Ann Pearlman's Blog, page 7

Reviewers Rock

 

Love to read? Calling all reviewers! I’m sponsoring a raffle for reviewers and bloggers of A Gift For My Sister!  It’s been so much fun reading the reviews of my novel and learning people’s reaction to the characters, the plot, the writing, the heartbreak and joy,  I thought I’d thank the reviewers and offer  prizes for their participation. Here’s the Link to the official  raffle.   And here’s the announcement:

We would like to invite you to participate in the Reviewers Rock review giveaway event! This review giveaway event is organized for promoting Ann Pearlman’s wonderful book A Gift For My Sister. Reviewers Rock runs from 1st of August until 15th of September and it is open internationally.

You see, we think that reviewers do rock! We appreciate all your hard work you are doing for reading and reviewing books and promoting the books and authors you love! Here is your option to review Ann Pearlman’s A Gift For My Sister for free and win very interesting prizes!

Just to give you an overview what is waiting for you when you review A Gift For My Sister, here is the list of the prizes:

Grand Prize is:

Kindle Fire

Other prizes you can win:

50$ of Gift Card for amazon.com

Skype Call with Ann Pearlman

Interview with Ann Pearlman via email

2 paperback versions of Christmas Cookie Club including special UK edition50$ of Gift Card for amazon.com

Rules for Reviewers Rock:

1.    Review A Gift for My Sister: A Novel from 1st of August until 1st of September 2012 and send the link of your review to us on agiftformysister@gmail.com . Every review link will give 10 entries, so if you post your review on different pages (your blog, amazon, Goodreads), every emailed link gives you extra entries. 3 review links will give you 30 entries.

2.   Tweet any of the following messages (maximum 3 tweets per day) which gives you 1 entry for each tweet:

Check out Review Giveaway @AnnPearlman  Win great prizes and a #Kindle Fire! #BLOGGERS  #amblogging http://www.agiftformysister.blogspot.com/

Great prizes to win @AnnPearlman Enter to win #Kindle Fire and books on http://www.agiftformysister.blogspot.com/#BLOGGERS  #amblogging

Review A Gift for My Sister @AnnPearlman and enter the Review Giveaway on http://www.agiftformysister.blogspot.com/ to win #Kindle Fire #BLOGGERS  #amblogging

3.   Post a message on your FB page to help us sharing the Review Giveaway and send us the link  of your post on agiftformysister@gmail.com

4.   Like Ann Pearlman FB page http://www.facebook.com/annpearlman  and share the FB page on your FB wall and email the link to us agiftformysister@gmail.com

5.   Follow Ann Pearlman’s Twitter @AnnPearlman for 1 entry

6.   Become a Fan of Ann Pearlman on Goodreads http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/329205.Ann_Pearlman for 1 entry and email the link to us agiftformysister@gmail.com

7.   Follow Ann Pearlman’s blog at http://www.annpearlman.net/blog/

8.    Add A Gift for My Sister to your TBR list in Goodreads and send us an email with your profile link for 1 entry at agiftformysister@gmail.com

 

Enter the raffle form right here:

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Contact us at http://agiftformysister.blogspot.com/ to get a review copy of A Gift For My Sister!

I am really excited about this!  And just think of all the new readers, and reviewers I’ll meet!  I love touching base with my readers and fans.  This is my way to thank you. So click here to enter Reviewers Rock!

 

Feel free to approach us for review copy already today! Email us to agiftformysister@gmail.com and we will send you the review copy TODAY!

Reviewers rock!!

 

Team A Gift For My Sister

agiftformysister@gmail.com

http://agiftformysister.blogspot.com/

 

My Croatian Books

One of the reasons I was excited about journeying to the Dalmatian Coast was because The Christmas Cookie Club had been translated into Croatian.  When my agent, Peter Miller, told me that he had sold to book to Znanje Publisher in Croatia I was stunned.  I knew Croatia had been part of the former Yugoslavia, but little else.  When the book arrived, I studied the language on the somewhat familiar book cover, but I was able to recognize only names,– my own and those of my characters– in the unfamiliar alphabet and words.  The same week, the Chinese translation arrived presenting me with calligraphy even less understandable.

