Book Club!

I had no idea how much literary stardom would change my life.

Since the release of Here Comes Your Man, people have started recognizing me on the street (yes, mostly our neighbors), I get constant requests for autographs (particularly when paying with Visa), and the invitations to exclusive events just keep coming...

Okay, so maybe I've only been invited to one exclusive event so far, but it was a good one: the June meeting of my friend Carrie’s book group, which steadfastly excludes anyone possessing a Y chromosome. Unless—and here comes my big loophole—you happen to have written the book they’re discussing!

When Carrie asked if I'd be interested in joining them, I did my best to act cool and breezy, as if accustomed to fielding such requests, but...seriously? Lasagna and Ring Dings with seven women who all read my book? I wouldn't have missed that meeting even if it was being held in the wilds of New Hampshire (which it was), and even if they'd wanted to discuss the right & wrong ways to euthanize a chicken (which, um, we did).

And about the chicken thing: there are more wrong ways than I'd ever imagined, particularly if the chicken is suffering from acute smoke-inhalation, you’re already late for an appointment, and soiling your outfit is simply not an option. (But I think that's a topic for an entirely different blog. Perhaps Julie Powell would like to take it up?)

Regardless, we still managed to stage a lively discussion of Here Comes Your Man, which included a group effort to cast the inevitable film adaptation. A number of excellent actors were mentioned—Mark Ruffalo, Ellen Page, John Krasinski, Scarlett Johansson—all of whom we agreed would have to be younger, older, blonder, less blonde, or less handsome to fit any of the available roles. (One possible solution: have Mr. Krasinski direct it, and invent some new characters for the rest of them.)

As much as I love movies, I didn't volunteer any casting thoughts, worrying that rendering the official "author's opinion" might suck the fun out of the whole exercise. Having already written 89,000 words about these characters, I’m happy to sit back and let readers imagine whomever they like.

Although, while we're on the topic, there is one classic duo that I think would be fantastic as Garrett and Clay. The only real question: Would Bert be willing to shave his head?

I'd like to send out big thanks to the whole book group for hosting me and feeding me so well: Carrie, Carol, Astrid, Alison, Sarah, Kristin, and Liz (who brought the Ring Dings), and also to my friend John (who was present but barred from participation owing to his incontrovertible maleness).

See you all at the premiere!

A Dream Within a Dream, Within an Air Conditioner

I have a tradition of lying to myself every year around this time.

Although the exact date is a moving target (like Easter, or Chinese New Year), this lie always coincides our first sustained wave of summer swelter, when our house finally becomes so unbearable for sleeping that I’m forced to haul our unholy trio of 70-pound window air conditioners down from the attic.

And I recognize that, to the untrained eye, this operation might appear a tad haphazard, almost as if the AC units and I are actually falling down the steep attic stairs together, but rest assured that every knuckle-bashing breath of profanity has been carefully scripted, and it's all part of a time-honored technique passed down over the generations (provided that none of the previous generations have actually killed themselves executing it).

Oh, and here’s the lie, the angry little mantra I mutter over and over throughout the process. I tell myself: "This is the last [flunking] time I will ever do this. Before next summer, we're [flunking] getting central [flunking] air."

It's a lovely little daydream, and I cling to it while dead-lifting the AC units into our house's decaying window frames, a step that spawns a new "replace all the [flunking] windows" daydream within the original...

Imagine having windows that go up and down like they’re supposed to? That actually keep the cold outside in the winter?

...And really, if you’re already having the "replace the windows" daydream, you might as well save yourself a few bucks and have the "replace our rotting shingles daydream" at the same time. So I do...

And with my attention thus divided during the job's most dangerous maneuver—steadying the AC unit in the window with one hand while lowering the balky sash with the other—there’s always at least one moment when I nearly lose my grip on everything and drop the air conditioner directly onto my car, sitting defenseless in the driveway ten feet below. (Alex, from downstairs: Need any help up there? Me: No, I've got it—thanks!)

But of course the car wouldn’t even be there if we could just rip down our dilapidated tin can of a garage and replace it with something sturdy enough to house a vehicle. Maybe a nice two-car garage with a finished second floor that we could use as an office? With enough room for a ping-pong table perhaps?

