The Ryman, Neil Young, Will and Me

Today I'll chat about my son, Neil Young and the infamous Ryman Auditorium in Nashville, Tennessee. The three converged last night as I escorted my youngest boy, Will, to the first of two concerts in Nashville for Mr. Young on his "Twisted Road" tour.

Here's the best. Will and I were lying on the couch at 6:30 p.m. when we looked at each other and wondered, "Exactly why aren't we going to see the show?" A ticket price of $127.50, maybe? Hmmm. Could that be the reason? I told Will that if he could get two for the price of one, I'd take him. "I'll find them, Mom. I swear," he says. So we jumped in the car, flew down to the Ryman, and ended up on the main floor - great seats - for half price!! It's amazing how well the scalpers will deal a few minutes after the opening act starts!

For those of you who don't know, I'm a rock and roll lover. Well, freak may be more like it. And naturally, so is my son. The beautiful part about last night is that Will loves Neil Young because of me!! I used to dream about the day I could take my kids to concerts. Now, he even knows more about the legendary rock star than I do.

The concert was, well there isn't really a good enough word that hasn't already been used to describe Neil's shows. But for clarification sake I'll just say the concert was everything we hoped it would be. Neil carried the show solo but had all of his different instruments set around the stage. Both his acoustic and electric guitars were in the middle, his grand piano on stage right. His pump organ was in the rear of the stage and his upright piano was off to stage left. And of course, his harmonica was usually in the holder around his neck. He spent the evening rotating around each instrument sharing the depth of his talent with the audience. Mr. Young didn't say much, but if you've been following his career at all you know that's his way - quintessentially Neil.

Each time he sang an old song my son jabbed me in the arm and I got to watch a huge smile spread across his face.

That was heaven for me. So was getting to spend an entire evening sitting next to my twenty-year-old son.

My Fashion Faux Pas

Dear Maureen (a.k.a. former debut author),

Can you believe you have another book under your belt? You're only twenty-something and have two books published already. I'm so thrilled and happy for you (please overlook my bad case of the green-eyed monster) and I'm hoping you are taking this week to relish in all of your glory!

NOT READY FOR MOM JEANS is a fab title! And the cover - that's mighty wonderful, too! In case some of our NG Followers don't know, I thought it would be great to mention again that we share the same wonderful agent AND the same wonderful editor at Thomas Dunne Books. Does that makes us cousins? Three times removed maybe?

I would never call myself a "fashionista" but if truth be told, upon first glance at my closet, one might think that I consider myself one. It's stuffed, packed and overflowing with more clothes than I know what to do with. My biggest fashion mistake is that I buy erroneous pieces for my wardrobe instead of thinking "entire outfit." I've got more clothes that have only been worn once and the reason is: I have nothing to go with them. EBAY needs to become my best friend.

On to my worst fashion faux pas. . . If I think back to the most hideous thing I've ever worn I suppose it would have to be back in college when jumpsuits were all the rage. I sported a navy blue number with a wide white metal zipper that adorned the front and had a big white ring at the top - just under my chin. Hot Sexy Mama is all I'll say. And the worst part of the faux pas . . . I wore it to a Fraternity Pledge Swap. If that doesn't make you cringe, I don't know what will.

CONGRATULATIONS to you, dear Maureen! Picture me right now sending you a cyber champagne toast. Wish I could be in Chicago to help you celebrate in person!

XOXOXOXO

LISA

A Living Legacy

My mother has been gone for nearly three years now and I miss her more today than I did the day she passed away. It wasn't hard at all to come up with the best thing she ever taught me. It's one of the most important virtues anyone could ever have. My mother taught me to be color blind. I can honestly say that I never once heard my mother utter a single prejudice remark in all the years I had her.

To fully appreciate my mother, you have to consider this: I was a little girl growing up in the 60s in the Deep South. And not just in any city in the Deep South. Memphis, Tennessee is my home. Home also to the assassination of Martin Luther King, Jr. in 1968, two sanitation worker strikes and whisperings of local officials with possible loyalties to the KKK. I was surrounded by prejudice. The blacks had to use different water fountains, pulic pools, toilets and churches. Even the famed Orpheum Theatre had a seperate entrance and box office for the African Americans, after requiring them to walk five flights up to the Gallery to see the show.

