Ann Pearlman's Blog, page 4

A Gift for My Sister Wins Best Fiction Award

Once again the Internet brought me surprising news.  I was Googling myself to fulfill a request from my agent. I guess this guilty curiosity is something many do,  but I had not indulged in well over a year. I checked through the pages to ascertain that the information was not about the several other Ann Pearlmans and others who have various combinations of my name.

After a couple dozen pages, there appeared a surprising notice:

Mar 15, 2014 - … two winners! We are proud to announce the winners of the 2013 awards: … Winners (tie): A Gift for My Sister by Ann Pearlman

Excited, I clicked on the link.

Winners of the 2013 Sharp Writ Book Awards appeared in aqua blue.

Then there it was in beautiful burgundy letters:

Fiction (General)

Winners (tie): A Gift for My Sister by Ann Pearlman

First Place in Fiction for 2013.

The awards were bestowed on the Ides of March, 2014.  Why didn’t my Google alerts inform me?  Oh, I was out of town and probably simply deleted what I thought were routine notices.

So I got the announcement five months late!  Simply by accident. I did not know I was nominated. Wonderful, lucky news from out of the blue.

The Sharp Writ Award is given by a group of judges who are part of the Smart Book Lovers, which grew out of Mensa.

A Gift for My Sister is the second novel featuring characters who appeared in, my first novel,  The Christmas Cookie Club which became an international bestseller.

My newest novel, The Lottery will be available in mid October. Many of the same characters will be featured as the cookie club decides to play the lottery. I’m eager to hear people’s reactions.  We write alone, wondering how our words, images, characters will effect readers.  It’s so gratifying and I’m so grateful when I learn that my books have had a positive impact.  Thank you, Sharp Writ Awards committee.

Sissy’s Independence Day

Sissy Peoples lives in Detroit and works as a nurse. She first appeared in The Christmas Cookie Club and was a major character in A Gift for My Sister.   In The Lottery, the third novel of the series which will be launched in October, Sissy wins $10,000 and inspires the cookie club to play the lottery together.  What do you think Sissy will do if they win big? Here’s what this Independence Day means to her:

 

My Sock-It-to-Me cake cools on the counter. Scents of sugar, cinnamon and roasted nuts mix with the aromas of Detroit wafting from my open window. The city is quiet, now. Sparse horns. Few sirens. Seldom the rumbling of a truck pushing through the city.  A group of students in a line of eight rode their bikes across Woodward Avenue. One dusk I saw a doe picking her way through a vacant lot. But today, the perfume of my familiar dessert reminds me of the joys this holiday holds. Above all, today is a day of family and food. As old as I am, I review my previous July 4th celebrations, still trying to command a narrative that flows rather than jerks in random fits and starts.  It was usually a kickback vacation day for family and BBQ. Most of them blur in the shared traditional food and the love, chaos, and warmth of family. An annual meeting of newcomers through marriage or birth, and witnessing their changing through the years. A few, I stand out clearly.  My favorite was when I was six shortly after Martin Luther King’s speech, which was his rehearsal for the March on Washington.  Ma clasped my hand as we felt the torch of his amazing charisma and were pressed on all sides by people, black and white. The excitement boiled with hopes. Our exhilaration was still thick a few weeks later when our block had its own Independence Day party.  Fingertips and Up on the Roof played as all of us twisted in the street. Ma made cherry, peach, and blueberry pies.  Streamers draped between the trees.  My hair was tied with red, white and blue ribbons.  I was as excited for the birthday of our country as my own. It was that filled with hopes and the possibility of climbing up that mountain Dr. King foretold. Ma didn’t stint on what she knew, or what I should know. So she did her own bit of education.  “’It is self evident.’ That means obvious. All men are created equal with the right to Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness. And if a government becomes destructive of these ends the people have the right to abolish it.’ That means change it.”

Then I only glimmered the contradiction hidden between the Declaration of Independence and our expectation as we climbed that high mountain to promised equality and rights. Didn’t happen. Not yet and not fast enough.

Instead, the paradox exploded in another July some four years later. We huddled inside smelling the smoke, gas, and cordite. Hearing explosions.  Peaking from blinds to see tanks rolling down our street, their huge guns pointing, swiveling. Soldiers with army rifles walked beside them, crouching, hunting to shoot something, someone. Then one of our windows exploded and we hid in the bathroom until the street was quiet. Another fight for independence. Yes. But whose rights?

