Rachael

Digit – You know what I wanna do? Check it out. Wait for it…

Adah – HEYYYYY!

Digit – Wut. 

Knitting News

I'm in the knitting doldrums. 

I'm not sure how I got here. I've been here before, of course, and the knitting wind eventually picked up and blew me to the right merino shore, but I'm not enjoying it. I'm working on a blue cabled cardigan which I'm already predicting won't be right. I'm already mad at it (and myself) because I majorly screwed up and had to rip two weeks of work (you know what that is in writing-a-novel terms? A hot minute. Don't know why it's bothering me so much.)

I don't know why I think it's not going to be right, except I fear it might end up too big. But I've been around this particular block enough times to know that I never really know. The sweater I thought would never fit me because I was making it too small ended up being the one sweater I've worn most this year. Sweaters I'm sure I'll love the whole time I'm knitting them end up wrong, and I never see it coming. (I do love this year's Mischke – I like to put the top down at night in the cold, foggy air, and wear it while I run the seatwarmer.) 

But mostly, I've been just . . . reluctant to knit. I look at my knitting bag and I sigh. I don't WANT to knit on that blue cardigan. I want to START something, something else, right now. 

I've assuaged the startitis by making a few small things (socks*! Did you remember how satisfying it is to finish something in a few evenings? I didn't!). I find that every year around the 6th of December, I decide to make all the things for everyone. It's ridiculous. And I always fail. But yesterday I literally used my break at work to make an emergency run to the yarn store for hat yarn. And I have a gajillion sewing projects I want to make. 

I did make a purse. It's no great shakes, but it's a good prototype, and I know what I want to do differently next time. Based on the Phoebe free pattern/tutorial. 

And I still don't know what I actually want to be knitting. I would love to be deep into a complex shawl that I've mostly memorized. You know that time? When you don't need the chart, and you think you'll be knitting it for years? I love that part. (Funny, when I trained for that marathon, I liked the mid-distances best. Of a 20 mile run, I love miles 12-15. I love being in the middle of a novel, too, stuck in the thick of it.) 

What I don't want to do is start something that requires great concentration to begin (like a shawl). I don't want to be in the beginning of a sweater. What I should do is pick up that damned blue sweater (THIS pattern for the curious) and finish it because just maybe it will be all right. I have to remember that during every book, I'm sure I'm the worst writer in the world. I know I'll never pull it off. Everyone will know I'm a fake. 

Then I just keep writing. 

I guess I'll just keep knitting. (I honestly thought I was going to write this blog-post to give myself permission to start something new and awesome. I didn't know I was going to lecture myself. Way to go, me?) 

HEY, SCREW THAT! A couple of you just reminded me what's important — that I love what I'm doing. I'm going to start something else. Just as soon as I figure out what that is. 

*That sock up there is Amy Klimt's self-striping sock yarn. Her yarn is FABULOUS, and the stripes are to die for, and she can dye any colorway for you. She would have to, because [ahem] I just bought the last skein of it on her Etsy shop. 

DAMN, you all had the best suggestions for what to say when I'm asked what I write (so that I don't have to defend myself from the Dread Eye Roll of Doom). Seriously, there were too many good ones. Using a mish-mash of all of them, I'm going to say, "I write romance, mainstream literary fiction, and memoir." Which, I find with delight, is all true. And I'm proud of every bit so any eye-roller can just bite me in the tuckus. 

We do have a winner, though! For all the people I meet at parties whom I know I don't care about, the people I chat with in line at the post office, etc., I'm going with Erika's GENEEYUS solution:

No need to enter me into the drawing, since romance isn't really my thing. But I had to say, I get that same reaction from people when I follow up "I write for a living" with "online content" or "professional blogger" or any other dumb thing that has come out of my mouth. I'm pretty sure that people deflate no matter what you say. Unless you are literally JK Rowling, it's not "real" writing to a lot of people. (And I bet even JK Rowling still gets that deflated "Oh, you write CHILDREN'S books" reaction from time to time.) All of which is leading up to what I personally tell people, when I know the conversation is meaningless. If it's just a barista I'll never see again, or someone in line at the grocery store, or whatever, I tell them "I'm a project manager." It shuts them down immediately. I have never once been asked a follow-up question. It's become my standard go-to answer. I try not to laugh as I watch them scramble to change the subject, because no one ever wants to talk about project management. (And it's not untrue… I do manage a lot of projects. It's just that they are all MY projects. But the motions are the same.)

Isn't that brilliant? I love it. 

But since she's not in the drawing, I'm going to randomly draw three winners for a book each: Laurie M., Tara, and Mary B. (who always had a lot of votes for her answer: "You know how some books are all about violence and death? Mine are all about romance and sex. I like sex a lot better. Don't you?")

Winners have been emailed, and THANK YOU all who played. 

New Dresses! 

I made some! I'm still perfecting that smock-like pattern of mine that I drafted, and I'm getting closer each time. 

In honor of NaNoWriMo! 

I love this one. It's light-weight enough for summer and flip-flops, but looks good with dark tights and boots for winter. I've kind of decided these dresses are going to be my uniform. I do love me a uniform, having worn one at the day job for so long. No thought! No decisions! Just make sure it's clean!

And now I'm off to eat some more turkey. Fourth day in a row. I am now officially Over Turkey. (This is why we only eat it once a year, by the way. Because we gorge ourselves once and get sick of it, only remembering it again the next year. Turkey breeders should only breed tiny little turkeys, one per house, and then we'd eat it all year. Thus speaketh me.)

Hey, y'all! 

