Alex George's Blog, page 9

Back in the Saddle

Did ya miss me?

It’s been an AGE since I wrote a post for this blog.  2012 has been, without question, the nuttiest year of my life, and it’s only the start of May.  In the last four months I have: published a novel; gone on tour to promote said novel; become an American citizen; got divorced; bought a house.  And in between all that I have been running my law firm and parenting my lovely children.  What I haven’t been doing very much of is writing.

When I am writing, I need space – of both the literal and metaphorical variety.  I have not had much of either recently.  There has been so much going on – struggling to survive the emotional shrapnel of the divorce in particular – that I have been unable to sit down and dive into the story that is swirling around my head (and in a plethora of notebooks.)  And the rented condo where I’ve been living for the past year had nowhere I could call my own for me to write. This creative logjam – I refuse to call it writer’s block – has been slowly gnawing away at me and is, I suspect, largely responsible for much of the gloom that has been afflicting me of late.  Writing is hard, hard work, but it is also an escape, and immeasurably rewarding (when it goes right, anyway.)  It is also what I do, who I am.  Being unable to tell stories is a bit like cutting off a limb – suddenly I’m a little less the person I was.

Well, no more.

A couple of weeks ago I bought a house.  It’s lovely – it has a beautiful kitchen and a gorgeous garden – and it already feels like home.  But the photo at the top of this post is what really attracted me to the place.  I now have my very own nook, where I can shut myself away from the rest of the world and write my heart out.  Just as importantly, the new house represents a fresh start for me.  I have been treading water for the past year, really just trying to keep afloat, but now it is time to strike out for new horizons.  It’s time to take my finger off the pause button and start moving again.

Which means, of course, that it’s time to get writing.  So this morning I set my alarm for 5 o’clock for the first time in months, hauled myself out of bed, fixed a coffee, and sat down at my computer.  Admittedly, I’m writing this post first, and then I have to complete a piece for NPR’s All Things Considered, but my new novel is now at the forefront of my thoughts, demanding my attention.  Last week I signed a contract with Amy Einhorn Books to publish the book.  This is exciting news, but one of the things about publishing contracts are these pesky things called deadlines.  I have until February 2014 to deliver my manuscript.  So far I have written three chapters.  Given that it took me seven years in total to write A GOOD AMERICAN, I obviously have my work cut out.  So it’s time to roll up my sleeves and get to work.

Wish me luck.

Mother’s Day, UK Edition

Today is Mother’s Day in the United Kingdom.

Did I send my mother a card?  Did I arrange for flowers to be delivered?  Or chocolates?

No, I didn’t.  Sadder than that, my mother didn’t expect me to, either.  In nine years of living here, I’m not sure I ever have managed such a simple thing.

It’s not that I don’t love my mother, you understand.  I adore her.  It’s simply that Mother’s Day in the UK is on a different day to the American equivalent.  And since I don’t have a UK diary, I have no way of knowing when it’s coming – until I see lots of messages on Facebook and twitter, by which stage it is too late to do anything other than make an apologetic phone call.

The news that I forgot again has hit me much harder this year, though.  With my novelist’s nose for overwrought metaphor, my failure to remember Mother’s Day stands as sorry testament to the gulf that lies between where I came from and where I live now.  My parents have been such rocks for me this year.  They have given me boundless support through the most difficult twelve months of my life.  They have suffered – more, I suspect, than I will ever know – through my protracted and painful divorce.  They have been there to pick me up and brush me off when things have really gotten rough (and boy, did things get rough.)  They have not judged me when I have made mistakes.  Their love has been steady, and constant, and strong.  And utterly humbling.

I’m a parent.  And I get it – this is what parents do.  We would lie down in front of a train for our children.  But today’s failure to say thank you for all that my mother has done, after the year we have all gone through, has left me rather sad.  We spoke on the telephone a little while ago – of course, she couldn’t care less about the lack of a card or flowers, and had no time for my abject apologies.  She expects no fanfare or effusive displays of thanks on this particular day (or any other.)  She knows that I love her, and that my children love her.  All she cares about is that we are well.  She just quietly gets on with her job – ferociously loving us from afar and worrying about us all – with a quiet determination that still leaves me awestruck.

Thanks, Mum.  You absolute beauty.

Mother's Day, UK Edition

Today is Mother's Day in the United Kingdom.

