Diane Chamberlain's Blog, page 31
August 5, 2010
A Most Shocking Day
Serious kudos to the Mayo Clinic.
This place operates with a sort of efficiency I’ve never before experienced. I had three tests scheduled today. One at 7:30, another at 10:30, another at 1:30. That’s a lot of waiting between tests. When I finished my 7:30 test, I went to the area where the 10:30 would be given to see if I could possibly be taken in earlier. Sure! Why not? I was out of there by 9:30. That worked so well, I zipped over to the 1:30 appointment to see if I could make the magic happen again. I was in and out by 10:30, back to the hotel and napping by 11, with all test results already in the computer and winging their way to my doctor. Unreal. Then John and I went out for a leisurely lunch and an afternoon of hanging out with the Midwife. (Yes, we’re both hanging out with the midwife. John’s reading the manuscript as I edit).
For those of you yelling at me because I’m working while here, I need to set you straight. Being able to work is joy for me. First, I get to lose myself in the world of people who are ever so much more screwed up than I am. Second, I love writing. It’s that simple.
My first test today was an EMG, which I bet a bunch of you have had, followed by that stick-needles-in-your-muscles test, the correct name of which I’ve forgotten and which is not as bad as it sounds. I’ve learned my iPod is my friend during those two tests. For the first, I listened to oldies, but the technician scolded me for tapping my toes in time to the music, so for the second, I switched to my mindfulness meditation music, sung by the beautiful Anh Huong Nguyen, whom I know from the Mindfulness Center in Oakton, Virginia. Perfect. I barely felt a thing.
Second test involved more “sweat” stuff (they are very into sweat here), although this time I didn’t actually have to sweat, thank goodness. That was followed by some breathing tests, which were followed by 5 minutes on the tilt table. Five minutes was enough. I really am not sure why being strapped to a table set 90 degrees to the floor was so icky feeling, but it was. I’ve heard that people with serious fainting problems, which I fortunately do not have, have to spend about 45 minutes on the tilt table. I would rather go back in the oven.
The final test of the day involved a really big needle that I don’t want to think about, so we’ll move right along! I just checked the instructions for tomorrow’s test. Here they are:
a) Be sure to get a good night’s sleep the night before the test.
b) Do not take any sleep aid, pain medications, alcohol or tranquilizers the night before the test.
I don’t know about you, but I don’t think “a” is going to be possible for me without a little bit of “b” tonight.
On another note, I’m almost finished Geraldine Brooks’ absolutely amazing People of the Book, so any suggestions for what I should read next on my Kindle are most welcome!
This place operates with a sort of efficiency I’ve never before experienced. I had three tests scheduled today. One at 7:30, another at 10:30, another at 1:30. That’s a lot of waiting between tests. When I finished my 7:30 test, I went to the area where the 10:30 would be given to see if I could possibly be taken in earlier. Sure! Why not? I was out of there by 9:30. That worked so well, I zipped over to the 1:30 appointment to see if I could make the magic happen again. I was in and out by 10:30, back to the hotel and napping by 11, with all test results already in the computer and winging their way to my doctor. Unreal. Then John and I went out for a leisurely lunch and an afternoon of hanging out with the Midwife. (Yes, we’re both hanging out with the midwife. John’s reading the manuscript as I edit).
For those of you yelling at me because I’m working while here, I need to set you straight. Being able to work is joy for me. First, I get to lose myself in the world of people who are ever so much more screwed up than I am. Second, I love writing. It’s that simple.
My first test today was an EMG, which I bet a bunch of you have had, followed by that stick-needles-in-your-muscles test, the correct name of which I’ve forgotten and which is not as bad as it sounds. I’ve learned my iPod is my friend during those two tests. For the first, I listened to oldies, but the technician scolded me for tapping my toes in time to the music, so for the second, I switched to my mindfulness meditation music, sung by the beautiful Anh Huong Nguyen, whom I know from the Mindfulness Center in Oakton, Virginia. Perfect. I barely felt a thing.
Second test involved more “sweat” stuff (they are very into sweat here), although this time I didn’t actually have to sweat, thank goodness. That was followed by some breathing tests, which were followed by 5 minutes on the tilt table. Five minutes was enough. I really am not sure why being strapped to a table set 90 degrees to the floor was so icky feeling, but it was. I’ve heard that people with serious fainting problems, which I fortunately do not have, have to spend about 45 minutes on the tilt table. I would rather go back in the oven.
The final test of the day involved a really big needle that I don’t want to think about, so we’ll move right along! I just checked the instructions for tomorrow’s test. Here they are:
a) Be sure to get a good night’s sleep the night before the test.
b) Do not take any sleep aid, pain medications, alcohol or tranquilizers the night before the test.
I don’t know about you, but I don’t think “a” is going to be possible for me without a little bit of “b” tonight.
On another note, I’m almost finished Geraldine Brooks’ absolutely amazing People of the Book, so any suggestions for what I should read next on my Kindle are most welcome!
August 2, 2010
Today was the Easy Part
Getting to Rochester, MN was a snap. No delays at all, and I love flying into little airports where you practically have the place to yourself and your baggage is sitting there waiting for you. I love flying, period. Sometimes when I think about the cost of airfare, I think how amazing it is that for a few hundred dollars, I can have a view of the earth from thousands of feet up. As long as the flight’s not too bumpy or too long, that’s sheer joy for me. It’s the same feeling I get when I look out at the ocean. It always reminds me of this quote: “We’re not human beings having a spiritual experience. We’re spiritual beings having a human experience.” I find that very comforting.
Flying over Minnesota was lovely–so green and, well, full of corn. Really pretty.
Years ago, I had to take a train across New Jersey for a book event. The train was called something like “The Atlantic City Express.” AC, of course, is where people go to gamble, and the train was full of folks who were getting an early start on the fun. Playing cards were everywhere, cash and chips were changing hands, and even the porters were participating. It was clear to me, a stranger to their world, that these people did this regularly and the train was their home away from home.
That was the feeling I had on the flight between Chicago and Rochester. Not that anyone was playing cards, but just about everyone seemed to be on that flight for the same reason–to go to the Mayo Clinic. The couple in the seats in front of my were on their way from Alaska. The woman across the aisle was from Texas. A young woman who slept fitfully for the hour flight was from Maine. When I disembarked, I saw a long line of wheelchairs and airport staff waiting to transport the passengers to baggage claim and I felt humbled, grateful for whatever good health I have. I only hope my fellow flyers find their answers here.
John and I were starving, so we had lunch at the City Cafe, which was excellent. (So strange to order iced tea and not have to add the word “unsweet” to the request.) I ate plenty since tonight is a fasting night and now I plan to do a little work. Fellow author, JoAnn Ross, shared her own Mayo experience with me and told me not to even think of working, so tonight may be my only chance to hang around with the midwife.
Tomorrow, the games begin. I’m nervous and excited and grateful for good health insurance and a partner who just really gets what it means to be supportive.
To be continued. . .
Flying over Minnesota was lovely–so green and, well, full of corn. Really pretty.
