Rachael Herron's Blog, page 27

Help My Sister Investigate Weird America

 

More than a dozen years ago, I was in New York City for the first time with my little sister Bethany, who was on a Big Grand Adventure. She’d saved up money after college, and instead of buying a Eurail pass like the other kids were doing, she bought an old Nissan pickup and got on the road to see America.

She drove through 47 states, staying mostly on the backroads, keeping off interstates. She got lost every day, intentionally. She drove to see roadside America—she stalked the great dinosaurs made from tin cans, and the Museum of Porridge (I made that one up, but I bet it exists somewhere out there, probably in North Dakota, where all sorts of weird and awesome things are said to reside).

Bethany would drive until she ran out of money and then she’d get a job (waitressing, hotel front desking, selling stuffed animals in the Great Mall of America which sounds like hell) until she’d made enough money to get herself and her truck back on the road.

She slept in the back of the pickup in Walmart parking lots (they let you do that, did you know that? That’s why all those RVs are parked in Walmart lots overnight!) and truck stops or sometimes out in the woods on side roads (my heart beats faster just thinking of all the times she wasn’t killed by a guy with a hook for a hand).

She saw the country. She literally met the country, taking more than a year to do it.

I blogged about her trip, and I flew east to NYC meet her for a little bit of it (okay, and to go to Maryland Sheep & Wool).

Map in hand. God, I hated that haircut.

While we were in NYC, out of the blue, I got an email from someone I didn’t know. The woman introduced herself as M.J.

“I read your blog. I’m a seventh-generation Nantucketer (my husband is 13th generation), and if you could get to the island, we’d love to put you up.”

I read it to Bethany with a laugh in my voice. As if we’d go stay with someone who seemed to be unsearchable on Google.

“Let’s do it,” she said.

“But…”

“Is she a knitter?”

“Well, yeah. She says she is.”

“So she won’t kill us. Let’s go.”

We went. We took the ferry, leaving Bethany’s trusty-sidekick pickup in a parking garage. We made our way to the cafe where M.J. said she’d meet us. It was off-season, so the streets were empty. It seemed like we were the only tourists in town. I remember the coffee was good, but my stomach churned.

Then M.J. darted into the cafe. She was radiant, all smiles and hugs. “I’m so glad you’re here. I got caught in a meeting, and I have to get back to work. Come, drive me back and then you can have the car for the afternoon. I’ll tell you where to explore. My husband will pick me up—here’s our address—” she pressed a slip of paper in my hand “—just be at the house by six. Fresh scallops tonight!”

Astonished, we drove her to her workplace and dropped her off.

She grinned. “Have fun! See you later!” She disappeared into the building.

We sat there inside her car. Stunned.

Then, because we could, we drove around the island. Because we were in M.J.’s car, and because everyone knows everyone on Nantucket, we got the one-finger-lifted-from-the-wheel country wave every time we saw another vehicle, which wasn’t often. We were thrilled. We explored. We got a little lost, in the good way.

We took a nap on the beach.

We made faces at the camera (okay, she did).

Bethany on a Nantucket swing

This woman, who didn’t know us except online, trusted us. With her car, and with her island.

We showed up at six at the house. M.J. was in the kitchen, scallops simmering on the stove. Her husband Steve bounded in, and said, “Sunset! Want to go to the beach?”

M.J. whooped and took off her apron. “To the jeep!”

We 4×4’d on the beach, racing through the sand, the wind in our hair, as the sun set but not over the water because we were on the eastern side of the island. (As a west coast girl, this blew my mind.)

Windblown Bethany

We went back and ate dinner. I’ve always hated scallops, rubbery bits of plastic and grit. But M.J.’s scallops? Those scallops were some of the best things I’ve ever eaten, bar none. I still dream about the taste of them, creamy and rich and melty.

After dinner we went into the living room. M.J., Bethany and I knitted, and we all watched Eddie Izzard (including their kid Jake, who was as delightful as they were). We roared with laughter.

Then M.J. put us in our beds. She tucked us up, making sure we were comfy under the eaves of the old house.

