The Divining Wand

[Next week Tuesday, March 16, 2010, Jenny Gardiner (Sleeping with Ward Cleaver) will watch her second book, Winging It: Twenty Years of Caring for a Vengeful Bird Determined to Kill Me land on bookstore shelves. It's the tale of parrot-hood and, in this guest blog, the author introduces us to her feathered charge.]

My parrot wants me dead. She hates me. Proof is the triangular chunk of flesh now missing from both the front and back of my thumb, testament to the dangers of a beak that’s as powerful as an industrial metal-stamping die.

It seems where I’ve met with moderate success in parenthood–i.e. maintaining the upper hand in the relationship–I’ve failed miserably in parrot-hood.

Parrot-hood, you ask? Yes, in my case, that would be the state in which one must sustain a parrot.

Graycie, a too-smart-for-our-own-good African Gray parrot, came to our family from the wild, a Christmas gift from a relative living in Zaire 20 years ago. Graycie arrived on our doorstep–with a temporary stop in parrot prison (quarantine)–in good health but bad temperament. The first few years were arduous, as she was ferocious, snapping and growling at us when we got near. Who could blame her? Poor thing was chopped down from a tree and separated from her parents, stuffed into a crate with a hundred other terrified baby birds, and left to survive with little food or water.

Had I anything to say in the matter, I would have nixed owning a contraband bird from the get-go (back then most parrots ended up in the U.S. this way; shortly thereafter such means of parrot acquisition were banned). Nevertheless, I was determined to make the best of the situation, despite the fact that she arrived on the heels of the birth of our first child. I was having enough trouble dealing with the demands of a small human who needed my attention all day and night, so was ill-prepared to welcome a bird into the home who expected that and then some.

To some extent, Graycie’s redeemed herself over the years. She’s become quite the talker: she puts my kids in time-outs when they get sassy, yells at the dog when she tries to eat her, and answers the phone in my husband’s voice. Ditto his burps and sneezes. Recently when I used a broom to nudge her back onto the cage from the floor, she pecked at my feet and the broom while repeatedly saying, “Hello gray chicken!”

For a while Graycie became somewhat nice. She let us hold her, sometimes even stroke her feathers. Unfortunately she’d scoot up my arm and perch behind my neck, precariously close to that vital jugular vein and far too inclined to poop on my back, so I didn’t make a habit of such visits. Maybe that angered her.

My friend is convinced Graycie needs a boyfriend. She is a teenager, after all. I’m convinced she needs anger management therapy. Perhaps, though, she is really a he and is tired of being called a girl (back when we got her, the only way to determine a bird’s gender was surgically, so we just guessed at it).

Whatever it is, I know this: what she wants most is to wound me. Often. When I clear the paper from beneath the cage, she races down to attack me, and gleefully rips my hair out. When I reach to open the perch on top, she’s there before I complete the job, straining as far as her body can reach in order to take a chomp my way. When she sneaks off the cage on her frequent surreptitious walkabouts, she attacks my ankles and feet as I try to catch her and return her to home base. I’m the first to admit I can’t quite control her.

When I glance at her, she just gazes back with a cold, black stare that says, “You know I could snap your finger in half easier than you could break a Lorna Doone in two, beyatch.” And she means it. The old adage about not biting the hand that feeds you must’ve slipped right on past her.

So much for the parental guilt ploys, the “all that I’ve done for you over the years” nonsense. And in her case, all I’ve done over the years for her is plenty. For example: hydro-therapy and beak-fed antibiotics, three times daily for weeks on end, repeated every couple of months for years, due to the bird’s propensity to fall off the perch and bust open her breast bone (hence the name Graycie). Death-defying claw-and-flight feather-trimmings (don’t ask). And, of course, the bi-weekly cage washings.

I try to remind myself that I’m helping a fellow creature in need. But I know that to her, it doesn’t really matter. Because it seems that the only thing that would make Graycie happy is if she finally succeeded in maiming or dismembering me, leaving me to die in a bloodied puddle on the living room floor.

