Gae Polisner's Blog, page 24

November Indoor Blues (with Addendum)

I'm not really a fan of November.

And, have grown less so in recent years.

I have my reasons.

Some are obvious: the marked end of any promise that summer may linger; the growing cold; the descending late-afternoon darkness; the pre-holiday rush and anxiety that comes faster and faster each year. And the knowledge that Spring is so very far away.

Some are less so, but those I'll keep private, pocketed. After all, in the end, don't we each keep certain pieces of ourselves tucked away like jagged, broken bits, or, if we're luckier, polished stones?

So, I admit, I am not a fan of November. And, of course, I have a manuscript out. Which makes it all the harder. I'm waiting on my agent to approve revisions (he's already behind schedule) and then it goes on to the dreaded submission phase.  It's a phase I've conquered once, but wonder, still, if I'll ever conquer it again. For sure, this business is hard. Like a weighted brick that will drag you down if you let it.


So, there, I said it, then: I fucking hate November.

The question remains, what am I going to do about it?

I'm going to do what I do when all else fails. I'm going to try to push myself, to shock my conscience, to exhilarate my senses, and go beyond. To remind myself that part of me remains strong and willing and brave, even while other parts of me bleed, lament, shudder, deny or protest.

What I mean is that I'm going to plunge myself into the clear, cold water.

In a few short hours, I'm going to attempt to take my first November open water swim.

Oh, how I love the cormorants in the fall.
I'm trying to steel myself. I'm trying to remind myself that I can.

With the week -plus of overnight frosts we have had, the water temps cannot be much above the low-mid 40's. Our wetsuits are really designed for the high 50's, as far as I know. But I'm less worried about my body than I am about my hands and my face. Those were cold last I was in. Which was more than a week ago now. 

Still, I'm going to try. Because trying is half the battle.

And if I make it in to swim -- and if I live to tell about it -- I will revel in it, then tuck it away admidst the polished stones.

- gae

Ok, so that was this morning, here's the addendum :

At 4:05 pm, my dear friend Annmarie and I suited up, took this photo and went in. The water was cold -- a guess, at most 45 degrees. Most my body was okay, except my hands which went quickly numb. Still, the water was exhilarating and we swam far longer than I thought we would. About a half hour. Only numb hands and an increasing inability to get our mouths to form words got us out. On dry land I snapped what I thought to be a whole video (with me proudly decrying, "fuck you, November!" at the end, only to find my fingers were too numb to hit the right buttons and I only ended up with this:

Still, we made it. This is us after:

And, yes, I was too cold to change into street clothes after, in fact, my hands were so numb, I temporarily lost my fine motor skills and Annmarie had to remove my swim socks for me, so this is how I drove home:

But, it was everything I hoped for, and more. So, say it with me: Eff you, November! See you again before you leave, in the salt!
- gae

November Indoor Blues

I'm not really a fan of November.

And, have grown less so in recent years.

I have my reasons.

Some are obvious: the marked end of any promise that summer may linger; the growing cold; the descending late-afternoon darkness; the pre-holiday rush and anxiety that comes faster and faster each year. And the knowledge that Spring is so very far away.

Some are less so, but those I'll keep private, pocketed. After all, in the end, don't we each keep certain pieces of ourselves tucked away like jagged, broken bits, or, if we're luckier, polished stones?

So, I admit, I am not a fan of November. And, of course, I have a manuscript out. Which makes it all the harder. I'm waiting on my agent to approve revisions (he's already behind schedule) and then it goes on to the dreaded submission phase.  It's a phase I've conquered once, but wonder, still, if I'll ever conquer it again. For sure, this business is hard. Like a weighted brick that will drag you down if you let it.


So, there, I said it, then: I fucking hate November.

The question remains, what am I going to do about it?

I'm going to do what I do when all else fails. I'm going to try to push myself, to shock my conscience, to exhilarate my senses, and go beyond. To remind myself that part of me remains strong and willing and brave, even while other parts of me bleed, lament, shudder, deny or protest.

What I mean is that I'm going to plunge myself into the clear, cold water.

In a few short hours, I'm going to attempt to take my first November open water swim.

Oh, how I love the cormorants in the fall.
I'm trying to steel myself. I'm trying to remind myself that I can.

With the week -plus of overnight frosts we have had, the water temps cannot be much above the low-mid 40's. Our wetsuits are really designed for the high 50's, as far as I know. But I'm less worried about my body than I am about my hands and my face. Those were cold last I was in. Which was more than a week ago now. 