When my friend wanted to join a tour of Greece and the Dalmatian Coast, I eagerly agreed.  Croatia edged along the Dalmatian Coast, lapped by the Adriatic Ocean. I would be able to present my book to a family there!  My tour leader would also be able to read Croatian.  I packed two copies of my novel into the pocket of my suitcase before my clothes, toiletries.

That area of the world has been the scene of thousands of years of empire transfers and war: Greek, Roman, Venetian, Ottoman, Hungarian-Austrian, Communist.   Dubrovnik was our introduction to Croatia.  An exquisite walled city set on the Adriatic, welcomed us.  People thronged the streets and square for the start of the arts festival.  The city had been under siege, without water or electricity, for three months during the Homeland War of the 1990’s after which Yugoslavia split into 6 separate countries.  Shelling pockmarks dent walls first built by the Romans.  Almost every building wore new terra cotta tiles as their roofs had been damaged.

We were invited for dinner with a family in the near by village of Gromaca.   The family grew potatoes, olives, cherries, walnuts, grapes, and cabbage. We drank homemade liquors from grappa that had been used to ferment walnuts and cherries. Potatoes were mashed from ones the family had grown.  Cabbage, onions, and peppers were cultivated by them. The farm had been in the family for generations, the village sharing the much of the work during communist times.  The children, a teenage girl and boy, and a six year old started studying English in kindergarten so communication was easy.

Following dinner, I showed them The Christmas Cookie Club and signed the novel for them.   The older daughter, a teenager and a great cook, was looking forward to reading it.  Her mom, away working in the city that night, would also like it. Later, we gathered in a small square, sat on dry stonewalls of rocks dug from the soil to till fields, and listened to music. The father said he preferred rock and roll like the Rolling Stones to the old fashioned folk music created by accordion and tamburitza, an instrument that is similar to a mandolin. The teenage boy taught me how to do a traditional dance, so I reciprocated by teaching him swing dance.  Many of the moves and shifts were similar so we learned easily.   Before we bid each other goodnight, we thanked each other for sharing what we had each created: the potatoes, the liquor, the book, and the dancing, and most of all, our good cheer and warm communication.

My tour leader, Petra, who is from Slovenia, will be married in a month to a man from Egypt.  Warm, energetic, and with a terrific sense of humor and adventure, she and her fiancé will have three weddings.  The first will be a small one at the Justice of the Peace.  The second with be a traditional Slovenian wedding which lasts a day and a half, starting with teasing the bridegroom when he comes to collect the bride by presenting people who are unlikely to be his bride: a grandmother, a man, her younger sister, etc. Then they go off to a Roman Catholic ceremony and a celebration that will last all night.  Later, they will journey to Egypt and will have a traditional Muslim ceremony.

I gave Petra a copy of the novel on our last day. Petra wore a tee shirt emblazoned with her mom’s picture created as part of a birthday celebration. Ironically, her mom is opening a bakery shop.  I hope she bakes a few of the recipes in the The Christmas Cookie Club and fantasize that people in Croatia and Slovenia will enjoy some of the cookies.  My Croatian book has found two homes.  And we have touched each other’s lives.

I Feel Bad about Nora Ephron

When Nora Ephron died this week I missed her as if I knew her instead the far away missing of an admired writer and director.  Nora had the more intimate impact of a friend on my life rather than a celebrity.

Her novel, Heartburn is stacked with my cookbooks.  The paperback covered by a heart, pierced by a devil, the smoldering aroma wafting from the caldron heating it, is worn with use.  It was the first novel I read that incorporated recipes in the prose.  Her best peach pie is folded into our family summer dishes and consulted so often the novel flops open to page 141.  Her smashing of recipes into a story was part of the inspiration and permission I needed to pepper my novel, The Christmas Cookie Club, with cookie recipes.