Years ago, I had to take a train across New Jersey for a book event. The train was called something like “The Atlantic City Express.” AC, of course, is where people go to gamble, and the train was full of folks who were getting an early start on the fun. Playing cards were everywhere, cash and chips were changing hands, and even the porters were participating. It was clear to me, a stranger to their world, that these people did this regularly and the train was their home away from home.
That was the feeling I had on the flight between Chicago and Rochester. Not that anyone was playing cards, but just about everyone seemed to be on that flight for the same reason–to go to the Mayo Clinic. The couple in the seats in front of my were on their way from Alaska. The woman across the aisle was from Texas. A young woman who slept fitfully for the hour flight was from Maine. When I disembarked, I saw a long line of wheelchairs and airport staff waiting to transport the passengers to baggage claim and I felt humbled, grateful for whatever good health I have. I only hope my fellow flyers find their answers here.
John and I were starving, so we had lunch at the City Cafe, which was excellent. (So strange to order iced tea and not have to add the word “unsweet” to the request.) I ate plenty since tonight is a fasting night and now I plan to do a little work. Fellow author, JoAnn Ross, shared her own Mayo experience with me and told me not to even think of working, so tonight may be my only chance to hang around with the midwife.
Tomorrow, the games begin. I’m nervous and excited and grateful for good health insurance and a partner who just really gets what it means to be supportive.
To be continued. . .
July 28, 2010
Sleep. . . or the Lack Thereof
Can we talk about sleep?
I’d love to know your falling asleep tricks, because I need some!
The first problem is that I’m a natural nightowl and always have been. As a little kid, I couldn’t wait to go to bed so I could lay awake making up stories. It probably took me two hours to fall asleep every night because I was busy weaving tales that would have curled my mother’s hair, had she known what was going on in my strange little head. When the alarm went off in the morning I was, naturally, exhausted. I had a bunch of pillows on my bed and I kept adding one to the pile behind my back until I was fully vertical. I’m not kidding. It was the only way I could make getting up bearable.
This pattern lasted well into adulthood, the only difference being I was now getting paid for making up stories, so at least my nightowlishness had monetary value. But in the mid-nineties, I was diagnosed with Rheumatoid Arthritis. One of the symptoms of RA is fatigue. Soon, all day felt like first-thing-in-the-morning to me. Only people who have suffered from some version of chronic fatigue really understand how debilitating this can be. It’s a sucking down, overwhelming tiredness and the only cure is to climb back into bed. I slept for about ten hours each night and added a couple of naps during the daytime. Then the drug researchers invented the good stuff and I got my life back. Ever since then (about ten years now), I feel as though I’m making up for all the time I lost to fatigue. I may nap twice a month, if that, and I hate losing the time when I could be doing something more productive. I also am once again a nightowl, staying up until one or two . . . or three. . . working or reading for pleasure. I get up around eight, so that’s not too bad. And I don’t get tired during the day, so I must be getting enough sleep.
So what am I complaining about? I want to be tired at night, like normal people. I want to turn out the light at midnight and fall asleep instead of thinking about my book or my life or my loved ones or everything on my to-do list. I’ve tried the typical relaxation techniques. I’ve tried meditating. Listening to soft music. Counting backwards from 100. Listing the states in alphabetical order. You name it, I’ve tried it.
Am I alone in this? Are you one of those lucky people who falls asleep as soon as your head hits the pillow? Or are you a nightowl who’s found the secret to beating your internal clock? How’s your sleep?
I’d love to know your falling asleep tricks, because I need some!
The first problem is that I’m a natural nightowl and always have been. As a little kid, I couldn’t wait to go to bed so I could lay awake making up stories. It probably took me two hours to fall asleep every night because I was busy weaving tales that would have curled my mother’s hair, had she known what was going on in my strange little head. When the alarm went off in the morning I was, naturally, exhausted. I had a bunch of pillows on my bed and I kept adding one to the pile behind my back until I was fully vertical. I’m not kidding. It was the only way I could make getting up bearable.
This pattern lasted well into adulthood, the only difference being I was now getting paid for making up stories, so at least my nightowlishness had monetary value. But in the mid-nineties, I was diagnosed with Rheumatoid Arthritis. One of the symptoms of RA is fatigue. Soon, all day felt like first-thing-in-the-morning to me. Only people who have suffered from some version of chronic fatigue really understand how debilitating this can be. It’s a sucking down, overwhelming tiredness and the only cure is to climb back into bed. I slept for about ten hours each night and added a couple of naps during the daytime. Then the drug researchers invented the good stuff and I got my life back. Ever since then (about ten years now), I feel as though I’m making up for all the time I lost to fatigue. I may nap twice a month, if that, and I hate losing the time when I could be doing something more productive. I also am once again a nightowl, staying up until one or two . . . or three. . . working or reading for pleasure. I get up around eight, so that’s not too bad. And I don’t get tired during the day, so I must be getting enough sleep.
So what am I complaining about? I want to be tired at night, like normal people. I want to turn out the light at midnight and fall asleep instead of thinking about my book or my life or my loved ones or everything on my to-do list. I’ve tried the typical relaxation techniques. I’ve tried meditating. Listening to soft music. Counting backwards from 100. Listing the states in alphabetical order. You name it, I’ve tried it.
Am I alone in this? Are you one of those lucky people who falls asleep as soon as your head hits the pillow? Or are you a nightowl who’s found the secret to beating your internal clock? How’s your sleep?
July 25, 2010
The Mid-Revisions Get-Away
I am DEEP in the middle of revisions on a very tight schedule, but I had to do a book event at the coast, revisions or not. I use the words “had to” with a smile. An opportunity to meet readers in a beautiful setting is not exactly torture. This particular event was so much fun! It was held at the Silver Coast Winery near Sunset Beach, North Carolina, where readers and authors came together to sip wine and chat and sign books. It was lovely, and the Pelican Bookstore in Ocean Isle sponsors this event each year, so if you want to plan a little getaway to the NC coast next year, you know where and when to go!
Since Sunset Beach is a good 3 1/2 hours from my house, I decided to spend the night and discovered the most fabulous Bed and Breakfast! The Sunset Inn is right on the marsh and each beautiful room has its own little screened porch with two rocking chairs. I’m in love with this inn! I just had a fabulous hot breakfast and am about to pack up to leave and head back to reality. Sigh.
One of the highlights of this getaway was the result of Facebook. I admit I have become a Facebook-aholic. I’ve always loved chatting with my readers via this blog, and FB is like the blog on steroids. I’ve gotten to know so many of my readers via FB and “met” so many new ones. One of my FB friends is a woman named Debbie, who connected with me after her stepdaughter recommending my books. Debbie and I got to know each other through FB and she her her BFF Terri decided to make the five-hour trek from their homes near Charlotte to Sunset Beach for the event at the winery. They joined me at the Sunset Inn and we went out to dinner together last night. It was as though we’ve known each other all our lives. Facebook is such an amazing gift when it comes to bringing people together.
I have to admit, though, that I am excited to get home, not just to see John and my pups but also to get back to the revisions. I love how I’m changing the story of The Midwife’s Confession and can’t wait to find out what happens! Hope you’re all having as good a week as I am.
