waiting for spring

Monday, Monday…

/ R.J. Keller / 6 Comments

Things are a bit hectic ’round these here parts, so I have only enough time to get in my weekly plug.

Chapters 28 and 29 of Waiting for Spring were posted at Readers and Writers Blog on Sunday, along with chapters 4 and 5 of Ann M. Pino’s Steal Tomorrow (also see the banner/link on the right sidebar) and some cool new poetry by P.L Frederick.

And to say that I’ve been working like a crazy woman to update my website so that the ebook of Waiting for Spring can be read there directly, instead of on the googlepages site. Thanks to Tom Griffin for teaching me all about the wonders of FTP files and all of that sort of stuff.

I’ll keep you posted…

The Chapter of Infamy

/ R.J. Keller / 4 Comments

Well, today’s the day. Waiting For Spring‘s infamous “abortion chapter” (Chapter 26) makes its debut at Readers and Writers Blog, along with the equally intense–and possibly soon to be infamous–Chapter 27. Actually, it’s all pretty intense from here on out. Buckle up.

Also, chapters 2 and 3 of Ann M. Pino’s Steal Tomorrow have been posted. It is seriously good reading. Check it out.

New Works

/ R.J. Keller / 3 Comments

Readers & Writers blog is chock fulla new stuff. Steal Tomorrow (my blog buddy Bunnygirl‘s post-apocalyptic novel, begins its serialization today; Tim Hulings’ short story Parcul Centru is featured; as well as chapter 25 of Waiting for Spring.

Sid Leavitt has also announced that, beginning this week, R&W Blog will post new material only on Sundays (two chapters at a time for novel serializations) so he can take some well-deserved time for himself during the week. I know I’m not speaking for just myself when I send a big THANK YOU over to him for all his hard work, and for his kindness in giving so many writers a home. When you click over there next, be sure to check out the Works section. It’s quite a library…

Frugal Woman Searching For Irony Finds Treasure

/ R.J. Keller / 1 Comment

Hubby and I celebrated our 16th anniversary the same way we’ve celebrated for the past nine years. We spent the day at The Big Chicken Barn Books & Antiques mall. It’s just what it sounds like: an old chicken barn that’s been converted into an antique mall. The bottom floor is like a huge indoor flea market, and the top floor is nothing but books, books, books. And comic books. And old magazines. If you’re ever in Maine, you should absolutely stop in. It’s right on Route 1…either in Ellsworth or Bucksport…I’m not sure which…but either way, you can’t miss it. I mean, it’s a big chicken barn, with a sign and everything.

Anyway, having already completed my three hour downstairs shopping spree (result: a 19 x 24 antique picture frame and a rainbow clown wig…yes, you heard me; a rainbow clown wig!), I made my way upstairs. I happened almost immediately upon a hardcover book I just knew I had to have. I’d never heard of it before, nor of its author (Charles Mergendahl), and I tucked it under my arm without bothering to read the synopsis on the inside jacket. What was the reason? Get a load of the title:

Don’t Wait Up For Spring.

That’s right, not only did I not know what the book was about, at that moment I didn’t care. All that mattered–at that moment–was the ironic image that immediately popped into my head of seeing it displayed in my bookshelf right next to Waiting For Spring. Call me silly, but I really dig irony.

I think I should mention–in case you hadn’t already noticed–that I also didn’t bother to look at the price of the book. I wasn’t really all that concerned about it–at that moment–to be honest. The average Chicken Barn price range for a regular sized hardcover book (ie: not a coffee table book) is $2 – $5. I had reason to believe this particular book would hover closer to two bucks than five. It was obviously quite old, not in what you would call mint condition, and I’d never heard of it before. Who, other than a weird lady aching for a little irony on her bookshelf, could possibly interested in this book?

Imagine my astonishment, therefore, when (well over three hours later) the cash register informed me that the thing cost $15.

