Caitlin Shetterly's Blog, page 2

BOOK GIVEAWAY AND CROSS BLOG EVENT WITH MARGARET ROACH, AUTHOR OF AND I SHALL HAVE SOME PEACE THERE

Dearest and Closest,

 

Meet Margaret Roach:

 

I first heard about Margaret Roach and her new book, And I Shall Have Some Peace There, from my agent and friend, Kate Lee. Kate said, "Hey there's this writer I met who I really think you'd get along with." Now Kate has an uncanny sense of…well, everything, and is often right. So I often follow her lead. Introductions were made, books exchanged. Then, suddenly Margaret was everywhere I was: she was in People as I got my hair cut; she was reading at Gibson's in New Hampshire –where I will soon read; she was coming to the Maine Festival of the Book, where I will also presenting….the list goes on.

 

When I saw that her book was about a woman (Margaret) who had left her job as the Editorial Director of Martha, Inc (as in Martha Stewart) to, in a sense, go back-to–the-land and move into her weekend home in upstate New York, I didn't yet realize that her life would share so many themes—albeit from a totally different angle—that I share in my book, Made for You and Me: Going West, Going Broke, Finding Home. What struck me especially was how she, too, needed to find home—and it didn't necessarily come easily.

Margaret, too, spent years chasing one kind of dream only to find that the simplest existence was where she belonged: at her home in a thicket of trees, her gardens surrounding her. When she was finally ensconced in her new life, she began a very popular gardening blog, that garnered the love of both real and virtual gardeners. It was called awaytogarden.com.

Her book, And I Shall Have Some Peace There, is such a lovely mediation on being a woman in the natural world that surrounds us—birds, frogs, bushes and flowers— and, also, it's the story of someone who took a brave leap out into something that she had no idea if she could handle—she just knew she had to get out of the life she already had. I love it when she says such bracingly honest things about her corporate self as, "I could blow through five thousand dollars in fifteen or twenty minutes, a sort of fuck-you-pay-me reaction to whatever exercise in frustration the day had served up."

Chock full of poems and lovely, relatable anecdotes, And I Shall Have Some Peace There is a satisfying read. I especially enjoyed her story of the cat, Jack, who appears in her life and is not necessarily welcome at first. However he soon becomes her solid companion and, more than that, Jack is a living, breathing example of how Margaret has changed her life.

Here are a few of the many lines I loved—and also related to:

--"All lives involve hard decisions and compromise."

--"I know only one thing for certain about gardening now, thirty years in:

Things will die."

--"I am mounting my own slow-food movement, a one woman, one-mouth-to-feed effort."

"…I am a cat person. I learned this just the other day, when I grabbed Jack off the kitchen floor and was spontaneously taken with laughter, clutching him to me. 'I can't believe how much I love you,' I blurted right out loud, before the thinking mind had a chance to stifle that declaration."

So, here's the thing, folks, if you'll write in YOUR STORIES BELOW IN THE COMMENT SECTION of how you found home—and of what home means to you, from your musings I'll choose two people with compelling stories to send And I Shall Have Some Peace There to—free—a gift from Margaret and me to you.

YOU'LL DOUBLE YOUR CHANCES TO WIN, if you click HERE on Margaret's blog (where she is giving away MY book).

 SO, AGAIN HERE'S HOW TO WIN MARGARET'S, AND MY, BOOKS:

I HAVE 2 COPIES of Margaret's "And I Shall Have Some Peace There" that I bought to give away; Margaret bought two copies of my "Made for You and Me" to share on her site. Simply comment below, answering the question:


How have you found home—and what does home means to you?

 
Then go do the same thing over at Margaret's, HERE. We'll each draw two winners after entries close on Sunday, March 27, at midnight. Remember: You double your chances by commenting on both blogs, even if you simply cut and paste your same comment to both spots.  

Now you know me: I understand some of you are shy and just want to say, "Count me in," or "I want to win" in the comments. That's fine—but it's even better if you talk a little about the notion of home. Good luck in the drawing!

LINKS, IN CASE YOU WANT TO JUST BUY RIGHT NOW!: 

Margaret's

Mine

 

 PS: IF FOR SOME REASON YOUR COMMENT DOESN'T GET THROUGH, PLEASE DON NOT WORRY. MARGARET AND I WILL READ ALL THE ENTRIES TOGETHER AND CONSIDER EACH ONE THOROUGHLY.