Since Sunset Beach is a good 3 1/2 hours from my house, I decided to spend the night and discovered the most fabulous Bed and Breakfast! The Sunset Inn is right on the marsh and each beautiful room has its own little screened porch with two rocking chairs. I’m in love with this inn! I just had a fabulous hot breakfast and am about to pack up to leave and head back to reality. Sigh.
One of the highlights of this getaway was the result of Facebook. I admit I have become a Facebook-aholic. I’ve always loved chatting with my readers via this blog, and FB is like the blog on steroids. I’ve gotten to know so many of my readers via FB and “met” so many new ones. One of my FB friends is a woman named Debbie, who connected with me after her stepdaughter recommending my books. Debbie and I got to know each other through FB and she her her BFF Terri decided to make the five-hour trek from their homes near Charlotte to Sunset Beach for the event at the winery. They joined me at the Sunset Inn and we went out to dinner together last night. It was as though we’ve known each other all our lives. Facebook is such an amazing gift when it comes to bringing people together.
I have to admit, though, that I am excited to get home, not just to see John and my pups but also to get back to the revisions. I love how I’m changing the story of The Midwife’s Confession and can’t wait to find out what happens! Hope you’re all having as good a week as I am.
July 18, 2010
National Whatever-You-Want Day!
Well, I’m bummed! I only now found out that today is National Ice Cream Day. It’s nearly 9 pm and I already had my Breyers light brownie ice cream sandwich for dessert, which frankly is no substitute for a bowl of Edy’s Slow-Churned French Silk. If I’d known it was National Ice Cream Day, I would have run down to the nearest store (which happens to be one of those little stores connected to a gas station. Not pretty.) and bought a couple of pints of Ben and Jerry’s and not felt guilty about it, but now I’m full and it’s too late.
My curiosity was piqued. What other holidays are coming up? I checked out this week and here’s the lineup: Tomorrow is National Daquiri Day, but since I’m a non-imbiber, I’ll sit that one out. Tuesday is lollipop day. Did you know that lollipop machines make nearly 6,000 lollipops a minute? Wednesday I’m definitely going to celebrate! National Junk Food Day! I am unbelievably neurotic about food safety in my kitchen. I drive John nuts with the hand washing, the not-using-the-same-utensils-on-raw-and-cooked food, the sniffing of the milk, etc. But put me in a Taco Bell (burritos!) or Bojangles (biscuits!) or Wendy’s (taco salad!) and I’ll never give their kitchen a thought. (Please don’t tell me horror stories. Let me live in blissful ignorance!)
Thursday is National Hammock Day and I wish I had one. When I need to go to my Happy Place in my head, it’s in a hammock hanging under tall green trees. Instant relaxation. Friday is National Hot Dog Day, and I have to admit that’s another edible that I eat without thinking about what’s in it and how long it’s been rolling on those long, hot metal tubes at Target.
I just realized that Wednesday–National Junk Food Day–is the day I’ll be part of an event at the Silver Coast Winery near Ocean Isle, North Carolina, so I think I’ll be sipping club soda and nibbling something very non-junky there. You’re all invited to join me! I understand it’s a lovely location. There’s no cover charge, just a chance to meet and chat and sip. There will be a few other writers on hand and the Pelican Bookstore will supply books for a signing. If you’re anywhere near the area between 1-4 on Wednesday July 21st, I hope you’ll stop by.
Right now, I’d like to proclaim this evening “National What Are You Reading Evening”. As for me, I’m enjoying Karen White’s On Folly Beach. Now I know how to answer when people ask who I write like! I feel as though I’m reading one of my own books, probably because Karen and I both love mixing past and present and we love to keep our readers guessing. Also the beach setting, of course, and dipping back into coastal Carolina history during World War II. I think Karen and I must have been separated at birth. Obviously, I’m enjoying this book a great deal and highly recommend it.
How about you? What are you reading now?
My curiosity was piqued. What other holidays are coming up? I checked out this week and here’s the lineup: Tomorrow is National Daquiri Day, but since I’m a non-imbiber, I’ll sit that one out. Tuesday is lollipop day. Did you know that lollipop machines make nearly 6,000 lollipops a minute? Wednesday I’m definitely going to celebrate! National Junk Food Day! I am unbelievably neurotic about food safety in my kitchen. I drive John nuts with the hand washing, the not-using-the-same-utensils-on-raw-and-cooked food, the sniffing of the milk, etc. But put me in a Taco Bell (burritos!) or Bojangles (biscuits!) or Wendy’s (taco salad!) and I’ll never give their kitchen a thought. (Please don’t tell me horror stories. Let me live in blissful ignorance!)
Thursday is National Hammock Day and I wish I had one. When I need to go to my Happy Place in my head, it’s in a hammock hanging under tall green trees. Instant relaxation. Friday is National Hot Dog Day, and I have to admit that’s another edible that I eat without thinking about what’s in it and how long it’s been rolling on those long, hot metal tubes at Target.
I just realized that Wednesday–National Junk Food Day–is the day I’ll be part of an event at the Silver Coast Winery near Ocean Isle, North Carolina, so I think I’ll be sipping club soda and nibbling something very non-junky there. You’re all invited to join me! I understand it’s a lovely location. There’s no cover charge, just a chance to meet and chat and sip. There will be a few other writers on hand and the Pelican Bookstore will supply books for a signing. If you’re anywhere near the area between 1-4 on Wednesday July 21st, I hope you’ll stop by.
Right now, I’d like to proclaim this evening “National What Are You Reading Evening”. As for me, I’m enjoying Karen White’s On Folly Beach. Now I know how to answer when people ask who I write like! I feel as though I’m reading one of my own books, probably because Karen and I both love mixing past and present and we love to keep our readers guessing. Also the beach setting, of course, and dipping back into coastal Carolina history during World War II. I think Karen and I must have been separated at birth. Obviously, I’m enjoying this book a great deal and highly recommend it.
How about you? What are you reading now?
July 17, 2010
Please Help Me Choose!
It’s been fun having Secret Lives available as an e-book and I’ve enjoyed hearing from those of you who are reading it for the first time. Now I need to figure out which of my out-of-print books I should make available next. Whether you read e-books or not, I’d love your help in this decision. If you’ve read my early books, which was your favorite? Or if you haven’t read them, which sounds most intriguing to you? I apologize to those of you who only read print books and wish I could accommodate you as well. I hope they will be reissued some day by my publisher. Thanks so much for your help.
The choices (with the original bookcovers) are:
The Escape Artist: A young woman, about to lose custody of her eleven-month-old son, takes the toddler and escapes to Annapolis, Maryland to start a new life, leaving behind the man she loves. In Annapolis, she’s befriended by a mural artist with secrets of his own. When she stumbles into a dangerous situation that could cost people their lives, she’s unable to turn to the authorities because she’s on the run.
From Library Journal: “. . . a moving tale of parental love and desperation.” From Kirkus Reviews: “A sure-fire grabber.”
Reflection: Twenty years ago, a tragedy struck the Pennsylvania town of Reflection and everyone holds one woman, Rachel Huber, responsible for what happened. When Rachel returns to care for her elderly grandmother, she discovers she has only one person in her corner–a Mennonite minister who was her childhood friend. As the story shifts between past and present, secrets unfold, a romance blossoms, and both the town and Rachel are put to the test.