I used to have a sexy Brazilian neighbor named Carolina who made Charo-like catcalls at Graycie while shaking her booty before the bird. Graycie was smitten and allowed Carolina to not just pet, but actually fondle her. She’d scoop her up in her hands, giving kissie-kisses, lip-to-beak, making smoochy noises that churned my stomach. Like some green-eyed parent whose child prefers the babsyitter, I was wistful that Graycie chose Carolina over me, despite all I did for her. If I tried to put my lip to the bird, you’d soon recognize me as the one with no lips.

Now I wonder if Carolina had it right all along: she was simply a hot-blooded female (albeit the wrong species) coming on to a possibly male parrot and appealing to his/her more prurient interests. Maybe Graycie is a boy after all, and simply hates me for reinforcing misinformation…In which case, anyone know a sexy 20-something parrot looking for love in all the wrong places? If so, you know where to find me. Most likely in the ER, getting stitched up, or in the pharmacy, stocking up on Band-aids and antibacterial ointment. And maybe a little arsenic.

Book Giveaway: The Divining Wand will be giving away two copies of The Opposite of Me in a random drawing. Simply leave a comment on this post — by the deadline of Wednesday, March 10, 2010 at 7:00 p.m. EST — and you’ll be entered in the contest. The winners will be announced in Thursday’s post.

Debutante Sarah Pekkanen — of The Debutante Ball — becomes a novelist next Tuesday, Mach 9, 2010, with the launch of The Opposite of Me.

To celebrate this first-time event, #1 New York Times bestselling author Jennifer Weiner is offering a free, autographed copy of one of her books to anyone who pre-orders The Opposite of Me today – Wednesday, March 3! Please check Jen’s March 1, 2010 post for details (which are simple to follow).

And Sarah has put together a raffle with cool prizes like a camcorder and MAC cosmetics for the same folks who pre-order today. To recap: Buy a copy of the book today, get a free, signed Jen Weiner blockbuster book AND a chance to win a cool raffle prize. Details about the raffle are on Sarah’s March 1, 2010 post.

Having read The Opposite of Me, this Fairy Godmother highly recommends pre-ordering a book that you’ll want to read because — among other reasons — this early praise:

“Fresh, appealing… the story is by turns funny and poignant.”- Booklist

“Pekkanen’s involving debut… is an honest examination of the limits we place on ourselves, with well-drawn female characters.”- Kirkus

“Fresh and funny and satisfying. A terrific book about sisters that actually made me laugh out loud.”- Jennifer Weiner, #1 New York Times bestselling author

And now here is Sarah.

I’m a big fan of The Divining Wand, so I’m thrilled to be guest posting today to talk about my debut novel, The Opposite of Me. It’s the story of twin sisters who are complete opposites – or so they think. When people learn the premise, the first thing they ask me is whether I’m a twin. Nope; in fact, I don’t even have a sister. But I’ve always been intrigued by the complex relationships my friends have with their sisters, so I tried to make the relationship of my main characters, Lindsey and Alex, as juicy and competitive and loving and tangled as possible.

I’ve heard about twins who are so close that they create their own language, and can feel each other’s pain from miles away – but I wondered what would happen to twins who were completely different. What if two sisters had nothing in common, but were constantly being compared? How would that shape their relationship?

I also think it’s very common in families for children to get certain labels, either spoken or unspoken – like the “pretty sister,” the “smart one,” the “drama queen,” or the “peacemaker.” I’ve always been curious about how those labels are formed – are they really a true reflection of who we are inside? It’s interesting to me that we can go out into the world and re-invent oursevles as adults, yet when we go home to visit our families, they still see us through the lens our childhood roles. And sometimes, despite our best efforts, we get dragged kicking and screaming back into those roles!
So I took both of those notions and spun them around in my mind for a while before they turned into the premise of my novel. The intersection of those themes – sisterhood and identity – is the heart of my novel. And the funny thing is, in writing it, I developed a new identity of my own: novelist.