This year, you can order signed copies of my books! Dude, I'm super excited about this. I really think that in terms of the writer's job, after writing "The End," there is no better feeling than signing your books. I get the BIGGEST thrill out of it. Also, I get to help you give a fun gift, and a great independent bookseller gets the business. Yay! 

So if you've liked one of my books and have thought about giving a copy to someone, this is the time to get it signed for them. I'll write whatever you'd like me to! Even, "Dear Aunt Joanne, Maybe this will spice up your nights since Uncle Bill's been in lockup for you-know-what. Love you!" And then we'll mail it to your Aunt Mavis, the one who can't STAND Aunt Joane, and it will be fun for everyone! 

Or maybe YOU just want a signed copy or two. Do it! I'd love to autograph a book to you (I'll even throw in some bookmarks! Woo!). 

I've teamed up with Books, Inc. in Alameda (the very first store in which I ever saw a book of mine in the wild), and they'll do the wrapping and the mailing. All you have to do is give them a call (if there's any confusion at first, as we get it going, ask for the manager, Nick.) 

HOW TO ORDER

Call Books, Inc. at 510-522-2226, and tell them which title(s) you like to order to be signed. Tell them to whom the books should be inscribed (include your brief message if you have one). Give them your mailing address and billing info (list price varies by book, additional wrapping and shipping costs $8.50, every book after that is $2). That's it! Easy! 

Deadline: December 15th, so books can get there on time. 

They'll also ship to an alternate address so you can send a wrapped book directly to Uncle Bill's lawyer if you want to (I'd be happy to include a note in those packages that aren't going directly to the buyer saying who sent them the gift.) 

SADLY, this is for US residents only. (If you live out of the US and DO want a signed copy, you can always mail me your book, postage paid both ways, and I'd be happy to do that, but it's practically cost-prohibitive, so I hesitate to mention it.) 

ALSO

On a different note, I just wanted to publicly thank our Fairy Godmother for sending us to the Writing Prom, the Night of Writing Dangerously. 

I got a new dress for it and felt like the luckiest girl at the ball. Thank you. 

*Oh, and winners for the books in the last post will be announced in the NEXT post (and by email). I was just too excited about this today. :) 

You know I love romance. I’m proud of writing it. No more does romance bear its stigma of ripped bodices and rape. Romance is GOOD. Romance today is written and read by smart women who like being in charge of their own lives. 

But I’m tired of men (and some women) giving me that look when they ask me what I write and I say romance. Strike one: Romance. Strike two: Knitting. I can see them actually deflate when I say it, and while I know men are not my target audience*, I hate the combined emotion I feel of defensiveness and embarrassment. I shouldn’t feel that. Obviously, it’s MY own hangup. But I want a better answer.

Help!

I’m looking for a great, one line response to memorize that says: I write romance. Before you get that look, you smug bastard, tell me what’s wrong with fiction that celebrates a woman’s autonomy and her right to make her own career, sexual, and relationship choices. 

Except without that defensive second sentence. I try to simply say, proudly, “I write romance and memoir,” but as soon as they get that look, I trail off into something like, “You know, popular fiction…like regular fiction, but more for women, oh, look at the bartender’s hat!” 

Lyssa won the Vickie Howell book, and she’s been notified, but I LOVE giving things away, so:

I’m giving away three romance books I’ve recently enjoyed to three readers who give me the best answers to above dilemma in comments. These are finely written books/novellas that I know you’ll enjoy and that I’m happy to recommend. 

(Bonus: they’re available inexpensively in e-format.)

(Double bonus, and I just realized this: they’re all very spicy! If you don’t like reading explicit sex, you might not be into these, but hey, if you enjoy reading me, you’re already there. The last two are erotic novellas (with PLOT, people!), and the first is a romance novel heavy on the sex.) 

About Last Night, Ruthie Knox. This was lovely and very fun, and I had a hard time putting it down. It’s set in England! And it’s about a textile curator at the V&A! She works with knitting!  

Cass: Taken in the Stacks, Jami Malroux. This is HOT. If you didn’t think you could marry hot-tamale plot with lyrical prose, this is where you find you’re happily wrong, my friend. (Set in a bookstore. Really. Meow.) 

Bound by Desire: The Acadian Curse, Rebecca Lyndon Paranormal erotica (which is not normally my thing since I tend to naturally hear bumps in the night), this is such a super fun, delicious ride, and only induces dreams of the sexy kind, not nightmares. The characters are real, and the stakes are high. 

Advice on my dilemma gratefully accepted! 

* Generally speaking. Hi, Jeremy! Hi, Mel! Hi, Garret!

** PS – I’m going offline for five days. A little digital sabbatical, so I’ll draw the winner when I get back.

You guys, I can't thank you enough for the kindnesses in your comments to the last post. If you haven't read those comments, they're worth casting your eye over. I couldn't respond to all of them, but I did to as many as I could, and I've been having the most amazing conversations with people about depression and how it affects all of us. Really, every adult human being has been depressed at some point. Why don't we talk about it? 

Several of you mentioned The Great Grocery Store Walkout. I've done it myself. A cart full of goods, left behind, the ice cream melting, as you bolt because it's just too fucking difficult to decide between the expensive soft toilet paper and the recycled TP that feels like birthday streamers. I once panicked in Ikea and ended up buying a convertible, because it was easier. True story.

Reader Sandy had a good 'un for me. As a reward for being the most awesome readers in the whole wide world, I give you (with her permission) a great story that Sandy shared that had me rolling.

How much do I love this? So much. Thanks, Sandy. And thank you, all.