Did I send my mother a card?  Did I arrange for flowers to be delivered?  Or chocolates?

No, I didn't.  Sadder than that, my mother didn't expect me to, either.  In nine years of living here, I'm not sure I ever have managed such a simple thing.

It's not that I don't love my mother, you understand.  I adore her.  It's simply that Mother's Day in the UK is on a different day to the American equivalent.  And since I don't have a UK diary, I have no way of knowing when it's coming – until I see lots of messages on Facebook and twitter, by which stage it is too late to do anything other than make an apologetic phone call.

The news that I forgot again has hit me much harder this year, though.  With my novelist's nose for overwrought metaphor, my failure to remember Mother's Day stands as sorry testament to the gulf that lies between where I came from and where I live now.  My parents have been such rocks for me this year.  They have given me boundless support through the most difficult twelve months of my life.  They have suffered – more, I suspect, than I will ever know – through my protracted and painful divorce.  They have been there to pick me up and brush me off when things have really gotten rough (and boy, did things get rough.)  They have not judged me when I have made mistakes.  Their love has been steady, and constant, and strong.  And utterly humbling.

I'm a parent.  And I get it – this is what parents do.  We would lie down in front of a train for our children.  But today's failure to say thank you for all that my mother has done, after the year we have all gone through, has left me rather sad.  We spoke on the telephone a little while ago – of course, she couldn't care less about the lack of a card or flowers, and had no time for my abject apologies.  She expects no fanfare or effusive displays of thanks on this particular day (or any other.)  She knows that I love her, and that my children love her.  All she cares about is that we are well.  She just quietly gets on with her job – ferociously loving us from afar and worrying about us all – with a quiet determination that still leaves me awestruck.

Thanks, Mum.  You absolute beauty.

Um, phew.

So, yeah, sorry about the radio silence.  It turns out that this publishing-a-book thing is a bit of a time-suck.  But, you know, in a good way.

Since the book was published – almost a month ago now, bizarre though that seems – I have hardly had time to sit down.  It has been a wonderful, mad, hectic ride, and it is far from over – because I am off on tour again.  I will be in Nashville for the first half of next week, visiting the book trade distributor Ingrams, and the lovely people at Book Page.  On Tuesday evening (March 6) I am doing an event at Parnassus Books, a new indie bookstore which is probably best known for being co-owned by multi-gazillion best seller author Ann Patchett, whose State of Wonder I will packing in my suitcase in the hopes that she will be there and I can get her to sign my copy.  (I wrote about Ann Patchett's essay The Getaway Car here – required reading, in my humble opinion, for all writers.)

On Thursday I will be back home, performing what is known as a radio tour – which means, as I understand it, that I sit at my kitchen table doing telephone interviews all day with various radio stations across America.  One of the delights of living in a country with so many time zones is that breakfast drive time goes on for ever - and once it's over on the west coast, it's time for the lunch crowd back east… and so it goes on.  I suspect my espresso machine will be in overdrive for most of the day.  I can always rely on the sainted coffee bean to keep me peppy.  After all, that's how I wrote the book in the first place.

The following week I am off on my travels again.  I think I'll be at Reed's Gum Tree Bookstore in Tupelo, MS on Monday, March 12 (details to be confirmed.)  On Tuesday (March 13) I'll be at The Booksellers at Laurelwood in Memphis at 6.00 p.m.  On Wednesday (March 14) I'm looking forward to visiting the famous Lemuria Books, in Jackson, MS.  And on Thursday (March 15) I'll be reading at the Turn Row Book Company, in Greenwood, MS.  The event starts at 5.30 with a signing, followed by a reading and discussion.  If you're in the area for any of these events, please come, and bring friends!  If you're not, but know someone who is, please spread the word.  The more, as they say, the merrier.

Looking a little further ahead, I'm also very excited to have been invited to participate in the Gaithersburg Book Festival on May 19.  Finally, the East coast beckons!

