No last page

More than once I’ve finished reading a novel where I’ve connected deeply with the characters and found myself a little depressed when I turned the last page. It’s been like having to say goodbye too soon to people I’ve learned to care about.

I’ve felt that same way about books I’ve written, too. I’ve grown attached to the make-believe people who shared my days – and sometimes nights. It’s not surprising really. My goal is always to create characters that seem real. I want them to seem real to you and to do that they must seem real to me.

This was especially true with the characters in my newest release, The Shape of Mercy. I wanted these characters – Lauren, Abigail, Esperanza, Raul, Clarissa, and even Mercy - to keep breathing, to keep talking to me, prodding me even though the book was done. So I’ve decided to let these characters live on in a blog that will allow me to continue their fictive lives.

You can find it here: http://theshapeofmercy.blogspot.com. These posts won’t comprise an online sequel. The posts won’t be story; they will be emails between Lauren and Raul, advice from unconventional Clarissa, stories and poems from Mercy’s recovered storybook, insights on life and literature from learning-to-let-go-of-regrets Abigail and kicky recipes from Esperanza, Abigail’s devoted housekeeper.

Hope you’ll stop by. And if you’ve read The Shape of Mercy and made friends of these people, I hope you will stop by often!

You'll never look at a radish the same way. . .

I've long been a fan of fellow author Siri Mitchell's style. She's smart, witty, creative and she knows how to massage words into images that appeal to the senses.

I knew the moment I saw the cover of her newest, A Constant Heart, that I wanted to get my hands on it. It's a stunning cover, front and back. You can almost reach out and feel the lace on your fingertips. The inside pages are as much a sensory delight.

Historical fiction intrigues me when it meets me in the here and now. Tall order, I know. When an author wants to whisk me away to another century, I always stop to ask what I get to bring back with me. If it feels like a history lesson only, my interest wanes. If I want a history lesson, I will read a biography. Fiction for me must not only take me some place interesting but also send me home with party favors. Siri delivers.

I knew she had a flair for making the past come alive when I read Chateau of Echoes (loved that book). With A Constant Heart, Siri invites us to the 16th century, and to a young courtier's outwardly elegant, inwardly turbulent world. Marget, a knight's daughter in an arranged marriage, finds herself in the court of an aging, narcissistic monarch obsessed with beauty and self-preservation. It's a world where silk and satin rubs up against politics and posturing and you find yourself looking with admiration upon the life of the poor peasant who gets to choose what kind of crust of bread he will eat and whom he will share it with. Imagine learning to truly love the courtier you've been given in marriage to, and to find to your utter joy that he has learned to love you as well, and yet fearing that the Queen might learn there is love in her court that she is not a part of. The Tower awaits those who love someone more than their Queen. And imagine, on top of everything else that you are pretty. The Tower could easily await you, too. Just for that.

There is a scene in Siri's book involving a salad where each ingredient communicates something. (In this blog interview, Siri reveals where in her research she learned of the love salad.) The ingredients go like this:

Borage = You make me glad
Bugloss = I am pleased with you
Scallion = I love you not
Cabbage lettuce = Your love feedeth me
Bitter lettuce = I love you not
Olives = Your love annoyeth me
Rosemary flowers = I accept your love
Winter savory = I offer you my love
Radish = Pardon me

So, picture Marget and the husband she is learning to love, and who has wounded her, looking at each other across a banquet table, eating the famed love salad. She knows she is beginning to love him, she does not know he feels the same about her. He is looking at her and choosing a radish, over and over again. Pardon me, Pardon me, Pardon me. It's a great scene. My favorite, actually. It's the first inkling we get that Marget will learn that love trumps everything; that it's better to live a pauper's life and love and be loved than to live in wealth and finery and owe your soul to the court of vanities.

The faith thread is subtle and organic, just the way I like it. It speaks to how we live our lives most of the time anway. Who we are within our faith shows up in the choices we make. And everyone knows actions speak louder than words. What the marketplace might call "inspirational principles" Siri wove seamlessly into the prose, making it a natural part of the fabric of the story. Fabric like that has a nice touch.

Great read.

On Friday, I hope to have all my ducks in a row so that I can launch The Shape of Mercy Blog. I am pretty excited about it. Ever wanted characters to live on after you finish the book you met them in? Well, then. Stay tuned. . .

Have a nice appetite

Last year I read my good friend Sandra Byrd's lovely Let Them Eat Cake for endorsement and it was so yummy I felt like running out for gateaux and a cafe au lait (nothing short of the real deal - see my post from Oct. 6 for clarity here) when I turned the last page.