When I started my book, I was a stay-at-home Mom, spending my days cutting the crusts off sandwiches and chaperoning school field trips. But I’ve always dreamed of writing a novel, so I began bringing my laptop with me whenever I went. I even wrote some of The Opposite of Me at Chuck E. Cheese (I used to work in loud newsrooms so I find background noise oddly comforting). It was my own secret project – the little bit of “me”- that wasn’t consumed by taking care of my family.

Next Tuesday is my debut day, and I’m going to go into a bookstore to find my novel on the shelf and just stare at it. In my purse, I’m going to carry the letter I wrote on Raggedy Ann stationery to a New York publisher long ago, asking when my book called “Miscellaneous Tales and Poems” would be published. It’s my favorite reminder that dreams really do come true.

Please visit next Monday for The Divining Wand’s presentation/review of The Opposite of Me and do Pre-order now!

Eileen Cook (Unpredictable, What Would Emma Do? YA and Getting Revenge on Lauren Wood YA) — born, raised, and schooled in Michigan and Indiana — moved to Vancouver in 1994 with her “devoted husband.” Both love the city and, during the past few years, this author has mentioned the Winter Olympics of 2010 more than a few times in her blog posts.

Now that the Games have begun in beautiful Vancouver, Eileen shares her pride and joy in the Olympic experience.

The party has been in the planning stages for a long time. The initial bid to host the games started in 1998. In July 2003 it was official, the Olympics would be here in Vancouver. There have been debates on plans, years of construction, and more than a few curses over delays, costs and traffic. Then there has been the weather issue; we’re having the warmest February in 100 years. Figures.

All that melts away (along with too much snow) when you go into the city. Strangers talk to strangers on the street. There are free concerts, art installations, and many of the countries are hosting parties in various pavilions. I walked the streets on Sunday and passed a group visiting military soldiers, a couple from China, two Russian athletes sightseeing before their event, a Muslim woman with her headscarf decorated with Olympic pins, Americans, Swedes, and everyone else you can imagine. Canadians, normally rather quiet with their patriotism are waving flags, painting their faces, and wearing every sort of Canadian gear they can get their hands on. There is an energy that is difficult to describe. The city is electrified. The torch set everyone on fire.

What’s the appeal of the Olympics? I’m not a sporty person. I tend to fall over while walking on flat ground so I don’t do too many activities that involve speed, ice, or objects hurled at a high rate of speed. I don’t even understand the rules of many of the Olympic sports. Curling? Near as I can tell it’s bowling with ice, rocks and brooms. I have tickets to one of the matches so I’ll let you know if I figure out any more than that. Then there is the biathlon. Who exactly thought skiing and shooting made a good combination? What’s next hockey combined with archery? Snowboarding with spears?

I believe we enjoy watching the games because there is something compelling about the effort. Years of training that come down to a one hundredth of a second difference between winning and losing. We want to see someone win so we can share, even from our sofa, that soaring feeling of achievement. For those that don’t win, we want to see them pull themselves back up and show they may have lost, but they aren’t beaten. We want to see someone reach his or her personal best or have a moment of absolute perfection.

We experience the Olympics, because it reminds us that even though we may never win a gold medal, we do have the opportunity to do our best in our own lives. We’re reminded to work a bit harder, to push ourselves a bit further, to do a bit better than we imagined we could. The Olympics make us wonder, “What could I achieve; how high can I soar?”

Look for me on your TV coverage. I’ll be the one jumping up and down cheering the athletes and you on. Go on. Do your best. Believe in the power of yourself. There’s a gold out there just waiting for you.

Photos courtesy of Eileen Cook

Have you ever fallen in love with a fictional character, someone who IF only existed…? On the other hand, when writers imagine their characters, do they ever create their “ideal?”

Our guest author for this week, Judy Merrill Larsen (All the Numbers), has experienced both and shares how her romantic dream came true.

