Grateful for Wendy Robards

who took the long drive from her home in Northern California to join me at Book Passage in Corte Madera, where we gathered around a table with other talented writers and talked about truth. It was a remarkable morning. Wendy produced wonderful work. And when were done, we spent some time with Izzies and bruschetta, with mounds of garlic cloves.

Today, on a day that has so many of us thinking back, I am grateful to Wendy for taking the time to come see me, to read Handling the Truth, and to write this extraordinary review. Wendy is set to go to Florence, soon. I've been working hard, but perhaps not effectively enough, to get my Florence novel to her in the nick of time.

Hence my silence, mostly, here.

Right now, I can only say how grateful I am for this, and for the friendship.

A few (but just a few) of Wendy's words. Which made me cry on this day, when writing feels like such incredibly hard work.

Maybe you don’t want to write a memoir, so you think this book is not for you. But I encourage you to read it anyway, because within its pages are truths, “aha” moments, and beautiful writing. And if you only read it to get to the appendix of book recommendations – that is also worth your time. The research for this book was huge. Beth culls her formidable list of titles she read down to the best – many of which I have read and loved myself.

It was hot in Marin this past weekend – the day was heavy with sunshine, thick with an intense heat that had people rushing into shade – but sitting in the air conditioned environment of The Book Passage, the day fell away behind me. We were a small group, each of us there for different reasons and at different points in our writing abilities. We sniffed spices, shared photos, and scribbled down bits of memory and detail in short bursts of time. We shared. And we listened. We had the opportunity to get a glimpse into a writer’s soul and her passion, and reap the reward of doing so. It is not an experience I will soon forget.

Many thanks to Beth Kephart – to her willingness to share herself so completely with others, to fly through the dark, starry nights in order to touch the lives of her readers, and for her beautiful words of which I never tire of reading. You are a treasure. And so is your latest book – Handling the Truth.

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Handling the Truth Contest: and the winner is

To the nearly two dozen individuals who wrote to share their definition of memoir for the Handling the Truth galley giveaway—my deepest thanks. Your words were remarkable to me, so remarkable that I plan to write about them in a piece that I will share at a later date.

Because your definitions were all equally good, because I know some of you and could not bear to choose among favorites, I randomized the entries and selected the winner blind.

The winner is ..............

Adrienne.

Adrienne, if you could send me, via email, your mailing address, the galley is yours.

Also, announced yesterday, courtesy of the uber-generous Wendy Robards of Caribousmom, was the winner of the Beth Kephart giveaway. For more on that, go here. Thank you, Wendy, and thanks to all of you who participated. It means a lot, and it was very interesting to see which books made their way to the top of your lists.

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HANDLING THE TRUTH: one could be yours. announcing a few cool Beth contests (with thanks to Wendy Robards)

You know how it is. It's a Saturday morning, hot, and you've been pushing away on a project for a very long time; you want to stop. Your email bell rings and you are glad for the temporary pass out.

And then you are blown away. Because there is Wendy Robards of Caribousmom announcing a gonzo contest involving all of your books. And you are thinking, No. Wait. She can't do that. And also. No. Wait. That sounds like fun. So you throw in a signed copy of your own to make the party just a tad splashier (though it was plenty splashy already). And then, after that, you keep thinking:

Why not throw another party a few blog doors down.

So here is what Wendy at Caribousmom is offering on her blog as part of the Armchair BEA extravaganza. Thank you, amazing amazing Wendy.

And here, on my blog, I offer this—a chance to win my second-to-last galley copy of Handling the Truth. (I want to keep the last for myself.) All you have to do is write one single sentence describing the memoir genre—what IS memoir?—and your name will be placed into the proverbial hat.

You have until June 5. Starting... now.

By the way, it just occurred to me that I should probably tell you more about this book. The early reviews and blurbs can be found here.

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Caribousmom cites Handling the Truth—and names some of my favorite memoirs in the process

When Caribousmom so generously noted Handling the Truth in her post today, she couched it within the frame of memoirs she has read and loved—three of which are prominently featured in Handling the Truth, one of which she made sure I read before I finished the book. That is Caribousmom (aka Wendy Robards, the great quilt maker and healing touch) for you. Ahead of the curve. Always. A dear friend. Forever.

I wonder if you can guess which three Wendy memoirs are also featured in Handling.

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thoughts on the new year: the bounty of friendship, the dearness of Caribousmom

We celebrated New Years Eve with truly beloved friends, as we now do each year.  We choose a restaurant halfway between our homes, in a town called Skippack.  We talk students, dance, Hollywood, art, travels, books, life as it is and was.

The bounty of friendship.