From the Richmond Times Dispatch: “. . . as the plots interlock, the reader is swept into the town’s emotion and suspense.”
Fire and Rain: The tiny southern California town, Valle Rosa, is withered by drought and ravaged by wildfires when a stranger appears, promising he can create rain. He asks only for total privacy while he works, but he becomes the center of two women’s worlds–Mia, who falls in love with him, and Carmen, who vows to learn his true identity at all costs. Neither woman realizes that their involvement with him can jeopardize far more than the future of Valle Rosa.
From Publishers Weekly: “Nearly every chapter finishes with the sort of emotional jolt that keeps the pages turning.”
Brass Ring: Claire Harte-Mathias tries unsuccessfully to save a woman who leaps from a bridge in Harpers Ferry, West Virginia. As she tries to understand the reasons for the woman’s suicide, Claire is jarred by frightening, half-hidden memories. Torn between the love and support of two men–her husband and the brother of the woman on the bridge–she tries to make sense of the images that haunt her, discovering that the past, present and future are intertwined in a way she is powerless to change.
From the Chicago Tribune: “You’d think there’s nowhere for a story to go after a distraught woman plunges to her death in an icy river, but Brass Ring will prove you wrong.”
The choices (with the original bookcovers) are:
The Escape Artist: A young woman, about to lose custody of her eleven-month-old son, takes the toddler and escapes to Annapolis, Maryland to start a new life, leaving behind the man she loves. In Annapolis, she’s befriended by a mural artist with secrets of his own. When she stumbles into a dangerous situation that could cost people their lives, she’s unable to turn to the authorities because she’s on the run.
From Library Journal: “. . . a moving tale of parental love and desperation.” From Kirkus Reviews: “A sure-fire grabber.”
Reflection: Twenty years ago, a tragedy struck the Pennsylvania town of Reflection and everyone holds one woman, Rachel Huber, responsible for what happened. When Rachel returns to care for her elderly grandmother, she discovers she has only one person in her corner–a Mennonite minister who was her childhood friend. As the story shifts between past and present, secrets unfold, a romance blossoms, and both the town and Rachel are put to the test.
From the Richmond Times Dispatch: “. . . as the plots interlock, the reader is swept into the town’s emotion and suspense.”
Fire and Rain: The tiny southern California town, Valle Rosa, is withered by drought and ravaged by wildfires when a stranger appears, promising he can create rain. He asks only for total privacy while he works, but he becomes the center of two women’s worlds–Mia, who falls in love with him, and Carmen, who vows to learn his true identity at all costs. Neither woman realizes that their involvement with him can jeopardize far more than the future of Valle Rosa.
From Publishers Weekly: “Nearly every chapter finishes with the sort of emotional jolt that keeps the pages turning.”
Brass Ring: Claire Harte-Mathias tries unsuccessfully to save a woman who leaps from a bridge in Harpers Ferry, West Virginia. As she tries to understand the reasons for the woman’s suicide, Claire is jarred by frightening, half-hidden memories. Torn between the love and support of two men–her husband and the brother of the woman on the bridge–she tries to make sense of the images that haunt her, discovering that the past, present and future are intertwined in a way she is powerless to change.
From the Chicago Tribune: “You’d think there’s nowhere for a story to go after a distraught woman plunges to her death in an icy river, but Brass Ring will prove you wrong.”
July 11, 2010
The Midwife has her Say
I turned in The Midwife’s Confession, my May 2011 book, about a month ago and then waited a few weeks to hear what my editor thought about it. That’s always a nerve-wracking time. A writer’s career is full of waiting to hear what other people think — agents, editors, reviewers, and most importantly, readers.
I finally heard from my editor, and although she loved the book, she had some ideas. She always does, and they’re invariably good ones. Her idea regarding TMC was particularly good. The midwife, Noelle, is central to the story, of course, but she remains quite a mystery to the reader because she is not a point of view character. My editor’s suggestion (suggestion being an under-exaggeration of her feelings on the subject!) was to give Noelle more of a presence in the story. That should be easy, right? Just add one more point of view? Well, it would be easy if only Noelle didn’t kill herself in the first scene.
So I’ve been spending some time trying to figure out how to give Noelle more of a presence. I thought about the fourth book I wrote, Keeper of the Light*, in which Annie O’Neill dies in chapter one yet is undeniably the central character of the story. She had no point of view, but I made sure the reader knew her very well through the eyes of the other characters. Maybe I could make Noelle more central to the story through the eyes of others as I did with Annie? That wasn’t good enough for my editor, though. She really wanted Noelle’s voice in the story.
Then I thought about Kate in Secret Lives**. Kate is also dead in the beginning of the book, but she becomes a central character through her journal. Could I give Noelle a diary, perhaps? While it worked beautifully in Kate’s case, I thought it would have felt too contrived in Noelle’s.
Finally, I bit the bullet and did the only thing possible: I’m giving Noelle a point of view through her own chapters as I–and the reader–dig back into her past. As her creator, I knew her intriguing past and what led up to her confession, but now the reader will get to be intrigued along with me. As I write, I can’t believe I didn’t think of giving Noelle a more powerful presence myself. Sometimes we’re too close to our stories to see what’s obvious. This is what a good editor is all about.
So now, it’s back to the storyboard (inspired in its current three act form above by my writing bud, Alexandra Sokoloff.) Changing a novel always reminds me of my days as a family therapist. When you change one part of the family system, it changes everything else. It’s no different with a story. To make room for Noelle’s voice, I first needed to cut some other threads and subplots. If you’ve been reading my blog for a long time, you might remember there were four Galloway Girls in The Midwife’s Confession–four women who lived together in the Galloway Dormitory at UNC-Wilmington. Well, now there are only two. I’m still in the process of killing the extraneous two off (figuratively speaking). Frankly, they were not serving nearly as good a purpose as Noelle’s story is going to serve. Yet it always hurts a little to cut off the heads of people you’ve nurtured and gotten to know, even if they are getting in the way.
At the same time as I’m ditching those subplots, I’m developing Noelle’s backstory. She’s in third person because I need to make some concession to the fact that she’s dead. I’m enjoying getting to know her even better. I’ve always liked her and now I like her more. Of course, she’s going to do something not very likeable eventually. Will I be able to keep the sympathy flowing for her? I can’t wait to find out!
* Keeper of the Light will be reissued in 2011
** Secret Lives is now available as an e-book for Kindle and all other e-readers.
I finally heard from my editor, and although she loved the book, she had some ideas. She always does, and they’re invariably good ones. Her idea regarding TMC was particularly good. The midwife, Noelle, is central to the story, of course, but she remains quite a mystery to the reader because she is not a point of view character. My editor’s suggestion (suggestion being an under-exaggeration of her feelings on the subject!) was to give Noelle more of a presence in the story. That should be easy, right? Just add one more point of view? Well, it would be easy if only Noelle didn’t kill herself in the first scene.