In the summer of 1973 I fell in love. Hard. This was no schoolgirl crush, no scribbling his initials and mine on my fabric covered three-ring notebook. In a way that I didn’t fully understand, this was it, was real, was grown up.
I was 13.

That summer I read TO KILL A MOCKINGBIRD for the very first time, and along with all the other emotions the book elicited in me, on some level, I also realized that Atticus Finch was my dream man. And this was before I’d seen Gregory Peck playing him on screen (that pretty much sealed it for me, though, when I did).

Atticus was a good man. He strove to do right even when everyone around him told him it was wrong. He loved his children. He was smart and funny and believed that most people were good. He wanted to make the world better.
Now, my passion for Atticus didn’t keep me holed up in my room all through high school, pining for a man I could never have. No, I fell for crooked grins and dimples, sweet smiles and piercing blue eyes . . . most of it unrequited. And, I always had my worn hard cover copy of MOCKINGBIRD at the ready to dive into anytime I needed the comfort of what had come to feel like home.

Ten years later I got married (what was I thinking? I was only 23!), had babies and began playing adult. Dreams of writing and of Atticus collected dust while I nursed my boys, did the laundry, cooked the meals and created a home for my family. On rare (very rare when you have two active little boys!) occasions I’d get a few moments to myself and I’d grab a book to read, sometimes reaching for the comforts of Maycomb and Atticus Finch.

Twenty years later, I was a single mom to those same two sweet little boys, feeling a bit stunned and shell-shocked to be an ex-wife. Eventually, I would try dating again, hopeful that I might find Mr. Right, but doubting he really existed, at least for me. My mantra became “hope for the best but expect the worst.” Once, after another bad first date, I was bemoaning my situation to my best friend who looked at me and said, “You’re looking for Atticus Finch, aren’t you?”

I was, of course, but had never admitted it to anyone, even to myself. And it occurred to me that perhaps I’d set the bar a tad too high.
I had a full life and I knew I was lucky. But, as I wrote about my main character in ALL THE NUMBERS, “Fortunately for Ellen, her life was full of family and friends and work. But sometimes her bed seemed too big for just one person. And sometimes she wished for a welcome home hug and kiss from an adult.” This was true for me, too.

I found time to chase the dream of becoming a novelist, and I poured many of my hopes and dreams and frustrations into Ellen. And, through the magic of fiction, I created her (and my) in the character of Bob Hansen, a lawyer who helps her after the death of her son. He’s patient and kind and good-looking. He’s smart and funny. He’s Ellen’s Atticus.

And I wanted him, too. But, like Atticus, he existed only between the covers of a book, and in my case, a book that hadn’t yet been published.

Flash forward another eight years, to 2001. Almost thirty years after I’d met Atticus; two years after I’d created the character of Bob Hansen.

My own Atticus Finch/Bob Hansen walked into my life, my REAL life, a life that existed not in the pages of a book I loved or a manuscript I hoped would someday be published.

A funny, smart, kind man who adored his children and mine, was respected as a lawyer, and wore glasses just like Atticus and Bob. A man who made me laugh, kept me on my toes, and had those great crinkles around his eyes when he smiled.

When my book was published five years later. Our friends (by then, we’d been married for a year) teased us that he was Bob Hansen. The character in my book. They didn’t believe me when I explained I’d written him, described him in the pages a full year before we met. The dark hair, the eye crinkles, the intelligence and kindness. All of it was John . . . but I hadn’t met him yet. In my toast to him at our wedding, I said he was my Atticus, and my best friend, my matron of honor, the one who all those years ago had said that’s what I was looking for, smiled through her tears as did I and as did John.

Who knew I could write the man of my dreams in my book and less than a year later he’d be standing on my doorstep, taking me out for dinner?

So, when I say that writing my book and having it published was the fulfillment of a dream, it’s true on so many levels.

Book Giveaway: The Divining Wand is giving away two signed copies of Judy Merrill Larsen’s debut novel, All the Numbers. Please leave a comment on this post before tomorrow evening at 7:00 p.m. EST to be entered into the random drawing. The winners will be announced in Thursday’s post.

