And what the heck is a chop suey sandwich, anyway?

Get two, they're small.

Last Monday, I flew to Washington DC to appear on NPR's The Diane Rehm Show to discuss The Lace Reader. The show is an hour long, and it is live, so I was a bit nervous. I didn't sleep much the night before. Instead, I sat in the dark, making mental lists of all the ways I could mess up. Of course, I knew better. If you're going to make mental lists, make them of all the ways you can be successful, right? But middle of the night list-making often yields darker results, so, eventually, I turned on the light and started to read.

In the morning, when I walked into the studio, all of my apprehension faded. What a great group of people! They are gracious, smart, and funny. They had me laughing within about a minute. Diane is such a good conversationalist that you get better just by being in her presence. The hour flew by. In the second half of the show, we fielded some very interesting questions from listeners.

The only thing we didn't get to was the promised definition of chop suey sandwiches (CSS). So for those of you who were listening and for others who may be curious, here's the dish.  CSS are a popular treat in The Lace Reader and in the real city of Salem. When I moved back to town about a decade ago, they were the best value around (beating even McDonalds at sixty-five cents apiece, though the price has increased since by a dollar). They are sold at two different take-out Chinese places along the midway at Salem Willows Park. John Rafferty (the book's fictional detective) eats at least one of them per day, partly because he really loves them, and partly because he has acquired a sense of New England frugality that would make the locals proud. 

Basically, the sandwich is a scoop (some would say lump) of very traditional chop suey, with soy sauce squirted on top, and sometimes a bit of chicken, all served on a hamburger bun. It's not one of my favorite treats, though my brother swears by it. I swear by the popcorn that is sold two shops away and is (hands-down) the best on the North Shore. But that's a story for another day. So, if you listened to the Diane Rehm show, you now know what a CSS is. If not, and you are interested, click here to listen to the show.

A New Morning Edition

National Public Radio (NPR) ran an interview on last Friday's Morning Edition show. Lynn Neary interviewed me, my husband Gary, my agent Rebecca Oliver, bookseller Hilary Emerson Lay, and my editor Laurie Chittenden. It's a brisk six minute piece that gives some of the behind the scenes details of getting "The Lace Reader" published which was quite an adventure. If you're at all curious about the book publishing business, click here to listen to it. 

Magic, Lace Readers, and Ancient Mariners

Last Saturday night, we hosted a party on The Friendship, a reconstruction of a171-foot three-masted 1797 Salem East Indiaman which is moored at Derby Wharf, in Salem. The most amazing magic trick of the evening was that there was no rain. We felt extremely lucky because the four previous days were what Eva (the original lace reader) would have called "nice weather for ducks." The party was for family, friends, and all those who had championed the book in some way. Some of the local witches actually brought pieces of lace they are learning to read. They spent a good portion of the evening gazing through the lace into people's faces and predicting their futures (this in spite of the fact that I told them that lace reading is something I made up). A group of re-enactors in full 18th century sailor costumes roamed the decks singing sea shanties and spilling grog (mostly Miller Lite). All in all, about a hundred friends and family celebrated a clear and starlit sky, the beautiful evening sea breezes, and the dream that had brought us all together. Tomorrow is July 29th, the day The Lace Reader goes on sale. I feel a bit like Wendy Darling on her last night in the nursery. My national book tour also begins tomorrow and, according to my recent schedule, it will last until mid-November so for the foreseeable future, I'll be writing to you from somewhere on the road.

The press is building, loud enough now for even me to hear a bit of the buzz.

If you haven't seen the book trailer, click here.

Hope versus Fear in USA Today

There are at least three books coming out about Salem this year. The Lace Reader is not about witches, though it is difficult to write anything about contemporary Salem and not include something about the witches who didn't exist at all back in the days of the witch trials but thrive here in great numbers now.

I was recently asked to comment on this for USA Today. Click here to read it.

