Articles by Claire

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Come on, spring, I know you can do it.  Stop knocking at the door and then running away the second we open it:  just come on in and settle down.  We promise to dust ourselves off and be all optimistic and cheerful and hardworking again, if you promise to curl up on the sofa and stay a while.

Kim and I had lunch yesterday and both felt like we–and our kids–were in that weird late winter slump, where there’s too much work to do and no energy or enthusiasm left to get it done.  After we were done eating our oh-so-healthful-salads, we wandered up to the local bookstore and the weather was gorgeous and we lingered, chatting to random people, and it felt kind of like vacation and I felt suddenly optimistic: “We can do this: we can make it to spring break and then it’s just an easy skip to summer.”  I hope you’re all feeling that way today. If not, take a break, walk to a bookstore, buy something junky to read, and get in that mode.

In the meantime, here are some things we talked about at lunch, and some things I’ve been thinking about on my own.  It’s light reading which is all any of us can manage right now, anyway, right?

1.  So will reading be more enjoyable on the iPad than on a Kindle?  And what am I rooting for with this one? The kids and I watched the Apple video that shows you what the iPad can do and of course I was especially fascinated by the demonstration of the new reader.  It looks like it does two things better than the Kindle: it mimics the act of turning a page (it looks really cool on the video; I need to see it in person before I pass judgment on whether it feels real or not) and it shows the cover art.  That second one is important to me.  I think it’s a huge drawback of the Kindle that you don’t see your book cover, that every book looks the same: just words on a screen.  Cover art is very important: not only does it pique your interest in a book in a first place, but sometimes it anchors your memory of the book.  You see it and you instantly get a whiff of the book back in your mind, whether you liked it or not, what emotions it roused in you. Read the rest of this entry »

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Tomorrow’s the Oscars

I just checked the list of nominations for best adapted screenplay for 2010 and have to admit I haven’t read a single source material.  (I don’t think they’re all based on books, but of course Precious is).   So my pre-Oscar post isn’t directly relevant to this year’s list but I like to think that makes it ageless.

All my life, I’ve loved to read and I’ve eagerly looked forward to seeing movie versions of books I’ve loved, an experience not unlike coming home from a trip alone with your spouse when you walk into your house thinking, “I can’t wait to see my kids!  I love them so much!” and the first few minutes of reunion are, indeed, wonderful . . . and then someone starts whining, someone starts demanding, someone throws up–in short, reality sets in.  So it is with going to see movies based on your favorite books.  The opening titles throw you into a frenzy of delight and anticipation.  And then the movie starts.  And you’re like, “Wait, that’s not what he should look like . . .  She never said that in the book! . . .  They were supposed to go to Italy before getting married . . . Oh, come on, everyone knows she would never do anything like that . . .  Wait, what happened to that whole scene in the park?  . . .  Her mother shouldn’t look that old . . .”  And so on.

We’ve all been there. Read the rest of this entry »

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Replacing the Boards

There’s an existentialist riddle that goes something like: “A man owns a boat for many years and every time a plank rots or breaks, he replaces it with a new one.  If he eventually replaces every single plank on the boat with a different one, does he still own the same boat he started out with or a different boat?”

I think of this riddle all the time when I’m rewriting (so much so that I may have mentioned it in an earlier post).

I’m a note-taker.  By which I mean that if an editor I respect (and so far I’ve respected all my fiction editors) asks me to change something in a manuscript, I’ll change it.  So far, this has worked for me, and why shouldn’t it?  Editors want to sell books as much as authors do.  Maybe even more so.  So I trust them to want to want to make the product better.

Usually this means tweaking a plot point or two, cutting the fat (there’s always fat when I write), even getting rid of a character or adding one in.

And sometimes it means starting at page one and rewriting almost everything until I get to the very last page, slashing and adding and changing and renewing.

I’m in the middle of that kind of rewrite at the moment and it’s not easy (it’s also why I didn’t post anything last week: Kim took pity on me, bless her heart).  It’s the kind of process that can keep you up at night with the excitement of new ideas and new problems to solve: it’s like a puzzle, trying to make the new pieces fit with the old ones (hammering in those planks).  (It’s also the kind of process that can make you break down in tears if you’re feeling a bit hormonal but that’s another story or at least the subject of a very different post).  It’s also the kind of process that allows you to humble your children when they start complaining about having to edit a two-page paper as per a teacher’s demands.   “Oh, please,” you can say, “I have to rewrite a three-hundred page manuscript!”  They may not learn to embrace editing but they do learn not to complain about it so much. Read the rest of this entry »

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Book lover, faithful reader, and occasional contributor Meagan discusses culinary novels.   Thanks, Meagan!

I have a complicated relationship with culinary novels; kind of a love-hate thing going on. Back in high school I stumbled on Like Water for Chocolate by Laura Esquivel in my mother’s library and was completely seduced. Every chapter started with a recipe that somehow led into the story of Tita, whose life was defined by cooking and her forbidden love with Pedro, her sister’s husband. Throughout the story Tita’s emotions leak into her cooking, mouth watering dishes of Christmas rolls, Chabela Wedding cake, Quail in rose petal sauce… And yes, that is a real recipe no matter what Julie Powell says. I swear I’ve never had a book make me so hungry.

Quail with Rose Petal Sauce!

Usually it’s the other way around; what I’m eating will actually put me in the mood to read a particular book. Not necessarily the whole thing, just a few chapters. To this day I can’t eat a burger without wanting to flip through The Princess Diaries. Don’t ask me why. I’m as mystified as anyone else. But that’s a different story.

It was a terribly romantic introduction to cooking. Being a ‘modern woman’ and all, plus having a mother around to serve all my meals, the only cooking I’d ever attempted was toasting frozen waffles. Reading about it, everything sounded so simple, so natural. So when I attempted it myself, I was a bit disappointed. Read the rest of this entry »

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A (Rare) Rainy Weekend in Pasadena

You know how married couples who have been together a long time start doing the same thing without realizing it, like ordering the same dish at dinner or liking the same movies?  Well, I’m starting to think Kim and I have spent too much time together because last week I said to her, “We’re spending Friday night in Pasadena, no kids,” and she said, “We’re spending Friday night in Pasadena, no kids,” and I said, “We’re staying at the Langham,” and she said, “We’re staying at the Langham.”  Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world . . .

Kim of course scored a much better upgrade than we did, and somehow ended up with a fireplace and patio.  Good luck for her with using the latter: it rained steadily all weekend, prompting me to say with faux naivete to my husband, “Wow, Pasadena is such a rainy town.”   On the plus side, I got to write off our hotel room because I was in Pasadena to WORK.

As Kim mentioned in an earlier post, I was one of four female authors invited to speak at the Pasadena Literary Festival.  Proceeds benefited the Pasadena Senior Center which was also where the event took place—and a warm and inviting place it is.  As a speaker, I expected to spend the entire event–when not on stage–squirming in my seat with nerves, screaming inside my own head because I hadn’t written a speech or prepared notes or even bounced much of anything off of my husband beforehand.

Instead I found myself far too fascinated by the other speakers to do anything but listen. Read the rest of this entry »

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