We’re still friends to this day.

From this, I learned that Bethany knows how to navigate the world in a way I’m privileged to witness. I’m proud to be her sister.

And while I don’t usually shill anything to this mailing list except books, my own and those I love by other authors, I did want to tell you that she’s doing it again.

She’s going back into weird America to chronicle not only the roadside art and how it changes, but to get a read on how we, as a country, have changed. She’s got interviews lined up with the most fascinating people. She’s going to take the temperature of America and see how it’s feeling, in this day and age of political divide. She’s going to see if we’re still connected.

She’s writing a book about it!

But she needs gas money for the sabbatical she’s taking from work to make this go. Her Kickstarter is half-funded but she won’t be able to go until it’s fully funded, with only 8 days to go!

Go watch her video? CLICK HERE.

Give her a little love? Every single tiny bit helps, I can assure you (and then you’ll get the book when it’s done! She’s a wonderful writer, which you can sample at her site if you’d like). If you can’t spare the change, she’d appreciate whatever you’ve got, even if that’s a simple bed (she’s in a small, old station wagon this time, not the more spacious truck) or a hot shower if she comes through your town (see her map).

Thanks, friends, for considering and for being awesome.

xo, Rachael

PS – if you give her a bed, please don’t be a serial killer with a hook for a hand. If you do have a hook for a hand and use it instead for crocheting or other delightful activities, she’d love to meet you. Click here to go to her Kickstarter.

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Ep. 045: Sara Ramsey on How to get Unstuck in Your Writing

Sara Ramsey is a historical romance author with great taste in Champagne, bad taste in movies, and a serious love for journals and washi tape. Her award-winning historical romances feature plenty of devious dukes, daring ladies, and happily ever afters. Sara has called both Iowa and San Francisco home, but she’s currently wandering the globe while writing novels and searching for the perfect cup of tea. Find out more about her work at www.sararamsey.com.

Craft Tip: If you’re stuck, there’s something wrong, and it’s not you. Look at your plot.

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Sign up for Rachael’s FREE weekly email in which she encourages you to do the thing you want most in the world. You’ll also get her Stop Stalling and Write PDF with helpful tips you can use now to get some writing done (free).

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Ep. 044: Bethany Herron on Weird Travel Writing

Bethany Herron has had short works of nonfiction and fiction published in The Old Schoolhouse Magazine, PEEQ, and the anthology Bad-Ass Faeries: It’s Elemental. In her professional life, she’s been a grant writer for nine years, crafting hundreds of proposals on tight deadlines. Before that, she put her English degree to use working at a small publishing house in Oakland. She’s also put over 100,000 miles on her pickup truck Tach, crossing the country on backroads, and racked up even more mileage on the tracks as a freight train conductor. She blogs at www.bethanyherron.com.

AMERICA THE STRANGE

Bethany’s about to get on the road, and could (literally) use some help with gas money. Check out her amazing Kickstarter and perks (writing from the road!) HERE. 

 

 

 

 

 

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Sign up for Rachael’s FREE weekly email in which she encourages you to do the thing you want most in the world. You’ll also get her Stop Stalling and Write PDF with helpful tips you can use now to get some writing done (free).

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Ep. 043: Rachael in Venice

Live from Venice, Rachael talks about her writing retreat, both the one she led for sixteen writers, and the private writing retreat she had alone after they left. (No guest on this episode.)

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Ep. 042: John Gaspard

John Gaspard is the author of the Eli Marks mystery series The Ambitious Card, The Bullet Catch, The Miser’s Dream and The Linking Rings, from Henery Press.

He has also written two popular books on low-budget filmmaking: Fast Cheap and Under Control and Fast, Cheap and Written That Way.

In real life, John is not a magician, but he has directed six low-budget features that cost very little and made even less – no small trick. His blog, “Fast, Cheap Movie Thoughts” has been named “One of the 50 Best Blogs for Moviemakers” and “One of The 100 Best Blogs For Film and Theater Students.” He’s also written for TV and the stage.

John lives in Minnesota and shares his home with his lovely wife, several dogs, a few cats and a handful of pet allergies.

