.” You earn material markers of his regard: books in exchange for high grades, a coveted dress for mastering a piano piece. He edits your poetry and when he pays attention to you, even though the work is never praised, you are grateful as a beaten dog.He will never love you in a way that feels right. His affection will always be conditional, dependent on whether you bend to his will, say what he wants to hear. You will always be afraid of him.Junior year you and your mother drive four hours to Greenwich Village to visit her gentle goofy father, a photographer who dances every morning in his boxer shorts and takes you to museums and galleries.
Adult Rachel!Before you enter the apartment, standing in the long hallway of doors and strange food smells, you tell your mother you don’t understand why she stays married.She says, For you kids.You say, How can I respect you?This is the most terrible thing you will ever say to anyone and you will regret it forever. She will forgive you, but maybe not herself.She stays until your younger brother goes to college, two years after you’ve left for Yale.When she falls in love with an artist who wears pink sweatpants to fancy restaurants you dub him Hon Fat, Honorary Father. He calls you his Hon Dot.You will love many men and with a few mistaken exceptions, they will be nothing like your father. They will be affectionate and confiding and will prize your fierceness, your independence. You will have to work on your critical nature, a project no more difficult than clearing a rainforest with a spoon.Your father will become King Lear, a foolish old man who believes himself more sinned against than sinning who rejected a loving daughter because she would not diminish herself to feed his vanity. He will disinherit you.
You will be fine. You will be better than fine.http://dearteenme.com
Teen Rachel on piggyback!Dear Teen Me:When the crystal says you will get into Yale you don’t believe it, don’t believe her, think she’s only trying to make you feel better because she can see—anyone can see—your frantic need not to be rejected.Your mother’s flower-child brother has come to visit and has brought his girlfriend, Abby. Her armpits are fuzzy and when she speaks she sculpts the air with her fingers. The two of them offer to do a “healing” on you. You are skeptical, to say the least.Religion, you learned, is the opiate of the people. Your father’s brand of Judaism is to be on guard against anti-Semitism. He will not buy German products, at least until he finds a good deal on a VW bug. You learn to be embarrassedly ethnic. You long for a Christmas tree, an Easter basket.Worse than mainstream religion is the woo-woo spirituality these hippies bring. We don’t tolerate that kind of thing. But you like Abby, this girl-woman a half-generation older, who confides in you like a peer and doesn’t cower in the presence of your father. You let her and your uncle do the healing, their hands hovering above you. You don’t feel anything, except maybe love.When Abby pulls out a crystal and asks if you want to know what which colleges will admit you, you think, Nut-job! You surprise yourself by agreeing. She seems to know things. She is calm. The weather in your house is squally, unpredictable.The crystal says Yale will say yes and you feel a little less feverish. But you don’t believe it, not for a minute. You also don’t believe Abby when she tries to make you hear that it’s not you. Your father is an angry and hurt man and it’s not you. It’s not you. It’s not you.Your teenage rage and frustration manifests in a refusal to conform. When it comes to offering forceful opinions and harsh judgments, you are generous, relentless. You attract the attention of boys, even though you are clearly unattractive. You work too hard on being interesting.A handsome black-haired senior who drives a car the same blue as his eyes becomes devoted to you freshman year. You kiss him for hours in the front seat. He writes earnest ungrammatical love letters that make you cringe. When he doesn’t go to college you dump him. You have learned to demand much of yourself and others.You join a few random clubs for the sake of your college application. You show up for track practice but decline to run; you pretend to throw a shot put and pass time lying on the high jump mat. You refuse to wear a uniform. If you allowed yourself to run, fury would make you fast.Your father quotes, “No ideas but in things.” You earn material markers of his regard: books in exchange for high grades, a coveted dress for mastering a piano piece. He edits your poetry and when he pays attention to you, even though the work is never praised, you are grateful as a beaten dog.He will never love you in a way that feels right. His affection will always be conditional, dependent on whether you bend to his will, say what he wants to hear. You will always be afraid of him.Junior year you and your mother drive four hours to Greenwich Village to visit her gentle goofy father, a photographer who dances every morning in his boxer shorts and takes you to museums and galleries.
