A few weeks ago I discovered a wonderful little blog looking at writing from the perspective of an ethnic minority. The past few days have included interviews with some of my favorite chick lit writers, as well as writers I've known from our days as struggling un-pubbeds from way back - writers like Sonia Singh (who should really write a new book soon!), Caridad Ferrer, and Julie Leto.
And today, an interview with yours truly! Head on over!
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
Letting Go
Some of you might have noticed my somewhat extended absence from the blogosphere, and I can assure you, it’s justified: on August 1st (technically 2nd since I arrived in Pierre Elliott Trudeau airport well past midnight), I officially relocated back to Montreal.
It’s funny exactly how life chooses to sock it to you emotionally – usually when you least expect it. In my case, I’d known about the relocation for months and months now – honestly, I’d made my decision to leave the island last year but stayed on for financial reasons that are allowing me to take time off to write my next book – so I can’t say I didn’t have a chance to get used to the decision. And in the weeks leading up to the move, I did what I always said I would, quit my job early so I could divide my days between writing, the beach, and hanging out with my friends, generally just enjoying everything about Cayman I didn’t have time for when I was pulling overtime at the office.
And everyone would invariably ask: Are you ready?
‘Course I am. My stuff’s packed up, I had a massive blow-up launch party which made the local papers and doubled as a goodbye bash for me and a hundred of my friends. Any more tanning and I would have effectively become a handbag. I’ve indulged in all the island has to offer, from duty-free jewellery and designer sunglasses, to Piña Coladas by the shore, cursing out tourists and watching cruise ships sail out of the Georgetown port toward a blood-orange sunset and the calm, endless horizon.
The first time I cried a little was standing in line at the American Airlines check out counter, saying goodbye to the friends who’d come to see me off. It was only when the customs officer I was used to seeing every time I left to shop in Miami, visit family in Montreal, or travel to any other place that caught my flighty fancy, wished me good luck upon seeing the expiration date of my last work permit that the loss sucker-punched me to the gut. Even though we’d never exchanged anything beyond hellos and thank yous, we looked at each other in that suspended second, understanding that this was a real goodbye. That’s when it sunk in, after months of mental and actual preparation, that I was now one big angry red stamp in my passport away from going back to being just like everyone else. My time as a tropical Cinderella was up, just like I always knew it would be one day. But when you’re busy dancing away in the arms of adventure, ‘one day’ is just an idea, one that has very little to do with you.
Of course, we always idealize in hindsight. But not all our rosy memories are illusions – in the case of my stint in the Caribbean, most were not. After I’d gotten over the adaptation hump (the first six months), it was pretty smooth sailing for the next four and a half years. I went places I couldn’t have gone to on a Montreal salary, met adventure-seekers like me from all over the world, made the kind of friendships that made me wish I’d met those people back in high school, visited Cuba to my heart’s content, shopped in London and Miami for lack of malls on the islands (that’s my excuse and I’m sticking to it), and had time to write my first novel. Even hurricane Ivan, with all the upheaval it wreaked on our lives, made me understand what it is for a community to pull together in times of mass disaster, and Cayman, scarred and pitiable though it was in those months, was never closer to my heart. Sometime around then, I unconsciously stopped meaning Montreal when I said ‘home’.
The second sucker-punch came upon my very tardy arrival into Montreal, when I looked at the Canadian customs officers and confessed my repatriation.
“Welcome back” she said, with a big, warm smile.
More tears.
It’s been twenty days now, and every day the Cayman experience feels more and more like a distant dream, which really, it was. The Islands are a transient place. They’re an idea, an ideal, a wasps’ nest of small frustrations, a heaven and a haven. Jimmy Buffet has built an empire on their mystique and sang, quite eloquently, about how expatriates to these tiny drifting rafts of humanity are free to come and play paradise with the natives for a while, but will never become a part of island life. They look at us as one might look at a passing storm, with reason. We sweep into town with our running and rushing and modernizing, we complain and adapt and improve and take what we want and leave what we don’t want, and they just sit back and do things as they always have, secure in the knowledge that every storm passes, and every day will go back to stretching out hot and lazy just like the all the ones before, and all the ones to come.
And while my mark on the islands will not be felt any deeper than a footprint in the sand, I will never forget them.
Goodbye Cayman
It’s funny exactly how life chooses to sock it to you emotionally – usually when you least expect it. In my case, I’d known about the relocation for months and months now – honestly, I’d made my decision to leave the island last year but stayed on for financial reasons that are allowing me to take time off to write my next book – so I can’t say I didn’t have a chance to get used to the decision. And in the weeks leading up to the move, I did what I always said I would, quit my job early so I could divide my days between writing, the beach, and hanging out with my friends, generally just enjoying everything about Cayman I didn’t have time for when I was pulling overtime at the office.
And everyone would invariably ask: Are you ready?
‘Course I am. My stuff’s packed up, I had a massive blow-up launch party which made the local papers and doubled as a goodbye bash for me and a hundred of my friends. Any more tanning and I would have effectively become a handbag. I’ve indulged in all the island has to offer, from duty-free jewellery and designer sunglasses, to Piña Coladas by the shore, cursing out tourists and watching cruise ships sail out of the Georgetown port toward a blood-orange sunset and the calm, endless horizon.
The first time I cried a little was standing in line at the American Airlines check out counter, saying goodbye to the friends who’d come to see me off. It was only when the customs officer I was used to seeing every time I left to shop in Miami, visit family in Montreal, or travel to any other place that caught my flighty fancy, wished me good luck upon seeing the expiration date of my last work permit that the loss sucker-punched me to the gut. Even though we’d never exchanged anything beyond hellos and thank yous, we looked at each other in that suspended second, understanding that this was a real goodbye. That’s when it sunk in, after months of mental and actual preparation, that I was now one big angry red stamp in my passport away from going back to being just like everyone else. My time as a tropical Cinderella was up, just like I always knew it would be one day. But when you’re busy dancing away in the arms of adventure, ‘one day’ is just an idea, one that has very little to do with you.
Of course, we always idealize in hindsight. But not all our rosy memories are illusions – in the case of my stint in the Caribbean, most were not. After I’d gotten over the adaptation hump (the first six months), it was pretty smooth sailing for the next four and a half years. I went places I couldn’t have gone to on a Montreal salary, met adventure-seekers like me from all over the world, made the kind of friendships that made me wish I’d met those people back in high school, visited Cuba to my heart’s content, shopped in London and Miami for lack of malls on the islands (that’s my excuse and I’m sticking to it), and had time to write my first novel. Even hurricane Ivan, with all the upheaval it wreaked on our lives, made me understand what it is for a community to pull together in times of mass disaster, and Cayman, scarred and pitiable though it was in those months, was never closer to my heart. Sometime around then, I unconsciously stopped meaning Montreal when I said ‘home’.
The second sucker-punch came upon my very tardy arrival into Montreal, when I looked at the Canadian customs officers and confessed my repatriation.
“Welcome back” she said, with a big, warm smile.
More tears.
It’s been twenty days now, and every day the Cayman experience feels more and more like a distant dream, which really, it was. The Islands are a transient place. They’re an idea, an ideal, a wasps’ nest of small frustrations, a heaven and a haven. Jimmy Buffet has built an empire on their mystique and sang, quite eloquently, about how expatriates to these tiny drifting rafts of humanity are free to come and play paradise with the natives for a while, but will never become a part of island life. They look at us as one might look at a passing storm, with reason. We sweep into town with our running and rushing and modernizing, we complain and adapt and improve and take what we want and leave what we don’t want, and they just sit back and do things as they always have, secure in the knowledge that every storm passes, and every day will go back to stretching out hot and lazy just like the all the ones before, and all the ones to come.
And while my mark on the islands will not be felt any deeper than a footprint in the sand, I will never forget them.
Goodbye Cayman
Monday, July 23, 2007
Title Contest!
Okay, so I'm a bad, bad blogger - I did promise you a contest so here it is. Actually, it's more of a giving-you-incentive-to-help-me-out-contest. I don't know by what stroke of genius I managed to come up with a title I loved with Fashionably Late, but I'm not feeling the title magic this time around. Here's what I've come up with, perhaps you can give me the top three eye-catching titles from the below list, and you can enter a draw to win..... wait for it.... an art print direct from Cuba!!! I've just come back from an art scouting trip there (hence the no blogging), so I can make good on this. Please don't forget to include your name (or some kind of identifier) if you're posting anonymously.
Here's your prize:
It's a flat watercolour so I promise to be prompt in sending it to you (I learned my lesson with the coco taxi debacle). I don't have a ruler handy, but (and I included some trade paperbacks in the pic for your reference), it looks like a 6" x 8".
And the titles are:
Loose Ends
Cutting Loose
On the Loose
Loosely Translated
Losing It
Loose Girls
Coming Loose
The Loose Girls Club
***
Fashionably Unwed
Fashionably Deluded
Fashionably Jilted
Fashionably Jaded
Fashionably Unsettled
***
Lipstick Rebellion
Rebels in High Heels
Fashionistas Without a Cause
***
Adventures in Limboland
Accidentally Unwed
A Season in the Sun
***
I don't want to give away too much of the plot, but I will say that the book is a spin off of Fashionably Late, the tale of one of the characters who figures out that her relationship is well, not quite what it seemed, and runs off to somewhere HOT (not Cuba!) to figure out her life. Her behaviour is very un-good-girl-like considering her strict background, hence the "loose", and in this new life of hers, she meets two other girls who've made their own lives on their own terms, away from their families... Good luck!