I know what you’re thinking, but you’re wrong. I’m not cheap. Okay, well maybe I am a little cheap–although perhaps frugal would be a better word. But when it comes to books I’m neither of those things. Remember, I’m the geek who paid almost fifty bucks to have Luke Davies’ God Of Speed shipped to her house all the way from Australia. (It was worth every penny, by the way. The man is a genius.) It’s just that fifteen dollars is a lot of money to pay for Irony. Still, if I gave voice to the “What the hell????????” that was running through my mind and declined to fork over the dough, the clerk–who had no knowledge of my Australian extravaganza–might have gotten the impression that I was either Cheap or Frugal. And I couldn’t have that. Because something else I am is Vain. So, I ignored Hubby’s “WTF?????????” look (his total: $19 for seven hardcover books, $3 for a tie pin) and forked over the dough.

As you can imagine, I was itching to find out just why this book had cost me more than two bucks. As soon as we got to the car I read the inside flap. I had purchased a love story set during World War 2, a touching and passionate story of young people in love in war time, of young men at war when they should have been just in love.

“Touching and passionate is good,” I said to Hubby. He just grunted and flipped through one of his new Robert Ludlums. Then I noticed something on the opposite page. “Hey, look! The author signed it!”

Hubby perked up a little. “Signed by the author is good. But is it fifteen dollars worth of good?” (This might be a good time to mention that Hubby is a little cheap.) “I mean, who is this Mergen…Mergen…Mergen-whoever guy, anyway?”

“Well, he’s obviously no Robert Ludlum.”

I investigated a little further. The front flap informed me that Lieutenant Charles Mergendahl wrote this story between engagements at North Africa, Tarawa, the Marshalls and elsewhere. As his book is being published, he is still in active service in the U.S. Navy.

As you may or may not know, I am an avid student of American history. Even if I wasn’t, I’d be aware of the fact that World War 2 has been over with for quite some time. At least, I hope I would have. So the still in active service bit let me know I had something kinda hot in my hands. I checked the publication date. 1944 was the only date listed; fourth printing. Then I noticed something unusual on the back flap:

The format of this book is designed to save paper, which is now rationed…

And, at the very bottom:

BUY WAR BONDS AND WAR STAMPS.

Hubby and I both conceded that my fifteen bucks was well spent.

Bonus: I started reading the book when I got home. It’s very good. Worth every penny.

Aside.

Hubby and I overheard the following conversation during the downstairs portion of our Chicken Barn visit:

Husband: What do you mean you don’t like it? It’s art! You like art.

Wife: Just because there’s a naked lady in the painting, it doesn’t mean it’s art.

Plug it in

/ R.J. Keller / 1 Comment

Well, I racked up three different blog entries yesterday without once mentioning that chapter 24 of Waiting for Spring was posted on Thursday at Readers and Writers Blog.

If you’re a student of writing fiction, you’re probably familiar with basic plot structure: introduction, conflict, climax, resolution. Personally, I like to look at it like this:

1) Introduce bucket of shit.
2) Turn on the fan.
3) Toss contents of bucket at fan.
4) Give the characters a shower.

Let’s just say that by chapter 24 of Waiting for Spring, the fan is whizzing at full speed.

Math, music, and a history lesson

/ R.J. Keller / 5 Comments

A gallon of milk weighs approximately 8.5 pounds.
A crate of milk contains 4 gallons of milk.
That’s approximately 34 pounds.

Last night, while working in the cooler, a crate of milk slipped out of my hands. I had a mere 1.0342302 seconds (give or take a millisecond) to save one or more of my precious toes and/or foot from being crushed under its weight. You would have been mightily impressed by the quickness and nimbleness I displayed in snatching this Crate Of Doom just in the nick of time. As I sit here typing this missive, my toes and/or foot are miraculously whole and unbruised.

Oh, how I wish they weren’t!

The trade-off was the alignment of my back. Apparently, it objected to being called upon to bear the weight of 34 pounds of milk so suddenly. It’s voicing this objection right now, in loud tones, the melody to which is: “Let it drop / let it drop / you shoulda let it drop.”

Needless to say, I’m not moving very quickly or nimbly today. Instead I’m reading a Civil War book I picked up yesterday, The Commanders of Chancellorsville – The Gentleman Versus The Rogue (Robert E. Lee being the gentleman, Joe Hooker the rogue) by Edward G. Longacre. For those of you unfamiliar with American Civil War history, the Confederates won the battle of Chancellorsville–in large part–by scaring the bejesus out of the Union Army. The tradeoff was the loss of Stonewall Jackson. It’s worth renting the otherwise yawn-inspiring movie, Gods and Generals, (based on Jeff Shaara’s very excellent book of the same name) just to see this battle enacted.