I've been so busy I haven't had a chance to write about the adventures I've had so far on my travels to Wichita, KS, Birmingham, AL, and Kansas City.  I will, I promise.  I have met so many wonderful people, it is hard to keep track, but highlights so far include:

Seeing Pam, the nurse from my allergist's office, waiting in line at Barnes & Noble in Columbia on a horrible, snowy launch day, with a book in her hand.
Listening to Sarah Bagby, owner of Watermark Books and Cafe in Wichita, telling a story about going into the Oval Office and giving a book to President Obama;
Seeing the book in a bookstore in Atlanta airport, 3 days after publication, nestling snugly in the best sellers section, looking very comfortable at #15;
Signing 1,000 copies of A GOOD AMERICAN in three hours flat at the Alabama Booksmith (that's 10.8 seconds per book, math fans);
Doing my first NPR interview (which you can listen to here);
Meeting twitter friends in real life – in particular the lovely Hallie Sawyer in Kansas City, who wrote about the encounter here.
The small launch party for family and friends at PS: Gallery in Columbia, Missouri, which was a memorable evening for many reasons, not least of which was my six year-old daughter fearlessly offering to sign guests' copies of the book on the dedication page (she is the dedicatee).
My first in-person appearance at a book club, which was a wonderful (and only slightly scary) encounter.  I look forward to doing a lot more.

This week A GOOD AMERICAN is at #30 (and climbing) on the nationwide independent booksellers best sellers list.  There are nineteen copies of the book at my local library, Daniel Boone Regional Library.  I gather they are all checked out and that the hold list is a long one.  A HUGE thank you to everyone who has been kind enough to buy a copy.  The response from readers, booksellers, bloggers, and reviewers has been utterly overwhelming, and (almost!) universally positive.  I am so grateful to everyone who has taken the time to post a review, or share the book with friends.  Thanks, too, to everyone who has taken the time to send me photographs of the novel in its natural habitat – on bookstore shelves, tables, and displays across the country.  I've said it here many times – writing a book is a long, lonely process, and it is humbling and wonderful to see the result of my efforts out in the real world.

Just in case all this wasn't enough, also in February:

I turned 42;
I got divorced;
I became an American citizen; and
I had an offer accepted on a house.

So, all in all, last month was quite a month.  Thank you all for your support and friendship.  Onwards and upwards!

By the way, if you're curious what 1,000 copies of a book looks like, here's your answer:

Cry Me a River

Amazing the things you learn on twitter.

I discovered a little while ago that a certain well-known book blogger, who lives and works in New York, decided only to read my book while she was at home.  Apparently she was worried about crying while she read – and, as she put it: "There is nothing like crying on the subway to make you look like a crazy New Yorker."

I replied to this with the tweet: "I feel as if I should apologize, but part of me is also doing a little dance."

Because it's true.  When people tell me that my book made them cry, I cannot help but feel pleased, however peculiar (or downright sadistic) that sounds.

Writing fiction is about making connections, bringing the reader into your world and taking them on a journey.  If I have moved readers enough to make them cry, then that means they've invested emotionally in the characters I've created and the story I'm telling.  In other words, I've made that connection I'm striving for.  Success!

Just for the record, when I read books I cry all the time.  I remember sitting on a plane reading the end of Brady Udall's The Lonely Polygamist, with my daughter sitting next to me.  The conclusion of Udall's story is so powerful and so unbearably sad that I began weeping uncontrollably – great big, chest-heaving sobs – and the poor girl just patted my arm, looking rather worried.

Of course, there are times when this tendency to blub galls me hugely, especially in movies.  Empirically, I appear most susceptible if they feature small animals or Sandra Bullock.  No matter how much haughty disdain I muster, they always get me in the end, and I find myself sniveling in embarrassment, wishing I were made of sterner stuff.  But – for me anyway – there's no shame to be moved by a book.

So forgive me if I look pleased if I hear that I've made somebody cry. I'm not a mean person.  I am, in the end, just doing my job.

One of the books I brought back from the ALA gig in Dallas a few weeks ago was The Fault in Our Stars by John Green.  I've been told not to begin without a full box of kleenex by my side.  I can't wait.

What was the last book that made you cry?

UK Cover

In August A GOOD AMERICAN will be published in the United Kingdom by Fig Tree Books, an imprint of Penguin UK.  (Fig Tree also brilliantly published The Help in England to massive success.)  I met my lovely editor there, Juliet Annan, several months ago in London.  She told me right away that the English edition would have a different cover from the US version.

Much as I love the US cover, I understood and expected this.  Every time I go to a bookshop in England I am always struck by how very different book jackets are designed, in comparison to the States.  As a general rule, in the UK publishers tend to use more photographs – over here, more oblique designs and illustrations are more prevalent.

Here is what the Penguin UK art department have come up with (complete with fake quote from the Daily Mail!)  I'd love to know what you think.