Adult Rachel!Before you enter the apartment, standing in the long hallway of doors and strange food smells, you tell your mother you don’t understand why she stays married.She says, For you kids.You say, How can I respect you?This is the most terrible thing you will ever say to anyone and you will regret it forever. She will forgive you, but maybe not herself.She stays until your younger brother goes to college, two years after you’ve left for Yale.When she falls in love with an artist who wears pink sweatpants to fancy restaurants you dub him Hon Fat, Honorary Father. He calls you his Hon Dot.You will love many men and with a few mistaken exceptions, they will be nothing like your father. They will be affectionate and confiding and will prize your fierceness, your independence. You will have to work on your critical nature, a project no more difficult than clearing a rainforest with a spoon.Your father will become King Lear, a foolish old man who believes himself more sinned against than sinning who rejected a loving daughter because she would not diminish herself to feed his vanity. He will disinherit you.
You will be fine. You will be better than fine.http://dearteenme.com
July 3, 2014
Last essay about running for The Chronicle of Higher Education
Apparently I've made reference to running too many times and so I've been warned off doing it again. Here's my last one. (I think it's really only my second one, in about fifteen years, but oh well.)
When people ask me what running and writing have in common, I tend to look at the ground and say it might have something to do with discipline: You do both of those things when you don’t feel like it, and make them part of your regular routine. You know some days will be harder than others, and on some you won’t hit your mark and will want to quit. But you don’t. You force yourself into a practice, the practice becomes habit and then simply part of your identity. A surprising amount of success, as Woody Allen once said, comes from just showing up.
Read more
When people ask me what running and writing have in common, I tend to look at the ground and say it might have something to do with discipline: You do both of those things when you don’t feel like it, and make them part of your regular routine. You know some days will be harder than others, and on some you won’t hit your mark and will want to quit. But you don’t. You force yourself into a practice, the practice becomes habit and then simply part of your identity. A surprising amount of success, as Woody Allen once said, comes from just showing up.
Read more
June 13, 2014
Bob Welch
After I met Bob Welch, after I'd been told he'd won a Cy Young Award and then asked him what position he'd played, I wrote an essay about him. I knew he wouldn't like this, and so I never published what I wrote. I just wanted to record a special time, to be able to remember what it felt like to spend time with him.
As I prepared for my book launch Tuesday night, I saw on the Facebook trending news that Bob had died. It was shocking. He was five years older than me, and fit, very fit.
I searched on my computer for what I'd written years before, read it over quickly, and sent it to Glenn Stout, an editor at SB Nation I love working with and who I trusted to know if there was anything there. He's a truth-teller, Glenn, and I needed to hear the truth.
Then I went to do my first reading from the novel, shaken, uncertain, propped up by a glass of wine and a good friend.
Glenn and I worked on the piece about Bob for the next 36 hours.
Today it was published.
Bob Welch died on my publication day.
This is my tribute to him.
As I prepared for my book launch Tuesday night, I saw on the Facebook trending news that Bob had died. It was shocking. He was five years older than me, and fit, very fit.
I searched on my computer for what I'd written years before, read it over quickly, and sent it to Glenn Stout, an editor at SB Nation I love working with and who I trusted to know if there was anything there. He's a truth-teller, Glenn, and I needed to hear the truth.
Then I went to do my first reading from the novel, shaken, uncertain, propped up by a glass of wine and a good friend.
Glenn and I worked on the piece about Bob for the next 36 hours.
Today it was published.
Bob Welch died on my publication day.
This is my tribute to him.
June 12, 2014
First post-publication review
So thrilled to get such a smart review in the Missoula Independent from Sarah Aswell. She completely understood everything I was trying to do in the novel. And no, I didn't pay her to write this.
Helen's first interview -- from Coffee with a Canine
Thursday, June 12, 2014Rachel Toor & Helen http://coffeecanine.blogspot.com
Who is in the photo at right?