Here's your prize:
It's a flat watercolour so I promise to be prompt in sending it to you (I learned my lesson with the coco taxi debacle). I don't have a ruler handy, but (and I included some trade paperbacks in the pic for your reference), it looks like a 6" x 8".
And the titles are:
Loose Ends
Cutting Loose
On the Loose
Loosely Translated
Losing It
Loose Girls
Coming Loose
The Loose Girls Club
***
Fashionably Unwed
Fashionably Deluded
Fashionably Jilted
Fashionably Jaded
Fashionably Unsettled
***
Lipstick Rebellion
Rebels in High Heels
Fashionistas Without a Cause
***
Adventures in Limboland
Accidentally Unwed
A Season in the Sun
***
I don't want to give away too much of the plot, but I will say that the book is a spin off of Fashionably Late, the tale of one of the characters who figures out that her relationship is well, not quite what it seemed, and runs off to somewhere HOT (not Cuba!) to figure out her life. Her behaviour is very un-good-girl-like considering her strict background, hence the "loose", and in this new life of hers, she meets two other girls who've made their own lives on their own terms, away from their families... Good luck!
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
Dallas Baby!
Dallas was F-A-N-T-A-S-T-I-C (well, except for the food, but I suspect that was more RWA's fault than the city's...)
As always, conferences are hugely inspiring, and among things, the vibe there flies in face of the published-writer-as-rockstar stereotype. Nora Roberts, recently named one of America's top 100 entertainers (not writers - entertainers) grabbed a seat across from me at the bar, another NYT bestselling author was walking around with her dress caught somewhere on her hips... it's all very democratic. And cathartic for the unpublished. So if you're serious about your writing but are terrified of feeling like a guppy swimming alongside sharks, don't be. I met my agent at my first ever conference (which was also in Dallas), picked up Gods knows how many tips on the craft, and cartloads of free books every time (I didn't get as many this time but what I did get I love).
The highlights of this year for me (besides catching up with my writing chicas) have to be the impromptu speech of writing multicultural lit and the St. Martin's/TOR signing.
Allow me to explain. Last year my agent gave a workshop/panel about writing multicultural chick lit, moderated by the lovely Michelle Yu, one of the authors of China Dolls. My book wasn't out then, so I wasn't approached for the panel. Then, a few months after that, Michelle did contact me about a multicultural chick lit panel asking me if I would like to participate. Naturally I was all over it, but (and here's the crux of the matter...) I ASSUMED (what do they say about assuming making an ass out of you and me?...)that this was the same type of panel as last year, and that it was organized by my agent. So, I followed up with my agent, NOT Michelle (stupid, stupid, stupid Nadine) before the conference. My agent kindly informed me that she would be doing her workshops on her own this year, without a panel (I can imagine her scratching her head and wondering what the heck I was talking about).
So I promptly forgot about this panel business.
Until Thursday morning, at the conference registration, where I was handed a 'speaker' badge. Ha ha.
Then I met my agent, and we managed to piece together what had happened.
Fortunately this story has a happy ending: during that period of time when I did think I was going to give a speech about writing multicultural fiction, I did actually think about what I would say, what I think the key commandments are, etc. So I wasn't completely unprepared. I met with Michelle & Blossom and we tweaked our presentation, and were joined by the scholarly Cathy Yardley, author of Will Write for Shoes among other works, and all was well that ended well. I'm actually very pleased with the panel, and we're going to be back bigger and stronger (and with handouts this time!) in San Fransisco next year.
The other awesome thing about the Nationals was... drum roll please... my signing! My editor totally pulled through and arranged for boxes and boxes of Fashionably Late to be waiting for me, together with a lovely gentleman who was charged with explaining the process to me and making me feel cared for. I love you Paul!!!
The signing itself could not have gone better, I had a fantastic turnout with lots and lots of positive comments like: I love your cover, or I've heard about your book (nothing, by the way, is sweeter to a writer's ears than hearing that someone has heard about your book... sometimes it feels like all the PR noise you're trying to make may as well be coming out of Siberia).
The best moment? On the plane back from Dallas a middle-aged nurse from North Carolina struck up a conversation with me where I revealed that I was a pubbed writer, and when I produced a copy of FL, she looked at it and said: "Oh I recognize this... I think I saw it at the airport..."
Finally, stay tuned for tomorrow, when I'll be announcing a new contest!!! (and I promise you a very cool prize).
As always, conferences are hugely inspiring, and among things, the vibe there flies in face of the published-writer-as-rockstar stereotype. Nora Roberts, recently named one of America's top 100 entertainers (not writers - entertainers) grabbed a seat across from me at the bar, another NYT bestselling author was walking around with her dress caught somewhere on her hips... it's all very democratic. And cathartic for the unpublished. So if you're serious about your writing but are terrified of feeling like a guppy swimming alongside sharks, don't be. I met my agent at my first ever conference (which was also in Dallas), picked up Gods knows how many tips on the craft, and cartloads of free books every time (I didn't get as many this time but what I did get I love).
The highlights of this year for me (besides catching up with my writing chicas) have to be the impromptu speech of writing multicultural lit and the St. Martin's/TOR signing.
Allow me to explain. Last year my agent gave a workshop/panel about writing multicultural chick lit, moderated by the lovely Michelle Yu, one of the authors of China Dolls. My book wasn't out then, so I wasn't approached for the panel. Then, a few months after that, Michelle did contact me about a multicultural chick lit panel asking me if I would like to participate. Naturally I was all over it, but (and here's the crux of the matter...) I ASSUMED (what do they say about assuming making an ass out of you and me?...)that this was the same type of panel as last year, and that it was organized by my agent. So, I followed up with my agent, NOT Michelle (stupid, stupid, stupid Nadine) before the conference. My agent kindly informed me that she would be doing her workshops on her own this year, without a panel (I can imagine her scratching her head and wondering what the heck I was talking about).
So I promptly forgot about this panel business.
Until Thursday morning, at the conference registration, where I was handed a 'speaker' badge. Ha ha.
Then I met my agent, and we managed to piece together what had happened.
Fortunately this story has a happy ending: during that period of time when I did think I was going to give a speech about writing multicultural fiction, I did actually think about what I would say, what I think the key commandments are, etc. So I wasn't completely unprepared. I met with Michelle & Blossom and we tweaked our presentation, and were joined by the scholarly Cathy Yardley, author of Will Write for Shoes among other works, and all was well that ended well. I'm actually very pleased with the panel, and we're going to be back bigger and stronger (and with handouts this time!) in San Fransisco next year.
The other awesome thing about the Nationals was... drum roll please... my signing! My editor totally pulled through and arranged for boxes and boxes of Fashionably Late to be waiting for me, together with a lovely gentleman who was charged with explaining the process to me and making me feel cared for. I love you Paul!!!
The signing itself could not have gone better, I had a fantastic turnout with lots and lots of positive comments like: I love your cover, or I've heard about your book (nothing, by the way, is sweeter to a writer's ears than hearing that someone has heard about your book... sometimes it feels like all the PR noise you're trying to make may as well be coming out of Siberia).
The best moment? On the plane back from Dallas a middle-aged nurse from North Carolina struck up a conversation with me where I revealed that I was a pubbed writer, and when I produced a copy of FL, she looked at it and said: "Oh I recognize this... I think I saw it at the airport..."
Finally, stay tuned for tomorrow, when I'll be announcing a new contest!!! (and I promise you a very cool prize).
Monday, July 09, 2007
The Seventy Day Challenge
I ran across this post on Diana's site, and I'm thrilled I did - it's EXACTLY the kind of kick-in-the-pants I need. My average output over the past 15 days has been just short of 1,000 words/day which is woefully short of my 2,000 words/day goal I set for myself when I decided to write full-time.
So there were a few "life" events, like moving house, Canada Day, the impending 'moving countries' (back to Canada) and of course Dallas conference, still, I realize these are all just excuses. I know, because when I actually DO start writing, after surfing the net for ages and reading a thousand blogs, I'm pretty good. And when I get inspired (like yesterday, being hit on by a balding Indian waiter who was convinced I too was Indian and was denying it only because I didn't want to flirt back with him - which I didn't, but I wasn't aware this was a crime) I can write pages and pages on the back of whatever's handy. In yesterday's case, it was the back cover of a copy of Newsweek.
So here's my goal: 2,000 words/day for 60 days, every day, including the day I fly back to Montreal (Aug 1) and conference (though I will commit to a reduced workload for conference - 500 words/day).
So there. Now off to write today's output!
So there were a few "life" events, like moving house, Canada Day, the impending 'moving countries' (back to Canada) and of course Dallas conference, still, I realize these are all just excuses. I know, because when I actually DO start writing, after surfing the net for ages and reading a thousand blogs, I'm pretty good. And when I get inspired (like yesterday, being hit on by a balding Indian waiter who was convinced I too was Indian and was denying it only because I didn't want to flirt back with him - which I didn't, but I wasn't aware this was a crime) I can write pages and pages on the back of whatever's handy. In yesterday's case, it was the back cover of a copy of Newsweek.
So here's my goal: 2,000 words/day for 60 days, every day, including the day I fly back to Montreal (Aug 1) and conference (though I will commit to a reduced workload for conference - 500 words/day).
So there. Now off to write today's output!
Saturday, July 07, 2007
Blame it on the Booze, But…
I had a very heartwarming moment a few nights ago standing in line at the local post-clubbing, all-night greasy food eatery. Every city has one – in Montreal it’s the Amir on the corner of Crescent and de la Montagne (yes it’s Lebanese food, so you may be tempted to scream ‘biased’ but I promise you it’s the absolute BEST food you can get at four o’clock in the morning – the mixed-ethnicity, long lines should be evidence enough).
