Kimberly McCreight's Blog, page 93

Birthday party parkour. Yes, only in Brooklyn. (at...

Birthday party parkour. Yes, only in Brooklyn. (at Williamsburg, Brooklyn 11206)

They’re here! They’re here! Only four short weeks...

They’re here! They’re here! Only four short weeks until the paperback of Where They Found Her drops. Get your BookClub signed up now. (at Brooklyn, New York)

Another year’s birthday cake in the bag. And the baby girl...

Another year’s birthday cake in the bag. And the baby girl is NINE. (at Park Slope Historic District)

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A Note on Rejection a.k.a. A Writing Life

I saw a friend last weekend who had just embarked on trying to find her first agent. I was reminded that to survive life as a writer you really have to totally change the way you look at rejection. You have to start looking at rejection as a necessary prerequisite–something you must go through in order to reach your goals. Like until you get out there and start getting rejected all you’re doing is running in place. You’re not even in the game.  

And when I say rejection, I mean A LOT of rejection. I had 4 novels rejected by publishers before I sold my first. And those earlier books were rejected by literally scores of agents–maybe even hundreds. And let’s not even get into the volume of my stories which were dispensed by form slips from literary journals or the MFA programs that turned me away. 

I am not the only published author to say as much. Most writers have similar tales. But I think sometimes aspiring writers think published authors mean that they were rejected a couple times before success rained down. Not. Even. Close.

That is true from some writers, of course. Some really wonderful ones. They publish the first book they ever wrote to great acclaim. And you know what? Awesome for them. But that’s not typical. It also doesn’t necessarily mean those writers are better or worse than another with a far bumpier trail.

My favorite piece of all time on the subject is Malcolm Gladwell writing about the Cezanne’s and Picasso’s of the world. When I first read this piece it would still be three more years and two more books before I finally sold Reconstructing Amelia. There were some bleak times I got through by telling myself that was because I was just a Cezanne in the making.

So if you’re sitting somewhere today thinking that maybe you should give up on writing. Don’t. Not today. Read the article. Remind yourself that this is your path and you are a Cezanne. And then, just write on….

writing a novel:

laurendestefano:

I’m a genius

I’m an idiot

I’m going to do so much writing today

somebody ate all this pie and deleted everything I wrote

lastnightsreading:Kaitlyn Greenidge at Greenlight Bookstore,...

lastnightsreading:

Kaitlyn Greenidge at Greenlight Bookstore, 3/10/16

Dear Darling Writing Challenge - Results

lauren-oliver:

First of all, I am as always blown away by the creativity of the writing I received for this writing challenge. You guys are incredible. I was especially impressed by the incredibly varied number of ways the challenge theme was interpreted. I can’t WAIT to see what you guys do next. 

In the meantime, here are some of my favorites, after the jump!

Excerpt from Dear Darling
by Abby Monti

[Addressed to Miss Sophie Hart of 108 Fairway Court, Long Island, NY]

Sunday, May 8th, 1925.

“Dear Darling,

I miss you already. I’m lonely on this train; just my thoughts, this letter, and me. Out of my small window, the view shows the glimmer of New York’s shining lights. Mr. Kramer said upstate New York was even more beautiful than back home on Long Island; Rochester is said to be the berries this time of year! Oh, I wish you were with me Sophie, for I know how much you yearn to see the lakes. When I arrive in Rochester I certainly will visit Lake Ontario for you.

I almost feel guilty for my happiness. Why should anyone be excited to attend a murder investigation? Mr. Kramer says that the case gives him the heebie-jeebies, and I trust my boss’ word. I hope it will be solved soon, for I can’t bear to part from you for too long.

The car smells awful, as if a skunk died right here in the coach. It’s hardly bearable. Although, the young man next to me does keep up a good conversation so I’m not too bored. The leather seats are a rusty maroon color that reminds me of the chipping paint at Charlotte’s Café.

Do you remember the first time we went for lunch at Charlotte’s Café? I do. We held hands across the table and stared into each other’s eyes. Remember how the waitress had to clear her throat for us to notice her presence? You looked just darling that afternoon. Your hair was freshly cut into a bob, for it was the newest style, and your cheeks were just the right shade of rose, like a flower blossoming for the first time in spring. Your sweet scent that seemed to follow you everywhere was mm… Delicious. Sophie, you’re a true flapper.

Once we reach the station in Rochester, I will have to meet the cabbie Mr. Kramer sent for me and ride to my temporary hotel. Since Mr. Kramer is paying all my hotel bills, he refuses to let me stay at one place the whole time because extended stays become pricey. Despite this, I will survive.

I don’t know how I will tie my ties without you, or how I will even remember to eat. It will take some getting used to with you miles away. Don’t worry Sophie, I’ll be home soon, and finally we can be married. I do believe Sophie Wagner sounds much more swell than Sophie Hart. I will write as soon as I settle at the hotel.

With love,

Charles.”

Monday, May 9th, 1925

“Dear Darling,

Lake Ontario seems to be over twice as big as Long Island. Yesterday, the sky was a spectacular blue that reflected onto the lake, and the heavens were free of clouds, so the water seemed to go on as far as the eye could see. Today though, a grey morning mist lurks out upon the water’s depths, as if it were the scene of a horror film. I can’t help but feel the irony in this situation.