But maybe the Declaration of Independence forgot to warn us about something. People have the right to rebel, but it doesn’t guarantee less oppression. That’s the vicious irony mixed with the inadvertent paradox the founders built with slavery laughing at the all men are created equal line. Were the slaves freed after our Revolutionary War? No. Slavery became more entrenched.  Rebellion only guarantees a shift in how and who gets to enforce the oppression.

And I remember all too well, that other July 4th. One that spoke directly to independence and freedom, for aren’t they tied together? But the one I’m talking about is the worst one.  The July 4th I spent visiting Aaron when he was in juvenile prison for possession of a controlled substance, in this case, marijuana. I went through the visitors’ line. Inspected. Searched. Patted down. Humiliating as if I were a criminal.  We ate microwaved chicken wings, popcorn, and snickers candy bars from the vending machines.  Ironies as thick as the heat.  Our community was scooped of its teens and young men who were hauled off to the mass incarceration which was really the government’s response to those riots/rebellions (whatever you want to call them) and the terror white people have of us doing to them what they did to us. i.e. enslave, torture, beat, pull our families apart, and exploit us for 400 years one way or another. [image error] That day, sitting behind bars with Aaron, guards posted against the walls, checking us out as they walked around the room, I thought about my beloved, tender boy who so loved words and music. Neither one of us had any freedom that Independence Day and his was taken from him for months.  I told him he had to make his own independence and keep it, treasure it. Reminded him of his lyrics and music. “Nothing else is more important.  The only thing you have to fear is losing your freedom. ‘Cause Independence means freedom first. And then responsibility second.” I wagged my finger when I said that. “Think about your own pursuit of happiness. It’s sure not here.” I jerked my head at the barricaded desk with the guards watching us. He nodded and ate more chicken wings. “Sure wish I could be eating your ribs.”  He got my message.

That mass incarceration disrupts all of our freedom, the democracy we celebrate today. It tortures the very meaning from Independence Day by the sheer force of its numbers.  80 million disenfranchised. 2.2 million locked up. Almost 7 million, 2.9% of our people, in prison, or under court ordered supervision at a cost of one quarter trillion dollars a year. That is way more than our war in Afghanistan, which is 500 billion a year. Our taxes go to imprisonment instead of items our people so need: excellent education, health, jobs, infrastructure rebuilding, and repairing the environment.  I don’t believe this is because of the nature of people nor a necessity of capitalism. This is the policies we make and the fact we’ve sold our political system to the highest bidder. That’s what I think. I try to stop these thoughts as I dress to go to Aaron and Tara’s.

All that pessimism is just one side because Aaron and Tara are an American story for you. The American dream come true. Maybe he took my words to heart, maybe it was partly luck along with his own talent and drive.  Aaron gets to celebrate. Before that next July 4th, he met Tara, a white girl from the burbs, at a special work release program. A year after that she was pregnant and I met her mom, Marnie, and we became friends even before we were co-grandparents. Those two kids, as improbable as their different backgrounds and races, were as in love with each other as their music. They kept on working on their dream. And now, he is the essence of the independence and pursuit of happiness made possible for some people.  From that jail cell to rap-star celebrity and family man. I get in my car and drive through Detroit’s empty streets, boarded up buildings, vacant lots strewn with nothing nobody wants or can use for anything. It’s as though the riot happened just a few weeks before and everyone vanished. Like some crazy movie where people disappear. A few, surprisingly few, people, walk hunched as if it’s still winter. Even in the height of summer it’s grey, just a few straggly bushes and random weeds.

Yep, my city.

Then I cross 8 Mile to lush groomed lawns, perfectly pruned shrubbery and brilliant flowers. I travel from the poorest city to the richest county in the blink of an eye. Amazing to think Aaron has made this trip in his lifetime. Amazing to think I can easily drive it and feel at home in both places. Though Motown will always have my loyalty, my life’s work.