Just in time, along came This is My Life, her first film, which presaged an event in my life. Not that I ever became a stand-up comedienne like the Mom in the film.  But my marriage had followed the plot line of hers: my husband cheating with a colleague and I became a single mom. My daughter and I saw the film together and both recognized the wisdom of her line that goes something like: “All kids want from a Mom is her continual presence. Kids would rather have a Mom in the next room thinking about blowing her head off than in California happy as a lark.”  I may be misquoting a bit. That line helped both my daughter and I joke as we struggled with the problems of a single mom trying to mother, work, and date and a kid dealing with it. We still laugh together about her movies, as many others do, because there was recognition in the situations and insight in the jokes.

Thank you, Nora, for bringing food, laughter and wisdom into my life with perfect timing.

 

 

 

 

On Luck

I’ve always been fascinated by the idea of luck. Maybe it’s because I feel so fortunate to be alive which, after all, is the most amazing luck of all. Even as a kid, once I understood the facts of life, I pondered what would have happened if my parents hadn’t had sex that night. I wouldn’t have existed. Maybe another baby would have been born from a different sperm, and I, with the peculiar uniqueness of my genes, wouldn’t have been.

It’s providential to be living in America during this era where the world’s bounty is available in the grocery stores and technology is such that we are freed from the labor of simply surviving to enjoy books, music, movies.

Of course, there’re also the long list of “unlucks” that each of us possess. One of mine is inheriting a propensity for high cholesterol which killed my father as a young man and caused serious problems for almost all of my cousins and brother.

Then there are the crazy misfortunes that happen in life, those unpredictable strokes from out of the blue. A friend who dies at twenty-six from an allergic reaction to medication in a routine surgery. Loved jobs that fold because they are defunded. Ill children. Not that all startling, or shocking events are negative. There’s the luck of finding someone with whom a special click of shared passions and interests exists so you feel you’ve known them forever. We given amazing talents that we sometimes chose to nurture. And plaguing inabilities that we struggle to overcome. As a therapist, I’m keenly aware that it’s how we deal with these accidents that form our characters and drive the narrative of our own lives.

This is the task the awaits both Sky and Tara, my characters in A Gift for My Sister. Sky struggles with a horrible fate, and Tara benefits from the smiles of providence. We watch Sky deal with the questions: Why me? How can I go on after this tragedy? What is the point of life? Throughout the novel, she has Tara, the currently lucky sister, help her figure out her journey.

Because, ultimately we write the tale of our own lives. The lucky break can result in conceit and greed or gratitude and generosity. The lost job, the heartbreaking death, the terrible illness can structure a story of victimization, and failure, or a tale of the strong hero who overcomes all odds to persevere to thrive once again, to make lemonade out of lemons in a unique manner. Not to diminish the pain, the agony, and the horror of what we often endure, but to honor it and return to the joy of life.

For the tales of heroes are really just metaphors, roadmaps for us. For the greatest novel is the story each of us tells ourselves of our own lives.

 

This article first appeared as a guest post on Sarah Butland’s Blog. Thank you, Sarah for inviting me as a guest!

What I’m Reading

I’m a promiscuous reader, enjoying non-fiction and fiction in all genres.  Recently, at the behest of my daughter, I read Suzanne Collins’ The Hunger Games  trilogy, and was enveloped by the page turning plot, the heroine’s personality, and the description of the dismal world of the future.  Each chapter (and indeed each book) ended with a cliffhanger, which induced me (an easily lead reader) to read on, spending hours entertained.

 

Several months ago, I read David Mitchell’s  Cloud Atlas.  Yes, I was entertained, each of the six entwined stories  in the novel are riveting.  But more than that, his brilliant language and encompassing knowledge, his ability to change voice into six different personas, and the overarching themes zipping through centuries of humanity stay with me.  The translit novel allows the writer to explore flashbacks as well as foretell consequences centuries and continents distant. And it provides a profound and fascinating way to explore overarching themes.

As I write this, I realize these two books have several things in common. Both writers love their characters and thus wrote fully rounded people who do surprising things. They both focus on the effects of the will to power with the resulting oppression and malevolence of one group over another. As Mitchell says, the warning implicit in both plots is: In an individual selfishness uglifies the soul; for the human species, selfishness is extinction. 