Still, I'm going to try. Because trying is half the battle.

And if I make it in to swim -- and if I live to tell about it -- I will revel in it, then tuck it away admidst the polished stones.

- gae

Halloween Riff (Sugar Rush)

Last night, with my WhopppersReeling from a sugar high (after weeks of not eating any) and inspired by a copy of Edgar Allen Poe's The Raven (reprinted way below) that serendipitously arrived in my email box this morning, I penned my own version of some early Halloween terror.

I invite you to join me in the comments and create a little Halloween homage of your own.

Definitely treat over trick.

- gae


Deprav'in Once upon a Tuesday, teeming, with the thought that I was dreaming,when consuming pounds of creamy, malted chocolate balls galore,should my sugar-coated teeth, my growing thighs felt underneath,this memory, now, so vague and brief, it barely lingers at my core. . ."Tis only fair, you see," I muttered, "to mix some sweet amidst the bore,"only this: a sugar fix, and nothing more. Ah, distinctly (I was sober), it was in the bleak October,sent my husband like a gopher, to the aisle in the store. . .
Eagerly, no, not a Spartan, sent him for the whole damned cartonTried to cease, but played my part on, part on asking, yes, for more -- Now, the fear of scale uncertain, holes in teeth will soon be hurtin',Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;So that now, to still the beating, of my heart, I stand repeating,"'Tis some minor weakness leaving, exiting through every pore,Calories to soon be leaving, through my every pore.Twas only candy, nothing more."

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
`'Tis some visitor,' I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door -
Only this, and nothing more.'

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Lenore -
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
`'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door -
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; -
This it is, and nothing more,'

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
`Sir,' said I, `or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you' - here I opened wide the door; -
Darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, `Lenore!'
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, `Lenore!'
Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
`Surely,' said I, `surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore -
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; -
'Tis the wind and nothing more!'

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door -
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door -
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
`Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,' I said, `art sure no craven.
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the nightly shore -
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning - little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door -
Bird or beast above the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as `Nevermore.'

But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only,
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered - not a feather then he fluttered -
Till I scarcely more than muttered `Other friends have flown before -
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.'
Then the bird said, `Nevermore.'

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
`Doubtless,' said I, `what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore -
Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore
Of "Never-nevermore."'

But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore -
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking `Nevermore.'

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
`Wretch,' I cried, `thy God hath lent thee - by these angels he has sent thee
Respite - respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil! -
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted -
On this home by horror haunted - tell me truly, I implore -
Is there - is there balm in Gilead? - tell me - tell me, I implore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us - by that God we both adore -
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels named Lenore?'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!' I shrieked upstarting -
`Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted - nevermore!-Edgar Allen Poe

Keeping Afloat in the Crazy Waves

It's been a wonderful, whirlwind week.

There was a rewarding two-day marathon at two local high schools, plugging my book and our big Teen Event at the Dolphin Bookshop in Port Washington (my dear friend Lena Roy has done a great job writing it up here -- yes, yes, she gushes about me, so there's that too).

But also, in those two days,I have become more than an author/presenter, I am suddenly a creative writing teacher, and let me tell you that feels like an amazing thing. I actually got a few students who were initially afraid, to trust themselves and their creativity and share their pieces aloud. One of the teachers told me that two boys spoke more in her class that day than they had since school started, and another has asked me to come back to cover the classes of hers that I wasn't able to attend that day. It suddenly feels like this great new extension of me -- the inklings of possibilities, of a new third (?) career.

The event at the Dolphin was a smashing success. As I mentioned up there, Lena does a pretty great recap. But here are some photos from the night:

[image error] l -r : Christopher Grant, me, Lena Roy, Nova Ren Suma, Michael Northrop, Arlaina Tibensky and Matt Blackstone.
The YA community is really such a supportive one, we thought it was funny to cover each others' faces with our books.;)


And there was swimming and more swimming as we of The West Neck Pod grab the last few precious weeks, or perhaps only days, of the open water season by the, well, waves.


With gale force winds, and waves like the actual one in the photo up top, it's been crazy and challenging out there, giving us an exhilarating end to the fall.
If you want to read more about our swims, our Fairy Pod mother, Carol Moore, describes them with often breathtaking beauty here: http://thewater-blog.blogspot.com/.

And so it goes. I am back to revisions on Frankie Sky with miles to still go before I sleep. Have great hopes that, if I bang them out well, this manuscript will be my next deal.

Keep going.

See you soon.