In so many ways the year now gone terrified those of us who love this country and care about the rising class of dreamers.  I am vulnerable and incapable, often.  I have not learned what I can do in the face of national and personal tragedies, congressional cacophony and faulty machines.  I have lost my faith in the sanctity of theaters and classrooms.  I have worried about weather.  I have felt sickened by conversations that stopped far short of anybody actually listening.

I have wanted to make room.  I have asked myself how.  I have asked myself questions.

Why are we screaming so much at one another?  What is the payoff of cruelty?  How can we push a man into the path of an oncoming train?  How can we survive the gunning down of children, of teachers, of people watching Batman?  What can we do for the friend who has lost a brother far too soon?  What can we say when illness happens, and when it returns, when jobs are lost, when everything is so preposterously uncertain, when the storms sweep in?  When we don't know and we need to know?  When there are people relying on us?

We can, I think, be kinder to one another.  We can be more trustworthy.  Less self-indulgent with our anger or our needs.  Less quick to correct or accuse, humiliate or shame.  More aware of the connections between people and things, and how easily—pushed too far, intruded upon—they're broken.  We can surround ourselves with the bounty of friendship, and it is this bounty, and the love in my own family, that sustains me, that shows me how.  It is this bounty that I am particularly grateful for, on this first day of this new year. 

Earlier this year, Wendy Robards, a daughter, a sister, a wife, a caretaker, one of the smartest readers of books anywhere, a quilter, read an early copy of Small Damages and began to make a quilt that captured the colors in the story.  When it arrived I was astonished.  Since it arrived, I have shown it to every single person who comes, sometimes I show them twice.  It is symbolic, this quilt—bright, particular, personal, and made and given out of love.

Today Wendy has posted her favorite books of the year, and, Wendy being Wendy, first provides incredible reviews of a truly stellar collection, then finally names Small Damages as her favorite read of the year.

A tree grows for you in my heart, Wendy.

Love to all of you in 2013.

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The Small Damages Quilt: Wendy Robards, Artist Supreme

Less than an hour ago, I discovered a big box on my front porch.  It was addressed to me.  Return address:  Wendy Robards, of Caribousmom.  I had written of her just yesterday.  Called to thank her for her glorious words about Small Damages.  Listened to her wise counsel.  We talked for a long time.  She never said a word about the sensational, handmade, unbelievable, I have never received a gift like this, I am stunned Small Damages quilt that she had already boxed and sent my way.

She never even hinted.

Look at this quilt!!!  Look at the colors, the care.  "Use it!" she kept saying, when I phoned her just now to say (fumbling for words, breathless) thank you.  But how can I? How could anyone?  This is art and it belongs on a wall.  This is an extraordinary gesture of friendship.  This is color interwoven with love.

I truly am too speechless to write much more. But Wendy, on her blog, has described her process.  She has photographed this quilt throughout its making.  Please, I implore you, visit her there.

And celebrate her heart, with me, today.

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Small Damages, The LA Times, and Caribousmom

Late in this day I sat down at my desk for the first time and there discovered two kindnesses.

The first from my friend Wendy of Caribousmom, one of those extraordinarily gifted people who reads, who writes, who heals, who thinks, who quilts, who makes flowers grow.  She had read Small Damages and (sneaky woman that she is) had decided to blog about it. Her words are indescribably gorgeous, and so meaningful to me.  Read them all simply to see how beautifully Wendy writes.  Here is a passage dear to me:

I loved this novel and its appealing young protagonist. I loved the journey, and the discovery, the hope and the sadness, the path toward healing after trauma, the knowledge that we are never really alone, and that home is not a place on a map but the people who love you. Beth Kephart is an artist with words and Small Damages is another astonishing literary success.

Shortly after reading Wendy's beautiful post I learned from my friend Paul Hartel—a Hollywood type, an LA guy—that he had found Small Damages in the pages of his newspaper, The LA Times, in the 2012 Summer Reading Guide.

My surprise is sincere.  My happiness radiant.

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Caribousmom, You Are My Only, and two very special citations

Readers of this blog may know this story:  A few years ago, I read and loved a book called The Elegance of the Hedgehog.  I said as much here.  Not long afterward that post became a particularly popular post of mine, and when I tried to discover just what had brought my few thoughts this blessed attention I discovered a blog called Caribousmom.  The creator of this blog had shared my passion for this story; she had also—thoughtfully—shared my own post with her enthusiastic readers.

What else did this blogger like to read, I wondered?  What else did she have to say?  It didn't take me long to understand that Caribousmom is a sacred book haven—an intelligent blog by a most discerning reader.  We tend to love the same books.  We look forward to the same releases.  Many of the volumes I own are directly related to reflections that Caribousmom has shared.  Her reviews are long and detailed.  They provide hints of the authors' own styles, own ways of speaking.  They are independently produced, in no way tied to any fiscal reward, which is to say that Caribousmom writes about books because she loves them.  Caribousmom is often one of the very first to speak out on behalf of books that will go on to win the year's big prizes.  Consider, for example, Salvage the Bones. 