Free e-book of “The Invisible Assistant” (an Eli Marks short story)

Free audiobook of “The Invisible Assistant” (an Eli Marks short story)

Listen above or subscribe on:

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Sign up for Rachael’s FREE weekly email in which she encourages you to do the thing you want most in the world. You’ll also get her Stop Stalling and Write PDF with helpful tips you can use now to get some writing done (free).

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The Songbird Sisters is out!

Hello darling readers,

The Songbird Sisters, the final installment in the Darling Songbirds trilogy, comes out TODAY! Now, you know me. This day is an exciting one! I will probably wake at the crack of dawn and think to myself, “My book is winging its way out into the world!” Then I’ll spring out of bed and do my new-book dance which looks a lot like this (minus the blowtorch, usually):

Then I’ll just get up and do Very Writerly Things like feed the animals and do yoga and work on a new synopsis that needs to be wrestled while throwing Trader Joe’s mochi snacks in my mouth as fast as I can shovel them.

But in the back of mind all day (and all month!) I’ll be wondering if Lana Darling’s story is in your hands, and even better, in your hearts.

See, Lana’s back in town after a long time away. She’s not sure if she can repair the relationship between her and her sisters, and to make everything worse, she’s failed in her biggest goal: to become a successful singer-songwriter. But in Darling Bay, she can start again, and hopefully do a better job with fixing the old hotel than she did out on the road with her guitar.

Then megastar Taft Hill, the one she sold her most important song to, shows up. He needs more songs from her.

Or that’s his excuse, anyway.

BUY LINKS:

Amazon | Kobo | iBooks | Nook | GooglePlay | Australia/NZ

(For another couple of days, the first book, The Darling Songbirds, is only $1.99 in US/UK/CAN in eversion – grab it now if you haven’t already.)

EARLY REVIEWS OF THE SONGBIRD SISTERS:

This is quite possibly my favorite Rachael Herron book since the ones (set in Cypress Hollow) that drew me to her work as an author. – Fate’s Lady, Goodreads

Maybe it’s because I’m the baby in my own family, but I identified with this character. I loved this book. – Tami, Goodreads

One of my favorite returns to Darling Bay! – Karen G, Goodreads

I have to admit to you, this one is my favorite of the three, too. I hope you love Lana and Taft as much as I do. They kept surprising me throughout the book, and I can’t be happier that today, they fly.

Thanks and love always,

Rachael

 

EXCERPT FROM The Songbird Sisters:

This is when Taft Hill first sees Lana Darling singing at the Bluebird in Nashville:

Charisma.

The real deal, she had it by the truckload. When she was singing, she transformed into something different, something electric. She’d been cute when she walked out, eccentric and kind of adorable in her plain black shirt and black jeans. But when she sang, she was beautiful. Her eyes went darker brown, smokier. Her voice seemed to hold up her spine, and her whole body sang to the crowd.

The ungrateful crowd full of sons of bitches who didn’t have the courtesy to even watch her. They were too busy texting and taking selfies. They were in a historic room, with someone in front of them making damn history itself, and they couldn’t see it.

As Lana Darling’s first song ended, Taft stood. He walked to the front table, where a man and woman were involved in a heated discussion about the jalapeño poppers they’d ordered that afternoon.

“I’m telling you, they used light cream cheese.”

The woman shook her head. “It was probably full fat. You’re not allergic, anyway. Just shut up.”

Taft rapped the tabletop with his knuckles so hard he made their Long Island iced teas jump. “Hi. Why aren’t you clapping?”

Startled, the couple clapped.

Taft could feel Lana’s stare on the back of his neck.

The man’s mouth dropped open. “You’re … wait, are you –?”

“That I am. You mind if I sit down here with y’all?”

The woman stuttered. “Taft Hill, my God. Of course, sit with us.”

Taft pulled out the chair, straddling it backward. “Great.”

Both scrambled for their phones, but Taft raised a hand, palm down. “Put ’em away. Enjoy the show.”

“Can you just – one picture with me?”