 

BOOK GIVEAWAY CROSS BLOG EVENT WITH MARGARET ROACH, AUTHOR OF AND I SHALL HAVE SOME PEACE THERE

Dearest and Closest,

 

Meet Margaret Roach:

 

I first heard about Margaret Roach and her new book, And I Shall Have Some Peace There, from my agent and friend, Kate Lee. Kate said, "Hey there's this writer I met who I really think you'd get along with." Now Kate has an uncanny sense of…well, everything, and is often right. So I often follow her lead. Introductions were made, books exchanged. Then, suddenly Margaret was everywhere I was: she was in People as I got my hair cut; she was reading at Gibson's in New Hampshire –where I will soon read; she was coming to the Maine Festival of the Book, where I will also presenting….the list goes on.

 

 When I first saw that her book was about a woman (Margaret) who had left her job as the Editorial Director of Martha, Inc (as in Martha Stewart) to, in a sense, go back-to –the-land and move into her weekend home in upstate New York, I didn't yet realize that her life would share so many themes—albeit from a totally different angle—that I share in my book, Made for You and Me: Going West, Going Broke, Finding Home. What struck me especially was how she, too, needed to find home—and it didn't necessarily come easily.

 

Margaret, too, spent years chasing one kind of dream only to find that the simplest existence was where she belonged: at her home in a thicket of trees, her gardens surrounding her. When she was finally ensconced in her new life, she began a very popular gardening blog, that garnered the love of both real and virtual gardeners. It was called awaytogarden.com.

 

Her book, And I Shall Have Some Peace There, is such a lovely mediation on being a woman in the natural world that surrounds us—birds, frogs, bushes and flowers— and, also, it's the story of someone who took a brave leap out into something that she had no idea if she could handle—she just knew she had to get out of the life she already had. I love it when she says such bracingly honest things about her corporate self as, "I could blow through five thousand dollars in fifteen or twenty minutes, a sort of fuck-you-pay-me reaction to whatever exercise in frustration the day had served up."

 

Chock full of poems and lovely, relatable anecdotes, And I Shall Have Some Peace There is a satisfying read. I especially enjoyed her story of the cat, Jack, who appears in her life and is not necessarily welcome at first. However he soon becomes her solid companion and, more than that, Jack is a living, breathing example of how Margaret has changed her life.

 

Here are a few of the many lines I loved—and also related to:

 

--"All lives involve hard decisions and compromise."

--"I know only one thing for certain about gardening now, thirty years in:

Things will die."

--"I am mounting my own slow-food movement, a one woman, one-mouth-to-feed effort."

"…I am a cat person. I learned this just the other day, when I grabbed Jack off the kitchen floor and was spontaneously taken with laughter, clutching him to me. 'I can't believe how much I love you,' I blurted right out loud, before the thinking mind had a chance to stifle that declaration."

 

 

So, here's the thing, folks, if you'll write in YOUR STORIES of how you found home—and of what home means to you, from your musings I'll choose two people with compelling stories to send And I Shall Have Some Peace There to—free—a gift from Margaret and me to you.

 

YOU'LL DOUBLE YOUR CHANCES TO WIN, if you click HERE on Margaret's blog (where she is giving away MY book).

 

 

 

 

 

# 65

 

Dearest and Closest,

This past Thursday, I kissed Dan, Master M. and Hopper goodbye, ran into the Portland airport to check in (I had twenty minutes until take off), thanked the motherly JetBlue employee who said, "You need to hurry," (to which I responded, "I will!" and she said "Good girl!") and hopped on a plane and flew down to New York City to tape the NBC Nightly News with Chuck Scarborough. When my plane landed in the Jet Blue atrium, I wheeled my suitcase out to a cab, and felt, suddenly, so homesick for my family I could hardly stand it. But then, driving into the city through Harlem and then down to 110th street and my dear friend Craig's familiar apartment, I realized this was a kind homecoming I needed on some level. My book had been out just over a week and it was time I started to own this journey. After all, two years ago—almost to the day—Dan, Hopper, Master M. and I arrived at Craig's from California. Our car was covered with dust and dead bugs, we were tattered and tired. But when we came upstairs and put our bags down, took in Craig's lovely presence and let our selves be home, finally, we felt so much safer than we had been in such a long time.