I pull up to Aaron and Tara’s house and smell ribs slow cooking. Tara grins to see me. Levy, their son, runs toward me, his arms spread wide, beating his mother for a hug. Never thought a son of mine would marry a white woman, but Tara and he are as perfect for each other as a man and a woman can be and essential for their success. Tara has become a daughter to me. She hugs me and I feel the growing wedge of their coming baby. Tara’s sister, Sky, and her daughter Rachel greet me. Then Marnie, her mom and now my good friend, and I press each other with love. Around the pool, Tara and Aaron’s rap crew lounge. I’ve known several of them since Aaron was in the single digits. My family. All these people. An American family. A mixed racial, biracial, multigenerational group united by biology and love and friendship and history. For these are the results of my pursuit of happiness. See. We can be a people free to maximize ourselves and become who we want to be. Race, gender, sexual preference, class should not be chains, but glorious differences to explore and celebrate. Today, we enjoy the glory of our country’s birth accompanied by noble ideals that we still struggle to attain. It may sound cheesy, but like King, I have the dream. Still have it. I look around.  My family of diverse colors and backgrounds has achieved it. Still, I remain haunted by the people of my loved city where so many struggle for their very survival, their basic needs and are absent the luxury to ponder the pursuit of happiness. Still, I’m haunted by the more than 2 million people, an excess both of numbers and length of sentences, without their independence in prison. Yet I believe we can make the dream of the American ideals a reality for all of us.

 

This idea was sparked by Terri Guliano Long who suggested blogs from the Point of View of one of our characters on what July 4th means and I chose Sissy.

Angels is now FREE

My illustrated short story, Angels is FREE on Amazon starting today, June 25, 2014 through June 28.  That’s 4 days to pick it up here.

 

Angels is an illustrated short story for adults. Set in inner city Detroit, this is a tale of a family beset by the traumas of drug addiction, adultery, prison, violence as well as the joys of sexuality, love and, especially, children.  The mother, desperate when her husband is sent to prison, becomes a stripper to support her two daughters, her angels.

Creating illustrated short stories is my way to combine my love of writing with art.  The story won a prize from a small literary journal more than a decade ago and was partly inspired by my work in a woman’s prison.  The story of a stripper, her children and the men in her life is definitely for grown-ups though the images of eroticism and violence are tasteful. There are over 13 different images of mixed media.

 

 

Reviewers have said: “It is a love story, a story of pain and hurt, a story of beauty in every life…”

“A short and powerful read about love and choices. Oh so beautifully written with sparse poetic language….love takes many forms. I loved this…”

If you enjoy reading Angels please leave a review on Amazon.   And you can read more about Angels here.

Shebooks webpage is live!

Shebooks website is up and I wanted to make sure that you knew about this terrific new service for women who love to read.  They are publishing books for women, by women. Suited for the busy women, the books are short (less than 10,000 words) and available on line.  Here’s the story, straight from their webpage:

EVERY WOMAN HAS A STORY

We believe the best stories deserve to be told and read, shared and talked about. We believe you shouldn’t have to hunt to find something great to read. That’s why we started Shebooks.

Shebooks is a curated collection of short e-books written by women, for women. All of our stories are easy to download and read on any digital device—and so good you’ll finish them in an hour or two. We like to think of ourselves as an e-book boutique, the kind where you’ll always find a story to fit your busy life.

Each book costs $2.99, or you can pay a monthly subscription and get unlimited access to the entire library– that’s an orgy of reading and books! 

I’ve read several and have loved them. Smart, witty, profound. On the new website,  there’s scads of information about each author, information about her book, readers guide, and interview to help the reader choose which book to read.  For example, here’s some of the information( summary, excerpt, reviews) on my book, His Eye Is On the Sparrow.

And here’s the first question of my interview:

Are there any themes that you find recurring in your writing?

Two themes recur in my writing, though neither one is apparent in His Eye Is on the Sparrow, except as harbingers of things to come. The first one is death. Many of my books, especially my fiction and memoirs, have a death as a significant turning point. The origin is in my life. About six weeks after the events of His Eye Is on the Sparrow occurred, my father died at 44 from a heart attack. I was with him when he died. Within the next decade, my grandmother and mother died. As well as two best friends: one from an allergic reaction to an anesthetic, and another was murdered. I was impacted by the knowledge that death strikes anywhere, at any time, without respect for age, or health.

The second is the sister of death, and that’s luck. Since I was a child, as soon as I understood the basics of reproduction, I wondered at the miraculous event of my existence. If my parents had made love a different day, if a different sperm fought its way to the ovum that was my other half, I would have been a different person. Maybe a boy. Maybe not loving art so much, or writing or dancing. I’ve always been grateful for the luck of my existence and my parents, who were able to nourish and encourage me.

