The Necessity of One-Tasking

Y'all. I'm tired. You? Several threads in my life have rolled themselves together into a big ball of weariness.

The threads: Finishing the novel, reading 281 books (and judging them), the paperback publication of ALL-STARS and planning the shoestring tour, the bathroom renovation, and then there's the stuff of regular living... whew.

Yesterday I had lunch with writer friend Elizabeth Dulemba, and thought my eyes would close before I pulled my weary self to my feet to go home. E is good company -- it wasn't that. I'm just... tired. E told me to go home and crawl beneath the covers. "There are workers in my house, five of 'em!" I could see myself reflected in E's eyes, though -- I must look like utter h*ll. Hahaha. I think I do.

Time for a break. I've been pushing hard for months, and I need a little time to breathe. Shoestring tour plans are in place for D.C. in April. The rest of the tour will take place at the end of April, so I have time to plan (we had originally thought the first of March, but this is too much, too much, so we've rescheduled, happily).

I need to stop multi-tasking for a little while -- is that possible? I don't mean the multi-tasking that comes from stopping the flow of blood after a catastrophe -- I've been there, and I know what that's like. There's plenty of accompanying adrenalin, too, in those times, to help keep those plates on sticks, spinning, spinning. It's not that.

Life is good. Love is good. The novel is good, too. But I've been doing so much, I seem to have lost my perspective or sense of humor or... something. Do you know what I mean? I think, too, that I've lost the ability to multi-task! Or maybe my wee mind is just over-full and screaming STOP!

I need to one-task for a little while, and take good care of myself. Remember my social networking post? I'm exhausted with the effort! Maybe I'm just not meant to be a social network butterfly. That's okay, right?

I'm a very private person pushing the envelope of a very public life. The effort takes everything out of me. So. I'll back up and recover for a bit. Then I'll be ready to go again.

Of course, life goes on. There is still a to-do list the length of my arm, and I'll still do it. But I'll also figure out how to slow down, be quiet, and get away from the computer a bit.

I know you're busy, too. Give me a week or so and I'll be back up again. I'm going to quit reading the news, too. Sheesh. The world. The economy. The complicated way we live now. Simplify, simplify, Debbie. yes... that's it. Simplify. I shall return.

I leave you with a photo of my bathroom in progress. Whose crazy idea was it to remodel the bathroom while finishing a novel and planning a book tour? I will be so glad when it's done, and when I can sink down into that warm water in that deep bathtub, and chant "simplify, simplify..." ahhhhhh.....

Blathering this morning, as I try to figure out what I'm feeling...

Are You Ready For The Night Train?

Hey, y'all. While I'm:

-- putting the finishing touches on the Aurora County Shoestring Tour

-- buying faucets and floor tile and a toilet

-- paying bills and catching up on email (please, please)

-- working hard to get the end of the 1962 novel just-right (endings are hardest for me),

Here is something that's making me laugh. While workers are gutting my bathroom at home, I'm sitting at Mighty Joe's Espresso this morning, my local coffee shop, where the muzac is too loud and effervescent owner Eva knows everyone, so there is constantly running conversation, not to mention an ongoing baristas vs customers Scrabble game being scored, cheered, challenged.

I've brought my headphones. I'm listening to James Brown sing "Night Train" with his Famous Flames. This was first recorded at the Apollo Theatre on October 24, 1962, during the very week I'm writing about. This video is (as the poster writes on the YouTube site) ridiculously happy.

What moves! What joy! What silliness! And, for me, what a refreshingly different look at that week in our history.




I am ridiculously happy this week, too. I spoke with editor DavidL. yesterday -- such laughing, such relief, such ebullience! It's good! The novel is good! It's almost there! It's going to be a good book! It is! Hahahahahaha. There's nothing quite like a good editor's good words. There's nothing like a conspiracy of two, when you both know you've got your hands on something you love, and now the work begins, to bring it to life for everyone else.

(Later, the angst of "will they love it like we do?" can begin -- no time for that now.)

There's lots of work ahead -- the ending, particularly, needs to be FINISHED -- but the very hardest part, making it all up from scratch and pulling my hair out as I plot and structure and characterize and back up and go forward again, is done!

So here I sit, at Mighty Joe's, channeling James Brown and that Night Train energy.

Next up: Shoestring Stuff.

While You Were Writing

While I was busy tumbling to deadline, a wonderful thing happened that I want to celebrate.

THE AURORA COUNTY ALL-STARS, published in hardcover in August 2007, is now available in paperback.

It's finally here! And you know what that means. It means that the entire Aurora County trilogy:

LOVE, RUBY LAVENDER
EACH LITTLE BIRD THAT SINGS
THE AURORA COUNTY ALL-STARS

is in paperback.

I haven't signed my first paperback ALL-STARS yet, but I'll bet when I'm next in schools, I will. It's going to be great to be able to offer all three books in paperback at conferences and school visits and in bookstores.

One thing I've loved about paperbacks is how beloved they become. Many times, when I'm visiting schools, I've had kids come to me after an assembly program and shyly offer their dog-eared copies of RUBY or LITTLE BIRD, and ask if I'll sign them. I can see, they've been read, cover to cover, over and over again. These beloved books are always my favorite to sign.

And now, ALL-STARS joins them. We're going to celebrate in style, too. Next week, I'll announce The Tour -- it's a very special, very creative, very specialized tour... we're going to do something different.