Over the course of this year, if I am not mistaken, Caribousmom read nearly 100 books.  Yesterday she unveiled her favorite reads of 2011—long lists, short lists, winners, books that elevated the form, that stayed with her.  I am enormously blessed to discover You Are My Only on the short fiction list—the only young adult novel in that grouping.  You Are My Only also appears on her list of Buzz Books Which Did Not Disappoint, an honor equal to the first. 

Today is the first day of a new year.  My son is on a train at this early hour, returning from an evening in New York City.  I have printed out the first 30 pages of the new novel that I'm writing and will curl up beneath a quilt on the couch reading through and writing forward, while I await the sound of his footsteps at the door.  I plan to spend this day peacefully, in other words.  Caribousmom, thank you so very much for your generosity, intelligence, and heart on this new day.  You make the world a better place.

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Book Making, Fundraising, School Speaking, Thanks: A little about a lot

I'm going to spend this beautiful day in the company of the students and faculty of the Country Day School of the Sacred Heart, which chose Dangerous Neighbors as its summer read. 

Before I head out, I wanted to share these few things:

First, readers of this blog know how moved I was by the Logan Schweiter Fundraiser, which took place at Club La Maison.  Today, at Generocity.org, in a story called "A Spectacular Act of Love," I report on the remarkable efforts of literally hundreds of people who together raised an extraordinary amount of money on behalf of a young local teen still recovering from a near drowning following a storm.

Second, yesterday morning I had a chance to read the Vanity Fair story "The Book on Publishing," which can also be found on Nook and Kindle reading apps at vfr.com/go/ebooks.  This extended essay by Keith Gessen takes an instructive look behind the scenes of one of the largest book auctions in recent history, which yielded Chad Harbach, a first-time author, a $665,000 advance from legendary editor Michael Pietsch for the novel (ten years in the making) called The Art of Fielding.  Anyone who ever wondered just how major parts of the industry work will have questions answered here.

Finally, a bouquet of gratitude to Medieval Bookworm, for her eloquent words about You Are My Only, and a thank you to Caribousmom for letting me know those words exist.  I am, as always, very grateful. 

To the Country Day School I now go.

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You Are My Only—the kindness of bloggers continues

I woke up yesterday thinking the day would be like most others—a scramble of corporate work, some exercise, laundry folded on the fly, an hour or two spent with a novel-in-progress, some texting with my son, Wednesday night salsa at MIXX.  It started out that way, that's for sure, but the pattern got broken mid-way through.  Things started to show up on my Facebook wall.  You-better-take-a-look-at....-emails were coming through.  What's going on? people were asking.  I don't know, I said.  Because for a long time I didn't.

I'm still mystified, to be honest, by all the kindness that came my way during the course of yesterday—all the kindness that exists in this world.  I'm mystified, and I'm eternally grateful. I am also feeling desperately inadequate because I have failed to capture it all.  I had planned, yesterday, to thank some very special people who have been supporting me and my work for years.  In the shuffle and shift and bewilderment of my day, I did not do that.

Today is the day that I stop and thank the readers and writers who have quietly written to me of their support.  Today is the day I thank those who read this book early and posted their thoughts.  I never want this blog to be all about me.  It is my privilege, here, to write about others, their books, their dreams; to write about my city; to write about people doing good.  In cross posting these early blogger reviews of You Are My Only, I am celebrating those who took the time—those who care.  I am telling them what I hope they already feel and know:  That I am hugely grateful.  If I have not captured your voice here, it is only because I don't know.  Because years ago I stopped googling my own name—the only solution for one as naturally obsessive and easily worried as me. 

And so then please find below the excerpts from some recent blog posts that I hope you will read in their entirety. Posts from bloggers whom you should visit daily.   Caribousmom is here—that exquistely smart reviewer with whom I first connected over The Elegance of the Hedgehog and whom I later met in person in New York; I've loved her ever since.  Becca of Bookstack, an indelible presence and so-smart reviewer and long time blog world friend is here.  There's a Book and My Friend Amy are here—their support so entirely unspeakable.  Hippies Beauty and Books. Oh my, is here, as is The Reading Zone.  These join the rocking surprise gonzo You Are My Only promotion featured here, on Chick Loves Lit and on Bookalicious, the equally stealthy and gonzo Melissa Sarno of This Too  giveaway,  Florinda, Kay's Bookshelf, and Books, Thoughts, and a Few Adventures.