But by the time I’ve got the AC unit shimmed, wedged, and duct-taped into place, with that first sour blast of cool-ish air hitting my face, I'm already regaining the ability to distinguish between my daydreams and the facts, which are these: our house is old and ductless, and so retrofitting it for central air would be prohibitively expensive, although not quite as expensive as new windows, new siding, or new garages with second-floor offices.

Regardless, we don't have thousands of dollars sitting around for any of these projects, and even if we did, we’d probably just blow it all on fine wine, Twinkies and Silly Bandz.

I’m proud to say that this year was different though—I turned 40 recently, and I'm already seeing the benefits of my increased wisdom and maturity. This year, I even installed our air conditioners before the heat became totally unbearable. Sure, I still worked up a sweat, I still bloodied my knuckles, and I nearly lost two units right out the window. But I didn’t say [flunking] once, and I didn’t tell myself any lies.

No, we're not getting central air next year. Just the garage and the ping-pong table.

iPad, iKindle, iTwinkie?

Amid all the iPhone 4 blah blah blah at Apple's Worldwide Developer Conference last week, CEO Steve Jobs somehow forgot to mention the biggest, most magical Apple news of the year: Here Comes Your Man is now available in the iBookstore! And for just $2.99!

Yup, you heard right—$2.99 for 89,134 of my favorite words (with a few repeats) in electronic form.

For now, you can only access the iBookstore from an iPad, but iUnderstand that Apple will be iOpening the iBookstore to iPhone and iPod touch users iLater this iMonth. (iThink Apple iSpeak is a linguistic sibling of iPig iLatin.)

If you're as concerned as I am about maintaining the delicate balance of the e-book universe, you'll be relieved to know that I've simultaneously lowered the price of the Amazon Kindle edition of Here Comes Your Man to $2.99 as well.

Why so low? Well, I'm about to embark on a small advertising campaign, my first real effort to market my book to people who don't already know me (or my wife, or my daughter). Printing costs prevent me from pricing the paperback more aggressively than I already have, but electrons are cheap. My hope is that offering an inexpensive e-book will allow readers to try an unknown author like me with very little risk.

And honestly, I can't think of many interesting things you can buy for $2.99. A box of Twinkies maybe? Yeah, okay, that would be pretty interesting, but even still, you'd have to catch them on sale. (Don't ask me how I know that.)

(Note to self: contact Amazon & Hostess about cross-marketing opportunities.)

(Additional note to self: My book cover "man" appears to be Twinkie yellow—is that just a coincidence? And more importantly, could I possibly convince Hostess to bake a life-size Twinkie Man???)

Of course, e-books themselves are still unexplored territory for many readers, which is probably one reason why Amazon offers free Kindle apps for Windows, Mac, iPhone/iPad, and Blackberry devices. If you’re even a teensy bit curious about e-books, you can download the Kindle software (pictured below) and test-drive the experience without buying any hardware.

As much as I do love paper books, I'm beginning to see the advantages of their electronic brethren. Beyond allowing you to adjust your books' text size and even background color, they're easier on the environment, easier to carry, and far easier to read while eating a burrito. (Or a pizza, or a box of Twinkies...)

Physical books are still superior for certain purposes though. Years ago, when I was reading The Accidental Tourist for the first time, I remember becoming so exasperated with Macon Leary at one point that I actually threw my little red paperback clear across my bedroom. I can still hear the book's pages flapping in the air and the satisfying THWACK! of its spine smacking the wall. (And then I ran to retrieve the book, because I desperately needed to know if Macon ever smartened up.)

I'd probably never throw a $500 iPad across the room, no matter how Frisbee-like it might feel. But then again, this guy put one in a blender, so who knows?

This Is Your Brain on I-95

For April school vacation, I drove my family from Massachusetts to South Carolina and back. I’m pretty sure we did some other stuff too—I vaguely recall something about a beach, and maybe some miniature golf?—but the 2,200-mile round-trip drive effectively erased everything else from my memory.