It was clever and chic and hip and I loved her characters. No surprise to me that it was up for a Christy this summer.

Now out is the next installment in her French Twist series about a likeable gal trying to find her place in the world and in the pastry industry. Bon Appetit takes up where Let Them Eat Cake left off. Here's the story in a ramekin, I mean, nutshell:

Lexi Stuart is risking it all. Saying au revoir to the security of home, her job, and could-be boyfriend Dan, Lexi embarks on a culinary adventure in France to fulfill her life dream of becoming a pastry chef. As she settles into her new home in the village of Presque le Chateau to study and work in a local bakery, her optimism meets resistance in the seemingly crusty nature of the people and culture around her. Determined to gain her footing, she finds a church, meets a new friend, and makes the acquaintance of a child named Celine–as well as Celine’s attractive, widowed father, Philippe. As Lexi lives her dream, the only thing she has to do is choose from the array in life’s patisser ie display window. Lexi discovers that as she leans more on God the choices become a little clearer– and making them, well, c’est la vie!

Romantic Times said this: “In this sequel to Let Them Eat Cake, Byrd again entertains with descriptions of delectable food and, this time, with exquisite details of France as well. Foodies will delight in this novel, and anyone who adores romance will warm to the story. It's easy to identify with Lexi's struggles in life, because they mirror so much of what everyone experiences, no matter what their age.”

And here's something cool. Sandra has a contest going on at her webhome where you can win:

• Barefoot Contessa's Coconut Cupcake Mix
• A set of professional quality glassine baking cups
• A dozen laser cut cupcake wraps.
• All this packaged in a beautiful blue & white wrought iron container
• plus a signed copy of Bon Appétit
  

Just browsing her lovely site is enough to make you drool a wee bit. Check it out.

On Friday, a review of Siri Mitchell's "A Constant Heart." Loved it.

Making sense of life

I have been remiss in posting the last few days. I apologize.

But to make up for it, here's a little gem of poem written by the gentle man sitting next to me at left. This man, Mr. Frank Barone, was my ninth-grade English teacher. More than thirty years have passed since I was his student, but his remarkable insights into writing are still with me.

Long before I had any confidence in my skills as a writer, he read a short story of mine out loud to the class - that's how much he liked it. He didn't tell anyone what he was about to do. He just sat us all in a circle and said, "Let me read you a story." I still remember the flush of joy at having him read my story to a room full of peers. That heady feeling of deep satisfaction and affirmation has stayed with me and fueled me at moments when I've been tempted to wonder if I have any knack at all for words. Just goes to show you how influential an adult can be in the life of a young writer.

Frank came to my book launch party on Sunday and presented me with a poem he wrote just for me. Pardon my boldness for sharing it with you here:

"Dissecting a book was the same as making sense of life.

You have to find a way to interpret life or you will go nuts." - Lauren, The Shape of Mercy

Susan has found a way to interpret life.
She looks at her world through honest eyes
and observes the people she meets
with their hopes and dreams
their hurts and scars
and listens to the unspoken stories they tell her.
Then she sits down with them at her desk
or maybe at Starbucks with a latte in her hand
and writes her way into their hearts
with clear prose and creative imagery.
Day after day they develop into friends
who have learned how to listen in silence
and with compassion
unafraid to reveal their souls to her
unafraid to speak the truth.
They trust her to intrepret their lives
so that their stories become her story
then ours.
And as we read, Susan gives us the chance
to ease our hurts
soothe our scars
and renew our hopes and dreams.
With each page we turn
she invites us to join her growing group of friends
and together try to make sense of our lives
-Frank Barone.

I wonder how different the world would be if each one of us vowed to empower one teenager to reach for the best that is within them. There is a great line in one of the Spiderman movies that says it best. Peter Parker is wrestling with choices he must make and his uncle says to our young reluctant hero something like this: "These are the years you are becoming the man you will be for the rest of your life."

And therein is enough reason to encourage, affirm, impact, and influence the young adult near you who stands at the starting gate of all he or she will be.

Coffee and joy

So my daughter and I are out strolling the mall near her lovely apartment and we stop for a pick-me-up at a cafe with a French name.

I see that cappuccino is written on the menu hanging above the teenage boy at the register. He is wearing a cobalt blue apron and it might possibly be his first day. I ask for a cappuccino.

He frowns. Not at me. Just in general. "Uh. We don't have that anymore," he says.

Wow. Okay. No cappuccino at a French cafe. I look up at the menu. Ah! Cafe au lait! French (very nearly) for cappucino!