They asked me why writers would choose to create stories about Salem now. At first I wasn't sure. Unlike the other writers, I live in Salem, so for me it was a natural setting. But it was more than that. In one respect, The Lace Reader  is a cautionary tale. We live now in fearful times. And just as in the Salem of the 1600's, we have to be careful not to let our fears make us recklessly assign blame and create enemies.

But there is another more optimistic side to the story, and that is the quote they chose to use from my interview for the USA Today story.

I talked about the Harry Potter series, and how those books give children, who are relatively powerless, a feeling that they can change the world. I think this ability to connect with our inner strengths is a very important part of my story as well. Magic and everyday miracles are a very hopeful part of our collective consciousness and thus appear frequently in the stories we tell.

I can't speak for the other authors, but, ultimately, my book about Salem is optimistic. More than anything else, The Lace Reader is about healing our deepest wounds, recovering our strength, and moving on. I can't think of anything more hopeful than that.

Good One, Harry, or Cue the Loon.

I do a fabulous loon call. The loons actually answer me. There are two loons on our tiny lake, nesting right in the wooded area at the shoreline in front of our house where the old tree fell ten years ago and was never removed.

Last summer, a good friend (who has studied loons more closely than I) informed me that my loon call was actually a loon distress signal. This caused me a great deal of consternation. The last thing I would ever want would be to distress the loons. My intention was simply to be friendly. So, for the most part, I have stopped doing my loon call, or at least I don't do it as often or unless there is something real to distress them about (like the bald eagle who shows up on occasion, or maybe a flock of geese).

But, on the Fourth of July, I give myself permission to sound as many loon calls as I can, because, on the Fourth of July, a loon call means something entirely different on our tiny lake.

Though there are much better fireworks displays than our little show, no one would ever think of going to them. Sure their pyrotechnics are flamboyant, and their shows last more than ten minutes. But we have something much better on our tiny lake, we have Harry and Bill and the old raft. And as many fireworks as they can buy in Hampton Beach with the money they've been able to collect door to door.

And we have a special set of sound effects.

At approximately 9 PM, the lake begins to sound like a barnyard. Or a jungle. Or in our case, like the frogs and loons that inhabit the lake. Everyone sits on their little beaches. Protected by the anonymity of darkness, they not only imitate, but seem to become their favorite animals. We have whales, macaws, several roosters, cows, and what I can only descibe as an asthmatic hyena. We signal our approval after each launch of fireworks with calls that have gotten better over the years and that I can only assume have been practiced during the long New England winters. Every once in a while, someone yells "Good one Harry," or "Way to go Bill," but, for the most part we just cackle, crow, or moo.

Later in the summer when we see each other at the Lake Association meeting, we will try to match the voices to the sounds. As Mike stands up to register a complaint about impending milfoil, my husband will turn to me and mouth the question "Bantam rooster?" I am pretty certain that the eighty-year-old woman who lives two doors down and serves formal tea to her husband on the screened porch every afternoon is the macaw, but I'd never ask.

Last year, as I stood up to complain about the speed limit of motor boats on our lake, I am pretty sure I heard Harry turn to Bill and whisper, "Cue the loon."

I am now working on my impression of a Norwegian harbor seal.

The Happiest Place on Earth. Disneyland, right? Or is it the library?

This week, I was able to combine the two. I flew to California for the annual American Library Association national meeting which was held at Disneyland. No, that's not really true, it was at the Anaheim Convention Center, which is Disneyland-adjacent. Meaning, that after a thrilling day of books (my happiest place on earth), I was able to gaze out my hotel window and watch the nightly fireworks over in the land of Mickey Mouse. What could be better, you ask? Only that The Lace Reader recently received a Starred Review in Library Journal, so the buzz at the show was quite favorable. Click here to read it.

While I was only there for one day, I did manage to get a lot done: - a book signing at the Harper Collins booth - a "Live" stage reading from The Lace Reader - a podcast interview for I Love Librarians with Virginia Stanley (Click here to listen.) (Note: this interview is only 10 minutes long even though it says 1 hour. Not sure what happened there.) - Spoke at the Friends of Libraries / America's Library Trustees & Advocates Gala Author Tea & Signing with authors Ron Carlson, Christopher Reich, Joseph Michelli, and Rich Wartzman. All terrific writers and inspiring speakers.