 

 

This blog first appeared in Writers Read.

The Page 69 Test for A Gift for My Sister

A Gift for My Sister  arrived by UPS today and, after admiring the spectacular job my publisher has done,  (galleys and digital images can’t prepare for the beauty of suede matt cover juxtaposed with shiny foil print) I opened to page 69 with the held breath of excitement and trepidation wondering what I would find.

And it’s one of my favorite scenes in the book.  Partly because it’s set in Venice Beach, partly because it is a vignette between a mother and young children, partly because it reveals the loving, responsible side of impetuous rap star,  Tara, partly because it hints at the unpredictability and fragility of life, and partly because it sets the stage, through the children, for these two antagonistic sisters to finally come together.

The set up:  Tara looks after her son, Levy, and her niece, Rachel while Rachel’s mom, Sky, is with her ill husband.  Cautious and conservative Sky has always railed against her sister, who got pregnant in high school and ran away to be with Aaron, a black rapper with a juvenile record.  Tara and Aaron, now on the brink of stardom, are in LA for a concert. Life is about to make a astonishing shift for both these sisters.  The short beach scene has harbingers of the future for all of them and is told in Tara’s voice. Levy is walking in the sand for the first time when he notices Tara’s footprints:

“Look,” he says, “You’re leaving marks.”

“Yep, you are, too,” I point to his small imprints, his toes rounded like Aaron’s.

“How’s it do that?”

“You squash the sand down,” I tell him.

He presses a foot down and carefully lifts it.  Rachel follows suit. Then he walks looking backward watching the pattern our steps make, evidence of the three of us, marching across the beach.  He turns, “Look what’s in my foot, Mommy.” A stone is imbedded in the sand at the ball of his imprint.  He reaches down, picks it up, and hands it to me.

“Oh, it’s shaped just like a heart and it’s deep red, too.”

He grins at me.

I hand it back to him.

“For you, Mommy.  My foot found it for you.”

When we walk back the tide has washed our footprints away. “Where’d they go?” Levy asks.

Rachel points to the sea, “Gone there.”

“A wave made the sand new again,” I tell him.

Levy’s lips turn down and then he smiles, “I’m walking in water,” he laughs.

We keep making new footprints.

 

This blog first appeared on The Page 69 Test, part of Campaign for the American Reader.  

Thank you, Christmas Cookie Club fans…

 

I’m so grateful for your support I want to give something back to readers who have given me so much. We’ve had such a wonderful time on this page.  We’ve shared stories of cookie exchanges, and the warm feeling that donating home-baked cookies provides.  We’ve shared cookie recipes, pictures from cookie exchanges and friends. We had a terrific cookie contest and I got to bake one of the winner’s recipes for my cookie party and all the winners’ recipes were published in the paperback of the Christmas Cookie Club.

Amazing things have happened as The Christmas Cookie Club made its way around the world and we heard from hospices and Australia, as well as the homeless in Chicago.  You’ve been almost as excited as me when you saw a new cover from Croatia, China, Brazil!  And moved when, because of the publicity from my book, one of my friends was reunited with her sister! It’s been great fun, and I’ve been so grateful for your support, and sharing your holiday experiences and recipes.  You have made the holiday season extra special and added to all the excitement of publishing my first novel.

But it hasn’t simply been about The Christmas Cookie Club. You celebrated with me when I finished that half triathalon last summer (Yep, I’m going to do it again this year!), joked about my being besieged by the deer and wild turkeys (saw a fox scamper across this year and the deer herd is now 9 and I swear there’s a male wild turkey who thinks he’s part of it!).

Now, I have another novel out, A Gift for My Sister, and it’s already getting great reviews: Poignant and hear-racing. Don’t worry, it has some of the same characters you loved in The Christmas Cookie Club, and yummy recipes!  I also have a new author page www.facebook.com/annpearlman . Now I want to give something to you, my readers and fans, who have been part of the celebration and fun! So I’m giving away an autographed copy of my new book. You can go to my new fan page and register and I hope you win.  See you there!