“After.” Taft raised a finger to his lips. “You’re in the presence of a legend.”

“Sorry,” the woman said. “Sorry. Of course. You are a legend, I know.”

Taft blew out a sharp breath. “Not me. Her.”

Lana, only six feet away, snorted. It wasn’t a giggle, and it wasn’t a chuckle. It wasn’t ladylike. It was a snort of derision. It was loud and held no apology. She fiddled with her C-string and started the next song.

Taft fell a little bit in love.

The couple left four songs later, and they missed the best part.

Lana sang “Blame Me.”

 

BUY LINKS:

Amazon | Kobo | iBooks | Nook | GooglePlay | Australia/NZ

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Ep. 041: Sheree L. Greer

A Milwaukee, Wisconsin native, Sheree L. Greer founded The Kitchen Table Literary Arts Center to showcase and support the work of ancestor, elder, and contemporary women writers of color. The author of two novels, Let the Lover Be and A Return to Arms, and the short story collection, Once and Future lovers, Sheree recently published a writing guide for student writers, Stop Writing Wack Essays. She is a VONA alumn with work featured on Very Smart Brothas, AutoStraddle, Ms. Fit Magazine, and Hypertext. Sheree teaches composition, creative writing, fiction workshop, and African American literature at St. Petersburg College in Florida.

Craft Tip: Journal as your character–become your character–whether you use it or not.

Listen above or subscribe on:

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Sign up for Rachael’s FREE weekly email in which she encourages you to do the thing you want most in the world. You’ll also get her Stop Stalling and Write PDF with helpful tips you can use now to get some writing done (free).

The post Ep. 041: Sheree L. Greer appeared first on Rachael Herron.

This is What Makes You Worthy

Hi makers,

I wrote this for my writer’s list this week, but it applies to all makers, not just writers.

I had a bad virus this past week. Okay, I say bad, but it wasn’t the stomach flu, and it didn’t come with a high, terrible fever.

It just enervated me, leaving me spent and mostly useless. I lay around like a Victorian damsel on a fainting couch. I groaned intermittently, pleased with the hoarseness of my voice. I sighed a lot and blew my nose like the trumpets at the gates of Zion.

Then, when I started to feel better, I stayed down. (Okay, this is a lie. Friday night, I went to see Kate Tempest at a club and passed out after mainlining Gobstoppers, my first processed sugar in 3 months. Seriously. I didn’t even have a drink. Just. Passed. Out. I have to tell you, fainting is not as cool as it’s cracked up to be. In a moment that is funny in retrospect, I knew it was coming and apparently told my wife I thought I was going to faint — I barely remember this — so she had time to tell a stranger “Here, hold my drink,” as she caught me, which is why she still had her Manhattan after they carted me outside for air.)

So for the weekend, I kept resting.

Even though I felt guilty about it.

 

You see, I measure my life by the Things I Do.

You might feel me on this one.

On Saturday, while resting, I made great cheese (coconut cheese that is healthy and tastes like the best/worst kind of nacho cheese ever – it is AMAZING) and terrible muffins, and besides that, I stayed in bed and watched The Americans on my phone.

It was okay that I stayed in bed, because I could look to an accomplishment. I had cooked. I had baked. That made me worthwhile, as a person.

On Sunday, I was almost better. I could have powered through almost anything, given the right dose of DayQuil and liberal distribution of hoarse groans.

But instead, I didn’t.

I just stayed down. I watched TV on my phone. I read. I napped a bit. I groaned pleasantly and petted the animals that piled happily on top of me.

I got NOTHING done. Not one single thing.

I was feeling awful about this, until I saw a tweet in my timeline. Bethany D. Lipka said, “If all you do today is take care of yourself, your day has been productive.”

This blew my mind.

Did she mean that lying in bed was actually a Thing To Do? A thing I could be proud of?

Yes, she certainly did.

So it got me thinking. Everyone is inherently worthy, with or without being productive.

This is something I’ve always believed.

Except about myself.

For me to be worthy, I have to make. (Many creative people feel this way. You might.) I have to sew a dress or bake bread or write a book or make a podcast.

