Turpentine in Stores (NOW!)

Sometimes out on the road you can see for miles and your destination, while visible, seems so long in arriving that you start to forget where you're heading to. You take a look at the Quonset on the side of the road, or the way the clouds are torn along the eastern sky, or the buzz of the gravel on the tires. And then, you're there.

I went into Borders on Friday to thank the manager for offering to host a reading and while we talked about the upcoming availability date of September 10, he looked up Turpentine on the computer and announced that the book seemed to be in the store.

We walked into the literature section and I saw it. My first thought was, "Oh, I have that book!"

The manager asked me if I'd like to sign the copies. I stammered, "Sure." The clerk handed me a pen and I signed my name, in a wavering line on the Title page, feeling a little giddy and a little like I was play-acting 'important author.' So, if you get a book in Davis, California, and inside is a very shaky signature, I apologize for the lack of grace, yet more, thank you very, very much for taking Turpentine home.

Grace Paley 1922-2007

When I heard that Grace Paley had died, I went to the bookshelf and pulled out a collection of her short stories that I purchased in New Haven Connecticut at Atticus Bookstore. I had not read Grace Paley before that time, though she had obviously been around, writing, a long time; the photo on the cover of the book showing a white haired woman in comfortable clothes that spoke of another generation. I loved her work. I was glad I had taken so long to "discover" her because now I had volumes of her stories to read that she had already written. I wouldn't have to wait on her next book to sink into the worlds she allowed me to enter. Today, however, I wish that I could be in that state of anticipation, waiting for a favorite writer to send another book out, so that I could love Grace Paley all over again.

San Joaquin Valley shrouded in Santa Barbara smoke

Driving through the San Joaquin Valley the sky was greyed with smoke from over the coastal range. We stopped at a rest stop near Grapevine to get a cup of coffee. In the parking lot people were walking around with their hands upraised catching the white ash motes falling from the sky, asking, "What is it, what is going on?"

Re-re-re-re-write

I'm swamped with papers. At this stage of the re-writing (or the re-re-re-re-re-writing) I am forced by my poor memory to have books open, maps unfurled, files and files of paper slipping around on my desk referencing WWI, the Four Minutemen, the price of flour in 1918, weather patterns in North Dakota, etc, in order to proceed. I wish that I had a brain like Louis' and Sam's. They are encyclopedias of knowledge. Further, once they hear, read, think of something, they don't forget it. I can't even remember the names of my own characters.
We had drinks with friends at the Bistro the other day, all writers of one ilk or another. I said that re-writing was like sweeping leaves ahead of you. It starts out manageable, but in pretty short order there's a mountain to push. Kathy said it was like trying to make your way around a room filled with cotton. Louis likened it to pulling off a hangnail. Sally wouldn't say...(that painful?)
I do like the very end of it all, truly at the final versions, paring language down, choosing just the right word to replace three, letting an image rise, playing with dialogue. Then, re-writing is less pushing a tree's worth of leaves ahead of you than it is sanding wood and watching the grain rise.

Designing Turpentine

From left to right-Turpentine, the uncorrected proof, the advance reader's copy, and the final version that I received yesterday from Grove.

Many authors have hated the covers of their books. (i.e. the writer who had stickers made to paste over his terrible cover) I've known authors who absolutely hated the adversarial process of having a cover chosen for their books, even if it finally worked out all right.
I, however, have nothing but good things to say about Grove/Atlantic - Morgan, and Andrew. They got the right image, the right font, the right cover, trying out a number of mock-ups, even employing several artists along the way. Gene Mollica produced the winning design.
As for the process- Gene, Andrew, and Morgan were kind enough to talk to me about the work, even asked my opinion about the images. They were all exceedingly generous with their time. (I ask a lot of questions.) The book has turned out beautifully. It has flaps! It has rich color, a soft matt finish, the perfect font, and a detail I am most enamored of-deckle edges on the pages.
Thank you Gene, Andrew and Morgan!

Coast Camp

We had a great time. I wasn't sure-hiking three miles in with all of our gear for one night camping did not sound time efficient, for one thing. It wasn't. It was even worse than I had imagined because Sam's newspapers were later than usual being dropped off. By the time he'd folded and delivered them and we drove to Pt. Reyes it was well after three. An hour of hiking in (Louis and Jesse took the biggest packs) putting up the tent and getting other gear ready, and it was already time for dinner. Then, camp magic. Otherwise known as merlot. Add that to veg. packets roasting on the grill, my great boys goofing off and laughing, and a harmonica.
I realize the harmonica might only have been magic for me, but the rest of the crew, recognizing that it was my birthday after all, did not complain about my playing, however I did get a gift certificate for a harmonica lesson when I got back home.
The next day Louis and I walked on the beach while the boys slept and perused tide pools filled with starfish and anemones. Back at camp we packed up and headed back for the car. Three miles and the boys were way ahead of us the whole time. It was hardly any time ago we were cajoling them to please keep up. I played my harmonica again while we walked and Tule elk stook up from their beds on the hill and stared.
We had pastries at the Bovine Bakery in Point Reyes Station before driving back to the house. A fast camping trip and an excellent birthday.

Sutter Gold Mine-

I got it halfway right. This photo is supposed to go with the Volcano posting, but at least I got it up on the web. Now that I've (partially) figured out the drill, more pics to come!