To avoid his daughters attending school half way across town, my father enrolled my sisters and me in a private all-girls school which, at the time, accepted only white girls. He would not stand for any of his girls to have to be victims of busing - the transporting of public-school students to schools outside their neighborhoods, as a means of achieving racial balance.

Despite my father's and community efforts to teach me otherwise, my lovely mother made sure that I knew that people of color were no different than me. Be they black, Indian, Asian or Hispanic, we were all human beings. I can remember her stopping to pick up black ladies who were walking to the bus stop and offering them rides home. If my father knew that Mama was anywhere close to their neighborhoods, and especially with us in the car, he would have been furious. Sadly, my father was very much a racist. Thankfully, my mother was anything but.

Mama taught my sisters and me by example. Her best friend was a lovely black woman by the name of Julia. The best gift of all is to see Mama's legacy alive in the eyes of my own two sons. They are completely color blind and I can think of few other virtues I'd rather them have.

I Love Lucy . . . and LeeLee

I suppose "Favorite Fictional Moms" week here at the Novel Girls is a great time to tell the world what a Lucy Lover/Freak/Groupie I really am. I (absolutely) Love Lucy! I've seen all the episodes so many times that I know almost every single line of dialogue by heart. Lucille McGillicuddy-Ricardo makes me laugh harder than any other TV character ever has, or probably ever will.

Number one, Lucy's a comedienne in a class all her own, but for purposes of staying in line with this weeks' topic, let's acknowledge that she's also mother to Little Ricky. I'm not so sure that I'd say she's the best, most perfect TV mom but I know this about her - she always, always has crazy fun. Like the time she and Ethel climbed over Richard Widmark's wall to pick one of his grapefruits to take home as a souvenir.

I can't believe I'm going to admit this to the world but one of my best friends (the one I named my protagonist for in WHISTLIN' DIXIE), LeeLee, and I were inspired by Lucy and Ethel's escapades to Hollywood one spring break during college. We had signed up for the Grayline Hollywood tour of celebrity homes when we learned Lucy's house in Beverly Hills was on the tour. As we approached Lucy's home our faces were pressed against one of the glass panes of the bus. Our guide tells us that Lucy and Ethel had actually hopped Lucy's wall at her own home and pointed out the grapefruit tree in her side yard that the two crazy star-struck women had climbed.

You'd have to know LeeLee and me but that's the last thing we ever heard that guide say. We looked at each other right then and there and let our facial expressions do the talking. Both of us knew what the other was thinking. We'd be back to that part of Roxbury Drive right before midnight. We saw no reason why we shouldn't climb that same wall and grapefruit tree in hopes of taking home our own juicy souvenir!

I don't think it's in the best interest of this writer's reputation to tell you the rest of the story but I will tell you that we indeed did climb the wall and that we indeed were successful. That's all I'll say.

Tonight I'm simply thanking God for TV LAND, and the fact that we did NOT try and remove John Wayne's footprint slab at Grauman's Chinese Theatre! Mostly I'm hoping the real LeeLee is reading this and remembering back to one of the most memorable nights of our lives! Happy Mother's Day everyone!

When Am I D.O.N.E.?

Is it really 6:16? In the evening? ON WEDNESDAY? MY POST DAY? I have no idea where my week has gone except that I had the great pleasure of having lunch today with my lovely editor's parents. They are in Nashville for a business meeting and I got to meet them for lunch and drown them in superlatives about their daughter, Katie Gilligan. My editor at Thomas Dunne Books. Love my editor at TD Books.

And what does this have to do with the topic at hand? Nothing. But I'm using it as an excuse and a diversion because I'm not really sure what my answer would be as to why I don't finish a book. My other Novel Girlies have (as usual) such well-crafted, well-told answers about the subject.