Carleen Brice (Orange Mint and Honey, Children of the Waters) is a successful author who — like many successful authors — is quick to recognize and recommend fellow writers. And last year, with a wonderful idea to call attention to black authors, she created the blog White Readers Meet Black Authors that offers all of us the opportunity to know and read more good writers. Today The Divining Wand welcomes Carleen to celebrate novelists who you may not know yet, but could well enjoy soon.

In honor of Black History Month here are a few of my favorite recent releases and some upcoming books I’m very excited about!

The Girl Who Fell From the Sky, by Heidi Durrow. A haunting story about a Danish woman, her black American husband, their children and the life they attempt together. Check out this lovely story of what Heidi did to honor writer Nella Larsen, who wrote Passing in 1929.

The Air Between Us by Deborah Johnson. For all of those who enjoyed The Help, this is a must-read. Funny, true and beautifully written. One of my favorites.

Going Down South by Bonnie Glover. As someone who’s written a mother-daughter story and loves to read them, I highly recommend this novel about three generations of smart, strong and feisty women. You will love getting to know Olivia Jean, Daisy and Birdie!

Searching for Tina Turner by Jacqueline Luckett is a fun read that middle-aged women will definitely relate to. It’s a good one for those of us waiting for Terry McMillan to finish the sequel to Waiting to Exhale.

Wench by Dolen Perkins-Valdez. This book takes on some of the most complicated facts of American history-the relationships between slave owners and their slaves- and puts a face on them. Lizzie, Reenie, Sweet and Mawu, four slave mistresses, as well as Fran a white wife of one of the slaveholders and Glory, a Quaker in the north will stay with you long after you turn the last page of this book.

Feminista by Erica Kennedy. Save this one to read after Wench. You’ll want something funny and upbeat, and the snarky heroine in this modern love story is just what the doctor ordered!

Please consider preordering the following books today:

What Mother Never Told Me by Donna Hill. Another mother-daughter story about a woman who discovers the mother she thought was dead is alive. Donna has been publishing for 20 years and has written more than 60 romances and women’s fiction novels! Definitely a writer I admire.

Take Your Pleasure Where You Find It by J.D. Mason. Three best friends from high school attend their 30th reunion and big-time secrets are revealed! Publisher’s Weekly just gave this a glowing review.

Uptown by Donna Grant and Virginia Deberry. Can’t wait to read! This one makes me think of Dallas and Dynasty. Publisher’s Weekly calls it “a smart and compelling tale of how selfishness and avarice can destroy a family’s work and reputation.”

Glorious by Bernice McFadden. McFadden’s novels have been praised by everybody from Toni Morrison to Terry McMillan. Binnie Kirshenbaum, author of The Scenic Route, says of Glorious “This very American story is fascinating; it is also heartbreaking, thought-provoking, and beautifully written.”

Substitute Me by Lori Tharps. An intriguing look at a relationship between a career woman and her nanny. Sure to be another one that fans of The Help will gobble up.

For more recommendations, please visit White Readers Meet Black Authors.

To celebrate “Sins of the Mother” –based on Carleen’s debut novel, Orange Mint and Honey, which premieres on The Lifetime Movie Network Sunday, February 21st at 8:00 p.m. EST — The Divining Wand will give away both Orange Mint and Honey and Carleen’s latest book, Children of the Waters, as a duo. Anyone leaving a comment on this post will be entered in the random drawing. The deadline is tomorrow evening at 7:00 p.m. EST with the winner to be announced in Thursday’s post.

In addition:

Book Giveaway: The Divining Wand is giving away two copies of Shana Mahaffey’s Sounds Like Crazy in a random drawing of comments left on this post. Everyone — readers and writers alike — is welcome to participate before the deadline of this Wednesday, February 3, 2010 at 7:00 pm EST. The winners will be announced here in Thursday’s post.