 

Where I write

I’m a traveling writer who practices a disciplined routine. Now, the place changes, but time is constant. This is a result of the years I stole time and places to write while maintaining my practice as a psychotherapist and raising three kids. I wrote in between patients in my office. In the afternoons, I scribbled on scrap paper in ballet, theater, ice-skating viewing rooms, and in my car waiting for my kids to finish track, field hockey, soccer, football, clarinet, saxophone practice.  I didn’t have time for writer’s block.

I still move around while I write, though it’s seasonal.  During most of the year, I write at my desktop, the spacious counter cluttered with handwritten ideas, books, a frame of revolving digital photos of my family, and a vertical file crammed with important pending items many of which are long over due, and a horizontal file with stamps, scale, catalogues, old stories. Behind me, books are piled two, sometimes three deep.

As soon as it gets warm, I move my laptop into my unheated screened porch. It juts out over the forest so oak and aspen trees surround it.   In fact, spring, summer and fall, I pretty much live in this one room.

On sunny mornings, the light slanting through the trees inspires an awe that quickens the writing. I stare at the birds; the wind waves the branches at me, my fingertips write down the images in my mind that play out on the leaves.

In Michigan winters, clouds hang a bleak grey that can be socked in for weeks.  This last winter, I escaped for a beach in California and wrote sitting by the sea.

Regardless of the place, my routine is always the same.  The sun wakes me. I grab espresso coffee, and sit before my computer.  I write at least five days a week. If I’m lucky, regardless of where I am, images and dialogue  are played out before me as though I’m taking dictation when in actuality it all occurs in my own mind.  But every morning, regardless of whether the words flow or drip like an annoying faucet, I work until noon.  Of course I take breaks for breakfast, to feed my cat, to move. And regardless of whether the words flow faster than I can type or like molasses, the day is meaningful because I tried.

 

This blog first appeared on Shelf Awareness where  April said, “I’m particularly pleased to share her post with you because like me she’s from Michigan and I may just be a bit prejudiced but I think this is probably my favorite Where You Write that we’ve gotten yet! So enjoy and welcome Ann!” Thank you, April.

On the Birth of a Book

Today, May 1, 2012, my book, A Gift for My Sister, was born.  Yes, the process is like a pregnancy except exxxtrrremmmelllly extended. Yes, there’s a burst of exaltation when it’s finally on stands in bookstores across the country, and “add to cart” buttons on online websites. So today my baby is finally out in the world. After the year or so of writing (which is kinda like the fun sex part), and another year of revisions suggested by my editor, then a line editor, then another line editor (which is kinda like doctor’s visits).

Somewhere during the revision process, my editor emailed me two covers.  Luckily, the one I preferred was also the one my editor, her assistants, and my agent favored. I suggested they pop the cover with orange print. Soon, it was in galleys, which is a pdf file of the text.  More line edits were done. Repetitive line edits assure perfection in terms of consistency, spelling, and grammar.  But line edits, and typos seem infinite.

Shortly before Christmas, I received an Advanced Reader’s Copy,  the book with a paper cover that the publisher sends out for reviews.  Meanwhile, line editors combed through the prose once again. I received a copy of the final cover the end of January. Nothing for several months. Somewhere my book was printed, headbands sewn on the signatures of text, and fly leafs glued to the cover, but I had no idea when these momentous events occurred. Then, I had a reading to do the next week, but no book.  I held my breath, watched my mailbox.  A reporter interviewed me who received the book, but had not brought it with him. I asked him if it looked good, and he assured me my unseen baby was beautiful. I contacted my editor who overnighted several copies.

It was breathtaking. Greater than the sum of its parts.   The shiny orange print against the almost suede cover was more beautiful than I imagined. Like with a newborn baby, I slowly peeled away the wrapping, (the receiving blanket,) to view the naked book, unveiling the luscious teal cover with a black spine. Juxtaposed against the matt black was the copper foil title, my name, and publisher.

I went to buy orange nail polish to wear to my first reading. And today, it’s out. Officially born.  I drove to the closest bookstore closest to see it displayed in window, next to its older sibling.