So now it's back to New England, as the clock ticks on The Lace Reader release date (July 29th all across the country).

And this weekend, we head up to our vacation home in NH (another place that vies for my "happiest place on earth" title) and another set of fireworks (a unique experience and undoubtedly my next blog entry). Let's see, a screened porch, a lake, friends and family, fireworks and a book I just borrowed from my local library. What could be better?

Happy 4th of July everyone!

Bringing Sarcasm and Understatement to a Grateful World

I recently entertained some visitors from Colorado who, after a brief encounter with a local food service establishment, mentioned that they found New Englanders to be sarcastic. "You've got to be kidding," I said disingenuously. New Englanders are a strange mix of propriety, humorous subtext, and open aggression, especially in the face of anything they find pretentious or dishonest. Growing up in New England, I came to discover that you can get along pretty well by resorting to your Emily Post or Miss Manners, but that when people really began to like you, they will mock and tease you mercilessly. If a person is always polite to you, it is never a good sign.

Now that The Lace Reader has been sold in many countries around the world, I am beginning to interact with the various translators and I'm finding that 95% of their questions deal with sarcasm, self-effacing humor, and mocking understatements. Making translatable sense out of tongue-in-cheek remarks is challenging enough but even more so when a culture is devoid of multi-generational taunting. Do cultures like that really exist? If so, what do they do at family gatherings?

Will the Real Brunonia Barry Please Lie Down?

My first wake-up call from my muse always comes at 3 AM. It doesn't matter what time zone I'm in, the muse makes the adjustment far more easily than I. It's never 2:55 or 3:01. It's 3 AM to the minute. My muse is precise if tricky. By the time I reach for my pen and notebook, whatever she had to say has usually evaporated and I am left with half-sentence scribblings in my notebook that are impossible to decipher in the morning. To the best of my abilities as translator, last night's scrawls say something about vacuum repair and blueberry scones.

Since I am always wide awake after my muse makes her nightly call, I have taken to meditating during that time. Eventually I begin to doze again, dreaming  of vacations and uninterrupted sleep and writing “The End” on a finished manuscript.

At 7AM, I begin my morning ritual which includes several stanzas of a poem entitled: “123 get up!”  It usually works by about 7:45 which gives me exactly fifteen minutes to brew my coffee and make my morning commute four doors down the hallway to my office.

And then I sit and wait for my muse to arrive.  Night traveler that she is,  she often keeps me waiting for quite a while.  She usually wanders in at about ten, walking like a bride, and sits on the arm of my chair, and, for a few precious hours, dictates to me as if I’m her personal stenographer, then disappears as quickly as she came, leaving me to interpret the morning’s ramblings, which are at least typed and therefore have less to do with vacuums and scones and seem to apply (at least in part) to my current writing project.

Inspiration for The Lace Reader

For quite some time, I have been fascinated by the Hero’s Journey or the monomyth. Most stories that follow this pattern have a decidedly male orientation: a lone individual acts heroically and saves the day. I wondered if there might be an alternate form, a feminine Hero’s Journey. So I began to look at stories that featured female protagonists to see if they offered something different. What I found surprised me. Most of these women were either killed off or were ultimately rescued from their plight by male heros. Unsatisfied, I wondered if I could write a Hero’s Journey for women where the strong but wounded heroine must find a way to save herself. With this in mind, I began to expose myself to archetypal images that resonated with female sensibilities. During this time, I had a dream that I saw something prophetic by looking through a piece of lace. This dream made such an impression on me, it seemed so vivid and real, that I felt that I must at least entertain the idea of using lace as the central image of the book. Soon after that, I found connections to other iconic feminine symbols: water, moon, tides, birth, etc..

As I began to write the novel, my characters’ stories unfolded in ways that surprised me. I began to realize that the heroine’s journey is often a collaborative one. When Towner’s story begins, she is very much alone. Her journey is about healing and learning to trust both herself and others.