Thursday, as I'm sure most of you remember, was St. Patrick's Day. And in honor of the journey my small family made over the last two years and the journeys my relatives made when they came from Ireland to make a new start in America, I took a walk outside—without a coat because it was beautifully warm--up the street to St. John the Divine. The last time I had been inside the cathedral was shortly after 9/11, at the Blessing of the Beasts. I remember that day so perfectly—how sunny and warm it was and I believe it was the first day of Sukkot, which I celebrated with my boyfriend of the time—in fact, I had made an eggplant salad for that evening. I remember the tenderness of the animals as they plodded up the aisles and then there was the march of the rescue dogs who had been in 9/11; their paws bandaged, they bore the countenance of messengers who have escaped to tell us…something important. And then, suddenly, in the middle of the beautiful service, we were told that America had begun bombing Afghanistan. A ripple of emotion went through the crowd—some people were grateful, some furious, many of us crying. And when we came out, the cathedral was covered with National Guard—even on the roof.

This time, I went in quietly. I walked by the Poet's Corner and stopped to run my eyes over the names: Tennessee Williams ("Time is the longest distance between two places"), Hemingway ( "All you have to do is write one true sentence"), Hawthorne, Dickinson, Plath, Auden, Frost, Melville, Millay, Thoreau,  Eliot, Stevens, Lowell (whose name I always cotton to because this is the nickname Craig has for me—I call him Parker). Then I slowly walked the entire circle around the cathedral going into all the little lovely chapels I'm not sure I had ever visited before. I imagined getting married in one of those chapels and I imagined wearing a long dress and holding a candle and rushing through the church as if I were in some Masterpiece Theatre production. I looked up at the stained glass and stood in front of the paintings of Mary with her baby and wondered if the mostly male painters of the Renaissance ever really got Mary. Anyway, I took everything in—no, I drank it in. Children were singing in the main part of the cathedral and as I listened I bought a candle and wrote on it, "A prayer for our earth, which surely needs it right now."

And then, back outside I made my way back to Craig's where I put on my dress, dried my hair, did my makeup and got myself ready for the TV spot which, of course, I hoped might help sell a book or two. I was surprised at how easily the interview went and how lovely Chuck Scarborough was—he was so human and warm , and that, somehow, was just the touch I needed. That night when Craig and I got home to his apartment his wife Alix had ordered us dinner from a Japanese place nearby. She's a newscaster and had put on her PJ's and was taking off her makeup. I did the same. And then we sat around their coffee table and ate and talked and then went to bed.

In the morning my cab driver welcomed me into his car with "What a beautiful day!" As he drove we talked about my book and his journey from Ghana to America.  He said the loveliest thing in response to my story. He said, "You know, until you go and see the west you can't make use of the best."

"I like that," I said.

"I love stories like yours," he said. "They give me hope."

When I got out, I handed him my book and said, "Take it."

 "I will tell everyone I pick up today about your book, " he said.

Inside the JetBlue terminal one lonely sparrow was flying above the traveling people, trapped. For a moment I felt my bubble of good feeling receive a puncture—what is the fate of a small, brown bird caught in a world, which isn't in any way paying attention to its needs? I turned to a man behind a sandwich counter and said, "There's a bird trapped in here!"

"There's always birds in here. It's an airport, ma'am."

"Well can't you open a window? Or a door?"

"No ma'am. This is an airport."

Not knowing what else to do, I shoved what I felt aside, looked down and went back to my iPhone and emails.

In an hour I was home, Master M. and Dan waiting for me in a pool of sunlight. When I got into the car Dan said, "Let's go to the beach." And so we did.

Love, Caitlin.



A Lovely and Sensitive Interview with Me Today

This interview from MyDaily on AOl is so sensitive and smart. I thought I'd share it! Best, Caitlin.

 

http://www.mydaily.com/2011/03/17/mad...