What’s Important

So, finally.

About seven years after I set out on this journey with Frederick and Jette Meisenheimer, their story is published today.  Tonight I will stand up in front of a group of people at Barnes & Noble in Columbia, MO, and read from my finished book for the first time.

It will be a sweet moment, I am sure, but one tinged with sadness, too, for neither my parents, nor my sisters, nor my children will be there.

But there will be friends.  And that is what I want to talk about today.

Writing books is a lonely old business – I just sit here at my computer and peck away at the keyboard, wondering if anyone will like the story in my head.  To have transitioned from such a hermit’s existence to enter the warm and welcoming online world of readers and writers has been a wonderfully rewarding experience.  I have been astonishingly lucky to have made some fantastic friends on this journey.  Of course, in this internet age, I haven’t met all of them – or even most of them – but that doesn’t diminish the warmth with which we interact online and the comfort and connection they provide me.  I hope the feeling is mutual.

I began thinking about this post with the idea that I would list everyone I wanted to thank, but quickly realized that would be (a) very boring and (b) perilous, because I would almost certainly forget one or two people, and that would be very bad.  So instead I just want to say a huge THANK YOU to every blogger, bookseller, librarian, writer, and reader that I have met over the past several months.  You all know who you are.  I could not have done this without your friendship and support.  People have been so generous with their words of encouragement – whether comments on my blog posts, tweets, emails, reviews, or the wonderful blurbs which now grace the book’s jacket.  I hope to meet as many of you as I can, one day.  It’s been an honor to get to know you all.

As some of you know, this has been a very difficult year for me on a personal level.  I have not written about it out of respect of the privacy of others, and I do not intend to start now.  But it has been a difficult time.  The process of shepherding my novel towards today has been largely responsible for keeping me in one piece, and the friendships that I have formed along the way are an integral part of that.  So thank you, each and every one of you.  Words aren’t really enough, but they’re all I’ve got.

Finally, on the subject of keeping me in one piece, there are two other people I need to mention here, who have done more than anyone to help in that regard – and who inspired the title to this post.  Thanks, guys.  You’re my whole world.

What's Important

So, finally.

About seven years after I set out on this journey with Frederick and Jette Meisenheimer, their story is published today.  Tonight I will stand up in front of a group of people at Barnes & Noble in Columbia, MO, and read from my finished book for the first time.

It will be a sweet moment, I am sure, but one tinged with sadness, too, for neither my parents, nor my sisters, nor my children will be there.

But there will be friends.  And that is what I want to talk about today.

Writing books is a lonely old business – I just sit here at my computer and peck away at the keyboard, wondering if anyone will like the story in my head.  To have transitioned from such a hermit's existence to enter the warm and welcoming online world of readers and writers has been a wonderfully rewarding experience.  I have been astonishingly lucky to have made some fantastic friends on this journey.  Of course, in this internet age, I haven't met all of them – or even most of them – but that doesn't diminish the warmth with which we interact online and the comfort and connection they provide me.  I hope the feeling is mutual.

I began thinking about this post with the idea that I would list everyone I wanted to thank, but quickly realized that would be (a) very boring and (b) perilous, because I would almost certainly forget one or two people, and that would be very bad.  So instead I just want to say a huge THANK YOU to every blogger, bookseller, librarian, writer, and reader that I have met over the past several months.  You all know who you are.  I could not have done this without your friendship and support.  People have been so generous with their words of encouragement – whether comments on my blog posts, tweets, emails, reviews, or the wonderful blurbs which now grace the book's jacket.  I hope to meet as many of you as I can, one day.  It's been an honor to get to know you all.

As some of you know, this has been a very difficult year for me on a personal level.  I have not written about it out of respect of the privacy of others, and I do not intend to start now.  But it has been a difficult time.  The process of shepherding my novel towards today has been largely responsible for keeping me in one piece, and the friendships that I have formed along the way are an integral part of that.  So thank you, each and every one of you.  Words aren't really enough, but they're all I've got.

Finally, on the subject of keeping me in one piece, there are two other people I need to mention here, who have done more than anyone to help in that regard – and who inspired the title to this post.  Thanks, guys.  You're my whole world.

Linkage, Schminkage

Not long now.

This is just a brief update to let you know about various things that have popped up on the web, if you missed my incessant tweets and facebook updates over the past few days.