The less attractive one is me, Rachel Toor. My new novel, On the Road to Find Out , is being released by FSG this month. The hottie with the big ears is Helen. She’ll be four on August 23. She’s expecting a big party.
What's the occasion for Coffee with a Canine?
On Sundays I don’t go to the café where I write every other morning so we do our usual poop walk and include a stop at the Rocket Bakery where I get a decaf Americano and Helen waits outside tied to a chair while the people inside coo, “What a cute dog! What great ears!”
How did Helen get her name? Any nicknames?
Helen is named after a beloved great aunt who was at the same time fierce and gentle, a Rosie-the-Riveter kind of person who at a young age left her family on the east coast and went to California.
How were you and Helen united?
I haunted the local shelters for months. I did not want a puppy. I had a long list of requirements, in fact, about what I wanted. Not a puppy. Helen’s mom had gotten knocked up, arrested, and then was taken in by a woman who fostered litters for the Spokane Humane Society. I told her what I was looking for and she said, “I’ve raised 500 puppies. This is the best litter I’ve ever seen and this is the dog for you,” and pointed to Helen, who was not even the most attractive of the bunch. She said Helen was a thinker; she was curious, but also cautious. She was really, really smart. So I brought home an 8-week-old puppy who is the smartest dog I’ve ever known.
Are there any Helen-inspired dogs in your new novel?
No. The best character in my novel is Walter, a rat. He was inspired by Iris, the rat I had before I got Helen. In fact, Iris was so wonderful and dog-like that for a while I was disappointed in Helen, thinking I would never love her as much as I loved Iris. Iris was sweeter, more of a pleaser, and also very smart. She’d stand next to the refrigerator and twirl for broccoli. She’d follow me around the house and greeted every new thing as if it were a treat, including the plumber.
Does Helen do more to help or hinder your writing?
Helen has listened to me read my novel out loud three times. She rolls her eyes when I say, “Can I read this to you?” She actually rolls her eyes at me. She’s an eternal teen.
Who is Helen's best pet-pal?
Helen knows the names of all of my friends. Whenever I tell her who’s coming over she goes to the window and waits. She loves my students and I sometimes bring her to class with me. She has a bunch of dog friends—Nadine, Roxy, Sancho—and she has other dogs she wants to eat. She hates golden retrievers and anyone with a little bit of heeler (she’s probably got a bit of heeler in her). Except for the dogs she hates, she makes friends easily.
Where is Helen's favorite outdoor destination?
The Sunday morning long run from Dean’s house when we’re in Missoula, Montana. Helen likes to run with the fast guys. We run most days. If it’s hot, we run near the river so she can swim. (She loves water and is an incredible swimmer. She does the breast stroke, not the doggie paddle.) She did her first race, a half marathon, last winter and was fourth dog. If she hadn’t been leashed to me, she could have won it.
Squeaky toy, ball, stick...?
Yes.
Cat, postman, squirrel...?
Ugh. Now it’s time for true confessions: her kill card is one squirrel, six marmots. The marmots, which are like squirrels on steroids, squeak just like her toys. And they’re fat and not so fast. As someone who loves rodents, I have a hard time with this. We’ve had a lot of discussions about the fact that she needs to work on suppressing her prey drive. She rolls her eyes during these discussions.
What is Helen's best quality?
Her fierce intelligence. And of course, her athleticism. And her wit. She has a great sense of humor, though it’s still a little on the adolescent side. And the fact that she has to sleep on top of me.
If Hollywood made a movie about your life in which Helen could speak, which actor should do her voice?
Actually, the same kind of actor who would play the lead in the movie version of my novel—a younger Jennifer Lawrence or Ellen Page, someone who projects intelligence, fearlessness, and wit. With a deep voice.
If Helen could answer only one question in English, what would you ask her?
I don’t need her to speak in English. I know exactly what she’s thinking. She’s not subtle.
Visit Rachel Toor's website and blog.
The Page 69 Test: On the Road to Find Out.http://coffeecanine.blogspot.com/2014...http://coffeecanine.blogspot.com/2014/06/rachel-toor-helen.html
Who is in the photo at right?The less attractive one is me, Rachel Toor. My new novel, On the Road to Find Out , is being released by FSG this month. The hottie with the big ears is Helen. She’ll be four on August 23. She’s expecting a big party.