# 64

Dearest and Closest,

It's been a long time since I last wrote here with the same urgency I feel tonight. I don't know, maybe it's that a week ago I began the journey of my book out in the world and all the bewildering twists and turns of publication (and all the work that goes into promoting the book). But somehow, tonight, I feel ragged and slightly lonely. I shouldn't feel lonely, of course. I have a lovely husband whom I adore in the other room working on another application for something--this time for a residency this summer. I have a two-year-old son on whom we dote. A dog I love. A book out—which is damn exciting! And lovely notes from people all over the country who have already dipped into the book and wanted to reach out. But I feel ragged.

Last week, in particular, the first week that my book was really "out there" in the world, was such a strange blend of baring myself, relentless self-promotion, insecurity with dangerous turns into arrogance, and combinations of self doubt and false confidence, it was mind blowing. In the same week I received an email from a man telling me how "damn hot" I was. Another from a woman who asked if I might consider surrogacy for a baby she desperately wants. Others from people who want me to give them books, which is a funny one, because I really do want to give away my book—just hand it out as a gift to anyone who might feel down or lonely—but I also want people to buy the book, so I'm in an etiquette pickle there. And although some people might have been flattered by these overt gestures of, I don't know what to call them--maybe idolatry?—I, somehow, felt scared. And like I needed to hide to make it all go away. I'm not in Kansas anymore, I wanted to wail! Where am I?

On the plane down to New York City last week, for my first reading, I sat next to a lovely woman—a teacher, now retired—who was reading my book. Ok, I DID hand it to her when she asked what I did, but she proceeded to ignore me for the rest of the flight and read the first four chapters. I practically had to pry it from her hands, saying, " Really, you can order your own! I need this one for my reading, it's my lucky book and all my notes are in it!"

In the cab, going into the city that was once my home, it occurred to me that this feeling of being somehow outside of my body, and just sort of weird all over, was deeper than what anyone else was doing, really. It was inside me. And I couldn't quite shake it. Is this what success feels like, I wondered?

Whatever this was---this bearing of myself in the larger world, when as a writer, I'm used to being alone with my words in a small room--was made more bearable by the fact that my Aunt Sally flew across the country from the Bay Area to meet me in New York so I wouldn't be alone doing my first reading. This was such an incredible act of kindness and generosity. And then, the reading itself in a rainstorm on Madison Avenue all the way uptown, behind a window literally stocked with my books and a huge picture of me, sat a room filled with gleaming, lovely faces.

Later, there was the pile of books in a Barnes and Noble sitting next to Andre Dubus' memoir Townie (which really flattered me). And when I was asked to sign them, I saw that wedged in with my books was one called "My Bi-Polar Life."  I laughed and said, "Well I can't sign that one even though I kind of want to!"

And then, finally, I was flying home, looking out the window to witness the same old story of land that has been developed beyond what our ancestors could have ever fathomed. Up the coast the plane went and dipped down into a fog as thick as cream and skidded smoothly to a halt on my home turf.

The next morning I turned to Dan--the news of tragedy in Japan on the radio--and said, "I need to get out—somewhere, anywhere. " And so we piled into the car, our familiar place, Master M. strapped into his car seat, Hopper buckled in and Dan driving, listening to "Papa Goose" over and over as we made our way to Wolfe Neck Farm in Freeport to meet the new lambs. They stood shakily on their little legs, their bodies vulnerable and delicate, and reached at their mothers' teats to nurse; when they got some milk their little tails would twist and shudder with joy. A large billy goat wanted me to pat his rough, oblong face forever, his expression long and serious about my affections. And the calf stood close to his mother, unsure about our intentions. I knew how he felt.

Outside, we walked to the salt marsh behind the farm and back, our feet sticking in the heavy, wet spring snow that, to me, speaks of syruping time. And reminds me of gathering the sweet, light sap with my Dad when I was a small girl. We'd carry the heavy buckets out of the fragrant woods and boil it off in our sugar shack,  the sweet smoky smell telling us it was spring again.

Love, Caitlin.

 

 

Reading in NYC & On Marketplace tonight!

Hey New Yorkers!

I'll be reading tonight at the Corner Bookstore on Madison Avenue, # 1313 Madison Avenue (at 93rd). Come see me if you're around!