- gae

A Few Reasons Why . . .

. . . You should ALL come to the Dolphin Bookshop this Friday evening and/or send everyone you know:

 1. I have been mounting things (*coughs* -- er,  with glue sticks on poster board) all morning;

2. I have been driving Matt Blackstone (A SCARY SCENE IN A SCARY MOVIE), Michael Northrop (TRAPPED), Lena Roy (EDGES), Arlaina Tibensky (AND THEN THINGS FALL APART), Christopher Grant (TEENIE) and Nova Ren Suma (IMAGINARY GIRLS) crazy with emails for weeks;

3. there will be music and cupcakes and cupcakes (and cupcakes!);

4. to see what the girls finally decide on to wear (more emails on that one to follow, I'm sure! And, no, not the boys -- I mean, Michael Northrop once wore a Polar Bear costume to a reading, what does he care?!?!)) and

5. Because I HAVE A DINGY BELL and am not afraid to use it.

(yes, yes, go ahead and think all the "dingy" jokes about me that you must. . . )

But know that I WILL "DING OUT" any author who reads more than ONE MINUTE THIRTY SECONDS at a pop! :) You heard me, my finger is just itching to ding.

6. Also, because if you put SEVEN teen authors in one room at any given time, at some point they will become punchy and hilarity is sure to ensue.

Please join us! Bring your friends. It will be NO fun without you!

TEEN EVENT. THE DOLPHIN BOOKSHOP, Pt. Washington, NY. THIS FRIDAY. 10/14 at 5:30 - 9:00 pm.

Come early. Come late. Stay short. Stay long. We want to see you there!


The foot at 12:00 is mine. No reason.
 - gae

Perspective & Wanting

Once, all I wanted (well, mostly all I wanted) was a book deal.

It took me ten years, but I made it there.

Then I lost sight of "all I wanted," because I suddenly wanted more.

I wanted the book to do well. Both critically and in sales.

I wanted people to read it.

I wanted another book deal.

And these are all tied together, so it's hard to keep it all in perspective.

And, it's hard to keep the wanting from overshadowing the success that I've had.

It's important to redefine "well" so that you remember to appreciate the smaller successes. I'm trying. To pay attention, redefine and hold on.
My book is selling.
Well?
Well, no. Okay fine. Well enough.
It's getting good reviews.
Okay, some reviews are amazing and make me want to cry.

Like this gem I stumbled across on 60SecondRecap.

I mean, seriously, could a person ask for more?

(and, yet. . . )

I've gotten some amazing notes from readers, both adults and kids, and, man-oh-man from teen boys. Even a boy who started his note, "trust me, I don't read," then proceeded to tell me how he was assigned my book for school and couldn't put it down. Isn't that better than sales numbers?

But numbers sell the next book.

(I'm angsty. Can you tell it's a Monday?)

Focus.

Perspective.

Here's another cool thing: I've been nominated for a Cybils Award (Children's and Young Adult Bloggers Literary Award) by a librarian who has been quietly championing my book. I was her first pick. I mean, isn't that better than numbers?

I'll answer it: yes. That is better than numbers.

Happy Monday.

- gae

p.s. Any of you in or near NYC and Long Island, I have a lot of exciting events coming up, especially next Tuesday, October 11 at POWERHOUSE ARENA (with David Levithan and Jonathan Farmer and others, no less!) and that Friday, October 14 at the Dolphin Bookshop in Pt. Washington with SIX other YA authors that I planned and promises to be an event! Check my sidebar for updated appearances. :)

Things in Motion

Newton said, ". . . .an object in motion will remain in motion unless acted on by an unbalanced force." I don't really know what this has to do with anything, (and I hope my kids don't count as unbalanced forces) but it makes me seem smartish to start with it and gives me a good excuse to post this swinging video, which I love.

But, seriously, it's already late September, and I've been keeping in a whole lot of motion.

September, of course, means the start of a new school year, meeting the teachers, getting the kids clothing and supplies, and helping them to get in the general rhythm of things (a/k/a screaming at them to go to bed at a reasonable time and get their homework done).

Holden, being totally awesomeFall travel baseball has started for my younger son (yesterday I sat in two hours of traffic to get him to an hour and a half practice -- YES, I am bitter) and travel basketball chimes in next week. It's PSAT courses, an optional weekend math course at NYU, and Jujitsu, for my older son, but at least those don't require too much driving. Speaking of which, my older son is about to start driving.
Sam, loading the kayak early this summer

My "paid" work -- my mediation practice -- has been slow in the actual money-making office visits, though not slow in clients wanting my endless and constant attention by phone, which I rarely ever charge for.