Anyway, Grand Cayman has a similar fine dining spot which seems to do most of business between the hours of midnight and 3 a.m.
On the night in question, I happened to be waiting in line behind a couple who I’m guessing were vaguely acquainted before, but who’d just hooked up that night. The gentleman was a good ol’ Texas white boy – as white as white Midwestern/Southern American college kids get – and the young woman was an Indian-American (there’s a med school here in Cayman populated mostly by American kids. Don’t ask me why).
They were talking about some classmates. The girl said “You know Mohammed?”
And what Monsieur White Texan replied just made my heart melt. He said: “Dude - there’s, like, eight Mohammeds in my class – that’s the most random name you can give me… was it short Mohammed, or tall skinny Mohammed, or…”
There’s wasn’t a hint of racism in his voice, the voice of this young white future doctor, this American citizen who would one day vote, and who I can only hope will be in a position to tell a**holes who try and make him fear ‘Mohammeds’ as terrorists just where they can shove their bigotry. Right there in front of me was the kind of American you never read about in the news, or see on TV: regular, smart, educated, traveled American who has eight Mohammeds in his med school classes, and who’d just hooked up with a hot Indian girl.
Like I said, maybe it was the vodka red bulls, but I wanted to cry…
Anyway, Grand Cayman has a similar fine dining spot which seems to do most of business between the hours of midnight and 3 a.m.
On the night in question, I happened to be waiting in line behind a couple who I’m guessing were vaguely acquainted before, but who’d just hooked up that night. The gentleman was a good ol’ Texas white boy – as white as white Midwestern/Southern American college kids get – and the young woman was an Indian-American (there’s a med school here in Cayman populated mostly by American kids. Don’t ask me why).
They were talking about some classmates. The girl said “You know Mohammed?”
And what Monsieur White Texan replied just made my heart melt. He said: “Dude - there’s, like, eight Mohammeds in my class – that’s the most random name you can give me… was it short Mohammed, or tall skinny Mohammed, or…”
There’s wasn’t a hint of racism in his voice, the voice of this young white future doctor, this American citizen who would one day vote, and who I can only hope will be in a position to tell a**holes who try and make him fear ‘Mohammeds’ as terrorists just where they can shove their bigotry. Right there in front of me was the kind of American you never read about in the news, or see on TV: regular, smart, educated, traveled American who has eight Mohammeds in his med school classes, and who’d just hooked up with a hot Indian girl.
Like I said, maybe it was the vodka red bulls, but I wanted to cry…
Tuesday, July 03, 2007
Dallas Signing Confirmed!
Apologies for the late notice but I just found out myself... I'm going to be signing at the RWA Nationals in Dallas this year, in the St. Martin's giveaway room!
I am SO psyched about this! If you're planning on attending then conference, then please pop on over and say hi. If you happen to have bought your copy of FL already, then please bring it along - I'll be happy to sign it for you! (and give you a nifty FL bookmark too)
I am SO psyched about this! If you're planning on attending then conference, then please pop on over and say hi. If you happen to have bought your copy of FL already, then please bring it along - I'll be happy to sign it for you! (and give you a nifty FL bookmark too)
Monday, July 02, 2007
Romantic Times Review!
Here's a nice little review Fashionably Late got from Romantic Times in the mainstream reviews section... 4 stars out of a possible 4 and a half, chicas!!!
It's actually one of my favorite ones so far - which is to say it's one that makes me see my own writing in a new light (trust me people, when you've read your manuscript so many times your eyeballs feel like they might fall out of their sockets at the mere thought of one more read, a fresh perspective is nothing short of miraculous). Here it is:
A huge fear driving my writing is that the three friends - Ali, Sophie and Yasmin - weren't differentiated enough. One thing I'd read in craft books was that you had to make sure you could tell which character was speaking even if you didn't have the dialogue tag to help. Boy did I worry about that. So to see this kind of review really warms up the heart : )
Also, I've started blogging on Amazon. The posts will be less frequent and less, um, how do I say this? Acerbic? Outspoken?... than the ones here. So if you can't get enough blog goodness, head on over to Amazon.com and look up Fashionably Late. If you've read the book, then don't be shy to give it a review while you're there : )
It's actually one of my favorite ones so far - which is to say it's one that makes me see my own writing in a new light (trust me people, when you've read your manuscript so many times your eyeballs feel like they might fall out of their sockets at the mere thought of one more read, a fresh perspective is nothing short of miraculous). Here it is:
Fashionably Late is a great coming-of-age story that is written in the first person, drawing the reader into the characters’ lives. The strength of the story is in the author’s ability to allow the characters to share their heritage, beliefs, and to grow with and despite their differences. Readers from any culture will identify with the characters in this story. Geographical differences and customs are explained in such a way that the reader is educated and entertained at the same time.
A huge fear driving my writing is that the three friends - Ali, Sophie and Yasmin - weren't differentiated enough. One thing I'd read in craft books was that you had to make sure you could tell which character was speaking even if you didn't have the dialogue tag to help. Boy did I worry about that. So to see this kind of review really warms up the heart : )
Also, I've started blogging on Amazon. The posts will be less frequent and less, um, how do I say this? Acerbic? Outspoken?... than the ones here. So if you can't get enough blog goodness, head on over to Amazon.com and look up Fashionably Late. If you've read the book, then don't be shy to give it a review while you're there : )
Friday, June 29, 2007
Stop the Clash of Civilizations
I've been reading quite a bit about this supposed "clash of civilizations" lately, ostensibly between Western and Islamic civilizations. What I hate about this discussion, especially when framed this way, is its complete refusal to see how much perception (as opposed to reality) plays a part. Yes, it would seem that both civilizations want nothing to do with each other, but, and call me crazy here, isn't that sort of to be expected when one country is getting the crap bombed out of it, and the other side is terrorized by all kinds of fears, real and imagined?
So people that promulgate the myth that the end is nigh because these two civilzations have nothing in common... to these people I say: really? Have you actually thought about what you're saying? Do you think the other side are martians, or people just like you, and that perhaps they might respond to a measure of respect?
This video does a good job of responding to those people.
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Guest Blogging
It's been a big day already folks, and it's not even lunchtime!
I got my interview questions from Atmosphere today - Air Transat's in-flight magazine.
For those of you who aren't familiar with this carrier, it's a Quebec-based vacation charter airline, meaning you usually get nifty all-inclusive packages with them to "destination spots" all over the Caribbean and even some Euro locales as well.
It's the airline Ali and her fearless band of daiquiri-swishing gal pals were originally destined to take (as would have been fitting), but then at the last minute, I put them on Air Canada instead because I figured that's what an American audience would expect.
And then Air Transat came a' knockin' to do an interview with me because what with my bilingualism and Caribbean themes, we're a nice match.
Now do you see why writing the truth is always better than an imitation of it? I can't imagine what kind of spread I would have gotten in Atmosphere if I'd gone with my instincts and kept the more correct Air Transat. Small, small detail, but the Universe chooses mysterious ways with which to bite you in the ass. Oh well.
And, dear faithful blog readers, you're in for a double-whammy today as I'm guest blogging over at the lovely Dona's. Do drop by the comments section and tell us what your favorite multi-culti themed literature is.
Hasta Luego,
Nadine
I got my interview questions from Atmosphere today - Air Transat's in-flight magazine.
For those of you who aren't familiar with this carrier, it's a Quebec-based vacation charter airline, meaning you usually get nifty all-inclusive packages with them to "destination spots" all over the Caribbean and even some Euro locales as well.
It's the airline Ali and her fearless band of daiquiri-swishing gal pals were originally destined to take (as would have been fitting), but then at the last minute, I put them on Air Canada instead because I figured that's what an American audience would expect.
And then Air Transat came a' knockin' to do an interview with me because what with my bilingualism and Caribbean themes, we're a nice match.
Now do you see why writing the truth is always better than an imitation of it? I can't imagine what kind of spread I would have gotten in Atmosphere if I'd gone with my instincts and kept the more correct Air Transat. Small, small detail, but the Universe chooses mysterious ways with which to bite you in the ass. Oh well.
And, dear faithful blog readers, you're in for a double-whammy today as I'm guest blogging over at the lovely Dona's. Do drop by the comments section and tell us what your favorite multi-culti themed literature is.
Hasta Luego,
Nadine
Monday, June 25, 2007
Publishers Weekly
Check this out from Publishers Weekly, posted today on Amazon!
How much fun are reviews? I've been lucky so far that nothing too damaging has come my way, but I'm also pretty pleased with myself that I'm managing to take the criticism in stride when it does come. So PW doesn't think the ending is enough of a surprise? Well, I'm more into endings that make sense given the context of the story, that give insight and show growth, as opposed to wild plot shenanigans. In a romance you know the hero and heroine will get together, and in a mystery you know the killer will be found out, in a women's fic you know the status quo who no longer be tenable and something about the protag will change: it's the 'how' that keeps you reading. And the characterization. This is what comes more naturally to me, the characterization in my novels.
But, I'm an advocate of doing the most with your strengths and also working hard on your weaknesses. With that in mind, I started doing the exercises in Writing the Breakout Novel Workbook by Donald Maass, and I have to tell you guys, it's a fabulous little tome. Light on actual wording (so you're not tempted to just read and not think about your own writing), it's heavy on giving you practical exercises you can use to test your WIP. Though it might be cumbersome to do 100% of them, it's a great tool to help you with aspects of your writing you struggle with. And it gave me plenty of insight into my current plot.