My book is born, and already out in the world, because this is the part that speeds up. With books, once you give birth, you can blog, you can do readings, and interviews.  But A Gift for My Sister is where it will be. It is out in the world for all the readers to enjoy. Hopefully well launched with wings to help it soar.

 

Family Cooking: There’s No Exact Way to Make a Stew

One of the great joys of family life is cooking together and then devouring all the yummy food you’ve made.  Creating as a family, encouraging the input and imagination of your loved ones, and then sitting down to eat, imparts a festive atmosphere to any meal.  Yes, some of us have specialties of things we love to do.  My grandson loves cutting up strawberries!  My granddaughter thinks my fancy apron is right up there with princess dresses, stands on my little stool and stirs away. My daughter is the champion vegie roaster.

Perhaps it’s the sense of team that develops when the family joins together to produce for each other.  A team that enjoys a fun activity, and it’s delicious reward can carry over to less delicious activities: cleaning up, gardening, putting toys away, etc. Most of us have definite ideas of which items are tasty together.  I don’t agree with all of my family’s suggestions, but in the spirit of fun and encouragement, I’ll try almost anything.

A few months ago, I did a poll on Facebook asking whether my fans preferred to follow recipes or improvise. The great majority preferred a combination of both.  Unless there’s a question of chemistry (making preserves, bread, cookies, etc.) when I follow the proportions of the ingredients, I always experiment. Each dish is a one time event.

This recipe from A Gift for My Sister commemorates real life: making a stew for a brownie potluck with my daughter.

It really was the best stew EVER!!  Hope you have fun making a variation of this with your family.

 

  Marnie, Sky, and Tara’s Girl Scout Stew

Tara joined the Brownies when she was in second grade and they had a final potluck dinner at the end of the first year.  She generously signed Marnie up to bring a main course, not thinking that Marnie needed to be consulted. Tara came home thrilled that they were going to make the entree.

“Do I have to come?” Sky rolled her eyes.

Tara glanced at her shoes and then watched Marnie’s face.

“No, you don’t have to.  But that’ll be our dinner tomorrow night and we all can make the stew tonight.  It’ll be better the second day.”

So Marnie seasoned three pounds of stew chunks with salt, pepper and garlic powder.  Sky cut up 3 big onions in chunks.  Marnie browned three gloves of garlic in a pan with a tablespoon of olive oil and added the meat, browning the cubes on all sides.  When brown, she put the chunks in the largest casserole dish she had.

She turned the oven to 300.

Then, she added the onions to brown.  She gave Tara a colander and told her to put a pound of mushrooms in it and wash them well. The onions were browned so they went into the casserole, while Tara watched the mushrooms sautee.

Marnie put in a packet of beef onion soup mix, parsley, and a bay leaf in the casserole. Then the mushrooms. She added some water (if this wasn’t for kids, she would have added wine) and scrapped the brown bits of meat, onions, mushrooms from the bottom of the pan.  That went into the casserole, too.

“Okay, what else for our stew?”

“Ketchup!” Tara loved it and squeezed some in.

“Yeah!” Sky said. “And mustard.”

“Fine.”

Sky put in a heaping tablespoon.

This is going to be some stew, Marnie thought.  She had never done that before.

“How ‘bout some molasses?” Sky suggested.

Marnie poured a bit of that in, stirred it all up, added some water.  And then got a spoon to see how they thought it tasted.

“More ketchup.”

Marnie put in more ketchup.

“Carrots,” Sky said. “And potatoes.”

So they took three large carrots, scrapped them, cut them in chunks and threw them in, too.

“We’ll put the potatoes later.”

“How ‘bout some honey and soy sauce?” Tara asked and that went in, too.

They put it in the oven and let it bake for an hour and then added small red skinned potatoes and let it bake for another hour.  That night, after the kids were asleep, Marnie tasted it and thought it was the best stew she ever made.  Partly because it was so much fun for each of them to add whatever they thought would taste yummy. But mostly because their ideas made a wonderful blend.  There’s no exact way to make a stew.

The Brownies and their families loved it, too.