At any rate, I'm not complaining. I like to be in motion. I'm way more productive when I am.

Which leads me to my book(s) and my writing.

I've got a slew of fun book events coming up or in the works for THE PULL OF GRAVITY (school visits, Skype visits, author panels, etc.) most of which I am doing the orchestration for. It's a full time job, I tell ya, this marketing of a contemporary YA novel.
At Bluestockings, NYC, this week with (L-R): Matt Blackstone,
me, Arlaina Tibensky, Christopher Grant and Sarah Darer Littman. Plus, I'm still finalizing revisions on FRANKIE SKY, but I met with my new shiny agent in person the other day, and he has TONS of confidence in the manuscript so I'm (trying not to get too) excited. ;)

Plus, he's read the first 50 pages of IN SIGHT OF STARS, and he seems to be digging that too.

So, alas, after a bunch of bumps and false starts, hope and adventure are on the horizon! ;)


And, of course, in the midst of it all, I'm still open water swimming, Despite cooler than normal (? I'm not a meteorologist, people!) air temps in NY, the water has cooperated and remained a very tolerable 68 - 70 degrees (at least as of last Saturday), which is pretty much the temp of my pool.
That's me in my spiffy swim cap, last week,
getting in. My friend and constant "BETA reader" Annmarie is with me. She's a gem.I'm gonna eke every last second out of the open water season and my backyard pool, as the thought of laps in the chlorinated, indoor pool, just isn't quite as appealing.

So fall is here, and I'm in motion. I hope you are all too.

- gae

Giddy Things

 Thanks to Carol Moore of The Water-blog for the photoSome days are truly giddy.

The Causeway view this a.m.For me, of course, such days usually must involve water (I know, blah, blah, blah . . . ), and, yes, this morning was no different as a few members of the West Neck Pod and I set out at around 8:15 a.m. for a gorgeous, September "Causeway" swim.

The waves were rollicking and the current strong against us, but the water was crystal clear, a cool 71 degrees, and 100% jelly free!

After a rigorous 1/2 hour swim out less-far than we intended, we turned around and swam back for another 45 minutes, assisted by a helpful current, but stopping often to work on some new swim techniques (as well as lamely* attempt some butterfly).

*Okay, if you want to see me butterflying badly, you'll have to go to the Water-blog link and click on the video. Can't get it to embed here. And the lame applies only to me. Carole's butterfly (first in the yellow cap) was quite good, actually.

Once back to our home base of the lifeguard station, we were reluctant to get out of the vast, sparkling expanse we had all to ourselves, so instead, we stripped off our wetsuits and snorkled around in the shallow waters as if we were in the Carribean. When we finally tore ourselves from the water, we all agreed that September is, hands down, the best month for an open-water swim.
Back home, buoyed by endorphins (and some coffee), I set about responding to emails, including one from my editor, equally thrilled about this terrific review of The Pull of Gravity that came out in yesterday's YALSA (Young Adult Library Services Association) newsletter, The Hub. Here's the lead-in sentence because, well, because I can:
"I cannot NOT mention this title. It's a smaller YA book, clocking in at only 202 pages but wow, it packs a punch."

Yep, that's me and TPoG, absolutely punchy! ;)

That was followed by a phone call from a local independent bookstore owner (The Dolphin Bookshop in Pt. Washington) who had "finally" read TPoG and called to tell me how extraordinary she thought it was (she had even bought a copy of it together with Of Mice and Men for her nephew's birthday (er, hope she got him a video game and some cold hard cash too?!), and that she was approaching the local schools to tell them that they need to get on reading it.

Seriously, people, a phone call like that is (insecure) writer's gold.

Spent the rest of the sunny day writing, returning phones calls, booking a veritable slew of fall events (a/k/a five), and basking in the glow of the swim endorphins, grateful for the small highs -- those wonderful giddy things -- that keep you going.

- gae

End o' Summer Blues

that's me on the right, hanging at the buoy before the return trip
Yikes. It's been more than a month since I posted?!

I have excuses, but I can't be bothered with them. They're the usual lightweight fare. Plus, one puppy fiasco, and one tropical storm that took our power out for a long, dark, internet-less five days. ;)

Suffice it to say, you haven't missed much. The past four weeks have, indeed, been the dog days of summer. Not good, not bad, just there. Plus, swimming (which is bliss). Well, plus the puppy fiasco. But don't get me started crying again.

