Beth Kephart's Blog, page 328

Christmas in Stereo: House of Dance and the Taysha List

Nothing would interfere with our collecting our son—we drove miles, we drove them quickly, and then we parked. He was waiting for us in the bitter cold, and when we saw him, we began to run. He's that kind of soul, that kind of beautiful, and he was joyful; five finals were done. Over dinner we talked and after dinner we drove, and it was very late and dark. Beyond us, the snowy valleys were filled with candy cane lights and rooftop reindeer, with pinpoints of white and blue, of blinking ...

A Few Smile-able Things

1. I've been working this morning on the copy edits to Dangerous Neighbors. I have a feeling that I'm going to be saying this a whole lot come 2010. But Egmont USA—the entire team—rocks.

2. The Christmas tree is up. I swear. It actually happened.

3. Part two of my interview with Serena Agusto-Cox has gone live. Boy, does that Serena ask good questions.

4. I am heading out the door right this very instant (truly) to collect my son from college, even though my hair is wet and there are at...

The Beth Kephart Reading Challenge (I Know, I Can't Believe It)

When My Friend Amy named her blog My Friend Amy, was she anticipating that she was going to meet me? That she was going to change my life with such force that whenever I talk about the trajectory of my writing career, I talk about her? She's the one who threw the Nothing but Ghosts virtual launch party. She's the one who got me involved her tremendous Book Bloggers Appreciation Week. She's the one who, every day and often several times a day, helps direct us, her fans, to new books, new s...

The D.C. Literature Examiner Interview with Serena Agusto-Cox

This is how I felt when the entirely thoughtful Serena Agusto-Cox invited me to join her on the virtual pages of the D.C. Literature Examiner—emulsified by blooms. It's a two-part interview, the first of which posts today. Take a look to find out, for example, who some of my own literary heroes/heroines are.

Philadelphia at Dusk

Philadelphia, through the bridge window at Cira Centre.
The lights go on.
The taxis urge toward home.

Light Speed

"Wait," I said. "How much longer do you think we'll have this light?"

"Not long," he said. "Light moves quickly."

So I grabbed my camera because I thought I'd have something to say—about shadow selves, about near identicals, about black and white.

In the end, all I had was the light.

Books Beneath Trees

I buy books en masse each year for Christmas, and this year was no different. And because no one for whom I buy my books actually reads this blog, I feel safe in divulging some of my now-wrapped presents.

Here we go:

For a certain dancer with a talent in the kitchen: Clean Food: A Seasonal Guide to Eating Close to the Source. For a southern California writer: Lit: A Memoir. For a nephew who isn't just an extraordinary swimmer, but also one heck of a fisherman, the gorgeously illustrated ...

Speed

There was her cane, flying fast ahead of her, and there was her left foot, flying, too. Nothing would keep her back, nothing would assert itself against her, nothing would dare. I understand living at that speed. I understand eternally running. But right now, right this very instant, the novel is written and the presents are wrapped and the clients are happy and the bills are paid and there's even a tree on the back deck and there's no dust in my office, only the new, gorgeous, nearly blo...

Dream Tangle

In my dreams, the scenes are gravity defiant and emotionally untrue, and yet I cannot take my eyes off them, talk myself out of them, disbelieve them.

I awake on the couch in the dark stunned, a victim of the movie in my head.

Bright Lights

In Wayne, PA, you either look for stories or trust that stories will find you.

Yesterday, while yielding my often ill-behaving hair to the tres-talented MacKenzie of the always -superior Cole Wellness Spa (which sits directly in the square heart of Wayne), a certain Sean Guiney walked in. "He looks like Sting, don't you think?" MacKenzie said, and when I cocked my head slightly to the left, the guy kind of did.

Soon we were joined by Liz, the receptionist, and soon stories were flying, and soo...