So I’ve been spending some time trying to figure out how to give Noelle more of a presence. I thought about the fourth book I wrote, Keeper of the Light*, in which Annie O’Neill dies in chapter one yet is undeniably the central character of the story. She had no point of view, but I made sure the reader knew her very well through the eyes of the other characters. Maybe I could make Noelle more central to the story through the eyes of others as I did with Annie? That wasn’t good enough for my editor, though. She really wanted Noelle’s voice in the story.
Then I thought about Kate in Secret Lives**. Kate is also dead in the beginning of the book, but she becomes a central character through her journal. Could I give Noelle a diary, perhaps? While it worked beautifully in Kate’s case, I thought it would have felt too contrived in Noelle’s.
Finally, I bit the bullet and did the only thing possible: I’m giving Noelle a point of view through her own chapters as I–and the reader–dig back into her past. As her creator, I knew her intriguing past and what led up to her confession, but now the reader will get to be intrigued along with me. As I write, I can’t believe I didn’t think of giving Noelle a more powerful presence myself. Sometimes we’re too close to our stories to see what’s obvious. This is what a good editor is all about.
So now, it’s back to the storyboard (inspired in its current three act form above by my writing bud, Alexandra Sokoloff.) Changing a novel always reminds me of my days as a family therapist. When you change one part of the family system, it changes everything else. It’s no different with a story. To make room for Noelle’s voice, I first needed to cut some other threads and subplots. If you’ve been reading my blog for a long time, you might remember there were four Galloway Girls in The Midwife’s Confession–four women who lived together in the Galloway Dormitory at UNC-Wilmington. Well, now there are only two. I’m still in the process of killing the extraneous two off (figuratively speaking). Frankly, they were not serving nearly as good a purpose as Noelle’s story is going to serve. Yet it always hurts a little to cut off the heads of people you’ve nurtured and gotten to know, even if they are getting in the way.
At the same time as I’m ditching those subplots, I’m developing Noelle’s backstory. She’s in third person because I need to make some concession to the fact that she’s dead. I’m enjoying getting to know her even better. I’ve always liked her and now I like her more. Of course, she’s going to do something not very likeable eventually. Will I be able to keep the sympathy flowing for her? I can’t wait to find out!
* Keeper of the Light will be reissued in 2011
** Secret Lives is now available as an e-book for Kindle and all other e-readers.
July 5, 2010
Secret Lives Makes a Comeback
The year was 1989 and I was about to be published for the first time. I was at the notoriously exciting Washington Romance Writers conference in Harpers Ferry, West Virginia where I gave a workshop on Innovative Characterization Techniques, something I still teach, albeit with modifications. Back then, I identified myself as a psychotherapist and still had my private practice, since I hadn’t yet made a dime off writing. (Not quite true. I’d made $150 for an op-ed piece published in the Los Angeles Times and I’d received an advance on my two book contract, less my agent’s 15%. So as of that conference, I’d made $4,400 and wasn’t exactly ready to quit my day job. Nor did I want to. I loved my work). But getting back to the conference.
I wasn’t nervous as I presented that workshop even though the audience was quite large. I’d been making presentations for years as a social worker and felt at home “on stage”. When I went to bed the night after my workshop, I was happy and relaxed. When I got up the next morning, though, anxiety hit with a vengeance. Why? That morning I was going to have an event writers both crave and fear: a pitch meeting with an editor.
I was now contractless after turning in my second book, but I had an idea for a third that I was completely, utterly, head-over-heels in love with. I also had a problem: I was, and frankly still am, a terrible pitcher. I can never seem to sum up my stories in a neat package for an agent or an editor or even for a reader. I’d rehearsed what I would say, though, and was as ready as I could be.
I waited in the ballroom for my appointment and soon it was my turn. The editor (I have absolutely no memory of who she was) and I met on the long glassed-in porch that runs along the side of the old Hilltop House where the conference was held. We sat across from one another at a small cloth-covered table overlooking the spectacular view of the rivers. Harpers Ferry is where the Shenandoah River and the Potomac River come crashing together. It’s one of my favorite places. But looking over the cliff from our table, I felt a wave of nausea.
I began pitching.
“It’s called Secret Lives and it’s the story of a young woman named Eden, she’s an actress, who wants to make a movie about her mother, who was a famous children’s author. She was odd. Her mother, I mean. Her name was Kate and she lived in a cavern, like the Luray Caverns near here, because she was agoraphobic. Or not agoraphobic exactly, but. . . Well, anyway, Eden wants to humanize her, make her sympathetic. But she has to live with her aunt and uncle while she’s researching her mother’s life and she hates them because something happened when she was living with them when she was a teenager. . . ”
Here, I had to pause because I was having some sort of panic attack. I couldn’t seem to breathe properly. I was swallowing in all the wrong places and the words sounded strangled as they rushed of my mouth. The editor was smiling kindly at me, nodding her head a little, but I could tell she was not catching my passion. I continued.
“But now the uncle is an archaeologist in the Shenandoah Valley and he has a partner, Ben, who Eden falls for, but Ben’s been convicted of molesting his daughter, but he swears he’s innocent and. . . ”
Again I stopped. This time I was so freaked out that I had to excuse myself and get a glass of water, which I brought back to the table. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I seem to have something caught in my throat.” Like, the story, I thought. It wasn’t coming out right at all.
“No problem,” said the kind editor.
“I forgot to mention the journal! The uncle has the mother, Kate’s, journals and they tell the story of her life, and–”
“I’m afraid we’re out of time,” the editor said–words I’d said many times myself to my therapy clients. “I have another appointment.” She leaned toward me and spoke sincerely. “I can tell you love this story and that it means a lot to you on a personal level, but I think it’s too complex for the sort of book I’m looking for right now. Maybe you could simplify it, although I really don’t think it’s for us either way.”
Drat. I’d blown my chance, plus made a fool out of myself in the process. When I told my agent about my failed appointment, she said I would have to write the whole book on spec. There was no other way, because every time I tried to describe the complexities of the story that were so clear in my mind, I failed, even with her.
So that’s what I did. I wrote the entire five hundred pages on the weekends and in the mornings before I headed off to work. I started with Kate’s journal, writing her story in first person, my heart breaking for her the whole time. I wrote her entire journal first so that I didn’t lose her voice. Living inside her head, I became so close to her that I could hardly bear to let her go.
Then I created Eden’s story, and Ben’s, and I filled them up with a complicated blend of love and anger toward Eden’s aunt and uncle. Yes, the characters’ stories were complex. I gave them a hundred and one obstacles to happiness. Then I threw them all together in the Shenandoah Valley and let them work it out.
When I was finished, my agent sent the manuscript to Karen Solem, who was then an editor at HarperCollins, and I had my offer the next day. Karen saw what I saw in the book but had been unable to express to that editor in Harpers Ferry: a story too complex to easily describe, but not too complex to fall in love with.
I had a very small readership when Secret Lives came out in 1991. It sold a few copies in hardcover and a few more in paperback. Then it quietly disappeared, as so many books do. Although my current publisher is doing a nice job of reissuing my older books, Secret Lives and some of my very early books may never get to see the light of day again unless I take action myself. So that’s why I’ve arranged to publish Secret Lives in an electronic format. I apologize to those of you who prefer print. Creating an e-book is an inexpensive, relatively easy experiment. Self publishing in print is another matter, one I’m not yet ready to tackle. (You may be able to find old print copies of Secret Lives on ebay or used on Amazon or other Internet booksellers). If you are an electronic book reader, I hope you’ll try a free sample of Secret Lives on your Kindle or any other E-reader. And please let me know what you think. I’m sure you know by now that it’s one of my favorite books. Just don’t ask me to describe it to you!