FASHIONABLY LATE
Nadine Dajani. Forge, $14.95 paper (400p) ISBN 9780765317421
Plucky, 20-something, Lebanese-Canadian Aline Hallaby has a promising career at one of Montreal's "Big Four" accounting firms; a marriage proposal from her nice (if unexciting) boyfriend; and a closet filled with Cavalli, Chloe, and Christian Louboutin. When she fails her final professional certification exam, the once-dutiful Arab girl plunges headlong into a quarter-life crisis, fleeing to Cuba for a week of heady rebellion (mojitos, men, participation in a beauty pageant) with her two closest friends. There, Ali is forced to decide if she will continue to live according to the expectations of her traditional Muslim parents, or chase her own dreams. The question of how Ali should live is a provocative one, and Dajani's wit, warmth and insight shine through in turning over its nuances, but there are few surprises to be found in how Ali answers it. (June)
How much fun are reviews? I've been lucky so far that nothing too damaging has come my way, but I'm also pretty pleased with myself that I'm managing to take the criticism in stride when it does come. So PW doesn't think the ending is enough of a surprise? Well, I'm more into endings that make sense given the context of the story, that give insight and show growth, as opposed to wild plot shenanigans. In a romance you know the hero and heroine will get together, and in a mystery you know the killer will be found out, in a women's fic you know the status quo who no longer be tenable and something about the protag will change: it's the 'how' that keeps you reading. And the characterization. This is what comes more naturally to me, the characterization in my novels.
But, I'm an advocate of doing the most with your strengths and also working hard on your weaknesses. With that in mind, I started doing the exercises in Writing the Breakout Novel Workbook by Donald Maass, and I have to tell you guys, it's a fabulous little tome. Light on actual wording (so you're not tempted to just read and not think about your own writing), it's heavy on giving you practical exercises you can use to test your WIP. Though it might be cumbersome to do 100% of them, it's a great tool to help you with aspects of your writing you struggle with. And it gave me plenty of insight into my current plot.
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
Fashionably Late Around Town
So much to blog about today... and so much time?
Yesterday was a Cayman Islands bank holiday, which really, I shouldn't have "taken" seeing as I an NO LONGER AN ACCOUNTANT but my friends were all off and wanted to go to the beach, so what the heck?
I've also been enjoying long, uninterrupted (by guilt or otherwise) stretches of reading this past weekend, and can say, right now at least, that the itch has been scratched - I was wallowing in self-pity for a while, racked with guilt over needing to do one thing or the other, taking at least a little bit advantage of the fact I live on a Caribbean island and actually going to the beach for heaven's sakes, that I really haven't indulged my reading urge of late. Like a workaholic parent, I threw money at the problem, in lieu of time, buying every book I was dying to reading, and watching it languish on my shelves. No more. We'll see how long this euphoric state lasts, but I'm confident I'm turning a page here... stop laughing.
The other promise I've made of late (to myself and my publicist)concerns this blogging regularly thing... I recall throwing at-least-once-a-week out there once. It's not that I have nothing to say (HA! my friends are wishing for the day), but it's been pretty much the same problem as reading, as in if I have one iota of free time it should be spent writing, not working out, reading, making salads, or even blogging.
So here we are, leaf turned. Though I will try and make these posts more frequent, and less verbose.
Let me start out by saying I think I've found my dream publicist. My in-house publicist is wonderful as well, but I think independent publicists and in-house ones are different breeds of publicist and shouldn't be compared. I'll be delving into that with more detail in my next installment of The Promo Diaries, for Chick Chat, the Chick Lit Writers' online chapter. Maybe with some organization, I'll get those articles up on my website one day, since I hope all you writer chicks out there will learn from my promo mistakes. Or at least get a good laugh out of them.
Heather was lovely enough to alert me to this accidental picture of Fashionably Late in a primo spot out there in California. CALIFORNIA, chicas. For a Lebanese/ Montrealer/Cayman Islander, Calie may as well be Mars. I should probably write Megan and thank her for the unintentional promo (right back at you babe: Megan Crane's book, Frenemies, just came out recently, and you can read all about it here).
The weekend I went to Miami, I'd remembered to bring along my digital camera, but not the battery, which I'd left in its charger back home. Very smart. So I can't share with you pictures of FL's appearances on tables across the Miami area, but here are some pics from Montreal...
Here it is at Paragraph, a great indie bookstore that mainly serves students at the McGill University campus across the street. If you're ever in Montreal, this is one of those well-kept local secrets - super cute bookstore with state-of-the-art adjacent cafe, on the corner of gorgeous McGill University & Sherbrooke streets, a strangely serene place for such a busy part of town. Oh, and it overlooks the lovely Mount Royal park (imagine Central Park in NYC, but bigger, carpeted in dense foliage, and on a steep hill with spectacular views of the city below)
...and at Indigo (Canada's version of Borders)
...and here's another shot at Indigo (kudos to the marketing department at TOR/Forge who were spot on with the cover: notice how well it goes with the "summer reading" theme...
...and finally, the piece de resistance, at the "New Fiction" table at Chapters (Canada's B&N)
If you happen to catch FL anywhere yourselves, please do give me a shout, as you have no idea (or maybe you do, all the more reason!) of how incredibly thrilling it is to hear.
Besos,
Nadine
Yesterday was a Cayman Islands bank holiday, which really, I shouldn't have "taken" seeing as I an NO LONGER AN ACCOUNTANT but my friends were all off and wanted to go to the beach, so what the heck?
I've also been enjoying long, uninterrupted (by guilt or otherwise) stretches of reading this past weekend, and can say, right now at least, that the itch has been scratched - I was wallowing in self-pity for a while, racked with guilt over needing to do one thing or the other, taking at least a little bit advantage of the fact I live on a Caribbean island and actually going to the beach for heaven's sakes, that I really haven't indulged my reading urge of late. Like a workaholic parent, I threw money at the problem, in lieu of time, buying every book I was dying to reading, and watching it languish on my shelves. No more. We'll see how long this euphoric state lasts, but I'm confident I'm turning a page here... stop laughing.
The other promise I've made of late (to myself and my publicist)concerns this blogging regularly thing... I recall throwing at-least-once-a-week out there once. It's not that I have nothing to say (HA! my friends are wishing for the day), but it's been pretty much the same problem as reading, as in if I have one iota of free time it should be spent writing, not working out, reading, making salads, or even blogging.
So here we are, leaf turned. Though I will try and make these posts more frequent, and less verbose.
Let me start out by saying I think I've found my dream publicist. My in-house publicist is wonderful as well, but I think independent publicists and in-house ones are different breeds of publicist and shouldn't be compared. I'll be delving into that with more detail in my next installment of The Promo Diaries, for Chick Chat, the Chick Lit Writers' online chapter. Maybe with some organization, I'll get those articles up on my website one day, since I hope all you writer chicks out there will learn from my promo mistakes. Or at least get a good laugh out of them.
Heather was lovely enough to alert me to this accidental picture of Fashionably Late in a primo spot out there in California. CALIFORNIA, chicas. For a Lebanese/ Montrealer/Cayman Islander, Calie may as well be Mars. I should probably write Megan and thank her for the unintentional promo (right back at you babe: Megan Crane's book, Frenemies, just came out recently, and you can read all about it here).
The weekend I went to Miami, I'd remembered to bring along my digital camera, but not the battery, which I'd left in its charger back home. Very smart. So I can't share with you pictures of FL's appearances on tables across the Miami area, but here are some pics from Montreal...
Here it is at Paragraph, a great indie bookstore that mainly serves students at the McGill University campus across the street. If you're ever in Montreal, this is one of those well-kept local secrets - super cute bookstore with state-of-the-art adjacent cafe, on the corner of gorgeous McGill University & Sherbrooke streets, a strangely serene place for such a busy part of town. Oh, and it overlooks the lovely Mount Royal park (imagine Central Park in NYC, but bigger, carpeted in dense foliage, and on a steep hill with spectacular views of the city below)
...and at Indigo (Canada's version of Borders)
...and here's another shot at Indigo (kudos to the marketing department at TOR/Forge who were spot on with the cover: notice how well it goes with the "summer reading" theme...
...and finally, the piece de resistance, at the "New Fiction" table at Chapters (Canada's B&N)
If you happen to catch FL anywhere yourselves, please do give me a shout, as you have no idea (or maybe you do, all the more reason!) of how incredibly thrilling it is to hear.
Besos,
Nadine
Thursday, June 14, 2007
The Time Has Come…
It’s been almost two weeks since the launch of Fashionably Late and it’s time to break the silence and start gushing. Not as easy as you would think…
When I was cramming really, really hard for my CMA (management accounting) exams, giving up every conceivable iota of free time to do something that brought me about as much pleasure as carving out my eardrums with a spoon, my CMA ‘coach’ stood in front of the class one fine day and proceeded to tell us this: when the exam would be behind us, we would miss the sense of purpose that only excruciatingly hard work in the pursuit of a singular goal can give.
The guy next to me turned and shrugged, one eyebrow cocked at a is-this-broad-freakin’-kidding-me??? angle.
Well, the exam came to pass, and I wish I could say my coach was somewhat right, that I felt some of the malaise associated with the achievement of one’s highest goals, but I was just really happy I had gotten my life back, that I’d passed, and that the nightmares had finally stopped.
Writing a book is different.