As you might imagine, I had a few thoughts during my 30+ hours behind the wheel. Very few thoughts, actually, most of them over and over again. Here are all six of them:

#1. Some deep-pocketed developer should buy a bunch of land and create a place of such concentrated Connecticutness that it can only be called East Newfieldingtonsbury. Will it ever be as posh or fashionable as West Newfieldingtonsbury? Probably not, but really, what is?

#2. The Commonwealth of Virginia manufactures some of the finest traffic you’ll find anywhere—interminable, impenetrable, and utterly inexplicable.

#3. Luckily, Virginia also has some excellent traffic signage. For example, a flashing display near Exit 162 informed us that Delays Continue Until Exit 148. I was skeptical at first—Fourteen miles of stop-and-go? At nine o’clock at night? But darnit-it-all-to-hell if that sign wasn’t right! Well done, Virginia!

#4. One Virginia sign was a BIG disappointment though: Speed Limit Enforced by Aircraft. I’m sorry, but if you're going to promise something this exciting, I want an attack helicopter to swoop down out of the sky, latch onto my roof, and forcibly slow me down. At the very least, I expect to have the opportunity to break the speed limit...somewhere. Otherwise, y’all should just get real and change the signs to say Speed Controlled By God-Awful Traffic.

#5. Our home state of Massachusetts is no signage slouch either. The examples of this are many, but my current favorite is: Speed Limit as Posted. I like the subtle implication that there are other, more mysterious regions where the speed limit is posted as one thing, but is secretly something else.

#6. If there were a Nobel or Pulitzer Prize for signage though, you’d have to give them both to South of the Border, the sprawling South Carolina roadside attraction (restrooms, "food," souvenirs, fireworks, etc.) that narrates its approach through 200 ethnically insensitive billboards spread over 350 highway miles.

Fill Up Yo’ Trunque Weeth Pedro’s Junque!
South of the Border: 65 mi.

Pedro No Shoot Ze Bool! Who Dunnit?
South of the Border: 58 mi.

Pedro’s Weather Report: CHILI TODAY – HOT TAMALE!
South of the Border: 23 mi.

None of them are exactly funny, and many are just moronic, but they gain power as a complete body of work, wearing you down with their persistence and omnipresence. Case in point: I never wanted to stop at South of the Border, and yet…I still kinda wanted to stop there.

And right now? I sorta wish I could go back…

Getting to Know Eileen Cook

I've always said that the best thing about writing Here Comes Your Man was making so many wonderful new friends.

Well, it has recently come to my attention that the vast majority of these new "friends" are imaginary, but no matter—I'm 97% sure that novelist Eileen Cook is a real person, and she more than makes up for all the rest.

Eileen is the author of three novels—Unpredictable, What Would Emma Do?, and Getting Revenge on Lauren Wood—all of which I absolutely loved. A few years ago, Eileen did me the great favor of reading an early draft of Here Comes Your Man, offering a slew of valuable feedback. She also wrote the beautiful blurb that now graces my book's back cover. (Okay, so now she's starting to sound too good to be true, even to me...)

Eileen recently interviewed me on her own blog, and now I have the pleasure of hosting her here. (I'll let you decide for yourself whether or not I made her up...)

You’ve said that Getting Revenge on Lauren Wood was inspired by The Count of Monte Cristo—what drew you to that particular story?
My undergrad degree was in English Literature. Because I think it makes me look smart, combined with my obsessive hoarding disorder when it comes to books, I still have most of the books I had to read in University. Now that I have time, I enjoy pulling them off the shelf and reading them again without worrying about a test or having to write a paper on some obscure image or theme. When I was re-reading The Count of Monte Cristo I realized how delightful it is to watch someone go after revenge. Most of us think about it at some point, but to see someone really go for it, makes for a great guilty pleasure. I started thinking how the story would play out in a high school setting. I loved the idea of being able to go back to high school under an assumed identity and right some wrongs. The story wrote itself quickly which leads me to believe I had some unresolved issues from high school.