I wasn’t nervous as I presented that workshop even though the audience was quite large. I’d been making presentations for years as a social worker and felt at home “on stage”. When I went to bed the night after my workshop, I was happy and relaxed. When I got up the next morning, though, anxiety hit with a vengeance. Why? That morning I was going to have an event writers both crave and fear: a pitch meeting with an editor.
I was now contractless after turning in my second book, but I had an idea for a third that I was completely, utterly, head-over-heels in love with. I also had a problem: I was, and frankly still am, a terrible pitcher. I can never seem to sum up my stories in a neat package for an agent or an editor or even for a reader. I’d rehearsed what I would say, though, and was as ready as I could be.
I waited in the ballroom for my appointment and soon it was my turn. The editor (I have absolutely no memory of who she was) and I met on the long glassed-in porch that runs along the side of the old Hilltop House where the conference was held. We sat across from one another at a small cloth-covered table overlooking the spectacular view of the rivers. Harpers Ferry is where the Shenandoah River and the Potomac River come crashing together. It’s one of my favorite places. But looking over the cliff from our table, I felt a wave of nausea.
I began pitching.
“It’s called Secret Lives and it’s the story of a young woman named Eden, she’s an actress, who wants to make a movie about her mother, who was a famous children’s author. She was odd. Her mother, I mean. Her name was Kate and she lived in a cavern, like the Luray Caverns near here, because she was agoraphobic. Or not agoraphobic exactly, but. . . Well, anyway, Eden wants to humanize her, make her sympathetic. But she has to live with her aunt and uncle while she’s researching her mother’s life and she hates them because something happened when she was living with them when she was a teenager. . . ”
Here, I had to pause because I was having some sort of panic attack. I couldn’t seem to breathe properly. I was swallowing in all the wrong places and the words sounded strangled as they rushed of my mouth. The editor was smiling kindly at me, nodding her head a little, but I could tell she was not catching my passion. I continued.
“But now the uncle is an archaeologist in the Shenandoah Valley and he has a partner, Ben, who Eden falls for, but Ben’s been convicted of molesting his daughter, but he swears he’s innocent and. . . ”
Again I stopped. This time I was so freaked out that I had to excuse myself and get a glass of water, which I brought back to the table. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I seem to have something caught in my throat.” Like, the story, I thought. It wasn’t coming out right at all.
“No problem,” said the kind editor.
“I forgot to mention the journal! The uncle has the mother, Kate’s, journals and they tell the story of her life, and–”
“I’m afraid we’re out of time,” the editor said–words I’d said many times myself to my therapy clients. “I have another appointment.” She leaned toward me and spoke sincerely. “I can tell you love this story and that it means a lot to you on a personal level, but I think it’s too complex for the sort of book I’m looking for right now. Maybe you could simplify it, although I really don’t think it’s for us either way.”
Drat. I’d blown my chance, plus made a fool out of myself in the process. When I told my agent about my failed appointment, she said I would have to write the whole book on spec. There was no other way, because every time I tried to describe the complexities of the story that were so clear in my mind, I failed, even with her.
So that’s what I did. I wrote the entire five hundred pages on the weekends and in the mornings before I headed off to work. I started with Kate’s journal, writing her story in first person, my heart breaking for her the whole time. I wrote her entire journal first so that I didn’t lose her voice. Living inside her head, I became so close to her that I could hardly bear to let her go.
Then I created Eden’s story, and Ben’s, and I filled them up with a complicated blend of love and anger toward Eden’s aunt and uncle. Yes, the characters’ stories were complex. I gave them a hundred and one obstacles to happiness. Then I threw them all together in the Shenandoah Valley and let them work it out.
When I was finished, my agent sent the manuscript to Karen Solem, who was then an editor at HarperCollins, and I had my offer the next day. Karen saw what I saw in the book but had been unable to express to that editor in Harpers Ferry: a story too complex to easily describe, but not too complex to fall in love with.
I had a very small readership when Secret Lives came out in 1991. It sold a few copies in hardcover and a few more in paperback. Then it quietly disappeared, as so many books do. Although my current publisher is doing a nice job of reissuing my older books, Secret Lives and some of my very early books may never get to see the light of day again unless I take action myself. So that’s why I’ve arranged to publish Secret Lives in an electronic format. I apologize to those of you who prefer print. Creating an e-book is an inexpensive, relatively easy experiment. Self publishing in print is another matter, one I’m not yet ready to tackle. (You may be able to find old print copies of Secret Lives on ebay or used on Amazon or other Internet booksellers). If you are an electronic book reader, I hope you’ll try a free sample of Secret Lives on your Kindle or any other E-reader. And please let me know what you think. I’m sure you know by now that it’s one of my favorite books. Just don’t ask me to describe it to you!
June 27, 2010
How Do You Like A Story to End?
Ending a story is always a challenge. When I’m starting a book, I often figure out the ending first. It gives me a target–something to aim for as I write. The target often moves as my characters develop and the storyline changes, but that’s okay.
If you’re a regular reader of my books, you know that I like satisfying endings. They are usually “happy endings” for the most part, although my stories contain enough strife that complete, unadulterated happiness is unrealistic. I want my characters to triumph, but they will have to overcome a bunch of hard stuff to make that triumph worthwhile. To me, that’s real life. . . or at least, it’s real life as I want it to be. I want a reward for all the challenges life throws at us.
The minor uproar over the ending of The Lies We Told has come as something of a surprise to me. (I’m not going to give anything away here, but if you comment and you’re going to be specific, please write the word SPOILER at the start of your comment.) What do I mean by minor uproar? I don’t recall ever writing a book in which the reviewers disagreed with each other so much about the way the book ends. At first I found this disconcerting (Oh no, I haven’t pleased everyone!!), but now I find it fascinating and I realize how much richer it makes the book for book club discussions. It’s always fun to read a book when everyone in the group universally loves it, but it makes for more revealing–and occasionally prickly value-laden discussions when different viewpoints abound.
Reviewer’s reactions have fallen into a few categories: Some see the ending the way I do, with character growth leading to acceptance and a desire to embrace the future. Others can’t buy that acceptance, nor can they view it as “happiness” on the part of the central characters. Still others just plain didn’t want things to turn out that way!
The Lies We Told has been reviewed by many bloggers, and I thought I’d share some of their comments about the ending with you so you can see what I mean. (Again, I won’t give away specifics).