Is it because I’m older and supposedly wiser this time around? Or that instead of being pushed into this goal by the mobster twins, Fear and Loathing, I actually entered into this contract with myself freely, willingly, with nothing but hope and a little bit of stress, the positive kind, in my heart?
Maybe.
But there you have it. There is some malaise that comes with the passing of yet another signpost on the serpentine, surprising road that is Life. And over the past couple of weeks, since my last blog post, by turn I’ve felt euphoria, dread, elation, nervousness, pride, morbidity, an incredible sense of achievement, and a looming existential crisis.
Is this what I’m meant to be doing? Waiting for the Idea Muse, synthesizing her bouts of creativity into something workable, committing to the enormous project of writing a novel on nothing but faith (especially challenging to me, as I am really not a ‘faith’ kind of person), seeing it through, embarking on the shameless self-promotion ride, bracing myself for the ensuing praise and criticism (which, as I’m now understanding, are two sides of the same coin – you can’t let yourself get too high on either, or you will become a slave to them).
Since the launch of Fashionably Late, I’ve appeared in the local Cayman Islands newspapers, and am getting “spotted” about town – by the barristas at my favorite coffee shop who now know why I spent so much time in their café, the travel agent who vaguely remembers me from my various drop-ins in the office but now knows exactly who I am, people I’ve worked with in the past who used to offer a cursory ‘hello’ now looking – really looking – into my face and offering heartfelt congratulations.
Of course, with my belonging to the no-nonsense banking world, there have also been some encounters of the kind I’d always feared – from the same people who I imagine look down at homemakers and waitresses and anyone who isn’t being paid huge sums of money for sitting behind a desk as being somehow unworthy, not quite grown-up enough, and maybe a little simple minded, as though they couldn’t hack it in the real world.
I was very, very afraid of those encounters, because I used to be one of those people. Kind of like the virulent anti-gay senators, congressmen and mega-church preachers whose homophobic crusades turn out to be inspired by a deep self-loathing, a shameful penchant to what they declare to be so depraved and disgusting.
I was a creative person who wished she could just be normal.
And out of all the gifts, encounters with new, interesting people, new experiences, new feelings I’ve gained since the release of FL, this is the most precious: self-acceptance.
Okay, so that was the “morbidity” and “existential crisis” segment of our post. On to the fun part: the party!
It was unbelievably good. The kind of good I didn’t allow myself to hope for. Nearly everyone who’d RSVP’d showed up, so about 90 people, the food – which was going to be a surprise for me since I didn’t set the menu, merely pointed in the direction of noveau-Mediterranean if you will – was spectacular. Creative, original, and finger-lickin’ good. The music was so good that in the midst of the Paris-Hilton-grade glamour of signing books and having twenty different flashes going off in tandem, I was itching to get on the dance floor. And this after having given Jae, my wonderful friend-cum-event-planner-cum-DJ this very helpful suggestion: “I want a contemporary Cuban sound with a Middle-Eastern/techno baseline… Oh – and lots of hip hop, Nelly Furtato/Sexy Back kinda vibe. Do you see what I’m saying?”
And, by God, Jae did it.
We even had a foosball table in a corner which kept those gentlemen (I use the term loosely) with little inclination for salsa/baladi/house/Nelly Furtato remixes happily occupied, as they puffed on their complimentary Romeo y Julieta cigars.
The ladies’ gift bags were a hit. I’m now free to reveal what was in them: three mini-martini bottles (Cocktails by Jenn is the brand – pre-mixed sweet little concoctions which are heavy on the vodka) of assorted flavors, a mojito scented soap created especially for Fashionably Late by a local artisan, Cayman Soap Co., gorgeous earrings (in an equally gorgeous little “flower” pouch I found online) individually handcrafted - all 60 of them - by my really good friend Dara (who will not listen to me and pursue her jewelry design ambitions seriously even though she’s brilliant), and lip gloss.
The community support for this party was so amazing that a local Cuban art gallery donated a painting, and one of the big jewelers, Island Companies, donated a gorgeous Sorrelli necklace, both to be raffled off to raise money for Cayman’s libraries. The most incredible support of all was that it was my current employer, an international bank, who helped make it all come true. A sign that in the hearts of even the most straight-laced financiers lays a yearning for the artistic? Or just plain kindness?
I signed more than sixty books, had a few mojitos, and then danced the night away. It was absolutely magical.
Here I am, before the madness, with the books...
A glimpse of the venue, this time with guests...
In the thick of things...
This time with Lil'sis who played the part of raffle drawing organizer and general keep-company'er extraordinaire...
Gift bags and raffle prizes...
Los tigres of the night, not to mention the evening's principal salseros...
Me, and the hot, all-male staff I'd requested for the evening (it's my party, and I don't have to stare at a buxom barmaid's scantily-clad cleavage if I don't want to, dammit!)
The debauchery begins...
...and ensues...
and the lovely ladies who helped me make this dream come true
When I was cramming really, really hard for my CMA (management accounting) exams, giving up every conceivable iota of free time to do something that brought me about as much pleasure as carving out my eardrums with a spoon, my CMA ‘coach’ stood in front of the class one fine day and proceeded to tell us this: when the exam would be behind us, we would miss the sense of purpose that only excruciatingly hard work in the pursuit of a singular goal can give.
The guy next to me turned and shrugged, one eyebrow cocked at a is-this-broad-freakin’-kidding-me??? angle.
Well, the exam came to pass, and I wish I could say my coach was somewhat right, that I felt some of the malaise associated with the achievement of one’s highest goals, but I was just really happy I had gotten my life back, that I’d passed, and that the nightmares had finally stopped.
Writing a book is different.
Is it because I’m older and supposedly wiser this time around? Or that instead of being pushed into this goal by the mobster twins, Fear and Loathing, I actually entered into this contract with myself freely, willingly, with nothing but hope and a little bit of stress, the positive kind, in my heart?
Maybe.
But there you have it. There is some malaise that comes with the passing of yet another signpost on the serpentine, surprising road that is Life. And over the past couple of weeks, since my last blog post, by turn I’ve felt euphoria, dread, elation, nervousness, pride, morbidity, an incredible sense of achievement, and a looming existential crisis.
Is this what I’m meant to be doing? Waiting for the Idea Muse, synthesizing her bouts of creativity into something workable, committing to the enormous project of writing a novel on nothing but faith (especially challenging to me, as I am really not a ‘faith’ kind of person), seeing it through, embarking on the shameless self-promotion ride, bracing myself for the ensuing praise and criticism (which, as I’m now understanding, are two sides of the same coin – you can’t let yourself get too high on either, or you will become a slave to them).
Since the launch of Fashionably Late, I’ve appeared in the local Cayman Islands newspapers, and am getting “spotted” about town – by the barristas at my favorite coffee shop who now know why I spent so much time in their café, the travel agent who vaguely remembers me from my various drop-ins in the office but now knows exactly who I am, people I’ve worked with in the past who used to offer a cursory ‘hello’ now looking – really looking – into my face and offering heartfelt congratulations.
Of course, with my belonging to the no-nonsense banking world, there have also been some encounters of the kind I’d always feared – from the same people who I imagine look down at homemakers and waitresses and anyone who isn’t being paid huge sums of money for sitting behind a desk as being somehow unworthy, not quite grown-up enough, and maybe a little simple minded, as though they couldn’t hack it in the real world.
I was very, very afraid of those encounters, because I used to be one of those people. Kind of like the virulent anti-gay senators, congressmen and mega-church preachers whose homophobic crusades turn out to be inspired by a deep self-loathing, a shameful penchant to what they declare to be so depraved and disgusting.
I was a creative person who wished she could just be normal.
And out of all the gifts, encounters with new, interesting people, new experiences, new feelings I’ve gained since the release of FL, this is the most precious: self-acceptance.
Okay, so that was the “morbidity” and “existential crisis” segment of our post. On to the fun part: the party!
It was unbelievably good. The kind of good I didn’t allow myself to hope for. Nearly everyone who’d RSVP’d showed up, so about 90 people, the food – which was going to be a surprise for me since I didn’t set the menu, merely pointed in the direction of noveau-Mediterranean if you will – was spectacular. Creative, original, and finger-lickin’ good. The music was so good that in the midst of the Paris-Hilton-grade glamour of signing books and having twenty different flashes going off in tandem, I was itching to get on the dance floor. And this after having given Jae, my wonderful friend-cum-event-planner-cum-DJ this very helpful suggestion: “I want a contemporary Cuban sound with a Middle-Eastern/techno baseline… Oh – and lots of hip hop, Nelly Furtato/Sexy Back kinda vibe. Do you see what I’m saying?”
And, by God, Jae did it.
We even had a foosball table in a corner which kept those gentlemen (I use the term loosely) with little inclination for salsa/baladi/house/Nelly Furtato remixes happily occupied, as they puffed on their complimentary Romeo y Julieta cigars.
The ladies’ gift bags were a hit. I’m now free to reveal what was in them: three mini-martini bottles (Cocktails by Jenn is the brand – pre-mixed sweet little concoctions which are heavy on the vodka) of assorted flavors, a mojito scented soap created especially for Fashionably Late by a local artisan, Cayman Soap Co., gorgeous earrings (in an equally gorgeous little “flower” pouch I found online) individually handcrafted - all 60 of them - by my really good friend Dara (who will not listen to me and pursue her jewelry design ambitions seriously even though she’s brilliant), and lip gloss.