But luck is a two-edged sword. Life is full of serendipitous events spinning into new directions. Some of the eventual outcomes cannot be predicted from the incident itself. For example, my divorce was a watershed event that I struggled to survive. But survive I did and later realized that my ex-husband had done me a huge favor.

 

For writers: Shebooks is also very involved in assuring women writers equality in promotion, reviews, and publishing.  And check out equal writes 2014 and Kickstarter campaign.

For readers: Take a look at the webpage, browse the books. “They get it. You’re  always looking for a great, fast read. (Shebooks) has nothing but short e-books by the best women writers.”

For all of us: Shebooks is a great idea with great books at a reasonable price.

 

Wearing Books: An Artistic, Literary Adventure

 

Do you love books so much you feel as though you’re wrapped up in them or part of the scene they conjure? Do you feel you’ve become one of the characters?  Recently I jumped at the chance to, literally, become part of a book.  This was an artistic as well as literary project that was part of an anthropological, border crossing series of workshops and events.

 Rolando  Estévez ,  an internationally renowned book artist, was coming to the University of Michigan. With a passion to create books, Estévez  found a way around the meager supplies available in his native Cuba by using the simplest materials. He created works of book art from butcher and craft paper, recycled objects, drawn images, cloth, sand, pebbles, lace, string, stones. Each book is part of small edition of less than 200 individually hand produced works and is filled with stories, poems, or essays written in both Spanish and English.  The University bought one of his art works and a fashion show of wearable books was part of its presentation, the community invited to be part of the event.

Dr. Ruth Behar,  one of his authors as well as a writing buddy and friend of mine had arranged a series of events: art openings, lectures on his studio and publishing company, exhibitions of his work, and a workshop making wearable books to be presented at a fashion show.

Art and Books! Two great loves. How could I resist? What could I make? I decided on a scarf and immediately the shape of a snake came to mind. And then to go with it, a purse with the flap fashioned as a snake’s head.  I’ve always loved craft paper and cardboard, especially the crenulated lines between the boards.

The workshop was at the University of Michigan. There was a huge table full of boxes of paste, scissors, glue, tape, rolls of paper of all colors, textures, and patterns.  Estévez suggested I make a book for the bag, and add a few decorative elements for the snake.

Of course, I wrote a story on the back of the snake.

 

I copied poems in both Spanish and English for the book and decided to illustrate them. Here’s one of the poems by Juan Ramón Jiménez and my illustration in the book.

 

Music

Music—

A naked woman

Running mad through the pure night!

 

Then came the big day.  I wrote a story on the back of the snake.  The poems copied and illustrated for the book which was carefully placed in the bag. At the Graduate Library, we did our fashion show of wearable clothes: a paper tank top with scads of small origami cranes each with a word nestled inside, a skirt of paper strips with words on them, and books hanging from the waist, a shirt with paper pamphlet books pasted on it, a headband with a book dangling.

Then Estévez  entered with a gigantic knapsack looped over his shoulder, placed it on the floor, and with a flourish, opened it. He unwrapped a life-size image representing Hemingway as an angel swathed in fishnets, which he draped from the ceiling.

During the period Hemingway lived in Cuba he wrote Old Man and The Sea and received the Nobel Prize. Estévez, with Ruth translating, told us the stories that still swirl about Hemingway in Cuba and how elements of them and his life in Cuba were incorporated in the work.  Afterward, there was a reception and exhibition of other works by Estévez.

As I went home, the snake with its story and the purse with its illustrated book in a tote, I thought about the compelling urge we humans have to create.  It’s so much a part of the essence of our humanity for throughout all history we have left artifacts of our art. Regardless of meagerness and scarcity of materials, we  use our hands and imagination to invent. Whether it’s music, art, words, we understand life by inventing ways to make sense and meaning. Our imaginations are boundless.  Our need for meaning ceaseless.