As a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-bootie kind of person, I'll just say, well, I'm not saying, I'm just saying - it's as simple as this. If I find myself thinking off to other things while I'm reading then it's just not my kind of book. If I've had to struggle to get through the first five pages then I'm D.O.N.E. If I'm bored, or if I'm put off by the hero or heroine and could care less what happens to either of them I know it's time to stop. And I just don't have much of that these days anyway. Why? Because my novel is due into that wonderful aforementioned editor VERY SOON! And I must get back to writing my own book in hopes that my own readers won't stop reading it!

Happy Hump Day!

My Island's Got No Power

My Desert Island necessities, huh? Let's see. I'm assuming I can't pack much and that there is no power on the island, therefore I've got major limitations as to what I can bring.

The first thing that comes to my mind is my mascara. CAN. NOT. LIVE. WITHOUT. MY. MASCARA. And while I'm at it, I'll give a shout out to my peeps over at Loreal. Love it. Love it. Double Extend in dark brown. Fabulous.

Secondly, a razor. I'm hoping that I'm island-stranded with a dreamy, prince-charming and the thought of me with hairy legs and pits just doesn't cut it for me with the romance of it all. So a razor it is. And hopefully it's not a throw-away Bic. I'll take the Gillette Venus 5-blade, thank you very much.

Next up is my Bible. There's no way I could be stranded for an indefinite amount of time without it.

And a pen and paper is absolutely crucial. I have a hunch I'd be able to write a heck-of-a memoir after finally learning how to be a minimalist.

There's no power on my desert island, so I can't watch movies or TV. That means my dreamboat and I will have to create our own fun. I'd like a case of Ferrari-Carano chardonnay. No glass necessary. I'd even drink it out of the bottle after chilling it in my personal island stream and have it every night with my halibut (that my man had caught with his homemade fishing spear) and a big fat juicy mango.

Finally, I think I'd like to bring a guitar. A piano or a harp (my first choices) might be a bit large, but with all that spare time, I'd like to learn to play the guitar. Since I can't have an iPod, I'd HAVE to be able to hear music. And if the case of wine has taken up all my extra space, surely I could at least slip a harmonica in my pocket.

Now that it's been beautifully covered

. . . I'll try to contribute my two cents to what happens once a book has been turned in to the publisher!

The only thing I can think to add is on the subject of BLURBS. I'd never even heard the word used in the context of author's comments before I'd written Dixie. The publisher, in my case Thomas Dunne Books/St. Martin's Press, starts sending the bound manuscript out in hopes of getting back positive, and hopefully rave reviews from other authors. I remember cringing at the thought of this because I'd not yet been through any part of the editing process. "OMG. What will they think of my first-ditch effort?" I remember thinking.

People are incredibly busy and have so much going on that I think the first part of the blurb gathering process is actually finding an author who is not under a deadline. Or, on the other hand, might be busy but is extremely organized and a great manager of their time. Someone who is NOT ANYTHING LIKE MOI!!!!!!

Of course, there is always the possibility that even if the author agrees to submit a wonderful blurb, it might not make it. As was the case with Maureen. By the time I finally was at a place where I could dive into her wonderful manuscript for Not Ready For Mom Jeans, it was too late. There was no room for my blurb on her back cover. And that, dear readers, is a missed opportunity for me.

Using your contacts - any contacts - is paramount. We, as writers, have to think of "anyone who's anyone" in the book world. Or, in my case, anyone who is in the least bit famous . . . and go for it. It's hard for me to ask anyone to do anything for me but I mustered up all my courage and asked anyway. In typical Lisa fashion, I decide to try for - of all things - a HUGE movie star. I had had the good fortune of working with Jeff Bridges on a big music project a few years earlier. As difficult as it was to actually ask him to read my book and then hope like heck that he might find it a wee bit entertaining, I knew that I had nothing to lose but many night's sleep, heart failure and a crashing blow to my self-esteem. BUT, due to my willingness to make a dumb fool out of myself, much to my shock and surprise "The Dude" said yes!

That's why I ALWAYS live by the rule: Might as well try.