The community support for this party was so amazing that a local Cuban art gallery donated a painting, and one of the big jewelers, Island Companies, donated a gorgeous Sorrelli necklace, both to be raffled off to raise money for Cayman’s libraries. The most incredible support of all was that it was my current employer, an international bank, who helped make it all come true. A sign that in the hearts of even the most straight-laced financiers lays a yearning for the artistic? Or just plain kindness?
I signed more than sixty books, had a few mojitos, and then danced the night away. It was absolutely magical.
Here I am, before the madness, with the books...
A glimpse of the venue, this time with guests...
In the thick of things...
This time with Lil'sis who played the part of raffle drawing organizer and general keep-company'er extraordinaire...
Gift bags and raffle prizes...
Los tigres of the night, not to mention the evening's principal salseros...
Me, and the hot, all-male staff I'd requested for the evening (it's my party, and I don't have to stare at a buxom barmaid's scantily-clad cleavage if I don't want to, dammit!)
The debauchery begins...
...and ensues...
and the lovely ladies who helped me make this dream come true
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
Fashionably Late OFFICIAL RELEASE DATE!!!
I know, I know, I should have been all over this and this post should have been up bright and early this morning, but it’s crazy times around here…
Last night a friend threw a BBQ in honor of my other friend who had come all the way over from London for the launch party. As if that weren't exciting enough, about halfway through the evening the doorbell rings and who’s there but my single oldest friend in the world. She’d flown in from Montreal, just for the party, and had managed to keep it a complete surprise. Everyone was in on it and managed to keep the secret for at least a month, so kudos to all my peeps (you too mom! I'm very impressed).
Is it a wonder that in all this flurry of activity, the party (tomorrow!!!), the surprise jet-setting friend drop-ins, the spa appointments, the gift bag production lines, the last minute party details, not to mention that I’m not off of work until tomorrow, that the official launch date of the book nearly passed me by??? Hard to believe but true. I’m not even sure I would have noticed had my little brother not set up a Facebook group called “Buy My Sister’s Book or Die”. Gotta love little brothers. And technology.
So, if after this huge lead-up of over a year you’re still curious about FL, you can finally head on over to the bookstore and get it! (Unless of course you live in Miami, then you’ll have to wait until I can sign your copy this weekend!!)
As for our giveaway winner – Reel Fanatic, congratulations!!! Just send me your address and your copy will be sent from Miami this weekend.
Thanks for all your support guys! I may not blog for the rest of the week, but I’ll be back on Monday with news of the party, and lots of pics!
Last night a friend threw a BBQ in honor of my other friend who had come all the way over from London for the launch party. As if that weren't exciting enough, about halfway through the evening the doorbell rings and who’s there but my single oldest friend in the world. She’d flown in from Montreal, just for the party, and had managed to keep it a complete surprise. Everyone was in on it and managed to keep the secret for at least a month, so kudos to all my peeps (you too mom! I'm very impressed).
Is it a wonder that in all this flurry of activity, the party (tomorrow!!!), the surprise jet-setting friend drop-ins, the spa appointments, the gift bag production lines, the last minute party details, not to mention that I’m not off of work until tomorrow, that the official launch date of the book nearly passed me by??? Hard to believe but true. I’m not even sure I would have noticed had my little brother not set up a Facebook group called “Buy My Sister’s Book or Die”. Gotta love little brothers. And technology.
So, if after this huge lead-up of over a year you’re still curious about FL, you can finally head on over to the bookstore and get it! (Unless of course you live in Miami, then you’ll have to wait until I can sign your copy this weekend!!)
As for our giveaway winner – Reel Fanatic, congratulations!!! Just send me your address and your copy will be sent from Miami this weekend.
Thanks for all your support guys! I may not blog for the rest of the week, but I’ll be back on Monday with news of the party, and lots of pics!
Thursday, May 24, 2007
Contest Announcement!!!
I’m sinking lower into in bad blogger (uh – try terrible) territory, and this mere DAYS BEFORE THE LAUNCH OF FASHIONABLY LATE!!!
This is ridiculous.
I think I may just have to give away a copy of FL just to redeem myself. And I will make it as easy as humanly possible. Just leave me a comment, write down anything you want, anything in the world, like say, AAARRRRGGGHHHHH!!! and I’ll put your name in a hat and have one of my friends pick one. And you have until Monday morning to leave your comment, too.
Before I move on to a completely unrelated topic, I would like to sneak in the tiniest little bit of shameless self promotion and remind you of my reading/signing at Books & Books in Coral Gables, Miami, Sunday June 3rd. I will bring goodies from the launch party, but I won’t say what just yet…
I’ll also be dropping by a bunch of Miami-area Barnes & Noble stores to do some stock signings, so if you’d like your very own autographed copy of FL and happen to live near a B&N (or Books & Books), here’s your chance!
In other exciting news, the launch party is in a mere SIX DAYS, and the source of my nervousness and excitement for the past month and a half will finally come to pass… lots of pics will be up on the blog in the ensuing days, as promised.
And finally, I’m being interviewed for June’s Chick Chat, and, time permitting, I’ll be contributing an article about promotion in there as well. If you’re not a member of the online Chick Lit Writers of the World RWA chapter, then watch this space – I’ll try to get the interview posted here as well.
Now do you see why I haven’t been blogging?
Okay – time for the rant of the day.
I’ve been seeing previews on TV for an upcoming movie with Catherine Zeta-Jones and Aaron Eckhart called No Reservations and thinking about the original German version, Mostly Marta, which has led me to wonder if perhaps the different stylistic approaches to what is essentially the exact same story, explain something about the way we North Americans see the world.
For those of you who haven’t heard of Mostly Marta (and I don’t blame you if you haven’t – if I didn’t haunt the foreign films section of my local Blockbusters, I wouldn’t have either), it’s the story of a brilliant yet borderline bipolar, loner chef (Marta) working at a swanky restaurant. Calamity strikes when Marta’s only connection to the world outside her kitchen, her single-mom sister, dies in a car crash leaving Marta as sole guardian to her young niece. Marta has no clue what to do with her niece – enter hot, sensual, rival chef who tries to bring out the humanity in Marta.
From my brief description above, this sounds like a typical, predictable romantic comedy with its only twist that it’s set against kitchen politics – cute sounding, but probably forgettable. And hinging mostly on the theater-packing power of the lead actors.
The original Mostly Marta though, caught my attention with its DVD cover depicting a spread of gourmet food, and, being a cooking show addict, I had to check it out. And then the characters charmed me despite (or is it because of?) their utter banality. Marta could have been my neighbor - no airbrushing of her midsection, no flashy wardrobe, no score to give me cues when to laugh or cry - in other words, nothing to distract me from the acting and basic story itself. German Marta did not need to be Catherine-Zeta-Jones-grade stunning to captivate me (in fact, I have a hard time seeing how someone who looks like Catherine will pull off the cold, bitter, no-love-life loner role…) and the leading man, while sexy, isn’t your typical heartthrob. And since the entire movie is German with English subtitles, I can’t say it was a scriptwriter’s tour de force either.
So what was it? That elusive je ne sais quoi that happens when you do your best to de-glamorize life and write real characters going through perfectly believable emotions and life experiences? Besides the mother dying right at the beginning, I can’t say there were any slap-in-the-face type turning points – it was all very subtle. I think it was mostly about connecting, in the most subtle, basic way.
And then I saw the previews for No Reservations, complete with clichéd pretty boy hero, stunning-yet-bafflingly-reluctant damsel in psychological distress, and the gag-inducing sentimental music cue.
My question is: why must we North Americans Disney-fy life? What is our brand of happiness (or the brand that has taken over our pop culture, at least) all pomp and fireworks not to mention replete with shiny, beautiful, and just about perfect people?
Maybe that’s why we’re constantly feeling like we can’t measure up…
You could argue the studios have to do that to make sure the lowest denominator of taste is catered to but that sort of begs the question: what came first, movies that don't trust audiences will identify to what's real as opposed to what's glossy and idealized, or do most people prefer more Disney-fication and less realism in their lives?
… in completely unrelated news, IMDB has listed “Rachel’s Holiday” as being under negotiation, with Catherine Zeta-Jones the only star on board so far. Can you see Catherine as Rachel Walsh, a coke addict who suffers from seriously low self-esteem? Me neither, but I’m thrilled to see (fingers crossed!) one of Marian Keyes’s fantastic novels adapted for the silver screen.
This is ridiculous.
I think I may just have to give away a copy of FL just to redeem myself. And I will make it as easy as humanly possible. Just leave me a comment, write down anything you want, anything in the world, like say, AAARRRRGGGHHHHH!!! and I’ll put your name in a hat and have one of my friends pick one. And you have until Monday morning to leave your comment, too.
Before I move on to a completely unrelated topic, I would like to sneak in the tiniest little bit of shameless self promotion and remind you of my reading/signing at Books & Books in Coral Gables, Miami, Sunday June 3rd. I will bring goodies from the launch party, but I won’t say what just yet…
I’ll also be dropping by a bunch of Miami-area Barnes & Noble stores to do some stock signings, so if you’d like your very own autographed copy of FL and happen to live near a B&N (or Books & Books), here’s your chance!
In other exciting news, the launch party is in a mere SIX DAYS, and the source of my nervousness and excitement for the past month and a half will finally come to pass… lots of pics will be up on the blog in the ensuing days, as promised.
And finally, I’m being interviewed for June’s Chick Chat, and, time permitting, I’ll be contributing an article about promotion in there as well. If you’re not a member of the online Chick Lit Writers of the World RWA chapter, then watch this space – I’ll try to get the interview posted here as well.
Now do you see why I haven’t been blogging?
