Eric Devine's Blog, page 4
August 14, 2017
Godspeed, Mike Gaffney
Last Thursday my mother sent me a writing prompt like no other: If you have anything at all you want to say to Mike you can send a text. He has decided to start Hospice this afternoon.
The Mike in this situation is her brother, my Uncle Mike, and he died in Chicago on Friday evening from complications attributed to his battle with leukemia.
I’ve often heard that writers are people for whom words are more difficult, because we care so much about them. This couldn’t have been more spot on for me in that moment. I was working on a novel, and that project suddenly did not matter. Responding articulately to Mom’s text through my tears, did.
Here’s what I wrote:
Life’s purpose is to achieve the absolute most you can with the time you have. To love, to work, to hope, to believe. To live fully is to feel as if you’ve never done enough. Uncle Mike, you’ve lived so fully that others will follow in your footsteps of loving, of working, of hoping, and of believing. Thank you for forging the way.
My mother read that text to him and he smiled, and I am so happy to have had that last moment, because Mike Gaffney was a figure in my life, who was more than Mom’s brother. He was a whip-smart intellectual, but also one of the kindest and bravest men I’ve ever met.
He lived in Iowa with his wife, daughter, and son, and every summer, growing up, his family would either make the trek in a van, driving non-stop for 24-hours (coffee cans have multiple uses) to us in Upstate, NY, or, my family would make the trek in their direction, driving in our own van, filled with my parents, my aunt, my sister, me, and one or two of our friends.
These were not luxurious trips. Our van didn’t have AC, and when driving through farm county in July, you really want AC, or at least a gas mask. But luxury isn’t the point of a family trip, it’s the experience. And as a child, heading to Iowa, and while there, I had plenty of experiences:
I learned that the word “pop” meant soda and that breakfast burritos are a thing.
I once saw my mother and uncle remove a tick from my cousin Morgan’s head with the end of a burnt match.
Corn can, indeed, stretch for miles, and in the morning, it emits a fine mist, like a pond or swimming pool.
There are creations known as pig condos, and they are as adorable as they sound, but equally rancid smelling.
The experience that is RAGBRAI, and how biking, not racing, is a thing in Iowa. As is “scooping the loop.”
Because of my uncle and Iowa, I also had some of the best Catfish in my entire life (and I’ve been to New Orleans). It was served up in a run-down looking shack of an establishment, complete with a snapping turtle that had a cigar in its mouth, adorning the wall. Because, why not.
And in the years when they came to us, the main element that stands out is how real he made all the stories of their youth, how having him in that space he and my mother and my aunt shared, made it more tangible, and yet, larger-than-life. I believe much of that is due to his gregarious personality. To me, Mike was epic.
When I became a teen, my time on those trips became limited, especially when I went to college. But Mike kept correspondence, sending me obscure books of fiction and philosophy, and introducing me to Coltrane. Listen to “All Blues”, below, if you’ve never had any Coltrane in your life.
Mike was a psychologist, and he didn’t so much talk me out of psych—a field I was heading toward—as he brought the reality of his field into light. It helped inform my decision to go into teaching and not psych, which I believe is one of the best decisions I’ve made.
In later years, when my sister and I had children of our own, and family vacations shifted to going to the shore, the Iowa family would join, and Mike was always so thrilled to see our daughters and hear about our lives and their lives, and simply enjoy the family he got to see, sporadically.
In his own life, Mike accomplished more than I will ever know. By all accounts he was an acclaimed psychologist, helping countless veterans, but he was also a phenomenal husband, father, and grandfather. In spite of being a man who pushed his body to the end of its limits through biking and hiking (he made it up Kilimanjaro), he was, foremost, a man who put family first and wore his heart on his sleeve.
The last time I saw him was when we moved into our home, two years ago. He helped transport our backyard items, including a hammock, which he promptly laid on, looked around and said, “Wow, your home is like a resort. How much a night?”
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Mike was definitely onto something 
July 10, 2017
Perfecto in Mexico, while traveling with type 1 diabetes
Our beachfront view.