Today’s a good day for you guys to do some reading, too. Chapter 23 of Waiting for Spring (Tess verses her mother in a Phone Call Of Doom) is now up at Readers and Writers Blog. Also posted is Chapter 5 of J. Cafesin’s Disconnected, and (sadly) the final installment of Gerard Jones’ Ginny Good. Check ’em out.

Nothing but net

/ R.J. Keller / 6 Comments

Chapter 22 of Waiting for Spring has been posted at Readers and Writers Blog. I really like this chapter, if I’m allowed to say so. I have a rather soft spot for Tess’ ex-husband, Jason.

My goal in writing the Tess/Jason subplot was to create a tragic love story that could have been the subject of an entire novel on its own, and I’m pretty happy with the result. I wrote said backstory after a conversation I had with a friend of mine about the concept of Soulmates. Is there such a thing? What happens when you’ve found yours, then lost him? Is everyone entitled to just one, or are there dozens of potential soulmates out there somewhere?

Actually, that conversation was the impetus not just for this subplot, but for the entire book, even though I never use the term. And the idea of introducing Jason to readers as the jerkwad ex-husband, then having Tess gradually peel back the layers of hurt to reveal a once deliriously happy couple, came to me after I saw “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.” (Great movie. If you haven’t seen it, get on it right away.)

And–if I’m further allowed to brag–one of my favorite lines of the novel comes from Chapter 22:

“I was fucking exhausted, completely worn out from a night awake and a day of work and an evening of back-breaking sex…”

So, check it out, along with Chapter 34:Colma of Gerard Jones’ Ginny Good.

Human Touch

/ R.J. Keller / 4 Comments

I believe I’ve told you about my co-worker, “E.” To refresh your memory, she’s the chick who is much cuter than I am and once drank Shirley Temples with me on a particularly slow graveyard shift. We switched shifts yesterday (her three-to-eleven for my graveyard) so she could go out with some buddies.

To be honest, I was looking forward to this. It had been awhile since I’d had any contact with Daytime Customers*. People who–more often than not–wear their pants in public and aren’t [yet] too stoned to remember what they came in for. (Hint: it’s probably something sweet.) Alas, I was destined for disappointment. The place was busy, alright, and all of my customers were wearing pants. As far as I could tell none of them were stoned. But the majority of them didn’t come into the store. Most of them were only there for pay-at-the-pump fuel.

I’m not anti-technology. Obviously I own a computer with internet access (high speed wireless DSL…that’s right, we’ve got that up here in the boonies). I have an iPod, Tivo (or something like it, anyway…I can’t remember what it’s called at the moment), and a cool thingamajig button on my keychain that pops my trunk open for me so I can put my groceries inside it with the greatest of ease. But I’ll tell ya, I felt a little disconnected from the world as I stood there, caged up at that lonely, rural convenience store, watching lines of people get out of their cars, pump their gas, then get right back in again and drive away. Most of them didn’t even bother to look into the store window to see if anyone was there. And it made me long for the old fashioned pump-your-fuel-then-walk-your-ass-into-the-store-to-pay-for-it pumps.

The few customers who braved a trip inside were greeted with a hearty smile and an enthusiastic “Howdy!” It took all of my self-control not to follow them as they browsed the aisles, just for the chance at a little bit of conversation. They all left the store with a heartfelt “Come again soon!!!!” ringing in their ears. And when “E” finally arrived at ten-thirty I actually hugged her. Poor girl. She probably thought I was stoned.

Speaking of stoned (yes…seriously) Chapter 21 of Waiting for Spring is up at Readers and Writers Blog along with Chapter 33: Scenic Hills of Gerard Jones’ Ginny Good. There’s also some brand-spanking-new poetry posted by two poets; Nancy Allen and my buddy Joel Phipps. Check ’em out! You won’t be sorry.

*Saturday morning customers don’t count. They’re usually cranky or hungover, or both.

Some of This and some of That

/ R.J. Keller / 5 Comments

Ah, yes, another potluck post.