My luck landed me staying in a hotel with an ab-so-lute-ly delightful view out over the lake.  My room is filled with matching dark oak furniture-including a vanity that you would enjoy-and the whole left wall is a window that shows Ontario. The only thing that could make me happier would be you. The room is cold without your love, Sophie.

Last night, Mr. Kramer introduced me to the local police men. Boy what a drag they all are! I’d rather be at a speakeasy with you, Sheba, than here with these weird old birds. But they need my talents and me here, because I’m the best detective in the state. The man to catch is called the Black Butcher by all of the locals because of the way he leaves his victims looking like meat once he’s done with them. So far, two have fallen to his wrath, and I hope to keep it that way.

Since I will officially join the investigation tomorrow, I plan to use the rest of today to stroll downtown. Sadly, Rochester is too large to tour all in a few hours, but I definitely plan to see a large chunk! My first stop is to find a good cup of joe.

How is the house? Does my little Petunia miss me? I wish I could’ve brought her too, but trains and hotels sadly don’t allow dogs. I know you won’t write back because I plan to keep hopping between hotels, but it relaxes me to think about you and home. Whenever one of the local saps gets on my nerves, I just remember you all dolled up flapper-like in a short skirt and silky hair. Why, darling, I’m certainly goofy for you.

With Love,

Charles.”

Apocalypse Love Letter
By Alex McElwain

Dear Darling,

Allow me to explain. No, allow me to begin with that which is most important: I love you. Of this,I am more certain than anything. I love you.

My darling, I am less certain, I must confess, how this happened. I don’t mean falling in love with you, of course – that much is quite obvious. Anyone need only look at you to know that, and, undoubtedly, feel the same. I mean to allude to this whole mess I admit to getting us into, “us” referring to both you and me, and the collective whole of the population.

In my defense – and I implore you to take my word as truth, as who has time to lie anymore? – I was trying to cure cancer. I know, my darling, I know, good intentions, road to hell, etc.

I say again, I do not know how it happened. One moment everything was fine, and the next I’ve released a plague: airborne and ferocious, inexplicable and incurable.

Before you, I felt the days were too long, and the years too many. Yet you, my darling, make me long to discover immortality, so the days we have would never be numbered. Alas I’ve done just the opposite, and the number is rather bleak, shrinking exponentially by the moment, even now as I write to you.

These things we call love cannot be examined under a Petri dish. They cannot be created there either – believe me I have tried.

Then again, I find myself pondering whether mortality is the most potent love potion there is.

Thus, in putting unavoidable death in a vial, I have also spread reckless, contagious, insatiable love across the whole planet. For this, I cannot decide if I am hero or villain.

My darling, look what I have done! I stare out the boarded windows and I see them dancing in the streets, hugging strangers, kissing lovers… if you’ll forgive the expression, like there’s no tomorrow. (By my calculations, for roughly one third of them, there won’t be.)

How many writers and movies and manic pixie dream girls have told them to live like they’re dying, to throw caution to the wind, Carpe Diem?That’s all fine and well until it’s too cold outside, or they’re a bit congested, or there are children to tend to and rent to pay.

Not today. Fear is obsolete when oblivion is imminent.

I never took you the circus or the zoo, although the whole world is a bit of both now, those don’t really exist anymore.There is no post anymore either, so it’s a good job you’re so close. You will wake and undoubtedly wonder where you are and why the world is burning, as you have for the past week, perhaps more; the days all sort of blend together now.

You must understand, what with being so near when the explosion happened, I dare say you got the brunt of it. Immediately infected, and judging by the recurring lapses in memory, a concussion to boot.

Mad Scientist Falls in Love With Patient Zero – can you imagine the headlines? No matter though, there are no papers anymore.

Yes, my darling, as you wake know that I’m just a floor below, making your favorite breakfast tea: two sugars, no cream. I’ve also snagged a box of only mildly stale donuts and chocolate chips pancakes. These are the days we must indulge ourselves, wouldn’t you agree?

You may take a moment to grasp the gravity of the situation – we’ve less time than many others, and so please only take a moment. At which point I hope you’ll come down, we’ve many celebrations to join. Bad decisions to make. Well, who is to decide what is good or bad in the end of days? In any case, time is running low, and we’ve got so much dancing to do.

As promised, though you may not recall, I have saved the last one for you.

Isn’t this grand?

My darling, don’t you wish the world could end a little more often?

Keep reading

This is awesome.

Love this UK cover for The Outlier–releases in England...

Love this UK cover for The Outlier–releases in England same day as U.S. May 3. Can’t believe that’s less than two months from now!

INCYM: YA authors heading to the 2016 BookCon in Chicago

mydearbibliophage:

The authors announced today include:

·         Victoria Aveyard (Red Queen, Glass Sword)

·         Alyson Noel (The Immortals Series)

·         Colleen Oakes (Wendy Darling, Elly in Bloom)

·         Katherine McGee (The Thousandth Floor)

·         Kendare Blake (Anna Dressed in Blood series, Goddess War series and Three Dark Crowns)

·         Kimberly McCreight (Reconstructing Amelia, The Outliers)

·         Lauren Oliver (Delirium series, Before I Fall, Vanishing Girls)

Can’t wait!