So, yeah, am blue anyway about summer ending, but a little relieved at the thought of a schedule, of getting my revisions FINISHED on Frankie Sky. And excited to see what my new shiny agent can do with it. (Yes, I promise you he's very shiny). Also, excited for some fun book events coming up soon -- four between now and mid-October so far. I'll get the schedule up in the sidebar today! Oh, and a second school has picked up The Pull of Gravity as a "choice" book in their freshman classes. Pretty. Darn. Cool.

And it was nominated for a YALSA Reader's Choice award here:

http://www.ala.org/ala/mgrps/divs/yalsa/booklistsawards/readerschoice/rcnominations.cfm.

So, some good stuff all in all. But the end of summer means my open water swimming days are waning, speaking of which, I'm running off to one now!

Happy Labor Day, all. And happy Back to School for those of you returning.

- gae

Fresh Start, Excitement and the Inevitable Melancholy

This morning, August 4, at West Neck BeachI woke up this morning at 5:30 to swim, and was somewhat shocked to walk outside and feel the distinct chill of fall in the air. Aw, come on!!
>:( It feels like summer JUST started.

And, yes, it's only early August -- and yes, the last few weeks have been hotter than a witch's pitootie -- but still, there it was confirmed by my car's dashboard thermometer: a meager 64 degrees.

I'm not ready, I tell you. I AM NOT READY FOR SUMMER TO END.

Certainly, this one is flying too fast. Of course, lately, it all flies too fast (can you feel my melancholy as I type?). I mean, my older son, who is small for his age, now towers over me, and turns 16 this month! That's driving age, people!!! And my younger son, who is also small for his age, well, let's just say his feet suddenly look huge when I wake him up in the morning.

I AM NOT READY FOR THIS AT ALL. NOT READY FOR IT, I tell you!

Having said all that, I can tell you what I am ready for. The summer is a notoriously slow book business time, and in that regard only, I am ready for the fall. The good news is, I'm making a fresh new start: I have a new agent representing me, Jim McCarthy of Dystel & Goderich, and he took me on just on the strength of my option manuscript, Frankie Sky (okay, and the existence of TPoG although he hasn't read it yet and didn't ask to see the other manuscripts he knows I have) and, better still, he didn't want huge revisions to Frankie Sky. Given that my old agent, and now this agent, both feel Frankie has huge promise, I'm feeling confident that, after this next revision, it will sell. Of course it's been vastly revised (VASTLY) since my editor orginally turned it down (mostly as too commercial compared to TPoG). And as much as I love her, I still don't get that one at all. My readers, prejudiced as some of them may be (and there have been a few non-prejudiced ones as well), have loved the manuscript a lot! So, yes, I am hopeful.

The best news is, the revisions Jim did ask for make total sense -- like hit-the-nail-on-the-head-so-I-now-love-you TOTAL sense! They will take some time, but I'm excited about them, and already in as much as a groove as I can get in with my son's heavy baseball schedule requiring me to run all over Long Island every day.  
My son, the centerfielder, who the team has nicknamed, "The Vacuum."                                                 
The other totally EXCITING NEWS is that my first high school (in Michigan!) has picked up THE PULL OF GRAVITY into their curriculum along with Of Mice and Men! They didn't teach either, and now they will teach both. I will be taught alongside Steinbeck. Next time I'm whining about low sales, someone remind me of this and slap me. A second school has included it on their summer reading list and I'm sure it will be an unofficial part of their curriculm as the teacher LOVES, and has long taught, Of Mice and Men. And yet a third school in upstate NY had included it on the summer reading list, and one of the English teachers contacted me about learning more about it in the fall. Which leads me to this last bit of excitement: The fabulous Sarah Andersen of Y.A. Love Blog has finished my TPoG Student Study Guide and, if you ask my humble opinion, it is totally awesome. My younger son looked at it and said, "this looks just like the stuff we do in school!" I mean, you can't beat that as a compliment, can you? The guide is up on my website under Young Adult --->Teachers & Resources here: http://gaepolisner.com/html/teacherguides.html if you want to take a look! And I'd love you forever, if you'd pass the word on.

And that's it. I haven't swum my full 5K yet, let alone the 5 miler I'm itching to do, so I need summer to stick around a little longer. I mean that with all my heart. I need more summer. So, do a dance or say a summer prayer or something, would you?

Thanks.

xo - gae
After a 2+ mile swim at West Neck Beach, with the girls. :)