In the beginning of my writing process, I used to say to myself, "I'm going to at least TRY for a New York publisher." And low and behold it happened. But it never would have happened had I not dipped my toe into the frigid, dark, uncharted waters of the big, bad New York publishing world. That's why I say to everyone - whether they are a writer, a chef, a banker or a housekeeper - might as well shoot for the stars. I shot and look what happened. I actually landed this year's Oscar winner. But it never would have happened had I not pointed my arrow, drew back my bow and aimed for the bull's eye.

Thank you for your thoughts and prayers

To our Novel Girl Followers and my Dear Novel Girls,

After reading my post, you'll understand why I can't post on topic again this week.

Two weeks is a long time to watch someone you love with all your heart slowly slip away. My baby sister, Melanie, as my oldest son posted on his FB page, is now "having fun riding on the wings of angels." A lovely thought for one who so enjoyed the sensation of the wind against her face - on horseback, on skis, at the beach, on the soccer field - anywhere, as long as it was outdoors.


Can't you just see her now riding bareback on a solid white steed, faster than she ever imagined possible here on earth, with her soft curls swirling all around her head? I believe she's doing that right now in Heaven.

Melanie was only 39-years-old when she left her earthly body to join the Heavenly Host of Angels. As you can see from her high-school graduation picture, just 20 years ago, she has the smile of an angel.

I love you, my dear baby sister. You are finally at perfect peace with your Prince of Peace.

Thank you all for your kind thoughts and prayers about Melanie. There is no greater gift.

Much Love,

Lisa

Just a short note to all. . .

I so appreciate all of your comments, thoughts and prayers. My sister is now in a nice hospice facility here in Nashville and not expected to be with us much longer.

Life is precious. Please take a moment to tell someone just how much you love them, especially one that you don't tell every day.

Much Love,

Lisa

Needing Prayers

To my fellow Novel Girls and all of our devoted followers,

I'm unable to post on topic today. Tragedy struck my family on Saturday. My youngest sister, Melanie, is in a deep coma after suffering a heart attack and brain injuries. She is only 39-years-old. My family and I would so appreciate your prayers.

With much thanks and love,

Lisa

Lindsay, You're My Hero

Since I am deep into the thick of trying to finish my second novel, I can't be as glued to the TV as I normally would be during the Winter Olympics. Actually, I think I enjoy them more than the summer Olympics. The irony is: I can't stand to be cold. And Nashville, Tennessee has had a crazy amount of snow lately. Did y'all hear that 49 states had snow on the ground last weekend? Now that's something to talk about.

So while I love the skaters, I mean I LOVE the skaters, I am in awe of the downhill skiers. And I will be plastered in front of the TV today when Lindsay Vonn makes her way down the slopes. Is anyone else as amazed as I am that the girl has a major shin injury and she's out there going for it? I've been pondering her sheer will to succeed, her superhuman tenacity despite a horrific obstacle. I want what she's got! If I could adopt 1/80th of her inner-fight, I can't imagine what I could accomplish. The girl is in major pain and can take no more than an Advil! Lindsay, you are definitely my hero.

Here's what she had to say about her shin injury.

"I don't know that it's not broken. My physio that was there [in Austria] wanted me to get an X-ray and I refused to get one. I pretty much stuck my fingers in my ear and just pretended like I didn't hear what was going on. I didn't want to hear that my shin was fractured."

Then she goes on to WIN the down-hill training run the other day!

It's easy to say, "Oh I'd do it. Of course I would. I'd go for it, too!" But would you really? When your leg is throbbing, it's freezing outside, and the whole world is watching? What about the possibility that she may re-injure it beyond repair? The pressure must be so great on Lindsay that her head must want to explode. It makes me seriously ponder the phenomenal power of the mind. Miss Lindsay Vonn must be spending some serious time focusing on how to get her mind in shape. She's got to train her brain to concentrate on accomplishing the nearly impossible. Psychologically speaking, our golden girl has a taxing challenge ahead.

I think most everyone would agree. She's one awe-inspiring woman.

Way To Go, Jill!

I can't talk about The Life Of Glass Release week without first taking a moment to give Jillian Cantor a huge, heartfelt congratulations. I'm always telling her she's the real deal. She can pump out a beautiful story in no time flat. Her writing is, well, superb and it seems to me that prose flows out of that girl as effortlessly as love does from a mom.

