Dear Diablo Cody, your movie made me want to read your book

Dear Diablo,

Can I call you that? I feel like we have so much in common what with the fact that your name means Devil and anyone trying to reach me via the call back of my building needs to press 666. Also there’s that whole humor thing, you’ve got a great sense of one—wicked and erudite—and I like to laugh. Obviously we were meant to be the best of friends even if it might take me a while to get all of your jokes. In lieu of instantaneous friendship (as well as my own descent into stalkerdom) I thought it only fitting to post this open letter to you as you have the distinction of being the first writer whose movie has compelled to seek out their totally unrelated first book.

Wizard, I know.

While the saw-the-movie-must-read-the-book affect is not new, it relies on the subject of the movie to compel the reader to search out the book for more illumination. How many copies of the Constant Gardener did I sell before the movie came out? I lost count. The Da Vinci Code? Let’s not even go there. And while the increase in book sales often proceeds the movie, I’ve also read (and sold) many a book to see if the movie measured up or to explain some plot twist the movie glossed over. I’m sure many a reader is picking up Atonement for the first time after walking out of the theatre saying, “Wait a minute, that was an epic love story?”

Juno did not make me feel this way. No, Juno left me with a wide smile as I walked out of the theatre for the second time. It made me laugh, it make me cry, and it make me tell all my friends, but at no point did I think, “Wow, I wish there was an accompanying novel to explain X, Y, or Z.” Your name, however, gave me pause. Diablo Cody just sounded so familiar—like I’d seen it somewhere before.

And I had, on the shelves of my old bookstore, in the biography section because we really had no good place to put satirical essays. I even think that I mentioned your name once, long ago and way back in these archives, on bloggers turned writers. Now, I’ll admit the whole blogger turned published writer scenario is a sore spot with me because once upon a time it seemed every other book deal you read or book that came into my store was based on a blog. I became dismissive of the books in general, and Candy Girl: A Year in the Life of an Unlikely Stripper unfairly got lumped in. A coworker, whose roommate stripped for a living, loved your book (as did said roommate), but still I remained unconvinced.

With so much to read in the bookstore, I committed the cardinal sin—dismissing an entire category of books without giving them a chance so that I could focus elsewhere.

My loss.

Well, here it is, one year after the official closing of my store, and I’m going to go pick up a copy of Candy Girl from Powells. Juno showed me just how funny (yet poignant) you can be, and while I don’t expect to experience the same emotions from you book, I do expect it will contain the same sharp sense of humor found in your movie. If it does, I guarantee that I’ll be recommending your book just as I’ve recommended Juno to friends.

The newly converted are always the most fervent.

Egads, the Boy is Reading!

The Boy Child is reading, prompting exclamations of surprise from the Girl Child (me) and the parents. The last time he sat down to voluntarily read anything in book form was Harry Potter IV or V, and since then it has been a steady diet of Car magazine lingo (4wd, HMY), Uncle John’s Bathroom Readers, and school books he’s forced to read. Books in general are an anathema, something that gets in the way of quality television viewing (the History Channel’s History of Cement) while sipping a beer.

But the last three times I’ve seen him their have been books, stacks of them of them being hauled back and forth to his truck with ever visit. The sit next to him on the couch if he gets a chance to sit down. They rest on this night stand when he goes up to bed. These books go everywhere with him.

No surprise really, a new female in a man’s life can make changes.

My soulful eyes, you will look deep within them and feel the need to give me bacon.

Her name is Leah, and this bit of Doberman terror is whipping him into to shape…when she’s not snuggling or trying to pierce someone’s ear with her sharp little baby teeth.

All joking aside,* the Boy is reading again and I am proud of him.

Even if the reading is prompting comments like the following (made on a call to home to the parents):

“All the books say to make the crate a happy place for her to sleep. I’ve tried everything—putting treats in there and her favorite toys. But, Mom, her crate is not a happy place.”

I’ve said it before that my brother is not a reader—he doesn’t like it—and I have no doubt that once Leah masters a certain level of training his reading will once again be something relegated to bathrooms and waiting rooms. As least until my first two legged niece comes along, then I expect to hear, “Linsey, it says to make her crib a happy place, but…”

Of course, that better not happen anytime soon. A four-legged niece is all I need. And since that four-legged niece is just now mastering the basics of sitting on command (!) sometimes (!) when she feels like it (!), I doubt he’ll stop reading anytime soon. Given that dog training is very individual to each person and their (very stubborn) dog, I have no doubt that there will be many, many books in his future.

And perhaps a trip to see the Dog Whisperer as well.

Ceser Milan! He is calling me!

*The part about the piercing your ear is not a joke. It’s her favorite game. She’s starts out giving you kisses and just kind of forgets that your ear is attached to your body and not a soft, pliable object just begging for puppy chewing. Apparently this how she likes to wake people up.

Guest post at Romancing the Blog

I've got a guest post up at Romancing the Blog entitled Who's the Book Daddy? The essay--on plagiarism and our very own literary DNA detector, Google Books--didn't come out quite the way I wanted it to, but its been awhile since I've tried to write anything coherent.