Publication isn't officially until Tuesday, but the book has already been spotted in the wild.  This is in Freeport, Maine:

A GOOD AMERICAN was named as one of amazon's Best Books for February.

Here is an interview I did with Nicole from the excellent book blog Linus's Blanket – I only answered six of the twenty questions she sent me, and everyone should probably be grateful for that.

Also, a smart and funny review by Amanda Nelson of the Dead White Guys blog.

And this review appeared online yesterday at the Kansas City Star.  Not sure when it will appear in the paper edition.

Talking of paper editions, Columbia, MO residents be warned: there'll be an interview with me in the Sunday edition of the Columbia Tribune.

And speaking of Columbia residents, if you have nothing better to do next Tuesday, please consider coming to Barnes & Noble at the Mall at 7 p.m. to help me launch A GOOD AMERICAN out into the world.  I'll be giving a small talk about the book and reading an extract.  I'd love to see you there, before I set off on my travels later in the week.

Not sure how much blogging will get done in the forthcoming days and weeks.  I'll do my best to keep this updated as and when I can.  In the meantime, thank you ALL for reading, your comments, and your support.  It means the world to me.

Countdown!

There's so much going on at the moment that I often lose track of what day of the week it is.  So this is a quick post to bring you up to date with a few snippets of news, then I'm off to spend the weekend doing legal work, catching up with the stuff that has been piling up, both figuratively and literally, on my desk over the past week or so.

So – publication of my book, A GOOD AMERICAN, is now just over a week away.  Luckily I am too busy struggling to get out from beneath a backlog of guest blog posts, interviews, and other fun things to be too anxious about it.  Things are a bit of a whirlwind and I am grateful for my Luddite-friendly kitchen whiteboard to help me keep track of everything.

If you have nothing better to do a week on Tuesday – February 7 – I'll be doing a reading at Barnes & Noble at the Columbia Mall at 7.00 p.m.  That's the official launch date of the book, and I'd love to see you there to help me celebrate.

On Sunday and Monday I was in Dallas for the American Libraries Association midwinter convention, which was a great way to start the week.  I wrote about that here.

In a wonderful review of the book last Friday, influential book blogger Beth Fish Reads called it a "near-perfect novel", which – as you might imagine, rather made my day.  I also wrote a guest post on the site earlier this week about the restaurant in the book, and how it became a character in the book in its own right.  That was a lot of fun to do.

There will be various other interviews and guest posts and I will do my best to keep track of them here.

In other book news, my friend and fellow Columbia resident Keija Parssinen's debut novel, THE RUINS OF US, was published last week.  I am half way through it, and am loving it.  It is a rich, soulful exploration of life and love, and it has me transfixed.  The writing is gorgeous, and its setting – Saudi Arabia – is exotic and bewitching.  The principal character is an American ex-pat who has married a Saudi native and now lives far from where she grew up, so there are certainly echoes and themes in the book that I am relating to strongly!  Highly recommended.

Earlier this week possibly the nicest thing to happen to me for ages occurred.  My very good friend Chris Stevens, who just happens to own the wonderful PS: Gallery in Columbia with his wife Jennifer, stopped by the office, with this:

It is, as you can see, a drawing of a pig, by local superartist Joel Sager.  When I went to New Orleans with Chris last July I had coveted (but failed to buy) a wonderful picture of a pig (I do like my swine) in a gallery in the French Quarter, and when Chris saw this in Joel's collection, he had it framed and gave it to me.  Talk about random acts of kindness.  It was such a thoughtful and generous thing to do.  I am a lucky, lucky man.

Just in case legal work and the book wasn't enough to keep me occupied, on February 16 I will be traveling to Kansas City to take my oath to become a United States citizen.  In the book there is a scene where my characters go to the courthouse and take their oath to do the same thing.  Its one of those serendipitous things that I should be doing the same almost exactly as the book comes out.

Next, a favor: if you haven't already done so, would you please take a moment to go to my Facebook author page and click "like"?  Thank you. I am a needy author, assailed by self-doubt, and these little acts of affirmation from the outside world mean a lot.

Finally, and a propos of nothing at all, I wanted to share this fantastic video with you, for no other reason that I think it's brilliant.  This is Seal's "Kiss for a Rose," given the blue grass treatment.  Enjoy.

watch?feature=player_embedded&v=9UcLEklYnaE