What's the occasion for Coffee with a Canine?
On Sundays I don’t go to the café where I write every other morning so we do our usual poop walk and include a stop at the Rocket Bakery where I get a decaf Americano and Helen waits outside tied to a chair while the people inside coo, “What a cute dog! What great ears!”
How did Helen get her name? Any nicknames?
Helen is named after a beloved great aunt who was at the same time fierce and gentle, a Rosie-the-Riveter kind of person who at a young age left her family on the east coast and went to California.
How were you and Helen united?
I haunted the local shelters for months. I did not want a puppy. I had a long list of requirements, in fact, about what I wanted. Not a puppy. Helen’s mom had gotten knocked up, arrested, and then was taken in by a woman who fostered litters for the Spokane Humane Society. I told her what I was looking for and she said, “I’ve raised 500 puppies. This is the best litter I’ve ever seen and this is the dog for you,” and pointed to Helen, who was not even the most attractive of the bunch. She said Helen was a thinker; she was curious, but also cautious. She was really, really smart. So I brought home an 8-week-old puppy who is the smartest dog I’ve ever known.
Are there any Helen-inspired dogs in your new novel?No. The best character in my novel is Walter, a rat. He was inspired by Iris, the rat I had before I got Helen. In fact, Iris was so wonderful and dog-like that for a while I was disappointed in Helen, thinking I would never love her as much as I loved Iris. Iris was sweeter, more of a pleaser, and also very smart. She’d stand next to the refrigerator and twirl for broccoli. She’d follow me around the house and greeted every new thing as if it were a treat, including the plumber.
Does Helen do more to help or hinder your writing?
Helen has listened to me read my novel out loud three times. She rolls her eyes when I say, “Can I read this to you?” She actually rolls her eyes at me. She’s an eternal teen.
Who is Helen's best pet-pal?
Helen knows the names of all of my friends. Whenever I tell her who’s coming over she goes to the window and waits. She loves my students and I sometimes bring her to class with me. She has a bunch of dog friends—Nadine, Roxy, Sancho—and she has other dogs she wants to eat. She hates golden retrievers and anyone with a little bit of heeler (she’s probably got a bit of heeler in her). Except for the dogs she hates, she makes friends easily.Where is Helen's favorite outdoor destination?
The Sunday morning long run from Dean’s house when we’re in Missoula, Montana. Helen likes to run with the fast guys. We run most days. If it’s hot, we run near the river so she can swim. (She loves water and is an incredible swimmer. She does the breast stroke, not the doggie paddle.) She did her first race, a half marathon, last winter and was fourth dog. If she hadn’t been leashed to me, she could have won it.
Squeaky toy, ball, stick...?
Yes.
Cat, postman, squirrel...?
Ugh. Now it’s time for true confessions: her kill card is one squirrel, six marmots. The marmots, which are like squirrels on steroids, squeak just like her toys. And they’re fat and not so fast. As someone who loves rodents, I have a hard time with this. We’ve had a lot of discussions about the fact that she needs to work on suppressing her prey drive. She rolls her eyes during these discussions.What is Helen's best quality?
Her fierce intelligence. And of course, her athleticism. And her wit. She has a great sense of humor, though it’s still a little on the adolescent side. And the fact that she has to sleep on top of me.
If Hollywood made a movie about your life in which Helen could speak, which actor should do her voice?
Actually, the same kind of actor who would play the lead in the movie version of my novel—a younger Jennifer Lawrence or Ellen Page, someone who projects intelligence, fearlessness, and wit. With a deep voice.
If Helen could answer only one question in English, what would you ask her?
I don’t need her to speak in English. I know exactly what she’s thinking. She’s not subtle.
Visit Rachel Toor's website and blog.
The Page 69 Test: On the Road to Find Out.http://coffeecanine.blogspot.com/2014...http://coffeecanine.blogspot.com/2014/06/rachel-toor-helen.html