 

 

 

 

 

His Eye Is On The Sparrow: a Book, a Song, the Oscars

My memoir, His Eye is On the Sparrow takes its title from the song my father-in-law sang the weekend I met him.  His gravelly rendition was always my favorite version of this song, in its simple A Cappella.  Papa sang it straight out with the vigor of a man who worked all his life and who deeply believed the lyrics: I sing because I’m happy, I sing because I’m free. His eye is on the Sparrow, I know he watches me.  He expressed the joy in his life, as well as a deep spirituality that in a world of terrible sorrow and injustice a blessed God comforts us.  He lived a full, rich life with pride and self respect in spite of the racism and Jim Crow that shadowed most his life.  The song also speaks to the importance of each of us as we overcome discouragement and injustice to celebrate freedom and joy.  I tried to capture this in the scene I related in my book, His Eye is On the Sparrow.

Last summer, when I saw the film 20 Feet From Stardom, some of the same elements were present.  Great music. Wonderful people. Enormous talent that never quite achieves the recognition and acclaim it deserves.  Heart wrenching stories. History. Love and tragedy.   I loved it, told everyone I knew about it, and downloaded the songs of the singers spending much of the summer singing, in my off key but enthusiastic voice, Darlene Love’s Zip-a-Dee-Doo-Dah.

Yes,  I identified with the theme of the documentary: Immensely gifted, hard working artists struggling to make it big—or at least supporting themselves—in an art. Talent is there, no less than the superstars, and so is the drastic hard work. What makes the difference? Why are not Darlene Love, Merry Clayton or Lisa Fischer as successful as Diana Ross, Bonnie Raitt, Anita Baker?  If talent and hard work and passion don’t make the difference, what does? This is certainly true for all the arts. I think about this when I read a great novel that never achieves the praise or sales that it deserves.

So, what’s the answer? Being in the right place at the right time.  Astute management. An X factor, which coincides with what the public wants at that moment. Timing, as every singer and writer knows, is everything. Would Bob Dylan have been as acclaimed if he’d been born 10 years earlier (his voice too funky and his lyrics too radical) or later when the moment had passed?  Talent and hard work are necessity, the circumstance of fitting in a smidgeon ahead of your culture is more luck, I suspect, than planning or foresight.

But it an way, a larger way, it doesn’t matter. Regardless of applause and success, they couldn’t help singing anymore than I could ever help writing.

So when Darlene Love was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, I was thrilled. When 20 Feet From Stardom was nominated for the Oscar, I was thrilled.  She and her compatriots were finally being recognized.

Meanwhile, Shebooks published my memoir, His Eye is On the Sparrow. I was reminded of the lyrics of the song and its popularity when my Google alerts sent me listing of mentions, not only to my book, but also to the song.

Few months later,  Darlene Love accepted the Oscar. She won great fame after years of ignominy, and did her thing at the Oscars, belting out a gospel song with lyrics of freedom and happiness.  As she sang this song—my Papa’s favorite,  the title of my book, joy streamed down my cheeks, for her, for me, for the win of an artist who had too long been overlooked.  What better way to thank the world for coming her way? And she sang for all of us.

 

Watch Darlene Love Sing at the Oscars

For all of us creators, — writers, musicians, artists, –no matter how famous we become, we contribute to our art. We do it because we love it, because we must. We can’t stop. I can’t stop writing. Darlene can’t stop singing. Artists keep painting and sculpting. We do it because that’s who we are, that’s how we breathe. And, regardless of our acclaim, we contribute to the art of our culture. Just like the sparrow, our voice becomes part of the great song.

 

 

 

 

 

His Eye Is On the Sparrow by Ann Pearlman

 

 

A dear friend, who is also a writer, heard about Shebooks  and suggested that I send some of my writing. Their slogan is: every woman has a story. How could I not love them?

Shebooks is a new publisher focusing on short e-books to bridge the gap between magazines with carefully selected fiction and non-fiction tailored to women’s interests.  I appreciated their approach as an outfit of women working together to promote women’s writing.  As widely publicized by Jennifer Weiner and Jodi Picoult, female writers often get short shrift.  Although most readers and writers are women, we’re given less attention in terms of reviews and serious consideration. This is one reason why women often use names that are aliases or gender nonspecific. (Think  E.L. James, J.T. Rowlings, M.L. Stedman).  One of the founders, Laura Fraser, journalist, and best selling author of An Italian Affair, commented, “Women writers are looking for new outlets for their most personal work and women readers crave great reads that fit into their busy lives.”