Last year I was fortunate enough to take a family vacation to Ireland. This summer, after an exhausting school year, my wife, daughters, and I took a trip to Playa del Carmen, Mexico, for a fifteen-year wedding anniversary present. We booked the trip with the ever-awesome Lisa LaForest of Plaza Travel Center, and as I did with our trip to Ireland last year, I documented much of the process of taking two people with type 1 diabetes to a foreign country–this one with 90% humidity and endless hours in the sun, sand, and ocean. For those of you here for book-related posts, this isn’t one of them, but I will provide a writing update at the end. For those of you who appreciate my insight into living with type 1, this is a great post if you’re considering some fun in the sun in the tropics.
Packing
Packing for Ireland taught me so much, especially about the necessity of having a separate bag for all medical products. Foreign countries get a bit concerned when you bring in a lot of medical stuff, for obvious reasons, and so along with the medical bag, I strongly suggest a letter from your doctor detailing what you are using and why. Honesty, this information helps for our own TSA, who have seen a lot, but not all know about or even understand something like the Dexcom sensor or OmniPod. And in this day, just one look at the stuff screams, “bomb search,” which I agree with and completely appreciate.
So as you can see from the pictures, I have everything double packed, so that the TSA has an easy time swabbing the products and then returning them to the plastic bag when done. Making their lives easier makes your life easier. I simply hand off the bag and the rest goes through the X-Ray.
*Side note: At Albany International, because I had a juice box over the allotted liquid amount, I was subjected to a pat down. This has never happened before. I don’t know if there is a change in protocol, but I didn’t fight the search, and was happy the juice was in my bag, and not my daughter’s. She did not need to be subjected to that.
In-Flight
Fortunately, on all flights, neither my daughter nor I experienced the pressure-induced insulin bolus like we did on the return flight from Ireland. We knew we were good because we kept our eyes on our Dexcom app, incessantly, for the first hour. I think because our longest flight was from Baltimore to Cancun, the planes never had to spike into the necessary cruising altitude, as Aer Lingus did. However, that’s just my assumption. If you’re concerned, just suspend for a half hour prior to take off (if using a Pod or pump) and check your number frequently.
Customs and bag check in Mexico
Cancun Airport has a very straightforward method for incoming international flights: they screen all bags. Once your bags are screened, you must then press a button beyond the screening point, and if the light turns red, your bags are then searched by hand. It should come as no surprise that our bags were checked. The security, though, was very nice about the entire process. They took one look at all the medical products and did not ask for any explanation. I don’t know if this is because they understood what was in front of them, or simply didn’t want to know, but either way, we thanked them and were on our way.
It’s all about the Skin Tac and armbands
Once out of the airport and into the sultry air of Cancun, I knew that the bottle of Skin Tac we brought, as well as the arm bands we use for our sensors, were absolute necessities. Ireland has no humidity. Well, maybe not none, but not 80-90%, which we experienced the entire time while in Mexico. If you are wearing a CGM or Pod or infusion set, you are going to need to take great pains to keep your products from falling off. We applied copious amounts of Skin Tac prior to leaving, and reapplied as needed throughout the trip. The added compression of the arm bands kept the sensors on beautifully through our swimming, snorkeling, and dolphin swimming adventure. We wore no additional belly bands or other products to keep our Pods on, but they kept extremely well, with only the need for additional Skin Tac.
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Arm band tan 
May 22, 2017
Rochester Teen Book Fest
On the bus to the Fest.
On Saturday I attended the Rochester Teen Book Festival with English teachers and librarians from Albany High School, along with 45 of their students. They were kind enough to let me tag along to a fest that I wanted to be a part of, but didn’t get the invite to. And now that I’ve been, damn, do I wanted to get invited next year.
First, the lineup of authors was stellar. Seriously, there are too many New York Times bestselling authors here to list; check the site. And beyond being well-read, the authors were fabulous to the teens and all held excellent sessions for them to attend.
I had the pleasure of listening to A.G. Howard (Splintered series and Rose Blood) and Danielle Paige (Dorothy Must Die) in conversation about their paths to writing and publication and then their excellent answers and advice to budding authors in the audience.
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And I love these two all the more because they snuck me into the author lunch with them
May 8, 2017
The Reality of Readers
It is very easy in this industry to lose sight of the fact that the majority of readership and the conversations about books exist in the real world. I am guilty of giving far too much attention to social media and online reviews, and forgetting the unbelievable importance of readers in the real world.