"I'll have a cafe au lait," I say.

"Huh?"

He truly looks as if I've asked for a bowl of schnozberries.

"Cafe au lait," I say.

He repeats what I've asked for as if saying the words for the first time in his life. Or perhapa as if he's speaking to someone ordering from a French cafe for the first time in her life.

"Cafe au lait," I say, very distinctly and I point to the menu hanging above his sweet head.

He looks at it.

"We don't have that anymore," he says.

I want to say, "How about some lembas?" But I don't. "Can I have a cup of tea?" I say instead. He rewards me with a smile. Tea, they have.

We take our very American drinks to an outside table to enjoy San Diego's sunshine and I murmur something like what's the world coming to when you can't order French coffee at a French cafe, even though I knew that kid was 100% SoCal with not a drop of French in him. "What in the world did he think I was asking him for?" I said to my daughter.

She cracked a grin. "I think he thought you were asking for a Cafe Ole."

Cafe Ole. As in may I have a taco to go with.

Si! Verdad! Claro. Cafe Ole.

It was muchos minutos before we stopped laughing.


And now, it's my pleasure to yak about my good friend Robin Lee Hatcher's new book Bundle of Joy. Robin is one of the nicest people you will ever meet and a lover of happy endings. Here's what her newest is about:

Alicia Harris says she's happily married and expecting a baby—but only the last part is true. She can't bear to tell the grandfather she loves that she's about to become a single mother. When her grandfather, recovering from a heart attack, drops in unexpectedly to spend the holidays, Alicia is frantic to protect her beloved grandpa from undue stress. She needs to find a fill-in and fast. Childhood friend Joe Palmero fits the bill and is willing to play along. The longer they spend playing their parts, however, the closer Alicia and Joe come to discovering what love, faith and marriage truly mean.

Robin says she discovered her vocation as a novelist after many years of reading everything she could put her hands on, including the backs of cereal boxes and ketchup bottles. The winner of the Christy Award for Excellence in Christian Fiction (Whispers from Yesterday), the RITA Award for Best Inspirational Romance (Patterns of Love and The Shepherd's Voice), two RT Career Achievement Awards (Americana Romance and Inspirational Fiction), and the RWA Lifetime Achievement Award, Robin is the author of over 55 novels, including Catching Katie, named one of the Best Books of 2004 by the Library Journal. And she really is one of the kindest souls on the planet. You can find her here on the web.

Invisible author

Can you be in love with a book’s words and not be in love with the book? I say you can. I just finished Sebastian Barry’s The Secret Scipture and am feeling schizophrenic about it. Loved the way Barry wove the words. But oh, the story. So sad.

Here it is in a nutshell. As a young woman, Roseanne Clear McNulty was one of the most beautiful girls in Sligo, Ireland. The story opens as she nears her hundredth birthday which she will spend, as she has the last seventy-some birthdays, as a resident of a mental hospital. She begins to record her life journey but hides the pages from Dr. Grene, her caregiver. Meanwhile, Grene has been tasked with assessing if ancient Roseanne can be released into society as the hospital has been slated for demolition.

As Dr. Grene researches her case he comes across a document written by a local priest that tells a different story of Roseanne's life than what she has revealed to the reader through her hidden pages. From the book’s back cover: “As doctor and patient attempt to understand each other, they begin to uncover long-buried secrets about themselves.”

The book’s prose is achingly beautiful. The storyline, achingly sad. A little too sad. There was just a smidgeon of satisfaction in the conclusion. Still, you gotta love Barry’s style. New York Times reviewer Dinitia Smith said it best: “Above all it is the surpassing quality of Mr. Barry's language that gives it its power. A woman is as "young and slight as a watercolor, a mere gesture of bones and features." Swans in a rainstorm are like "unsuccessful suicides." And the moon—well the moon is "prince of all outside," he writes. "Its light lay in a solemn glister on the windowpanes"… Mr. Barry has said that his novels and plays often begin as poems (he is a published poet), but his language never clots the flow of his story; it never gives off a whiff of labor and strain.”

A good friend of mine told me the other day that while she’s inside the pages of my newest release, “The Shape of Mercy.” I, the author, become invisble. It’s just her and the characters. “It’s like you’re not even there,” she told me. Wow. I could’ve done cartwheels. I’ve never had a compliment affect me like that one. I am invisble. At to least to Tina. Nice.

That’s what Barry’s writing is like for me. Fluid like water, transparent like water. Slips through your fingers. He’s not even there.

Great prose, beautiful words, harsh realities. A great read if you are happy enough already.