AND if you miss that, I'll be on Marketplace with Kai Rysdall tonight. 

Here's a lovely review from the Portland Phoenix today: 

http://portland.thephoenix.com/news/1...

Stay in touch! Caitlin.

Today is the Big Day!

Dear Friends, Readers, Countrymen and Women,

Today, after a long journey, my book Made for You and Me: Going West, Going Broke, Finding Home is officially published. So many of you have been with me since the beginning--I can't tell you the emotion I feel this morning remembering some of your notes as Dan, Hopper, baby and I drove across America toward home. Some of you worried about tornados and snow; some of you wanted to make sure we had a place to stay; some of you worried we might not have the money for immunizations for our baby. The kindness and love that came our way, well, I can't tell you how much it meant to us. And, more than that, when we felt defeated and broken you gave us hope for America. Because you are the heart of this country--and we're all in this together. Thank you for teaching me this important lesson and making it so that we felt less alone when we were struggling. 

I raise this book to you and say THANK YOU this morning. I made this book for you and for me.

Love, Caitlin.

PS: Here's the video I recently created (link here, full look below: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9a1pVf...). Take a look and share it if you want!  

 

Made for You and Me: Going West, Going Broke, Finding Home by Caitlin Shetterly from Caitlin Shetterly on Vimeo.

For Those of You Who Have Been Here Since the Beginning...

I thought I'd share some of the advance words of praise I'm getting, because you ALL helped me get here. So we're getting this praise together. Love, Caitlin

PS: If you check out my FB author page at Caitlin Shetterly Author you can watch the new trailer for my book!

Best, Caitlin.

Advance Praise for MADE FOR YOU AND ME:
 
"For anyone still buried underneath the rubble of the economic collapse, Made for You and Me is more than a relatable read; it's a straightforward and unsweetened source of inspiration."
—BookPage
 
"A deeply personal and riveting, alternately funny and poignant read. . . . Forget the Cleavers. Shetterly's is the new American family."
—Booklist
 
"A redemptive story of how Caitlin Shetterly and her passionately devoted husband fought life to a draw in their coast-to-coast-to-coast odyssey. Kerouac would be proud. In fact he might be envious."
—Peter Davis, Academy Award-winning director
 
"Compelling. . . . Readers would be wise to heed her commentary on the loss of our small towns, homelessness, joblessness and the increasing economic divisions between Americans."
—Publishers Weekly
 
"This book will make many many people feel less lonely in the world." ---Terry Tempest Williams, author of Refuge and Finding Beauty in a Broken World
 
"Shetterly's lovely, moving account of her small family's journey to seek out and attain the sometimes elusive American dream."
—Isabel Gillies, author of Happens Every Day: An All-Too-True Story

One Week and Counting!

Dear Friends,

Yesterday evening was my book launch party..and although it was Oscars night and although it was snowing (and Dan and Chris from Longfellow books had to shovel a path to the door!) some intrepid souls came out and we had a lovely time! Thanks so much to Anne Zill for hosting the party and making all the amazing hors d'oeuvre.

A week from tomorrow my book will be officially OUT! And then it's off to the races.

It's odd under any circumstances to have a book come out. It's also exciting and thrilling and scary and you hope so much that this papery child you've birthed will do, well, something good for the world.

But like all mothers, as I keep one eye on the book, I keep the other on the real flesh and bones child, who is most definitely the CEO of everything in our house. This morning, as I left to come work for a bit, he was busily showing his Nonnie (my mother, who had spent the night after coming to the party) exactly where every piece of laundry went and making sure no napkins go mixed in with the dish towels and no rags went in with his special stash of face towels we keep in the kitchen. As my friend Craig said drily this morning about his Godson, "He sounds just like someone I know!"

Well, friends, this has been quite a journey we've been on together. I'm so grateful to all of you. I hope we can connect at one of the readings I've listed below...and, if not, here on this blog.

Best, Caitlin.