Okay – time for the rant of the day.
I’ve been seeing previews on TV for an upcoming movie with Catherine Zeta-Jones and Aaron Eckhart called No Reservations and thinking about the original German version, Mostly Marta, which has led me to wonder if perhaps the different stylistic approaches to what is essentially the exact same story, explain something about the way we North Americans see the world.
For those of you who haven’t heard of Mostly Marta (and I don’t blame you if you haven’t – if I didn’t haunt the foreign films section of my local Blockbusters, I wouldn’t have either), it’s the story of a brilliant yet borderline bipolar, loner chef (Marta) working at a swanky restaurant. Calamity strikes when Marta’s only connection to the world outside her kitchen, her single-mom sister, dies in a car crash leaving Marta as sole guardian to her young niece. Marta has no clue what to do with her niece – enter hot, sensual, rival chef who tries to bring out the humanity in Marta.
From my brief description above, this sounds like a typical, predictable romantic comedy with its only twist that it’s set against kitchen politics – cute sounding, but probably forgettable. And hinging mostly on the theater-packing power of the lead actors.
The original Mostly Marta though, caught my attention with its DVD cover depicting a spread of gourmet food, and, being a cooking show addict, I had to check it out. And then the characters charmed me despite (or is it because of?) their utter banality. Marta could have been my neighbor - no airbrushing of her midsection, no flashy wardrobe, no score to give me cues when to laugh or cry - in other words, nothing to distract me from the acting and basic story itself. German Marta did not need to be Catherine-Zeta-Jones-grade stunning to captivate me (in fact, I have a hard time seeing how someone who looks like Catherine will pull off the cold, bitter, no-love-life loner role…) and the leading man, while sexy, isn’t your typical heartthrob. And since the entire movie is German with English subtitles, I can’t say it was a scriptwriter’s tour de force either.
So what was it? That elusive je ne sais quoi that happens when you do your best to de-glamorize life and write real characters going through perfectly believable emotions and life experiences? Besides the mother dying right at the beginning, I can’t say there were any slap-in-the-face type turning points – it was all very subtle. I think it was mostly about connecting, in the most subtle, basic way.
And then I saw the previews for No Reservations, complete with clichéd pretty boy hero, stunning-yet-bafflingly-reluctant damsel in psychological distress, and the gag-inducing sentimental music cue.
My question is: why must we North Americans Disney-fy life? What is our brand of happiness (or the brand that has taken over our pop culture, at least) all pomp and fireworks not to mention replete with shiny, beautiful, and just about perfect people?
Maybe that’s why we’re constantly feeling like we can’t measure up…
You could argue the studios have to do that to make sure the lowest denominator of taste is catered to but that sort of begs the question: what came first, movies that don't trust audiences will identify to what's real as opposed to what's glossy and idealized, or do most people prefer more Disney-fication and less realism in their lives?
… in completely unrelated news, IMDB has listed “Rachel’s Holiday” as being under negotiation, with Catherine Zeta-Jones the only star on board so far. Can you see Catherine as Rachel Walsh, a coke addict who suffers from seriously low self-esteem? Me neither, but I’m thrilled to see (fingers crossed!) one of Marian Keyes’s fantastic novels adapted for the silver screen.
Wednesday, May 09, 2007
Single Mama Drama
1. Drop off Fashionably Late artwork at label place for gift bag labels
2. Buy sticky labels for invitations
3. Drop off sticky labels at printing place, beg and plead that they print them ASAP as party is in a mere 3 weeks
4. Drop off FL ARC for reporter at local paper
... and that was just lunch. I'm in a mind to nap under my desk.
For all my moaning and complaining, here's a timely article about people who have it quite a bit worse, namely unwed moms and how most of them didn't get pregnant the Angelina Jolie way.
What I'm reading: On Writing by Stephen King. I'd always heard this was one of the best but its non-traditional format turned me off - I wanted writing advice and I wanted it NOW! No time for stories about Stephen's older brother Dave and his humble upbringing. Well, turns out it was my loss, because this is a little gem of both literature and how-to craft guidebook.
2. Buy sticky labels for invitations
3. Drop off sticky labels at printing place, beg and plead that they print them ASAP as party is in a mere 3 weeks
4. Drop off FL ARC for reporter at local paper
... and that was just lunch. I'm in a mind to nap under my desk.
For all my moaning and complaining, here's a timely article about people who have it quite a bit worse, namely unwed moms and how most of them didn't get pregnant the Angelina Jolie way.
What I'm reading: On Writing by Stephen King. I'd always heard this was one of the best but its non-traditional format turned me off - I wanted writing advice and I wanted it NOW! No time for stories about Stephen's older brother Dave and his humble upbringing. Well, turns out it was my loss, because this is a little gem of both literature and how-to craft guidebook.
Tuesday, May 08, 2007
Top Ten Tuesday: The True Meaning of “Sunny Day” to this Chick
I’ve been tagged! By none other than The Dona (hey – if you can have The Donald and The Dude, why not The Dona?)
So today it dons on me that in a mere three weeks – that’s right people, 21 days – I will be reading from Fashionably Late to a Miami audience.
Fashionably Late. Miami. Moi.
It’s almost too much to handle. This is like one of those fantasies you indulge in when you’re stuck on chapter twenty-three of your virtually-no-hope-to-be-pubbed magnum opus and you start mentally rehearsing the acceptance speech of your RITA award instead of getting your subplots to cooperate.
I feel like going back in time and telling pre-pubbed me not to feel so guilty about the daydreams, that daydreams coupled with many hours at the keyboard (some painful, others that fly by) wondering “what the heck am I doing here, and WHY???” is the stuff magic is made of.
Being able to think back to the daydreams and look at how far you’ve come IS magic.
So, if any of you faithful blog readers happen to be in the Miami area on Sunday June 3rd between 3 and 4:30pm, then you need to be dropping by the same bookstore Alisa Valdes-Rodriguez raves about in her latest, Make Him Look Good, Books & Books Coral Gables.
I am oozing awe. I’ll stop talking about it now before I jinx myself.
Now, about this Tuesday’s topic… yes, I live in the Cayman Islands where nine and a half out of every ten days are likely to be sunny (on the flip side, that half day is for hurricanes), but I moved here because I’m a true-blue sun bunny. So no complaints… but… with all this wonderful weather, you start taking sunny days and all summer connotations for granted. So I’m going to take myself back five years to a time and place where summer was an event more awaited and celebrated than Christmas… Montreal.
Montrealers WORSHIP summer. It’s like we hide all winter long (and in Montreal, boy is winter lo-o-ong…) and burst out of our cocoons with the first green bud to show up on the first maple tree to bloom. Like wearing t-shirts in plus 5 weather (that 5 Celsius, y’all… somebody translate please!). Summer is more than a season for us, it’s an industry, a state of mind, an end to the Winter Blues, its…
1) Tim Horton’s Iced Coffees. Tim Horton is Canada’s answer to Dunkin’ Donuts but only like, a bazillion times better.
2) A meal at one of Montreal’s thousands of outdoor terraces. Any meal, in any neighborhood. I know lots of cities do this now, but this tradition comes to us straight from Paris baby, where artistes would sip their cafés au lait on scraps of sidewalk masquerading as a “terrace” and lament about the miserable state of the world. Nowadays this is a bona fide marketing strategy.
3) Cutting work early so you can get to aforementioned outdoor meal as quickly as possible.
4) Hitting the bars/clubs in short skirts, flimsy tops, open-toed sandals, and best of all… no coats!
5) Sundresses. Denim sundresses, short yellow sundresses, white eyelet sundresses, sundresses from K-Mart or sundresses from Kookai. Whatever. It all works.
6) McDonald’s 49 cent soft ice-cream cones and the special counter open only in the summertime, where you can by them right off Ste. Catherine’s street. I bet they’re a dollar now.
7) Weddings. Everywhere I look, in the paper, blocking traffic, blaring car horns, the magazines, you name it.
8) Festivals. The Just for Laughs fest (yours truly’s favorite), the jazz fest, the film fest, the fireworks fest…
9) La Ronde. This is Montreal’s lone amusement part, as venerable and traditional as Shepard’s Pie. There was some talk of Six Flags buying it way back when and I’m not sure if this has happened in my long absence… When I still lived in the city, I never missed one summer without hitting La Ronde. Even worked there when I was 18!
10) Becoming Canadian. My family traveled to Montreal on an “emigration scouting trip” back in 1986. That summer was one of the best of my entire (admittedly short) life, holding up to such other summers as ones spent in Greece, Spain, Lebanon, and Jordan. I remember standing in front of a fountain in Marineland (Canada’s version of Sea World), tossing a penny in, and making a wish: that we would move to Canada forever and ever.
So today it dons on me that in a mere three weeks – that’s right people, 21 days – I will be reading from Fashionably Late to a Miami audience.
Fashionably Late. Miami. Moi.
It’s almost too much to handle. This is like one of those fantasies you indulge in when you’re stuck on chapter twenty-three of your virtually-no-hope-to-be-pubbed magnum opus and you start mentally rehearsing the acceptance speech of your RITA award instead of getting your subplots to cooperate.
I feel like going back in time and telling pre-pubbed me not to feel so guilty about the daydreams, that daydreams coupled with many hours at the keyboard (some painful, others that fly by) wondering “what the heck am I doing here, and WHY???” is the stuff magic is made of.
Being able to think back to the daydreams and look at how far you’ve come IS magic.