I reviewed my unpublished stories, but they weren’t the right length. Too short. Shebooks wants works between 7,500-10,000 words.  On the spur of the moment, I sent them part of a larger piece that had not yet been published. Like Infidelity  which was nominated for a Pulitzer and the National Book Award and the basis for a Lifetime movie, His Eye is on the Sparrow  is a memoir.  It takes place in 1962 in the Midwest. The civil rights movement had just begun. And I was in love with a Black man. We were college students excited to meet each other’s families. Along the way we encountered potentially violent, racially charged situations and struggled with parents forced to deal on the forefront of changes yet to come. This look into the past gives us a window into exactly how far we’ve changed in the last half century in America.

In one of those writing miracles that almost never happen, within fifteen minutes of sending it as an attachment, I received an enthusiastic response from Laura Fraser who happened to be answering email. So far publishing with Shebooks has been a dream. My perceptive editor, Zoe Rosenfeld, helped plug holes in my story. The artist designed a gorgeous cover.  Every step of the way I was consulted.

Then His Eye is on the Sparrow  was selected to be part of an initial preview of eight titles including six memoirs and two works of fiction by well-established authors and essayists.  The books are now available on Amazon and Nook.  So far we’re capturing lots of 5 star reviews.  I’ve read some of the books and they’re terrific. We’re working together to spread the word about our books as well as Shebooks’ plan for a subscription service of 15 new e-books a month beginning in March.

A long time ago, I was part of Psychotherapy Associates, a group of women sharing expenses and space in a clinical practice. That was one of the smartest and happiest working experiences in my life. Well, more than just my professional life because those women remain among my closest friends. In fact it was my partner, friend, co-author, Dr. Linda Sherby  who suggested I contact Shebooks in the first place.

This has some of the same exhilaration: a group of women working together for the benefit of all and with pride in a terrific product. It’s been exciting to be part of a new publishing company and I’m happily anticipating nurturing its growth.

Writers: Think about submitting your short fiction and non-fiction to this new publisher.

Readers: Pick up a few of these ebooks; they are well written, quick reads, and priced less than a latte at $2.99.

And I get to enjoy being part ofgreat group of women writers.

His Eye Is On the Sparrow

 

 

A dear friend, who is also a writer, heard about Shebooks  and suggested that I send some of my writing. Their slogan is: every woman has a story. How could I not love them?

Shebooks is a new publisher focusing on short e-books to bridge the gap between magazines with carefully selected fiction and non-fiction tailored to women’s interests.  I appreciated their approach as an outfit of women working together to promote women’s writing.  As widely publicized by Jennifer Weiner and Jodi Picoult, female writers often get short shrift.  Although most readers and writers are women, we’re given less attention in terms of reviews and serious consideration. This is one reason why women often use names that are aliases or gender nonspecific. (Think  E.L. James, J.T. Rowlings, M.L. Stedman).  One of the founders, Laura Fraser, journalist, and best selling author of An Italian Affair, commented, “Women writers are looking for new outlets for their most personal work and women readers crave great reads that fit into their busy lives.”

I reviewed my unpublished stories, but they weren’t the right length. Too short. Shebooks wants works between 7,500-10,000 words.  On the spur of the moment, I sent them part of a larger piece that had not yet been published. Like Infidelity  which was nominated for a Pulitzer and the National Book Award and the basis for a Lifetime movie, His Eye is on the Sparrow  is a memoir.  It takes place in 1962 in the Midwest. The civil rights movement had just begun. And I was in love with a Black man. We were college students excited to meet each other’s families. Along the way we encountered potentially violent, racially charged situations and struggled with parents forced to deal on the forefront of changes yet to come. This look into the past gives us a window into exactly how far we’ve changed in the last half century in America.

In one of those writing miracles that almost never happen, within fifteen minutes of sending it as an attachment, I received an enthusiastic response from Laura Fraser who happened to be answering email. So far publishing with Shebooks has been a dream. My perceptive editor, Zoe Rosenfeld, helped plug holes in my story. The artist designed a gorgeous cover.  Every step of the way I was consulted.

Then His Eye is on the Sparrow  was selected to be part of an initial preview of eight titles including six memoirs and two works of fiction by well-established authors and essayists.  The books are now available on Amazon and Nook.  So far we’re capturing lots of 5 star reviews.  I’ve read some of the books and they’re terrific. We’re working together to spread the word about our books as well as Shebooks’ plan for a subscription service of 15 new e-books a month beginning in March.