I'm going to head to Davis-Kidd, our Nashville indie, to pick up a copy of The Life of Glass today. The cover is ingenious but I'm sure it doesn't even compare to the brilliance inside. And every one of our wonderful NG followers has a chance to win a signed copy. All you have to do is post a comment. The more you post, the better chance you have of winning. So post, post, post!

Since "Love Stories" is the topic that Jillian has chosen for us to talk about this week, here's my two cents.

When I hear the words Love Story I can't help but think about Ali MacGraw and Ryan O'Neal. I know it shows my age, but honestly if you grew up in the 70s this was THE movie of the decade. It evoked sobs, you know the messy-cry kind that before you know it, has your whole face smeared with nose fluid. Love Story's got all the makings of the perfect star-crossed, tragedy. Oliver, a Harvard pre-law, blue-blooded, hockey player and Jenny, an Italian/American, blue-collared, Radcliffe music student fall in love. Oliver's father is hell-bent to put the kibosh on the relationship. Then the unthinkable happens.

We know how the love story will end from the opening line of the film. Oliver narrates, looking back:

What can you say about a twenty-five-year-old girl who died? That she was beautiful and brilliant? That she loved Mozart and Bach, the Beatles, and me?

It's a little sappy, but if you like love stories, it's definitely worth a trip to Blockbuster or the 99 cent investment at Netflix. Or by all means, read the novel. I read it in a day, if I remember correctly.

This just dawned on me. Maybe my real Novel Girl roll is to educate all of our young followers on the comings and goings of the 70s. Tell me, has anyone out there seen Love Story? Does anyone out there even care about seeing Love Story? Go ahead and post. You'll be happy you did when The Life of Glass shows up in your mailbox!

Is Shoveling Your Car Out of the Snow Considered a Winter Activity?

To be honest, I can't say that I know all that much about many "winter activities" but there is one that I know about with absolute certainty. You can't bury somebody up North in the wintertime.

If you happen to be as uninformed as I was of this mind-blowing fact, please, please stand up. BTW, the italicized statement in the first paragraph also happens to be the first line of my novel, Whistlin' Dixie in a Nor'easter - set in snowy Vermont where the daily highs are oftentimes sub-zero for weeks and weeks at a time. I remember living there in January and the temp never made it past -25 every morning at 9:00 am when I took my boys to school. I had no earthly idea that Vermonters don't bury their dead in the winter. It never once crossed my mind. But they don't. The Vermonters keep their dead in a mausoleum until what they call, "The Thaw". Then they get buried. Then their families have to grieve all over again. That's, that's . . . well, that's just not for me.

Winter activities, winter activities, come now Lisa there must be something that pops into your mind! Honestly, I can't think of any southern winter activities but there are so many that take place in Vermont. Vermonters ice skate on ponds (not that I would ever consider doing that), they ski, they snowshoe, they even ice-fish. They also shovel alleys of snow around their cars so the snow plow can get the car out - an activity that takes Leelee Satterfield, the heroine of my book and a transplanted Southerner, five hours to complete. They use snow blowers to clear their walkways and get this - roof rakes to clean their roofs.

If any of these pastimes seem seem like they might take an extended adjustment period to get used to, you're not alone. Leelee Satterfield never got the hang of any of them. Here in the South, winter activities are more like winter blah-tivities. We don't really do all that much in January except hope for days like last Saturday when it was 60 something. Today it's back down to 30 something and the biting wind is ridiculous.

I do love a fire in the winter. Not that that's an activity or anything, but I love to sit next to one. As a matter of fact, I'm sitting next to a nice one right now at the Brentwood Library while writing my sequel to Dixie and I better get back to it if I'm going to remain a Novel Girl.

What's my cure for the winter blahs. I say take off and head to the beach! I'll be doing just that next week when I go to Rosemary Beach near Panama City, Florida for Girl's Getaway Weekend. And I can't wait!!!!!!!!!!

What A Difference A Decade Makes

I love this week's topic. I'm not even sure who suggested it but here's a big huge thank you to my fellow brilliant Novel Girl.

Ten Years Ago I . . .