It’s an issue of reach. As an author, it seems like you’re reaching more when you are online, being social, and it feels as if EVERYONE will read that review. But that’s not true. Yes, lots of eyes will be on those things, but to what extent they care is impossible to measurable.
However, the readers I meet, the ones who I have a chance to interact with, and spend some time just talking about story–and not just my stories–provide me a tangible sense of just how much books and my work matter to them.
Friday, this past week, I was fortunate enough to visit Hudson High school and present to various classes about my work, the day before the annual Hudson Children’s Book Festival. The students were great and we had fun together. That afternoon, I got to talk about my work, on air, with Ellen Hopkins, Jack Gantos, Crissa-Jean Chappell, and Laurie Stolarz. Another fabulous experience. But the best was the following day.
This was my third year at the festival and it was busier than I’ve ever seen it. People were there early and stayed late. I signed books steadily and talked to so many adults and teens about my work and writing and books in general. However, this year, two things were different.
One, so many teens who I had met the day before during my presentations in their classrooms, showed up to buy my books. Some specifically came to this event, which hosted over 75 authors, just to get my work. Yeah, those are readers, real, in the flesh, awesome people, who made the effort because we connected. And still others, who couldn’t attend because of prior commitments, sent mothers and fathers and aunts and uncles and brothers and sisters to get my books. This happened so much, I had only one copy of Dare Me left by the end of the festival. Unreal.
Two, Look Past was available this year. I had a few ARC copies last year, but that was it. This year I was able to get copies of that book into hands of those who were curious, and those, like Max, needed it. Max asked me to sign a copy of Look Past, and when I asked for his name, there was a moment of hesitation, and then he said, “I’m Max.” I began to sign, but heard the teens with Max reacting and asking if he was okay. I paused and looked up. Max was crying. I asked if everything was all right, and he said this was the first time he felt comfortable asking someone to refer to him as Max, and this was the absolute first book he had signed to him as such. The fact that it was Look Past was not lost on me. I made sure to give him props for asserting who he is, and circled his name a half-dozen times on that page in my book, which speaks volumes about his lived experience. “Powerful” doesn’t cut it as a description for a moment like that.
It’s why I write. For the stories, for the readers, those I will only meet virtually, and for those who will stand in front of me and say, “I love your work.”
So, thanks Hudson HS and the entire Hudson Children’s Book Fest crew for keeping such a wonderful event going. As much as it is a day for those readers, it is one for the authors, too. We live in this world, and it’s nice to be reminded that we are seen.
April 10, 2017
On writing about the Subject and not the Story
I’m currently reading Stephen King’s classic, On Writing, for like the twentieth time. If you’ve never read it, and even if you have no writerly aspirations, do so. If you ever want to write for a living, then definitely read it, along with Writing Down the Bones and Bird by Bird and Writing 21st Century Fiction.
Through re-reading King’s advice, I realized what I did wrong with my failed manuscript. I wrote about the subject matter of the story and not the story itself. That may seem like semantics, but the approach in storytelling matters. Instead of spending time with my characters, I asked my characters to spend time focusing on things I wanted them to discuss. Classic mistake.
The characters always guide. They do what they want based on who they are as people and what motivations drive them. This makes them real, human, flawed, worth reading about.
This was not a pleasurable epiphany, but one I’m glad I had. And I bring it up because I believe in our current climate this type of scenario may happen with other writers and creative individuals. We are so infuriated with our current environment, we want to do something about it with the tools we have, words. But regardless of the skill set of the person wielding any tool, the approach is still everything.
If a carpenter built “about a house” instead of actually building one, I’m not sure the results would be desirable. Same with writing. It’s perfectly fine to have a mental sense of what the story is about, but that’s only because of the action that’s taking place, the emotions on the page, the push and pull of characters as they move through this life they’re living.
I know you know this. I know I know this, but a little reminder can’t hurt.
And while I’m realizing things and making changes, I’ve also decided to put my YouTube channel to use. I have my book trailers there, but I also think it would be a great benefit to librarians trying to book talk my work, or to any reader who is researching who I am, to have a face with the name and stories. Therefore, I’m thinking of posting on Fridays, and for the next few weeks will cover my books, one at a time. After that, I’m open to any suggestions.