Otherwise, how will my worth be tangible? How will I prove it?

This is what I realized this weekend: I need to work on loosening my grasp on this belief.

I am worthy when I write books.

I am also equally worthy when I do absolutely nothing.

We could dive into the field-lying-fallow metaphor, but that one has always rung hollow to me. Yo, have you met me? I AM NEVER GOING TO LET A FIELD LIE FALLOW. I will add fertilizer (organic!) to that shit (get it?) and get back in there as soon as possible.

So let’s use the sleep metaphor. Our brains and bodies need sleep. We have to rest. And sometimes, we need more rest than we’re used to giving ourselves.

I’m my own boss. (As of one year today! Today is my first anniversary of self-employment! This is a huge, happy, exciting thing to me!)

And I’m also my only full-time employee.

I’ve got to take care of the boss and the employee residing in this body. Sometimes I need a vacation even without going out of town. Sometimes I need an extra hour of sleep, or a whole weekend in bed.

Sometimes accomplishing nothing is the absolute best thing for me To Do.

I am worthy, no matter what I make or don’t make. No matter what I do or don’t accomplish. No matter what I write or don’t write.

So are you.

If you’re beating yourself up, stop it. You’re already worthy of being a writer. You ARE a writer. Write a little bit.

Rest, if you need it.

Then rest some more.

(Of course, ask yourself honestly if you’re resting or procrastinating. You’ll know the answer, deep in your heart. And depression is a different beast entirely. Good lord, if you’re fighting depressing and taking care of yourself by resting? GOOD FOR YOU. Don’t have a second of regret about that.)

If all you do today is take care of yourself, you’re being productive.

I believe this. And I’m going to try to remember it, too.

Take care of yourselves, dear ones.

love,

Rachael

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PS – There will be no writer’s email next weekend – it’s my eleven-year wedding anniversary, and we’re leaving the dogs with a sitter and going up the coast. To rest. And to soak in the hot tub. To read books and dance by moonlight and celebrate each other.

PPS – The weeks after that might be sporadic, too, since I’ll be in Venice for two weeks, on retreat. OH YEAH. That will be less restful, since I’m leading the retreat, but I’ve built in time afterward for a retreat of my own, in which there will be much writing and even more napping.

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Ep. 040: Antonia Crane

Antonia Crane is a writer, Moth Slam winner, and writing instructor in Los Angeles. She is the author of the memoir, Spent (Barnacle Books, Rare Bird, 2014). She has written for The New York Times, Quartz: Atlantic Media, The Toast, Playboy, Cosmopolitan, Salon,  and lots of other places. Her screenplay, “The Lusty” co-written with Silas Howard about the Exotic Dancers Union is a recipient of the San Francisco Film Society/ Kenneth Rainin Foundation Screenwriter’s Grant, 2015.  She is at work on an essay collection and a memoir.

Craft Tip:When you learn how to be a writer who reads, you’ve reached a different level.

Listen above or subscribe on:

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Sign up for Rachael’s FREE weekly email in which she encourages you to do the thing you want most in the world. You’ll also get her Stop Stalling and Write PDF with helpful tips you can use now to get some writing done (free).

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Ep. 039: Gigi Pandian

USA Today bestselling author Gigi Pandian spent her childhood being dragged around the world by her cultural anthropologist parents, and now lives outside San Francisco with her husband and a gargoyle who watches over the garden. A cancer diagnosis in her thirties taught her that life’s too short to waste a single moment. Gigi writes the Jaya Jones Treasure Hunt mysteries, the Accidental Alchemist mysteries, and locked-room mystery short stories. Her fiction has been awarded the Malice Domestic Grant and Lefty Awards, and short-listed for Macavity and Agatha Awards.

Craft Tip: When you’re stuck, move the medium in which you’re writing.

Listen above or subscribe on:

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Sign up for Rachael’s FREE weekly email in which she encourages you to do the thing you want most in the world. You’ll also get her Stop Stalling and Write PDF with helpful tips you can use now to get some writing done (free).

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