A few months ago, I was thinking... how can I celebrate ALL-STARS, the entire Aurora County trilogy, and those I love at the same time? Are there sensible, practical, joyful ways to bring together readers, writers, booksellers, publishers, and stories in these oh-so-precarious economic times? Yes, there are. If you live in Alabama, Mississippi, North Carolina, South Carolina, Georgia, Washington D.C., Maryland or northen Virginia... if you live anywhere!... I'm coming your way. And you'll be surprised at how I'm coming: on a shoestring.

So. Until next week. Have a great weekend. I've restocked my pantry and refrigerator, so I'm going to cook! It's been so long! (Overheard last night at the refrigerator door: Wow, that's a lot of green stuff... Yep.) I'm going to keep my fire going, too -- it's 20 degrees in Hotlanta this morning. I'm so glad for that two cords of wood I bought in October.

Keep each other warm, y'all.

There Will Be Pie

Here's how it came down.

I asked for an extra day for a read-through, and to do a better job with the ending.

I wrote my editor a seven-page letter about this draft, about the story, about the journey we've been through, blah blah blah. I cut it to five. Then to three. Then to two. Much better.

I was so exhausted after this marathon, I had daughter Hannah read the letter for typos, she did, and then, Jim and Hannah hovered around me, making lunch, fidding with mail, making I'm suffering, too! Send it! noises, and finally, finally... I did.

Then there was pie.

It is a long-standing tradition in this household, that a book sale (or other magnificent book news) is celebrated with lemon meringue pie for breakfast. We had it for lunch. I hadn't even thought to buy it, but Hannah had. She had been a big part of getting this book off, and we were going to celebrate, by golly.

Both Jim and Hannah had taken turns sitting up with me on the two nights before deadline. It was an unspoken thing: I hadn't asked them to sit, and they hadn't told me they would... don't know if they even had considered it before they did. But, like those stories you hear about where people just slowly and quietly know what to do and do it, they gravitated to the fire, took turns, and just sat there, across the table from me, quietly. For hours. And I sat there in the pink armchair, sunk down into my story.

I wonder if I syphoned off some of their energy, as mine was flagging, sitting for so many hours, pushing to the end. I felt it, that's all I can say. I felt it. And I used it.

I felt your energy, too. I can't tell you what your notes meant to me, how they boosted my morale and kept me at the page, telling me I could do it, it would be fine -- good, even.

I wish you all had been here for pie. I raised my plate and toasted you, I did.

And now I must toast my desk. It has been neglected for so long, and so much is overdue, and if I can only straighten it today and make some organizational piles, that will feel like a huge relief.

It was a huge relief to hear from my editor yesterday -- and so enthusiastically! -- within minutes of sending him the whole shebang electronically (good editor). It was one year ago this week that we first starting working on this novel together. And now, here it is. Now, art and design and editorial and I will form a partnership, and make this book. Soon -- in a year? -- it will be a real book that I can hold in my hands.

And sometime soon, you will hold it in your hands, too. If you sent me a word of encouragement in this past year, will you please write me now and send me your address? You don't have to write a long note, just an address is fine -- I know who you are, and I will recognize you. I want to send you a galley when they are ready. I want to thank you. It will be a lot of galleys to send, but that's okay -- it was a lot of vibes I received. They went right into finishing this book. So... you're in there.

Now -- the desk. If I'm not back in three days, send help.

Ground Zero Days

I love it; I loathe it. It's terrific; it's utter dreck. I'm a genius! I'm a moron! I can't stand it anymore! Just one more day, please!

My friend DebH writes to tell me I'm always like this, at the end of a book. It's intense, oh-so-intense. I am making connections, right and left. Connections I wish I had made months ago, but that just were not close enough to the surface. And now I want to go back and begin again, from the beginning, knowing what I know now.

I can do some of this. Some of this, I cannot do. It will be what it is, at midnight tonight, my day zero, my last day. And tomorrow morning, come what may, I package up this story that I have lived with intensely for the past year, and send it off to both my agent and my editor, and with it -- a piece of my heart. Soul. LIFE, that's for sure.

And, right up 'til the last moment, I am finding doorways opening -- Cuba. I must know more about Cuba. Not the Cuba of the Cuban Missile Crisis, but the Cuba of the culture, the cities, the people. In my book, Franny's teacher is named Mrs. Rodgriguez. I named her this because I had a teacher in fifth grade named Mrs. Rodriguez and I loved her. It may seem obvious to you, but not until an hour ago did I realize that Mrs. Rodriguez's husband... is Cuban.

I've written an entirely new scene today, within an already-written chapter. After an assembly, where all students see a duck and cover video, the day after Kennedy gives his speech to the nation, all about those offensive missiles in Cuba, Mrs. Rodriguez starts a geography lesson with her class. She pulls down the map (you know the one; it covers the chalk board). She takes her pointer (you know the one -- it retracts and extends, it's metal, it has a red tip), and she points to the map: "This... is Cuba."

I can paint this layer with brushstrokes -- it doesn't have to be a heavy-handed thing. I can add a layer of richness and humanity to this story that it did not have before. Part of me is stunned that I didn't see this earlier -- why didn't I?

Because I just didn't. Proceed as the way opens. Just because a draft is due on a certain date does not mean that all is known. More will be revealed. That is always the case. So I will be as done as I can be, and tomorrow --- tomorrow I will be done. Done enough. For now. The book will be in someone else's capable hands.

Thank goodness, for -- at this point -- I have got to give it up.