 

NEW YORK CITY, NY

Thursday, March 10, 6:00 PM
CORNER BOOK STORE
1313 Madison Avenue, New York, NY 10128
212-831-3554

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PORTLAND, ME

Wednesday, March 16, 12:00 PM
PORTLAND PUBLIC LIBRARY Brown Bag Lecture Series
Main Library, 5 Monument Square, Portland, ME 04101
207-871-1700

Tuesday, March 22, 7:00 PM
BORDERS
430 Gorham Road, South Portland, ME 04106
207-775-6110

Saturday, April 2, Time TBA
MAINE FESTIVAL OF THE BOOK
USM's Abromson Center, Portland, ME 04102
207-871-9100

Thursday, April 7, 7:00 PM
LONGFELLOW BOOKS
One Monument Way, Portland, ME 04101
207-772-4045

Friday, May 6, 4:00-6:00 PM
MAINE MAGAZINE BOOK SIGNING EVENT, FIRST FRIDAY ART WALK
(with Susan Conley, Caitlin Shetterly, Melissa Coleman, and Vicki Doudera)
75 Market St., Suite 203, Portland, ME

Tuesday, May 17, 9:30 AM-12:15 PM
MAINE WRITERS ON MEMOIR
Deering High School, 370 Stevens Avenue, Portland, ME 04103-2688
207-874-8260
*ONLY FOR HIGHSCHOOL STUDENTS AND MEDIA

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PORTSMOUTH, NH

Tuesday, April 26, 7:00 PM
RIVERRUN BOOKSTORE READING
20 Congress Street, Portsmouth, NH 03801
603-431-2100

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BOSTON, MA

Wednesday, March 23, 7:00 PM
BROOKLINE BOOKSMITH
279 Harvard Street, Brookline, MA 02446
617-566-6660

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FORT LAUDERDALE, FL

Saturday, March 26 & Sunday, March 27; Details TBA
BROWARD PUBLIC LIBRARY FOUNDATION Literary Feast
100 South Andrews Avenue, Fort Lauderdale, FL 33301

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CONCORD, NH

Thursday, March 31, 7:00 PM
GIBSON'S BOOKSTORE
27 South Main Street, Concord, NH 03301
603-224-0562

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BLUE HILL, ME

Wednesday, April 13, 7:00 PM
BLUE HILL PUBLIC LIBRARY with BLUE HILL BOOKS
5 Parker Point Road, Blue Hill, Maine 04614
207-374-5515

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PROVIDENCE, RI

Wednesday, April 21, 6:00 PM
BROWN BOOKSTORE
Brown University, 244 Thayer Street, Providence, RI 02912

A Reviewer Who Got It!

So often, these days, even with good early reviews, I find myself going...OK, but did they get my book? Today I got a review from someone who GOT IT! I wanted to share. 

Here it is: 

A reason to live
 

Review by Pete Croatto

 

Caitlin Shetterly is not coy. In her memoir Made for You and Me, partially adapted from her pieces for National Public Radio, we endure her bedridden pregnancy and see her screaming at her loyal husband, Dan. Not surprisingly, Shetterly offers no tidy ending to the couple's rage against the current recession. But her honesty compels you to keep reading, even as your heart breaks.

Dan and Cait believed that moving from Maine to California would have nothing but benefits. Dan was ready to escape his full-time photographer job, and Shetterly—an actor who founded her own theater company—had her own creative aspirations. They both loved Los Angeles, and their friends were thriving there. In March 2008, Dan and Cait packed up their car and ventured west to seize the opportunities that surely awaited them.

But they couldn't escape reality—dumpy apartments covered with mold, Shetterly's unexpected (but cherished) pregnancy—and the recession finally wrapped its tentacles around their livelihoods. Almost overnight, Dan and Cait's security unraveled. Jobs were nonexistent. Funds ran dry. Eventually, the only option was to return to Maine and move in with Shetterly's mother. "I don't even know what I'd smash," an angry Dan says shortly before they depart. "It's all getting smashed for me."

Shetterly's honesty is an enormous asset, and it's not her only one. She's a personable and humorous narrator who turns her American tragedy into an examination on how love carries us to the next day. Her dreams flattened, her life in tatters, at one point Shetterly feels crushed. Then she looks at her infant son. "I knew I needed to choose life and hold on tight," Shetterly writes. For anyone still buried underneath the rubble of the economic collapse, Made for You and Me is more than a relatable read; it's a straightforward and unsweetened source of inspiration from someone who was knocked out by the American Dream but still keeps fighting.