Worked as a personal assistant to a very talented singer/songwriter, Michael McDonald. He's the former lead singer of the Dobbie Brothers, you know "What A Fool Believes," "Taking it to the Streets," "I Keep Forgettin'."

Arrived in Los Angeles for a huge tribute concert for Michael. Yamaha Corporation, who makes a fantastic grand piano, honored Michael by producing a concert with all of his fellow musical friends and contemporaries. It was a dynamic evening with Ray Charles, Kim Carnes, Patti LaBelle, The Doobie Brothers, Jeff Bridges, Steve Windwood, Kenny Loggins, Christopher Cross, James Ingram and many more. In fact there's a video of the event floating around out there called "A Gathering of Friends." You can see me dancing at the very end of the show.

Juggled life, work, and raising two young boys who were 9 and 11 all by myself. Whew. Need I say anything more?

Moved two weeks earlier into a new home in a "neighborhood." My young sons had been begging me to move from our historic 120 year-old-home and move to a more kid-friendly place. It was a tough one for me since I love older homes but I've never regretted making them happy. Plus I moved in next door to my PIC and one of my very best friends in the world, Kathy "G" Peabody.

Wrecked an old boyfriend's sports car while on the way to the local Federal Express office to send him an overnight "Dear John" letter. Whoops, I won't go into more detail about that one for obvious "World Wide Web" reasons.

Had a hard time accepting my age. (What in the world was I worried about?)

Had a half-written manuscript called Whistlin' Dixie in a Nor'easter that spent all its time in my drawer.

Spent the millennium New Year's Eve in the ER because I slammed the tailgate of my jeep onto my head.

Enjoyed a full ten days in Hawaii, jumping off cliffs, surfing, snorkling and making my sons happy. . . a nice, big perk of my job with Michael McDonald.

Missed all my girlfriends from Memphis as I still do - every single day.

Dared to dream of one day becoming a published author. Oh what a difference a decade makes.

I'm Vowing To Do Better This Year

If it weren't for my fellow Novel Girl's debut novels, I would not have read many books at all in 2009. It was not my year for pleasure reading. Just wasn't. I'm happy Jillian, Lesley, Maureen and Tracy are in my life for many reasons and reading their books brought me much joy. They are all delightful. All so different. All so memorable.

Like Maureen, my nightstand just keeps getting taller and taller. It's toppled over a few times so I had no choice but to turn my one stack into three. Here's a list of a few more of the few books I did find time to squeeze in last year. And I loved every one of them!

Pat Conroy's South of Broad.

Adriana Trigiani's Very Valentine.

Katie Crouch's Girl's in Trucks

Susan Gregg Gilmore's Looking for Salvation at the Dairy Queen.

and most recently . . .

Rebecca Wells' The Crowning Glory of Calla Lily Ponder

Now that I'm 13 days into 2010 I'm hoping my resolution to be more organized will kick into gear and that I'll soon be able to take a load off my nightstand. What's weighting down yours?

A Glance Back

Two thousand nine. Hmmmmm. What a year. Just to be able to say "I'm a published author" is surreal. My road to publication was anything but smooth so I suppose that makes it all the sweeter. Well - I can say that now. You couldn't have convinced me of that when I was in the middle of rejection hell by a large quantity of agents and publishers. But yes, I'm holding my debut novel in my hand and it's beautiful and it's dedicated to my boys. It's also dedicated to single mothers. I've been one for many years and I know how hard it is to keep the candle burning.

One can't reflect on an entire year without counting blessings. I couldn't be more grateful for my editor and for my agent. Not only are they gifted at their jobs but I'm even more happy to call each of them my friend. This journey has given us lots of time to get to know one another and my only regret is that I'm not their age! I wish I could fly up to New York and meet them for dinner, laugh about the stuff they laugh about and join in on their twenty-something conversations. I do try and to their credit neither one of them have ever once made me feel like I could be their mom.

