Averil Dean's Blog, page 31

The Age of Miracles

God. This book.

.

What was your last unputdownable?

Suck It

Yesterday I finished my second draft of the new book. Moving right along to draft three, and what I hope is my final pass before someone else takes a look under the hood and reminds me of all the shit I left out.

I’ve hit a rhythm, and it goes like this: I started out with a candy dish on my desk, filled with milk chocolate caramels, each candy representing 1,000 words of manuscript I still have yet to write. Every time I pass the thousand word mark, I take a chocolate out of the dish and put...

Cavedweller

Update: I took down yesterday’s toddler pics because the Google searches over the past twelve hours were freaking me out. I’m crawling back to my cave to suck on a shamesicle, and I’m going to try to remember that past and present should never shack up. At least, not on this blog.

Tomorrow it’s back to our regularly scheduled program of angst and self-loathing.

Flags

I drove to Grays Harbor again yesterday. On the way, I listened to my CD of writing inspiration for Blackbird and thought about how my book is shaking down. I’ve made a huge leap forward over the past couple of weeks. Something has come unstuck, and the problems that plagued me earlier don’t seem so difficult now. I just have to keep writing.

Sometimes I lose sight of the obvious. I’ve spent so much time worrying over the voice for this book (nothing brings out my insecurities like trying to p...

Cover

Guys! I’ve gotten the thumbs up to show you the cover for Alice Close Your Eyes. I really love it, and I hope you will, too.

Also, here it is on Amazon, Barnes & Noble and Powell’s, with its New Year’s Eve pub date. (Which is handy, since there will already be champagne in the house.)

And here it is again on my new(ish) author site. (Obnoxious? Moi?)

Fuck me. I’m such a fancy girl.

White Space

My friend Josey wrote a lovely post today about the stacks of books beside her bed and how they reflect her self-image. She says:

There was a time when I made excuses about the way in which I buy books, one after another, no discipline, no waiting until I’ve finished one before buying another one or two or three or four. Whether or not I read them right away (or ever) is no longer a consideration. I cherish books. They comfort me in the same way looking at art can give someone a sense of thems...

The Fog

Today I’m wandering. Out to the lake at first, where the fog had settled torn and silent over the water, and the only sounds were my own footsteps and the jingle of my little dog’s tags as she slipped through the forest, her plumy tail up like a flag to lead the way. I was frightened off the path by a stranger with a bigger dog, and ripped my pants on a blackberry bush trying to find my way back. Afterward I sat in my sweaty clothes, sipping hot coffee and scrolling through my pages to no par...

Five

I’ve been on a job-application binge the last two weeks. I’d love to say that employers are banging down my door, but sadly this is not the case. I wonder if it’s my answer to the where-do-you-see-yourself-in-five-years question, which has come up repeatedly and never fails to annoy me. What’s the right answer to that one, anyway? I hope to be alive, let’s say, still clothed and with a roof over my head. Still married, still writing, still free to walk the streets. Clearly the answer to an em...

Moonrise

After a week of whirlwind family time, day trips and laughter, the house is nearly empty again. I am at my desk, watching the moon rise through the tips of the pine trees and into the pale gray sky. I’ve held all my children and my husband and my niece and my sister, and although they’ve scattered again, I am soothed by the reminder that I still can call them mine.

A writer’s craving for solitude is so innate and profound that at times I think we forget the point of our self-imposed isolation:...