Wednesday, April 2, 2014
|The Jewish Museum, designed by Daniel Libeskind, in Berlin|
I had crab cake.
I had dessert.
My son called—his voice the color of the day, his stories the kind that kept me smiling, late, in the dark of the night.
I know what, and for whom, to be grateful. And I am.
Today, I am, again, grateful for Tamra Tuller and Chronicle Books and the release of Going Over, and for all of you who sent notes or Twittered or Facebooked or just plain kept me company during the release. Thank you for letting me know about the starred review in Shelf Awareness. Thank you for sending along the extremely kind BookPage review.
Last evening, Chronicle Books kicked off the blog tour (following Serena Agusto-Cox's earlier blog kindness) with some words I wrote about music, writing, and Berlin, in a post that begins like this, below, and carries forward here:
Today My Friend Amy, who has, for almost forever, truly been My Friend Amy, is continuing that blog tour. A book warrior with wings, I'll call her, who has accompanied me through so much of my writing journey, who has always mattered deeply, who spent some time reading Going Over, writes the sweetest words, and is offering a copy of the book to one of her readers, all of which is happening here.At the age of nine, on a Boston pond, I launched my (oh so very minor) ice-skating career. Twirls. Edges. Leaps. Falls.Shortly thereafter (the precise day and hour escape me now), I began to write. Lyric flourishes. Running lines. Suspended disbelief. Revisions.Music and story. They’re the same thing, right? Sentences are melodies. Plots are choreography. The silence in between the lines is wish and wisk.