So, if you want to see where I write or what my outlines look like, or what books have most influenced my career, or how I get my inspiration, let me know. Do so here, via my email contact, or leave notes on my YouTube channel.
Additionally, there’s still time to win a copy of Look Past over at Goodreads, but make sure you enter before the clock runs out today.
In the meantime, I hope you are enjoying the change of the season and the beginning of new things in your life, be them old things remembered, or new avenues to travel
April 4, 2017
Six Months of LOOK PAST
Hey, since Look Past has been in the world for six months, I figured I’d give some copies away. So if you’re on Goodreads, or know someone else who is, go enter. It takes like two seconds, and could net you an autographed copy. You have until the 10th, so get on it.
Happy half-of-a-year with this little book of horror!
March 22, 2017
Time and Place
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I’ve never enjoyed the expression, “There’s a time and place for everything.” If you’re on the receiving end of it, it typically means that you’ve made a mistake with your timing, or you are not suitable for the place you are in. For quite some time I’ve felt this way while writing and revising the manuscript I’ve been working on for the past two years.
Note that I used manuscript, and not book. To use another idiom, “This dog won’t hunt.” Or, plainly, this manuscript will not be sold and become a book.
This is not a reflection on me as a writer, because this is completely normal (although, trust me, it feels like a complete reflection on my abilities). It’s merely a matter of time and place. Now is not the time for this story. That’s a matter of business factors and industry demand. Books are business, and every business must know the waters before setting sail.
This is devastating to me. I’ve revised this particular manuscript, in varying degrees, seven times. And still…
Therefore, with a bit of a heavy heart, and feeling very much like I was in a place I didn’t belong, yesterday I went to the Central New York finals for Battle of the Books, held at the New York State Museum in Albany.
I’d been invited by the organizer to present to the 200 or so teens, of which middle and high school teams competed in a timed, Jeopardy-like quiz competition, where they had to properly identify the title and author(s) of books, based on short excerpts read to them. They had read all books prior, and Dare Me was on the list for the HS students.
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Middle School teams
Fortunately, I brought along two middle school students, my daughter, Grace, and her friend, Caroline. They were a welcome distraction from the general nervousness I felt about presenting, and my fear that when quotes about Dare Me came up, none of the competitors would have a clue.
The competition was fierce, with students buzzing in before quotes were even finished being read. Oneonta won the middle school bracket because of their unbelievable knowledge of the books, and their member, Emily a.k.a. “trigger finger.”
It was a tighter race for the High School teams. Oneonta and Fort Plain tied, and were forced into a tie-breaker. No lie, had Oneonta known the last quote used from Dare Me, they would have won, but Fort Plain ended up taking the top spot.
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High School teams
Watching the teams compete was as thrilling as watching any sporting event I’ve seen, and I was unbelievably impressed with the dedication and effort that must have gone into securing a spot at the finals.
I then had a brief break to tour the museum with my entourage, but shortly was back in the auditorium, under an enormous screen, with my presentation looming. Fortunately, I had my girls with me, because they distracted me with stolen, winning cup selfies, and karaoke with Adele. The sound system in the room is amazing.
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What stolen trophy?
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Karaoke with Adele
But then the teens filed in, and it was go time. I did what I do: entertained the hell out of the crowd, telling stories about the difficulty of getting into publishing, as well as the struggle to stay alive once in. They were enthralled, and that bit of self-doubt I’d been feeling vanished for a while.
Once the presentation was over, I felt as I always do: hopeful that they’d enjoyed and that I hadn’t wasted anyone’s time. Id’ forgotten about the signing.
There was no book seller onsite, so the students who wanted books signed had to bring their own copies. I sat at the front of the auditorium and the line stretched up the steps. So many had come with books and posters and bookplates and T-shirts and forearms and hands for me to sign. It’s impossible to express the gratitude I felt in that moment. None of these teens knew prior to coming to this event if I’d be any good, and they certainly didn’t know how down on myself I felt. Did they ever lift my spirits.
