Thankful for Winter...sort of

Winter has arrived, but then, if you were out early this morning shoveling you already know that.  No sense complaining.  After all, we live in Wisconsin.  Snow is to be expected.  And don't forget, this week we all forget the nuisances in life and remember what we are grateful for.  Me - I am thankful for all the same things you cherish in your lives along with a few other things.

I am thankful that I don't drive my car into the river off Michigan Ave after the first snowfall of the year.  In truth, winter does not appeal to me, but that one day when the cleanest of snows hangs on the trees, sparkling as I drive beneath their bent arches, I pilot my vehicle with my head raised to the sky. 

Also high on my alternative thanks list is the fact that my eye doctor looks a lot like Richard Castle.  Nice. Yesterday's exam resulted in one improved eye and one slightly de-proved.  (That's probably not a word, but I wanted balance, so just accept it, please.)  After the exam, he slid his chair away from his desk and settled in to talk, something Dr. Castle and I have never done before.  Not sure if we'll do it again since his topic of choice was deer hunting and why he chose not to go this year.  

Netflix has decided to produce and air a third season on Longmire.  That's good news, too.

I am happy that my store is not so busy that I can't stop and chat.  Many customers who drop in leave with a book, but each and every one of you leave me with something as well.  You tell me about your lives and your families.  You save me precious decision making time by telling me what movies to watch, what books to ready, unusual places around the area to visit.  You introduce me to your children, your grandchildren and your dogs.  Even a few cats and rabbits have stopped by over the years.

Karmic rewards flood my life as well - good karma.  Although I spent the bulk of my teaching life in the world of speech and theatre,  I also enjoyed helping kids become better writers.  Something about the blank page horrified many of them, along with the feeling that they had nothing of importance to offer.  Once we got past all that, magic happened.  Although I have stepped away from that part of my life, I have been rewarded many times over with friends who want to share the poetry, essays, short stories, and novels they have written.  I even have a punster customer who stops by to sip espresso and regale me with his newest puns.  

My book discussion group....15 minutes devoted to the book and then on to more important issues.  They are the best.  My theatre buds...they tolerate my whims and so much more.  My employees....never mention that they have not embraced messiness and made peace with the dust bunnies quite as much as I have.  

This might all sound like I am making the best of a dull life, but the nothing could be further from the truth. Laughter fills the spaces to buffer any challenges that come my way.  Luckily, the challenges are few.  

Not, get in your car.  Go take a ride up Michigan Avenue.  There will only be one first snowfall this year.

Thanks for stopping by.

What am I reading?  The Second Sister - publication date is March 2015.  Most of the novel takes place in Door County.

Retail Therapy

Winter has arrived way too early, and most people I know are none too happy.  What do we do?  How about a little retail therapy?  Not the kind where you sit in front of a computer, access shopping site after shopping site and burn through your credit card.  Nope.  This therapy should provide a few laughs as I give you a peek at items from my ever growing  I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS BOOK EXISTS pile-o-wonders.

It has been said that everyone has a story to tell. Some people tell them well, others not so much.  Some self published authors have done an admirable job with their work - my friends Steve and Kathryn, for example.  A downside of self publishing is that when a writer does not submit a book through traditional channels, no one ever says to them "Nope. That's not such a good idea."  Lucky for me, many of these bad ideas come to me in the mail in hopes that I will stock them.

Take Dolly goes to the Supermarket for example.  I don't know if you can tell from the picture, but, Dolly's dress is actually fitted behind a cutout in the cover.  The dress can be removed and used on whatever doll it will fit.  While that is all well and good, really...look at that artwork. The story arc and writing are equally sophisticated.  The fourteen page story finds Dolly, the little girl and the mother (neither have names) walking up and down the isles in a grocery store looking at food.  They buy milk, eggs, cheese and yogurt.  The little girl hugs Dolly and they go home.  Apparently, two more action packed trips are scheduled for the trio.  They will go to the beach and then on vacation.  I can't wait.

As far as illustrations are concerned, they don't get much more awkward than Snickeyfritz.  Meet Piper, Pepper and Penelope, the papier machee people.  The larger than life illustrations inside the book are even more frightening.  This book introduces readers to the word culottes by bolding it and using an exaggerated font size.

I receive many complimentary copies of books and some are just plain weird. The Excreman is one of those.  The protagonist is made out of, according to the inside flap, "a piece of humble dung."  You can get yourself an Excreman doll, t-shirt, umbrella and coin purse if you are so inclined.

While we're in the bathroom, The Sh*t Book comes to mind.  The funny thing about this sure to be a best seller is that the author provided a sub-title just in case we couldn't figure it out.  The subtitle?  The Poop Book.

I remember a couple offering that were quickly placed in the file marked "Uncomfortable".  Three of these writers visited me in person.  The first was a man who said he had to wait several years before publishing, and had to change names because he feared for his life.   I read the book quickly.  It was hard to follow and when I Googled his reference to The Church of Goofballs in Mexico where he said he had spent many years, I came up with nothing.  Closed the book.  Then there was the mother-son team who were trying to sell a book with colored pencil drawing about a unicorn.  Not interested.  Even less interested when I discovered they were part of a family involved in some serious impropriety with children.

At one point, I had a spirited email exchange with a man who wrote about how to buy a coffin.  From the get-go, I didn't find the book compelling  His sell sheet informed me that I could buy the books from Amazon and then resell them in my store.  Duh!  Since he was a first time self publisher, I wrote back and tried to give him some hints on how to work with indie bookstores.  I told him that Amazon is a retailer, just like I am and that he really needed to consider finding a distributor to represent his book.  He wrote back saying he was sorry to hear that I'm not a Christian and that my bookstore is failing.  That was about 12 years ago.