Your protagonist Helen gets a chance to start over with a whole new identity. Is there anything from your own teen years that, given the chance, you might go back and do differently?
I can think of approximately a zillion things that I would do differently. Note to my teen self: There is such a thing as hair that is "too big." Duran Duran is not the best music known to man. Invest in Apple stock. Getting a part in the school play is not the most important thing that will ever happen in your life. Even though you will get stood up for your junior prom and you will be crushed, later you will realize he was a huge weenie and you had a far better time going with your friends.

Of course the problem is that if I took all the pain out of my teen years then I wouldn't have anything to write about now.

I read in another interview that your wish to be a writer started pretty young. Do you remember the first piece of fiction you ever finished and what it was about?
My parents framed for me the first story I ever wrote. It was in second grade, I called it "George the Sighkyatrist." (That would be Psychiatrist - except for the fact I couldn't spell). While the story does have a plot, a man seeks psychological support for sleepwalking, it isn't exactly a page turner. In fairness, it was only one page long. I think it is safe to say I have improved.

I also have notebooks full of angst filled poetry that I wrote as a teen. I made emo kids look upbeat. I was a huge fan of the repeat line.

My heart throbs,
throbs,
throbs,
A dark and empty drum.

I plan to burn these notebooks before I die.

Your Simon & Schuster profile says that you’ve read A Prayer for Owen Meany five times. John Irving is one of my favorite writers too, so I’m curious—what keeps bringing you back to Owen Meany?
I love this book. I find something knew in it every time I read it. I love the themes of destiny and redemption and the characters pull me in every time. It's a wonderfully quirky book, but somehow he pulls it together so that it feels honest and true. I'm thinking it takes special talent to make stuffed armadillos and killer baseballs work.

Everyone who visits your adopted hometown of Vancouver comes back talking about how beautiful it is. Is it really a wonderful place, or do they just brainwash the tourists?
Despite common wisdom that would have people believe Canada is all igloos, mounties, and lumberjacks, there is more. Vancouver is great and we rarely have to cope with stray moose in our backyard. (Although if I'm honest we have had a couple of bears.) When we first moved here in 1994, it was supposed to be for a year. We just never left. Now I say "eh" and watch hockey. I've gone native.

Now we just have to get you and your family to come visit.

What are you working on now? (And when do we get to read it?)
I am working on a YA that was inspired by The Scarlet Letter. (I knew that English degree would come in handy) It is tentatively titled The Vindication of Hailey Kendrick and will be out next January. Stay tuned as the title may change. The truth is, I stink at titles. How it is possible that I can write a whole book and be unable to come up with a catchy title is a mystery to me. This is why I need an editor.

Thanks for coming, Eileen!

Amazon, je t'aime!

Okay, so Amazon was a little slower than Barnes & Noble to start selling my book. And yeah, it hurt a little...I thought Amazon and I had something pretty special.

All is forgiven now though, because Amazon has not only started selling Here Comes Your Man in the US, they've also got it listed on their sites in the UK, France, Germany, and Japan!

For the moment, there do seem to be some international supply issues—the French site lists the book as "temporairement en rupture de stock," which sounds extraordinarily painful. But still...it's exciting just to be listed.

I'm still waiting for Amazon to activate the LOOK INSIDE! feature that will allow you to flip through a few pages online, but until they do, you can view a 14-page PDF sample right here. (And if you don't have Acrobat on your computer, you can view the sample through Google Docs here.)

Ready or Not, Here Comes Your Man!

I approved the final proof of Here Comes Your Man on Tuesday, and I've been anxiously checking Amazon.com for a listing ever since. Just for kicks, I decided to give Barnes & Noble a try, and there it was...

Am I excited? Well, my hands are shaking and I'm having some difficulty breathing...does that count?

Holy crap.

For the record, the pricing here is a little wonky—the book is supposed to list for $12—but B&N has discounted it below that anyway, so it's all good!

Hopefully Amazon adds the paperback to their system soon. Even if they don't, I should have the Kindle version available over there later today, for those of you who prefer your books sans papier. I'll also try to get a sample of the book up somewhere here...and then the entire Hysterical Publishing team and I are going to take a nap!