A long time ago, I was part of Psychotherapy Associates, a group of women sharing expenses and space in a clinical practice. That was one of the smartest and happiest working experiences in my life. Well, more than just my professional life because those women remain among my closest friends. In fact it was my partner, friend, co-author, Dr. Linda Sherby  who suggested I contact Shebooks in the first place.

This has some of the same exhilaration: a group of women working together for the benefit of all and with pride in a terrific product. It’s been exciting to be part of a new publishing company and I’m happily anticipating nurturing its growth.

Writers: Think about submitting your short fiction and non-fiction to this new publisher.

Readers: Pick up a few of these ebooks; they are well written, quick reads, and priced less than a latte at $2.99.

And I get to enjoy being part ofgreat group of women writers.

The Story of the Stand Mixer: Changes in Time

 

I am very sentimental and preparing for this year’s Christmas cookie club particularly so.   It’s been a year full of changes. My son moved to another state and I will spend this Christmas with him and his family in their new home.   Last spring, my daughter married and requested the heirloom stand mixer. And an announcement is coming at our cookie party that changes our tradition.   But first the stand mixer. Now, this ancient tool has a lot of history to it.   As a child, my grandmother and I made the family favorite, Pecan Butter Balls,  with it. Then it was my mother’s and together we baked scads of cookies, cakes galore, meringues, made mashed potatoes, and whipped cream.   The mixer has a grinder attachment so we chopped chicken livers with it.   Since they both died, each time I use it,  I had the sense that my grandmother and mother were with me, cooking once again.

Now it was time to pass it on to my youngest child for her family. And time to buy a new one. I put off the purchase.  When the cookie party was a month away and I needed a stand mixer to make the batter, a fortuitous sale came along and I bought a new mixer. Bright green! With blazing white flat beater and dough hook.

I like things coming full circle so I decided to make the Pecan Butter Balls for this year’s cookie party.  It’s also the first cookie in my novel, The Christmas Cookie Club.   Here’s the recipe:

Pecan Butter Balls              

2 cups chopped pecans                                    

2 cups flour             `                       

1 cup melted butter                                    

½ cup sugar                                    

2 t. vanilla                                    

¼ t. salt                                    

confectioner’s sugar.              

Chop pecans in blender or food processor. Combine all except confectioner’s sugar. Gather into a ball. With floured hands, shape in one inch balls and bake on ungreased cookie sheet.  I line my cookie sheets with wax paper or parchment paper and spray them with Pam.  Bake in 325 degree oven for 20 minutes.  Pull off the papers and let cookies cool, but make sure they’re still warm and gently shake them in bag with confectioners. Place them back on the paper and add more confectioners while they cool.  Makes five dozen.  

I snapped in my new flat beater thinking, This will test it as I tripled the recipe to make 15 dozen. It did a terrific job mixing all the ingredients in spite of the fact  batter filled the bowl to its brim. I spent the afternoon rolling balls, baking, and dusting them with confectioner’s sugar. Confectioner’s dusted Cookies on parchment paper covered my dinning room table.

The cookie club is traditionally held at my dear friend and co-author Marybeth Bayer’s house. Snow decorated the trees and readied them for the Holiday.  We were all of great cheer, the table laden with wonderful appetizers.  We sang carols, and we’re getting passably  good as we stood up to sing our parts in the 12 days of Christmas and imitated (poorly) the Drifters’ I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas.  We danced. And, of course, we each told stories of our cookie emblematic of our year before passing out our wrapped cookies.

Then came the announcement that was part of my increased sentimentality. Marybeth is moving to be closer to her son,  a new granddaughter, her sisters, and brother.  This was the last cookie club for which she’ll be the hostess.  MB started the party and gathered the wonderful cookie bitches for over 20 years.Next year we will have a different hostess.    Next year, we will gather together with our beautiful wrapped cookies, a donation to the hospice, our stories,  our crazy singing, and our love for each other. We will miss Marybeth. Some years she may join us.   And we have room for a new cookie virgin.

 

 

Publisher Sale on A Gift For My Sister and The Christmas Cookie Club!

I’m thrilled to announce that Simon & Schuster has discounted both The Christmas Cookie Club and A Gift for My Sister in time for the holidays.  To celebrate, I’m giving away FIVE signed hardback copies of A Gift for My Sister.

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