1. My Internet Explorer is pulling a mini freak out on me. It won’t let me visit websites, blogs, etc that use Site Meter. This is very distressing since I use it on this blog. At least, I did until I figured out why I couldn’t get on here and deleted the Site Meter thing-a-ma-bob. So, if you have Site Meter on yours, and are wondering why I haven’t visited you…that’s why. I’m not a computer geek, so I’m not exactly sure what I.E. has against S.M., but I hope they kiss and make up very soon. Is anyone else having this problem????? [UPDATE: Looks like it’s not just me. Check out this article.]

2. I have to weigh in on the Manny Ramirez thing. If you’re not into baseball, feel free to skip ahead to #3. Basically my thoughts boil down to this: Thanks for the laughs, Manny, now good frigging riddance. The Hall of Fame awaits you, no question, and deservedly so. But no amount of homeruns can make up for selfish bullshit you’ve been pulling all season long. Oh, how I long for the days of real baseball! Before it became a haven for soulless, money hungry agents like Scott Borasshole. To quote my hero, Bill Lee: “That was real baseball. We weren’t playing for money. They gave us Mickey Mouse watches that ran backwards.” (Imagine what my thoughts were before I boiled ’em down…)

3. I’m going to a Portland Seadogs game tonight!!! Whoo hoo! (Ooops…I guess those not interested in baseball should’ve skipped ahead to #4.)

4. A Waiting for Spring reader emailed me yesterday wondering just what the hell Watermelon Tourmaline is. It’s a pink and green gemstone that–when cut just right–looks like watermelon slices and–when cut another just right way–is just plain beautiful. I used it in WFS for a few reasons. 1) it was once mined in Maine. 2) it went along well with the color motif that runs through the book. 3.) its ‘energies’ (if you believe in that kind of thing) are love, healing, and power…also very important themes in the story. 4.) a few years ago I fell in love with a tourmaline ring I saw (but couldn’t afford to buy) at Bennett’s Gems & Jewelry in Belfast, Maine. I figured if I couldn’t have it then Tess could. Here’s a website that’s chock full of information about tourmaline, including lots o’ photos.

5. Chapter 20 of Waiting for Spring has been posted at Readers & Writers Blog, along with Chapter 32: Hillsborough of Gerard Jones’ Ginny Good. Check ’em out!

6. Have a great weekend!

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Blatant

/ R.J. Keller / 7 Comments

I received an irate email from a Waiting For Spring reader last Saturday; we’ll call her “C”. A friend of hers (hereafter known as “S”) printed out the e-book and, when she was done with it, passed it around for her friends to read. At chapter 26, C threw the book down in horror and disgust. (Well, I don’t know that she actually threw the book down. Since it wasn’t a book at all, but rather a stack of printer paper, I tend to doubt it. That would’ve been pretty messy. But the image strikes my fancy, so I’m sticking with it.) After plowing through twenty-five chapters of foul language, steamy sex, drug use, violence, minor blasphemy, and a sympathetic openly gay character, what could have so offeneded this Christian woman that she could bear to read no further?

Its “blatant pro-choice message.”

I have to admit, I’ve always expected strong reactions to chapter 26. It’s not necessarily graphic, but it is emotionally intense, and C isn’t the first person I’ve heard from about it. Still, I was quite surprised to read the words “blatant pro-choice message.” I was also a little nervous. Not because of C’s negative reaction (sorry C), but because she thought there was a message at all. Ripped from the headlines novels typically irritate me. That’s what “Law & Order” is for. I hate it when an author uses their characters and fictional world as a thinly disguised soapbox. When I encounter that sort of thing in a novel, I immediately throw it down in disgust, because I don’t like being manipulated. And I shuddered to think that’s what someone thought I’d been trying to do to them.

The truth is that, although I do have strong personal opinions about this issue, Waiting For Spring wasn’t written to give voice to them. It isn’t meant to be pro-choice. It isn’t meant to be pro-life. It isn’t meant to be pro-any political issue. It’s honest to goodness slice of life reading, with all of life’s beauty and horror and joy and pain. It’s about confronting and dealing with life’s shit head on, before you get buried in it. It’s about what happens when you don’t do that.

Imagine my surprise–and relief–when, on Sunday, I opened up an email from “S”. She confessed to being surprised at C’s reaction to chapter 26. Why? Because S thought it was blatantly pro-life.