So, if any of you faithful blog readers happen to be in the Miami area on Sunday June 3rd between 3 and 4:30pm, then you need to be dropping by the same bookstore Alisa Valdes-Rodriguez raves about in her latest, Make Him Look Good, Books & Books Coral Gables.
I am oozing awe. I’ll stop talking about it now before I jinx myself.
Now, about this Tuesday’s topic… yes, I live in the Cayman Islands where nine and a half out of every ten days are likely to be sunny (on the flip side, that half day is for hurricanes), but I moved here because I’m a true-blue sun bunny. So no complaints… but… with all this wonderful weather, you start taking sunny days and all summer connotations for granted. So I’m going to take myself back five years to a time and place where summer was an event more awaited and celebrated than Christmas… Montreal.
Montrealers WORSHIP summer. It’s like we hide all winter long (and in Montreal, boy is winter lo-o-ong…) and burst out of our cocoons with the first green bud to show up on the first maple tree to bloom. Like wearing t-shirts in plus 5 weather (that 5 Celsius, y’all… somebody translate please!). Summer is more than a season for us, it’s an industry, a state of mind, an end to the Winter Blues, its…
1) Tim Horton’s Iced Coffees. Tim Horton is Canada’s answer to Dunkin’ Donuts but only like, a bazillion times better.
2) A meal at one of Montreal’s thousands of outdoor terraces. Any meal, in any neighborhood. I know lots of cities do this now, but this tradition comes to us straight from Paris baby, where artistes would sip their cafés au lait on scraps of sidewalk masquerading as a “terrace” and lament about the miserable state of the world. Nowadays this is a bona fide marketing strategy.
3) Cutting work early so you can get to aforementioned outdoor meal as quickly as possible.
4) Hitting the bars/clubs in short skirts, flimsy tops, open-toed sandals, and best of all… no coats!
5) Sundresses. Denim sundresses, short yellow sundresses, white eyelet sundresses, sundresses from K-Mart or sundresses from Kookai. Whatever. It all works.
6) McDonald’s 49 cent soft ice-cream cones and the special counter open only in the summertime, where you can by them right off Ste. Catherine’s street. I bet they’re a dollar now.
7) Weddings. Everywhere I look, in the paper, blocking traffic, blaring car horns, the magazines, you name it.
8) Festivals. The Just for Laughs fest (yours truly’s favorite), the jazz fest, the film fest, the fireworks fest…
9) La Ronde. This is Montreal’s lone amusement part, as venerable and traditional as Shepard’s Pie. There was some talk of Six Flags buying it way back when and I’m not sure if this has happened in my long absence… When I still lived in the city, I never missed one summer without hitting La Ronde. Even worked there when I was 18!
10) Becoming Canadian. My family traveled to Montreal on an “emigration scouting trip” back in 1986. That summer was one of the best of my entire (admittedly short) life, holding up to such other summers as ones spent in Greece, Spain, Lebanon, and Jordan. I remember standing in front of a fountain in Marineland (Canada’s version of Sea World), tossing a penny in, and making a wish: that we would move to Canada forever and ever.
Friday, May 04, 2007
The Countdown Begins…
Once again I’ve sunken into bad blogger territory, and this just 25 days till the release of Fashionably Late!!!
Why am I being so bad you ask? Two words. Launch party. I decided to hold it here in Cayman since that’s where I’ve been living and working for the past five years, and where I thought I’d be able to round up the biggest amount of people willing to get together and get sloshed using a book launch for an excuse (any excuse is a good one).
I keed, I keed… since this is such a small, tightly-knit community, people down here are among the most supportive I’ve ever met, and ninety of them are coming out to celebrate with me on May 30th!
And yes, of COURSE I have the dress picked out already. It’s a deep aqua blue short kimono dress by Geren Ford (purchased from the fabulous Shopbop.com… I wouldn’t have survived living abroad without them).
I had so much fun planning this party, from the venue to the food down to the gift bags – I would seriously consider a career in this is it weren’t for my complete inability to stick to a budget!
Don’t worry – I promise you lots and lots of pics in a months’ time. In the meantime, here’s a sneak peak at the invite:
Why am I being so bad you ask? Two words. Launch party. I decided to hold it here in Cayman since that’s where I’ve been living and working for the past five years, and where I thought I’d be able to round up the biggest amount of people willing to get together and get sloshed using a book launch for an excuse (any excuse is a good one).
I keed, I keed… since this is such a small, tightly-knit community, people down here are among the most supportive I’ve ever met, and ninety of them are coming out to celebrate with me on May 30th!
And yes, of COURSE I have the dress picked out already. It’s a deep aqua blue short kimono dress by Geren Ford (purchased from the fabulous Shopbop.com… I wouldn’t have survived living abroad without them).
I had so much fun planning this party, from the venue to the food down to the gift bags – I would seriously consider a career in this is it weren’t for my complete inability to stick to a budget!
Don’t worry – I promise you lots and lots of pics in a months’ time. In the meantime, here’s a sneak peak at the invite:
Thursday, April 26, 2007
Site Update!!!
Woo Hoo!!!
I did it. Finally. Or rather, my webmaster did (thank you Shawnna!)
The point is, I've got a spiffy new "Intro" page with a listing of my upcoming tour dates (with details to follow) in case you happen to be in Miami the weekend of June 2nd - 3rd, or Grand Cayman on June 9th (hey - y'never know)
I've also posted my CJAD interview, in case some of you non-Montreal dwelling faithful blog readers would like to listen in.
So pop by at nadinedajani.com and tell me what you think!
I did it. Finally. Or rather, my webmaster did (thank you Shawnna!)
The point is, I've got a spiffy new "Intro" page with a listing of my upcoming tour dates (with details to follow) in case you happen to be in Miami the weekend of June 2nd - 3rd, or Grand Cayman on June 9th (hey - y'never know)
I've also posted my CJAD interview, in case some of you non-Montreal dwelling faithful blog readers would like to listen in.
So pop by at nadinedajani.com and tell me what you think!
What I'm reading now: The True and Outstanding Adventures of the Hunt Sisters by Elisabeth Robinson which I have to say is borderline genius. Any aspiring writer should pick this up as Ms. Robinson is very adept at actually making us laugh out loud one moment (and I am not prone to laughing out loud) and then promptly tugging at our heart strings the next.
Thursday, April 19, 2007
Onwards!…. Er,….Backwards!
In no other country that I can think of, do abortion and gun ownership rights decide elections. (Dictatorships do not count as they are dictatorships, and who the heck knows how people in dictatorships really feel about abortion, guns, or thong underpants for that matter?) Can you think of any?
In light of what happened in Virginia Tech this week, some might argue it makes sense to put all other issues on the backburner, like say the fact that Iraq has seen it’s deadliest day yet since the “surge” at 168 fatalities in one singe day this week for example, in favor of exploiting – er – exploring this tragedy to its fullest extent.
Because senseless tragedies, the kind we can’t really do anything about or explain (to quote Chris Rock on this one: “Whatever happened to CRAZY???), and Britney Spears’ panties or lack thereof, are so much more mesmerizing than issues that we can actually DO something about, like, say, the fact that Roe vs Wade was effectively repealed for a huge segment of women this week, with no caveat to protect the mother’s health.
I think that last bit bears repeating. NO caveat, no out, no exceptions for women for whom a pregnancy might potentially be harmful, or perhaps even deadly down the line.
So Borat’s joke about horses and crawling insects being above women in the chain of relative importance to society has kinda, sorta come true in the US this week, and the US can now proudly join the ranks of dictatorships that also have laws telling women exactly where their opinion figures in matters that concern how they live their lives.
Here’s my question: where are the women of the US in all of this? 51% of the population and all I hear from that side of the fence is the sound of crickets.
I have my own opinion (surprise!) on the issue and I know you have yours. That’s not my problem. My problem is that the face value of “freedoms” that are supposedly being fought for are being slowly hacked away and no one makes a peep. Not a sound.
Maybe Vogue will do a feature on the subject in a month or two, which I will read while a man looks at me and rolls his eyes at my frivolous choice of reading material.
At least now you can say someone told you.
In light of what happened in Virginia Tech this week, some might argue it makes sense to put all other issues on the backburner, like say the fact that Iraq has seen it’s deadliest day yet since the “surge” at 168 fatalities in one singe day this week for example, in favor of exploiting – er – exploring this tragedy to its fullest extent.
Because senseless tragedies, the kind we can’t really do anything about or explain (to quote Chris Rock on this one: “Whatever happened to CRAZY???), and Britney Spears’ panties or lack thereof, are so much more mesmerizing than issues that we can actually DO something about, like, say, the fact that Roe vs Wade was effectively repealed for a huge segment of women this week, with no caveat to protect the mother’s health.
I think that last bit bears repeating. NO caveat, no out, no exceptions for women for whom a pregnancy might potentially be harmful, or perhaps even deadly down the line.
So Borat’s joke about horses and crawling insects being above women in the chain of relative importance to society has kinda, sorta come true in the US this week, and the US can now proudly join the ranks of dictatorships that also have laws telling women exactly where their opinion figures in matters that concern how they live their lives.
Here’s my question: where are the women of the US in all of this? 51% of the population and all I hear from that side of the fence is the sound of crickets.
I have my own opinion (surprise!) on the issue and I know you have yours. That’s not my problem. My problem is that the face value of “freedoms” that are supposedly being fought for are being slowly hacked away and no one makes a peep. Not a sound.
Maybe Vogue will do a feature on the subject in a month or two, which I will read while a man looks at me and rolls his eyes at my frivolous choice of reading material.
At least now you can say someone told you.
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