Thank you.  All.  I'm about to start reading a new book called Child Wonder.  I hope to write of that soon here—to return to the universe some of the what has been sent my way.

"Beth Kephart is an author that knows the human heart and writes it with an eloquence that will have you in love with the words on the page as if they were living breathing beings. My only regret upon closing You Are My Only was that I had to leave behind Emmy and Sophie in their newly discovered freedoms, but thankfully I can still go back to visit them whenever I’d like. You Are My Only will easily be a favorite among readers, both young and old, and has quickly taken it’s place on my shelf among my personal favorite reads of all time."—There's a Book

"Her latest book, You Are My Only (due out on October 25th and available for pre-order here) is also a book about a desperate search. Two quests, really. Emmy, a young mother, searching for her lost child. And Sophie, who begins to question her world, seeking the one thing she doesn't know to look for. All of it culminating to a discovery that left me with sweaty palms and a racing heart as I turned each page."—This Too

"Beth Kephart uses a very unique style of writing for this book that reminds me a bit like Ellen Hopkins. She is extremely creative and uses a sort of poetic prose for this book that I really enjoyed. I’m not sure everyone will necessarily like this sort of writing style, but it didn’t bother me or distract me from the points the author was trying to convey. It is very different and I liked it. It comes across as eloquent and efficient and I think that it added that extra special touch needed for this book to be a great book and not just a good book." — Hippies Beauty and Books.  Oh my.  

"Anyone who has read one of Beth's books know she's an observer, that her books are about characters being torn open and stitched up with hope, that healing never ever comes apart from healing together. I haven't yet been able to write a proper review for this book, because no other book this year has affected me like You Are My Only did. It's a beautiful and powerful book on its own, but it's also a book that met me exactly where I needed to be met at the moment in life. And I think that's also a little bit of what having a favorite author is all about...they always write in such a way that you marvel at their gift for knowing bits of your heart you can't express yourself." — My Friend Amy

"In case you have not already figured it out – I loved You Are My Only – a book that takes the reader into the darkness and then shows them a way to return to the light. Beautifully written and astonishing, this is a book which I highly recommend for readers of all ages."— Caribousmom

"Beth Kephart always conveys an amazing depth of understanding about her characters and their emotional lives, while creating a story that captivates and engages readers of all ages. She writes about real people in real situations whose lives and feelings mirror our own, but elevates these experiences to an almost mystical level with her beautiful descriptive language and writerly attention to detail."—Bookstack

"This isn’t an action-filled book, despite the blurb.  It’s quiet, meditative.  Both narrative arcs are engrossing.  I found myself loving each story individually.  Whenever the narrative changed I would be upset leaving that character behind. But then, within a few sentences, I was equally as engrossed in the alternate story.  Kephart chooses her words carefully and the prose is gorgeous.  I found myself savoring each descriptive sentence while fighting the urge to fly through the book to reach the conclusion. Highly recommended." — The Reading Zone

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Rumblers and Waltzers and Heartfelt Thanks

Many exquisite things trundle and waltz by my home on Memorial Day weekend. There is, for example, the annual carriage parade. There are the dogs of the famous dog cotillion. And then there are my fabulous, witty, smart, and loving neighbors—so entirely and brilliantly in love.

Exquisite things waltz into my world as well, and this morning I would like to send my heartfelt thank you to Florinda, for this especially moving post about our time together at BEA. Caribousmom, I thank you, too, for including You Are My Only in your Book Buzz: Fall Reads; you've assembled an immaculate list of titles, and I'm so grateful to have my book included on that list.

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Gratitude to recent reviewers of Dangerous Neighbors

On this brilliant, beautiful morning I stop to thank three special reviewers of Dangerous Neighbors.  A writer is grateful, always, for those who take the time to read her books—who sneak them out from the tower of abundant choices and settle in.

My thanks this morning to reviewers who helped me think newly about this book that was so many things and represented so many dreams before it became Dangerous Neighbors:   Caribousmom, Amy's Book Obsession, and Reading, 'Riting, and Randomness.

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Scenes from the Book Blogger Convention...

which was so well run, so informative, and so rippled through with companionable energy:

The Javitz Convention Center.  Yours truly flanked by the gorgeous Natasha (Maw Books Blog) and the stunning Nicole (Linus's Blanket).  The faithful attendees, of the very last BEA week day, after the very last session, as seen from the very last seat of the Author/Blogger Relationship panel discussion.  Yours truly with the one and only Lenore.  Yours truly with the always-kind Melissa of The Betty and Boo Chronicles.  And never last and never least:  The fabulous Amy of My Friend Amy (in person!) as well as the very dear and intelligent Wendy of Caribousmom. 

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