Christmas Time Is Here Again

I mentioned this on my November Romancing the Blog post, but this is my first holiday season not ruled by the whims of corporate retail. Unlike years past, I've avoided the news reports on trends, the bestseller lists, and the malls.Before, everyone's present could easily be found at the bookstore (and purchased on the corporate 40% off day), but this year I did most of my shopping online or at small boutique shops in my area.While this has resulted in some truly unique gifts, it also means—horrors of horrors—that I only purchased one book to gift this year, and that purchase was not made until last night.

The problem I've found is that while I have this amazing group of readers as friends, I don't know enough about what they've been reading this year—and what's out in the stores—to pinpoint the perfect gift.

Oh, how the mighty bookseller has fallen.

Even more ironic, is that the one book I did buy is for a person who generally doesn't read. He'll read the newspaper. He'll read the back of the cereal box in Mexico. But books? Not so much. He does like trivia though, and has been an avid follower of the Uncle John's Bathroom Reader books for years (he even got the neighbor hooked on them). My gift of a newer volume should be fine, but if he already has it, he can always return it and pick out another. I'm sure there's at least one he hasn't read.

Despite my book deficit, this Christmas without the retail rush has allowed me to put a lot of things in order. I found myself in early winter cleaning out my closets and reorganizing my cupboards—something that required energy that the Holiday buildup, which starts in August, would have normally zapped from me. Because I wasn't so exhausted by the push and pull of customers and corporate this year, I managed to put up my fake tree and actually wrap my gifts before Christmas Eve.

The holiday season in bookstores is filled with constant motion—both physical and mental. Do you have a greeter? Is the front stocked up? Should we order more of X, Y, and Z so we'll have enough through Christmas Eve? What high quantity stock is not moving? Why?

And who the hell let that little kid climb into the window displays and pull the signs down again?

This is my first season without the mall's lost child alerts and customers who not only don't understand the meaning of “we're closing,” but also have a problem understanding why we can't possibly wrap all their gifts when there is a line of ten people behind them.

But this is also my first Christmas not being surrounded by books. I miss that rush that came with opening boxes and seeing all the new covers and titles that I'd previously read about in Publisher's Weekly or seen online. I miss the warmth that came from helping someone find the perfect gift.

Retail is hell, and book retail with its pseudo-intellectuals looking to bah-humbug your (quite necessary, and very caffeine induced) holiday high occupies its very own circle. Still, I miss the books. And the people who made those books come alive—customers and coworkers alike. It takes a special breed to survive the holiday book retail season. Please know that this veteran is raising a glass of wine in your holiday honor, and that the first time in years she doesn't feel the need to finish the bottle to self-medicate for the next day. There is hope.

Happy Holidays.

For the Harry Potter fans out there

Here's the story straight from Jo herself, in case you hadn't heard. Thanks to A Chair, A Fireplace & A Tea Cozy for the news and the good people at I Can Has Cheezburger for the illustration.

Seth Godin wants you to harness the power of the net (using his Squidwho)

Seth Godin has some reservations about HarperCollins new Author Assist program that allows their authors to build their own websites through HC, and thinks he should use his new “people-powered who’s who of the web” (aka Squidwho) to build author sites (or fan sites for your favorite author).

Anyone used (or plan to use) either of these programs?

What are your thoughts?



P.S. This interruption of radio silence will hopefully continue if a.) I can get my computer to stay on longer than ten minutes when I'm trying to do something of any importance on it; b.) I can get a new computer; or c.) I give up on my vow to avoid blogging at work (which is technically being bent and mangled even as I type.

TV People: Crazier than Book People

In my apparent never-ending (subconscious) decision to work jobs that sound much more exciting than they actually are, I’m temping as a receptionist at a local TV station. Reception work, for those of you who’ve never done it, is basically comprised of long periods of boredom relieved only by a sudden incoming rush of calls and the occasional visitor.

Overall nothing hard to handle, but then you get that extra dash of crazy to spice it up.

I mean, I know this job is going to be interesting after one of the higher ups starts a conversation (post recent visitor interaction) with, “I just want you to know that you’re sitting behind bullet proof glass. Not that anyone has ever brought a gun in here that we know of.”

And ends it with: “You know, ever single person I’ve ever interviewed in prison has claimed to be innocent too.”

That’s right, people, Television has brought about an extra special level of crazy (not the people who work in it necessarily, but those who watch it above all us). I thought book people were bad—given to random unanswerable queries and bizarre requests—but TV people have upped the ante.

And I think I’ve figured out why. You see, give a book person a book and they’re occupied. It is hard to read and do something else (it can be done, sure, but it takes talent). Television, on the other hand, allows you to do other things while viewing…like start an email campaign against the Carl’s Jr. “I Like Flat Buns” commercials, and flood your local station’s email box with letters ranting about how it is racist.

Here I thought the problem with the commercial had to do with the sexy teacher. Who knew?

One thing I have learned that will benefit the authors out there is this: keep your pitch to the news desk concise.

If you’re angling to land a feature/entertainment piece on your local station, don’t ramble. Just hit them with your elevator pitch and why you and your book are relevant enough to make it on the news.

Oh, and don’t ramble to the receptionist. As the gatekeeper, s/he just might send you straight to voicemail if s/he thinks you’re wasting the station’s time.