Here we go:
“The happily ever after is a little shocking but satisfying nonetheless.” –Manicreaders.com
“The Lies We Told is an amazing story about two sisters, who as different as they are, are bound by the witnessing the murder of their parents. . . you will never be able to guess what (their) secrets are. Moreover, the ending is a shocker but you have to read the book to find out. Diane Chamberlain has become a must-read author for me and I am sure you will be hooked by just picking up one of her books. The Lies We Told does not disappoint.” –Ohboy-boys.blogspot.com
“I have to say, the ending for me was a very hard pill to swallow, I understood why it had to end the way it did…but that does not at all mean I wanted it to end this way. . . (Yet) he Lies We Told ultimately left me with a promise that even though things happen within the confines of your life, that define who you are – you do not always have to be defined only by them. . . it’s up to us to push past those confines and break free!” –Book-crazy.com
“THE LIES WE TOLD is a tender story of two sisters’ path toward rediscovering their friendship for each other. Their lack of honest communication into adulthood created a chasm in their relationship that neither woman acknowledged until a tragedy came directly in their path. Diane Chamberlain beautifully bares their dreams and their souls in THE LIES WE TOLD, and I am thoroughly pleased that I had the opportunity to read this novel.” –Freshfiction.com
“I really can’t say enough about this book. It kept me up all night reading, though I have to say the ending was unbelievable, but darn can Diane Chamberlain weave a story so mesmerizing that a bad ending takes nothing away from the story.” –melissa-coffeebooksandlaundry.blogspot.com
“This story continued to move me. I couldn’t stand putting it book down for a second. I didn’t want to miss anything. It was such an intense story that it literally kept me at the edge of my seat. . . I recommend this book the next time you’re looking for something new to read. Just hang on to your seat and hold on to the tissue box- you’re gonna need it!” –blogfully.net
“The Lies We Told is an amazing story that’s beautifully crafted by Diane Chamberlain’s beautiful writing. I absolutely loved the story as it was told by both Maya and Rebecca. Both the characters were so well developed even from the very first few pages. And their sometimes drastic personality differences made the story an incredibly interesting read. It’s also the underlying theme of the lies we tell that transforms the story and explores the impact of our honesty (or dishonesty) on those around us. . . If I had any qualms about the book, it would be the ending and how the main characters lives ended on a happy, but not quite right place.” –Chicklitreviews.com
“This book would have earned a 5-star rating from me (instead of 4) had it not ended the way it did.” –thebooknurse.blogspot.com
“This is a great book, alternately told from the point of view of each of the sisters. Maya’s story is thrilling and unexpected; I couldn’t wait to find out how she would be able to rise above the obstacles put in front of her without anyone’s help. And Rebecca’s and Adam’s love story was both touching and heartbreaking. This distorted triangle was thoroughly engrossing and I couldn’t put it down! With the poignant and sympathetic style I have come to expect from Diane Chamberlain, the Ward sisters’ stories come to life beautifully.” –romancejunkiesreviews.com
“The frantic pace of the novel was matched by never-ending problems that must be dealt with – people that must be assisted, medicine to be distributed — and Chamberlain handled it all with a deft touch. The book’s epilogue stopped me dead in my tracks and, despite everything, made me feel sad. And hopeful. But sad — all at once. That’s the mark of good storytelling.” –Writemeg.com
“Loved it, loved it, loved it! Seriously, I loved everything about this book: writing style, plot, characters, everything. If you like to read, read this book.” –bridget3420.blogspot.com
“Wow, what a great book! The plot has a twist you just don’t see coming! I loved the ending and I think you will too! Diane Chamberlain grabs ya from page one and you don’t want to put this book down until the last page has been turned!” –Leslielovesveggies.net
“Like Picoult, Diane Chamberlain cuts to the heart of these characters’ secrets. Her plotting is amazing and the villains sneak up in such a way as to tantalize us to read just one more chapter, even when time is pressing us to do something else.” –Eileengranfors.blogspot.com
“The Lies We Told is a contemplative, well-executed novel that was enjoyable to read and utterly engrossing. . . The Lies We Told would make an excellent book club pick, as there is a lot to discuss, with both the characters and the plot, within its pages. . . I have to say I abhorred the end of the novel. While well-written, I just didn’t like the way things turned out!” –Skrishnasbooks.com
“The conclusion of the book was not what I was expecting initially, but it was exactly how I hoped it would end. Chamberlain has written a book filled with surprises that you’ll want to read in one sitting.” –Book-chic.blogspot.com
“It is a complex and fascinating tale, well paced, with good dialogue as secrets are revealed with some surprises, twists, and turns. Readers of women’s fiction will enjoy this familial tale.” –romrevtoday.com
“I absolutely loved this book and think it is one of the best ever written by this prolific author. I simply could not put it down and read it far into the night. If you read one contemporary novel this summer, make it this one and I promise you will not be disappointed.” –Theromancereadersconnection.com
“This was a great read that I thoroughly enjoyed. . . It made me smile and cry (a lot) . . . It’s funny how you can think you want your life to be a certain way only to find that it’s really another life that you want so desperately that you are just afraid to admit it even to yourself. Our lives can also be a series of unconscious decisions to run away from pain that we can’t face or admit still eats us up. Also highlighted is the . . . complex nature of the need to do the right thing by someone and yet resent having to do it at the same time. This is also a story of love and ultimately forgiveness. I have to mention that I had one small complaint. The ending of the book just didn’t ‘feel’ right to me.” –Alainereading.blogspot.com
***
I could go on! You can see the variety of responses. They’ve made me think about the way I ended the book. I hate disappointing a reader, and yet so many readers have been not only comfortable with the ending, but pleased with it. Others were pleased despite their discomfort. And still others saw the ending as I did–a natural and optimistic progression of the story.
I’d love to hear your perspectives, not necessarily about the ending of The Lies We Told but about the endings of novels in general. What works for you and what doesn’t? Please remember to write SPOILER at the beginning of your comment if you’re going to give anything away. And thank you to the Bloggers for their thoughtful and honest reviews of my book.
If you’re a regular reader of my books, you know that I like satisfying endings. They are usually “happy endings” for the most part, although my stories contain enough strife that complete, unadulterated happiness is unrealistic. I want my characters to triumph, but they will have to overcome a bunch of hard stuff to make that triumph worthwhile. To me, that’s real life. . . or at least, it’s real life as I want it to be. I want a reward for all the challenges life throws at us.
The minor uproar over the ending of The Lies We Told has come as something of a surprise to me. (I’m not going to give anything away here, but if you comment and you’re going to be specific, please write the word SPOILER at the start of your comment.) What do I mean by minor uproar? I don’t recall ever writing a book in which the reviewers disagreed with each other so much about the way the book ends. At first I found this disconcerting (Oh no, I haven’t pleased everyone!!), but now I find it fascinating and I realize how much richer it makes the book for book club discussions. It’s always fun to read a book when everyone in the group universally loves it, but it makes for more revealing–and occasionally prickly value-laden discussions when different viewpoints abound.
Reviewer’s reactions have fallen into a few categories: Some see the ending the way I do, with character growth leading to acceptance and a desire to embrace the future. Others can’t buy that acceptance, nor can they view it as “happiness” on the part of the central characters. Still others just plain didn’t want things to turn out that way!
The Lies We Told has been reviewed by many bloggers, and I thought I’d share some of their comments about the ending with you so you can see what I mean. (Again, I won’t give away specifics).