During the signing, I received a T-shirt made for me, signed by the team, which is totally awesome, but then I had one of the most surreal moments. A student shared with me that after having read Press Play, he was inspired to tackle his health and had already lost 20 pounds doing so. Mind blown.
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I write fiction for teens, not motivational non-fiction. I write scary, often violent, and downright disturbing stories. That these kids loved. That these kids found motivation from. That these kids then read on their buses back to their hometowns, many, many miles away, and sent me messages on Instagram thanking me and telling me how awesome the books were they’d just started.
Time and Place. What a difference a day makes. Pick your idiom about needing the rain for a rainbow. They all work. Yesterday was equally necessary for me and for those amazing teens. Thank you to all who showed me much love yesterday. You have no idea how I needed it.
And have no fear, I’m writing another manuscript. I have other projects already written that may come to fruition. So, a swing and a miss, but not down and out. As they say, there’s a time and a place for everything.
February 28, 2017
Carpe Diem
As an English teacher, I think it’s law that I enjoy Dead Poets Society. And I do, especially Robin William’s character whispering to his students, as if from the other side, “Carpe diem.” Yes, it’s a bit morbid, but in reality, it’s a stark reminder that this life is often impossibly short.
Recently, a man I grew up with passed away suddenly. He was my age with two daughters the same ages as my own. Attending his wake was one of the most difficult things I’ve done recently. It cut too close to the bone and I was rattled for days by images of the funeral home.
However, it also shifted my thinking. Today marks the first anniversary of my father-in-law’s death, which was the apex to one of the worst years of my life. Today, my wife is much better than she was a year ago. As are her siblings and her mother and her relatives. As are my own children. I’m all right, too, but with this most recent tragedy, I have again been reminded how fragile life is.
I felt hollow reading comments online about how sad it was for someone so young to be lost. While true, the deeper pain resonated with me. That which his parents will carry, as will his wife, his daughters, and anyone else whose life he touched. And the vastness of what he will miss in life is simply astounding. It is almost too much to consider.
Yet, that’s what I do. Maybe it’s my sensibility as an author, to think of life in terms of stories. But I’m not alone. Viola Davis’s Oscar speech struck a very deep cord with me:
“People ask me all the time, what kind of stories do you want to tell, Viola? And I say, exhume those bodies, exhume those stories, the stories of the people who dreamed.”
She continued, “I became an artist, and thank god I did, because we are the only profession that celebrates what it means to live a life.”
This is exactly it. To live a life. To seize the day–carpe diem.
Recently, though, it’s been difficult to feel connected, to feel plugged in, to feel as if there is this great hope of a life lived. Our society is in shambles. I can barely go on any social media site without feeling the pit in my stomach deepen. So I’ve disconnected, pulled back and have only lurked and at times posted on Instagram. Not because I want to ignore, but because I feel myself falling into the precipice of despair.
I don’t want to live hyper-focused on the negative. Trust me, I don’t want to be a hypocrite and ignore it either. Truly, I want to be active in the resistance, but I also want to live a life. Because they get cut short every day, and I still have so much that I want to do and to prove and to understand and to change.
It’s a difficult balance, and I’m not sure I’m succeeding. I am trying. I am still writing. I am waiting to see if and when I will have another book out. I have just begun another project that I feel will be a solid story. I am thrilled that Moonlight won. I adored that movie. I believe that stories are worth telling, those about change, about fighting for what you love, about being the light in the darkness, about living a life, about seizing the day. Often, in spite of it all. Because so often this world feels hell bent on crushing the spirit.
That simply cannot be. Because it is in remembrance to my father-in-law, Christoper Connelly, and my recently departed friend, Rich Gilooly, and all those who Viola suggests we exhume, that I will continue to push forward, and to share stories that I know will inspire us to be a little braver, a bit more sensitive, and always aware that there are whispers from the other side, to which we should be listening.
February 2, 2017
Pump Up The Volume
Last night, I was in my car, and happened to catch one of the local DJs talking about his approach to Facebook amid our new political era. He has turned off political posts in his feed. I don’t know he did that, because, I really don’t use FB that much, but even if I did know, I wouldn’t follow his lead. Yes, like many of you, I have unfriended or stopped being able to see those people who post nothing but political posts, because they are always overly partisan, and not typically grounded in anything that seeks to educate or is based on facts.