Let me end by quoting directly from the man's sell sheet..."I am, in police language a WMA (White - Male -American), sixty years of age, most people take me for forty eight."  Forty-eight?  Really.

So, there's a taste of my job that most people don't know about.  I sure do have fun.  I hope that whatever you're doing is equally as fun.

Thanks for stopping by.

Not Liking the Winter Business

We are preparing for winter.  We will get used to this parka.  That's what You Know Who (YKW) thinks anyway.  Personally, I hate this thing.  I refuse to move when YKW forces me into it.  Still, it brings me to the reason I have once again commandeered the keyboard. I won't be talking about a book today, because I have my own story to share with you.

This morning, YKW informed me that  as part of the getting ready for winter ritual, today would most likely be the last day the front door would be open for a while.  My last day to watch the leaves, the cars, and the wind.  I took full advantage.  After all, Halloween was a  bust.  I usually run out of fingers and toes as I count everyone who drops by to visit me.  This year, the doorbell hardly rang, so when the door opened to the world this morning, I got into position.  

Sitting about five feet from the door gives me a panoramic view of the 'hood.  I kept an eye on things from that vantage point while YKW read, not looking up even once to share in my joy.  She was so into some story of a woman hiding in a closet that she didn't even notice that I had quietly crept closer to the door, steaming the glass and smudging it with drool. To get her attention, I began a slow version of my doggie tango, kicking my back legs rhythmically while my front end bends around to see if I am being noticed. When I do this, YKW usually takes me outside to empty out.  I enjoy that.  Today I danced for a different reason. Today I found a big brown dog on my porch.  Orange collar.  Long leash.  Tag with some scratches on it.  

YKW went outside, grabbed the leash and tied my buddy to the utility pole at the end of the driveway.  He was jumpy but he didn't scare me.  She told me his name was Dutch.  Now there's a dog not in charge of his own life.  No dog would name himself Dutch.  His YKW must have looked at him and said, "Oh, he looks like Dutch chocolate; let's call him 'Dutch'".  Or else they thought he resembled a late President who went by that name, but I have my doubts.  A name is a personal thing, and a fine dog like Dutch should have been consulted before being assaulted with such a stupid moniker.  I would have called him Captain Ahab.  Two names sound more dignified.

Anyway, this is where the fun begins.  If YKW had just let me handle things, the situation would have been resolved quickly.  But no.  She had to stick her big dyslexic nose into things and try to call the number on the tag.  Obviously I heard her end of the conversation, but I got the whole story later when she related it to a neighbor.

Hello
YKW:  Hi, I live over on _______________and I have your dog.
We don't have a dog.  But my kids would love one.  I'll be right over to look at it.
YKW:   Is this__________________?
No.
YKW:  Sorry.  I must have dialed wrong.
What kind of dog is it?
YKW: Chocolate lab.
That's great.  My kid would love that.
YKW:  Ah...this dog has a tag.  He belongs to someone.
Where do you live?
YKW:________________________
Really?  I live two block away.  I'll be right there.
YKW:  No,  This dog belongs to someone.  You can't have it.
Why on earth did you call me then?  My kids will be so disappointed.  (Click)

See what I mean.  Messy.  The irony continues.  When YKW finally managed to dial correctly, the owner was thrilled to hear that Captain Ahab was safe.  She said she'd hop right into her van and drive over and pick him up.  Drive over.  From four doors down.  The good Captain lives on my street.  Never seen him before. Probably because they drive him everywhere.

That was my morning.  As I write this, I am still encased in the dang parka.  Have a good day.

Abracadabra...Magical Realism

The Sugar Queen represents my third attempt to establish a relationship with Sarah Addison Allen.  Since our book discussion group chose this as our November novel, I clenched my teeth and promised myself I would try...to like...to tolerate...at the very least... to complete this assignment.  Well, once I got past the sophomoric prose, and suspended disbelief, The Sugar Queen and I are getting along just fine.  

If you have been following this blog, you know that magical realism (MR) ranks as a favorite genre.  For me, the South American writers cannot be topped.  So what's the difference between what Allen writes and something like Laura Esquivel's Like Water for Chocolate?  Esquivel has a lighter touch.  She eases the MR elements into her work seamlessly, and readers seldom question the fact that one or more characters may have some sort of amplified power.  In Chocolat, that spicy tale made into a fine film starring Johnny Depp,  the main character has the power of influence.  She changes people.  She changes places.  She is like the wind - unpredictable, dangerous and exciting.  The MR gives texture to these stories.  

For Allen the MR controls the story arc leading to a rather contrived plot.  But yet, I am enjoying the curious tale of Josey, a twenty something woman with a stash of candy and romance novels in her closet.  Also in her closet is a thirty something run-away woman named Della Lee who is determined to lead Josie out of her mundane existence into a brighter world.  This is a coming out of the closet story, but not in the way we generally think about that term.  In this case, the closet represents all those things that paralyze people and keep them from stepping out into more risky territory.  I am anxious to see how others in our discussion group react.  As for me, I seldom read a book more than once, but I think I'll buzz through Like Water for Chocolate again, and maybe put the film in my Netflix queue.

Check out the EVENTS tab for info on two upcoming author events.  

Thanks for stopping by.