What else? Let's see. Ohhhh, I'm still in shock over this one . . . I became an empty-nester this past year. My baby left for college! Now both of my boys are at universities and are working on artsy majors. I guess that means there's no hope for a business person in my home. Wall Street will remain as illusory as it ever was. Michael is majoring in photo-journalism and Will wants to be an audio-engineer. He'll hopefully be a record producer and Michael will either heed the call of the wild and jet off to Africa, work his way over to the action in Iraq (over my dead body he's been known to run forward while looking backward), or more optimistically he'll get a job with the Tennessean, stay close to home and marry and father a granddaughter especially for moi!

On the low side, I lost someone very dear to me. Josiah Berger, a lovely fun-loving and wonderful nineteen-year-old young man, was my son's best friend. He had watched me labor over every draft of Whistlin' Dixie in a Nor'easter since he was a young boy. He never missed an opportunity to encourage me and his smile has left an indelible print on my heart and in my mind.

And finally, 2009 has brought new relationships that I never, ever expected and that's been thrilling. I have been richly blessed by so many people. Old friends and new friends, bookstore personnel, book reviewers & bloggers, and especially the lovely folks who have bought my book. To everyone who has written to me, encouraged me, edified me, invited me to be a part of your book club meetings or shown up at my book signings, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. To my fellow Novel Girls, I'm hoping to actually meet y'all this year. The RWA convention is in Nashville. What to you say? Let's meet there with a party after at my house???

Happy 2010 to all of our loyal Novel Girl Followers. I hope it's filled with more joy than your heart could possible desire. Thank you for sticking with us.

Much love and peace to you all! Lisa

Look for Magic

Lesley, Lesley, Lesley! Hurrah girlfriend! I'm so excited for you. Novel number two and counting. And how cool to have DARKLIGHT released a couple of days before Christmas. What a great gift it will make for the girls in my life. Thank you for your great writing style and your natural ability to conjure up magic. And - let's talk about that cover. Where did Harper Collins find that gorgeous girl? Please tell us all about it. I think we'd all love to hear about the behind-the-scenes makings of how your cover came into being.

The first thing that comes to my mind when I think of magic is the Police song, "Every Little Thing She Does is Magic." LOVE IT!! (My mind always goes to music.) Michael McDonald does another arrangement of it, too - very jazzy - on Lee Ritenour's album, RIT'S HOUSE. If you haven't heard it, please do yourself a favor and click over to ITUNES for a listen. Download it onto your IPOD. I personally guarantee that you will go crazy over it.

I think the magic of Christmas is what keeps us all sane this time of year. The magic in the smile of your child (no matter how old) when he is opening his gifts. The magic of barely opening your eyes and peeking out at your beloved while he's kissing you. There's even magic in sound of the logs popping in the fireplace. Take a moment to find magic in the little things. It's a sure-fire way of arousing a smile on your face and a butterfly in your stomach.

To celebrate DARKLIGHT'S release week, Lesley is having a giveaway this week. One lucky POSTER will win a copy of DARKLIGHT! Just keep the posts coming throughout the week for a chance to win her fabulous book. Even if you don't win, still go out and treat yourself to a copy of the book. Don't you deserve to buy yourself a Christmas gift?

Ode to a Last Minute Shopper!

Every single year I proclaim, "This is the year I'll get my shopping done early."

Every single year I am still racing out to the mall on Christmas Eve.

Sigh. There is no indication that 2009 will be my year for change. So, here I am 9 days before Christmas making out my list. And checking it twice. Without fail I'll be wrapping into the wee hours of the morn on Christmas day. As for why I do it every year? I'm pretty sure it has to do with my genes. My sisters and I all have the same problem. Can I ever change? Probably not. But I'm happy anyway. This year, I've accepted my last-minuteness and I'm focusing on all the good things about me. I'm a cheerful person, I'm creative and I sure do love my boys. In the scheme of life, waiting to the last minute to Christmas shop is not the end of the world. So all of you who tend to live as I do (and I know there are plenty of you out there) have heart!

Or, even better, give of your heart! That's what this crazy holiday season boils down to, don't you think? Giving of ourselves. Whether it's through our time or our resources, let's give something special to someone who's not on our list. We're all creative people. It shouldn't be too hard to come up with a way to bless someone with an unexpected visit or gift. I have a particular soft-spot in my heart for old people. I think my sons and I should make a point to go over to a nursing home on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day with a beautifully wrapped gift and spend an hour of our time with an elderly person who is all alone.