However, I use Twitter devoutly. I follow people from all walks of life, who tweet or retweet articles and information that reinforces and challenges my opinions. I think this is good and necessary. Because the advice the DJ was offering is garbage. You must stay informed. Sticking your head in the sand is always a problem, regardless of how your politics lean.
Being blissfully uninformed is not the kind of civic responsibility I want emulated. I’m sure this DJ stays in the loop in other ways, aside from social media, which is VERY smart, but to say that you don’t care what your friends and neighbors and community think, and that you’ll just ignore the world until everything settles down is one hell of an entitled position to hold. Don’t stare at another cat video. Read something.
This entitled thinking is useless for those who cannot escape the realities of the here and now. Some people have been deeply and immediately affected, and others will soon be. To ignore this because it’s “not my problem” is a disservice to the American people. When members of the armed forces show up at airports, stating, “This is not what I put my life on the line for,” I don’t think you can tell people to ignore the issues.
I recently had a conversation with my daughter about disability. In case you are just tuning in, both my youngest daughter and I have type 1 diabetes. We can’t just blissfully ignore our disability, because there is no way to put it on pause, to take a day off, to not be immersed in its issues daily. I’m not thrilled about this, and would love a break, but I’m also a realist, and I believe this is a profound analogy for today. I have to look. I have to read. It is my responsibility as a citizen of this country, as it is my responsibility as a patient. Do the work.
Therefore, if you are on social media, don’t hide from the rhetoric. Pump up the volume. Read. Listen. Engage. Consider both sides and then make your decision. Because if you’re not, if you’re like that DJ just waiting for the storm to pass, shame on you. We are clearly at a turning point in our country, and you should want to be so involved that when it turns, you can say, “I’m glad I had a hand in that.”
And if you’re looking for reputable sources, consider these:
January 19, 2017
The Winter of Our Discontent
I could say that I’ve been too busy revising my latest manuscript to write a post recently, and that would be true. But that’s not the only reason I have shied away. Honestly, I’ve feared being too bleak.
A shocking sentiment, I know, from the guy who brought you Tap Out, but it’s true. I have been deeply frustrated since November, and now that we are facing a change in power, I am almost completely unmoored from my faith in a just world. Or, at least a just country.
It’s not that I don’t understand how and why we are where we are. I’ve read so much, from both sides, that I feel like I have a handle on the process and the perspectives that came into play. However, that understanding brings me no solace. It doesn’t help in dealing with whatever is to come. And I think that is the worst, the fear of the unknown, especially when the unknown is so alarming.
Really, this isn’t even about the politics. It’s about the shift in tone and rhetoric. There’s a self-serving and callous attitude that has emerged, and I fear for the teens and children who are inadvertently affected. Post-election, I’ve heard more crude and crass speak from teens and the younger children I know. There’s a disposition of, “I’m right, you’re wrong, end of story.” As those famous lyrics go, “If nobody’s right, then everybody’s wrong.”
This is the bleakness I fear. So, I’m looking for the light. I’m looking for any articles or books or shows or movies that tackle this with clarity. I genuinely appreciated the take Black-ish had in their episode “Lemons.” It was nuanced and non-partisan. The type of thinking I’d like to see more of.
In my latest manuscript I’ve taken on a very difficult subject: race relations in America. In spite of the bleak aspect of the topic, I forced myself to look for the light. I was writing and revising this during all of the election season (September-January). It’s impossible to think what was occurring in our world didn’t directly affect my words. But I write realistic fiction, so that’s the point.
Still, I worry about that story, not simply because I want it to sell, but because the message, for some, might come off as contrived, as if there’s no way teens could ever figure out what adults can’t. But that is my light: that this next generation of voters can and will. That this next generation will turn away from the negativity and the hostility and embrace something greater than themselves: humanity.
As far as I know, we’ve got this one trip on this planet. It is my deepest belief that we need to spend it with our eyes open, seeking out the good, trying to make things better, and not believing ourselves to be the center of every story. The world is vast and has much to teach us. But we need to be open to the message.
We’re not there yet, but there’s always light after the dark. Spring follows winter. Now, we may be discontented, but that is not fixed and permanent. Nothing truly is. We are all malleable.
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