Here we go:
“The happily ever after is a little shocking but satisfying nonetheless.” –Manicreaders.com
“The Lies We Told is an amazing story about two sisters, who as different as they are, are bound by the witnessing the murder of their parents. . . you will never be able to guess what (their) secrets are. Moreover, the ending is a shocker but you have to read the book to find out. Diane Chamberlain has become a must-read author for me and I am sure you will be hooked by just picking up one of her books. The Lies We Told does not disappoint.” –Ohboy-boys.blogspot.com
“I have to say, the ending for me was a very hard pill to swallow, I understood why it had to end the way it did…but that does not at all mean I wanted it to end this way. . . (Yet) he Lies We Told ultimately left me with a promise that even though things happen within the confines of your life, that define who you are – you do not always have to be defined only by them. . . it’s up to us to push past those confines and break free!” –Book-crazy.com
“THE LIES WE TOLD is a tender story of two sisters’ path toward rediscovering their friendship for each other. Their lack of honest communication into adulthood created a chasm in their relationship that neither woman acknowledged until a tragedy came directly in their path. Diane Chamberlain beautifully bares their dreams and their souls in THE LIES WE TOLD, and I am thoroughly pleased that I had the opportunity to read this novel.” –Freshfiction.com
“I really can’t say enough about this book. It kept me up all night reading, though I have to say the ending was unbelievable, but darn can Diane Chamberlain weave a story so mesmerizing that a bad ending takes nothing away from the story.” –melissa-coffeebooksandlaundry.blogspot.com
“This story continued to move me. I couldn’t stand putting it book down for a second. I didn’t want to miss anything. It was such an intense story that it literally kept me at the edge of my seat. . . I recommend this book the next time you’re looking for something new to read. Just hang on to your seat and hold on to the tissue box- you’re gonna need it!” –blogfully.net
“The Lies We Told is an amazing story that’s beautifully crafted by Diane Chamberlain’s beautiful writing. I absolutely loved the story as it was told by both Maya and Rebecca. Both the characters were so well developed even from the very first few pages. And their sometimes drastic personality differences made the story an incredibly interesting read. It’s also the underlying theme of the lies we tell that transforms the story and explores the impact of our honesty (or dishonesty) on those around us. . . If I had any qualms about the book, it would be the ending and how the main characters lives ended on a happy, but not quite right place.” –Chicklitreviews.com
“This book would have earned a 5-star rating from me (instead of 4) had it not ended the way it did.” –thebooknurse.blogspot.com
“This is a great book, alternately told from the point of view of each of the sisters. Maya’s story is thrilling and unexpected; I couldn’t wait to find out how she would be able to rise above the obstacles put in front of her without anyone’s help. And Rebecca’s and Adam’s love story was both touching and heartbreaking. This distorted triangle was thoroughly engrossing and I couldn’t put it down! With the poignant and sympathetic style I have come to expect from Diane Chamberlain, the Ward sisters’ stories come to life beautifully.” –romancejunkiesreviews.com
“The frantic pace of the novel was matched by never-ending problems that must be dealt with – people that must be assisted, medicine to be distributed — and Chamberlain handled it all with a deft touch. The book’s epilogue stopped me dead in my tracks and, despite everything, made me feel sad. And hopeful. But sad — all at once. That’s the mark of good storytelling.” –Writemeg.com
“Loved it, loved it, loved it! Seriously, I loved everything about this book: writing style, plot, characters, everything. If you like to read, read this book.” –bridget3420.blogspot.com
“Wow, what a great book! The plot has a twist you just don’t see coming! I loved the ending and I think you will too! Diane Chamberlain grabs ya from page one and you don’t want to put this book down until the last page has been turned!” –Leslielovesveggies.net
“Like Picoult, Diane Chamberlain cuts to the heart of these characters’ secrets. Her plotting is amazing and the villains sneak up in such a way as to tantalize us to read just one more chapter, even when time is pressing us to do something else.” –Eileengranfors.blogspot.com
“The Lies We Told is a contemplative, well-executed novel that was enjoyable to read and utterly engrossing. . . The Lies We Told would make an excellent book club pick, as there is a lot to discuss, with both the characters and the plot, within its pages. . . I have to say I abhorred the end of the novel. While well-written, I just didn’t like the way things turned out!” –Skrishnasbooks.com
“The conclusion of the book was not what I was expecting initially, but it was exactly how I hoped it would end. Chamberlain has written a book filled with surprises that you’ll want to read in one sitting.” –Book-chic.blogspot.com
“It is a complex and fascinating tale, well paced, with good dialogue as secrets are revealed with some surprises, twists, and turns. Readers of women’s fiction will enjoy this familial tale.” –romrevtoday.com
“I absolutely loved this book and think it is one of the best ever written by this prolific author. I simply could not put it down and read it far into the night. If you read one contemporary novel this summer, make it this one and I promise you will not be disappointed.” –Theromancereadersconnection.com
“This was a great read that I thoroughly enjoyed. . . It made me smile and cry (a lot) . . . It’s funny how you can think you want your life to be a certain way only to find that it’s really another life that you want so desperately that you are just afraid to admit it even to yourself. Our lives can also be a series of unconscious decisions to run away from pain that we can’t face or admit still eats us up. Also highlighted is the . . . complex nature of the need to do the right thing by someone and yet resent having to do it at the same time. This is also a story of love and ultimately forgiveness. I have to mention that I had one small complaint. The ending of the book just didn’t ‘feel’ right to me.” –Alainereading.blogspot.com
***
I could go on! You can see the variety of responses. They’ve made me think about the way I ended the book. I hate disappointing a reader, and yet so many readers have been not only comfortable with the ending, but pleased with it. Others were pleased despite their discomfort. And still others saw the ending as I did–a natural and optimistic progression of the story.
I’d love to hear your perspectives, not necessarily about the ending of The Lies We Told but about the endings of novels in general. What works for you and what doesn’t? Please remember to write SPOILER at the beginning of your comment if you’re going to give anything away. And thank you to the Bloggers for their thoughtful and honest reviews of my book.
June 17, 2010
Booksigning in Topsail
I had a long but fun day today. I drove three hours to Topsail Island for a signing, then three hours home. It was hard to be in one of my favorite places in the world and not be able to spend more time there, but I have too much to do here at home. It was worth every minute, though. Quarter Moon Books owner Lori Fisher had a bunch of my new and older books in stock and a steady flow of customers for me to chat with. I love getting to meet the readers who’ve never heard of me before, and I really love all those readers who’ve read every one of my books.
After a couple of hours of meeting and greeting, I was back in my car heading home.
On another note, I’m still waiting to hear my editor’s reaction to The Midwife’s Confession, but I have heard that she loves the new book proposal I sent her. I need to do some serious fleshing out of the story and had lots of time in the car today to think about it. She and I will chat about it Monday and then I’ll get down to serious business.
Right now, though, I need a nap.
After a couple of hours of meeting and greeting, I was back in my car heading home.
On another note, I’m still waiting to hear my editor’s reaction to The Midwife’s Confession, but I have heard that she loves the new book proposal I sent her. I need to do some serious fleshing out of the story and had lots of time in the car today to think about it. She and I will chat about it Monday and then I’ll get down to serious business.
Right now, though, I need a nap.