It's just a thought. I'd love to hear other suggestions of ways I could take the focus off me and put it onto someone else. And in the meantime show my sons an example of brotherly love. It's been a season of great joy in my home. My prayer is that I never forget from where my blessing comes. Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah and Happy Holidays to all our loyal Novel Girl Followers. We are very grateful for the time you spend with us. God Bless you all!

On Running From The Social Networking Police

First of all, sorry to be so late in posting. I have had a huge ordeal at work and am finding myself with even less time than I had during the launch of Whistlin' Dixie. I suppose the Christmas holidays aren't helping but when I mix that time-zap in with everything else, I'm on life overload. I have officially entered into a recession - with my time that is.

Hence the problem with this week's topic.

I stink at social networking. I hope it gets better but for now I can't see myself as ever becoming a pro-Facebooker, not to mention a first-class Twitterer. I just don't see how y'all do it. I'll confess (as I have many times before here at the NG grog) that I'm not the best at time management. Or maybe it just comes down to distractibility. If I were to tweet all day about everything that's on my mind or what I'm doing, I'd be so aflutter that nothing would get done in my life. As it is, I'm lucky to ever get by the grocery store to buy cream for my coffee.

I often find myself cringing at the thought of the S.N. PoPo coming to arrest me. I'd tell you my hair is standing on end but it does that naturally anyway.

So, this is the deal. I'm trying as hard as I can to keep up with 3 email accounts (personal, author, & real job), three voice mails, facebook, twitter, blog, WORK, trim the tree, shop for presents, pay bills, clean house, manage two HM sons and one little dog, write another novel, promote first novel, bathe, launder my clothes, iron, make sure tires are rotated and oil is changed, AND try to squeeze in a little bit of a social life here and there. I'm in multi-task hell.

Oh, and I just remembered one more mandatory task for a girl my age . . . EXERCISE! More power to all y'all who have got this figured out. I'm telling you right now, I'm very jealous!

Eratic Confessions of a Debut Novelist

I'm with Maureen, 2009 has been wild, highly emotional, exhausting, over-the-top crazy, and just downright wonderful. I wouldn't trade it for anything. There are a few things, though, that I intend to remember next time around.

Okay, I'll go ahead and confess right now my biggest surprise over debut book promotion. I wore myself out. I had no idea that traveling around promoting my book would cause me to lose sleep and forget what day of the week it was much less what date and what month! At one point, my adrenaline was rushing through my body so fast and furiously that I lost four nights sleep in a row. I mean I never got one wink's sleep in four freaking days!! This happened while I was in my home-town of Memphis promoting Whistlin' Dixie. In looking back on it I realize now that it was because I had not ever experienced that kind of a high.

The week was crammed with interviews and book signings (as well as a lovely launch party given by my childhood friends) and I was for a brief moment in time someone else other than myself. I was autographing books. Wow. What a new concept for me. For years I worked for a famous musician as his behind-the-scenes, right-hand person. I watched as he was hounded for autographs time and time again NEVER imagining that I would actually scribble out my own for anyone, anywhere, even one time. While I know the very few times I signed books are minuscule in comparison to that of my heroes Fannie Flagg or Pat Conroy, it still blew my mind that I would ever be asked to sign a book.

I've also learned that promoting your own book and not sitting back and expecting your publisher to do it all is also very important . . . especially when you're a debutante and no one knows who in the world you are. As a writer, you need to be prepared to promote your book, dream up ways to get the word out, use every contact or insider you can find and call in your favors!!

One other thing I learned is that I'm not the best at time management. I rarely had time to write while I was promoting my book. I remember distinctly Peter Wolf at Thomas Dunne Books explaining that very concept to me while we were sitting at lunch on a visit to NY. I heard him, but now I believe him. Don't count on being able to write much while you are in book launch mode.

Lastly, I learned to soak up the fun. Live in the moment. You only make ONE debut as a writer. You've worked for it, you've earned it and let no one deprive you of it . . . by all means have the time of your life.