Celebrating the Launch of Shebooks

Looking for something bright in this new year? A new literary idea that really works?

I have one word for you: Shebooks.

Readers of this blog might remember my post about a certain Shebooks writing contest a few months back.

Today I'm talking about the suite of Shebooks singles already available for downloading. These exquisite "mini" books of some 7,500 words each fit in your hands, can be read in a sitting, and can be downloaded for a mere $2.99 each. That's one thing. The other thing? They're written by writers you already know and love. Marion Winik. Laura Fraser. Hope Edelman. Micah Perkins. Ann Pearlman. Jessica Anya Blau. Faith Adiele. Suzanne Antonetta Paola. Zoe Rosenfeld. And many more to come.

I find the entire concept—the brainchild of Peggy Northrop and Laura Fraser—exhilarating. I've found the Shebooks themselves to be knock out reads—quieting, intriguing, considered, intimate, and intimately addressed to the reader (Want to eat the food of Italy without actually getting on a plane? Read Laura. Want a companion as you consider the lost and found of memory? Marion is your guide. Want to be carried backward in time, to a black and white engagement? Read Ann. Etc.). I feel incredibly lucky to be included in this community, with my own mini-memoir—Nests. Flight. Sky.—due out soon. And I feel especially happy to invite my women writing friends to consider submitting their own work to Shebooks.

For more on Shebooks, read Caroline Leavitt's interview with Laura Fraser, Editorial Director and Cofounder. Look, too, for upcoming essays and interviews on Jennifer Haupt's wonderful Psychology Today blog, One True Thing. And download a book, or two on this snowy day. It'll be the best bit of change you'll ever spend.

Read more...

Shebooks: calling all women writer friends to a remarkable contest/opportunity

I had the privilege, not long ago, of working on an 8,000-word memoir for Shebooks, an emerging e-book publisher. It was an intense, completing experience—my first return to long-form memoir in years, my chance to work again with an editor I love, my opportunity to try to understand the things I lost and the things I found in the wake of the passing of my mother.

Shebooks is the brainchild of Peggy Northrop and Laura Fraser. It is also the realm of Dawn Raffel and Rachel Greenfield and so many other established writers, teachers, and editors. Shebooks won a New Media Women's Entrepreneurial Fund. It has a lot of people talking.

Shebooks, as it describes itself: "Shebooks is the new e-book publisher of great short stories by women, for women. We publish long-form journalism, short memoir, and short fiction by some of the best writers in the United States and beyond, both well known and yet to be discovered."

Yesterday, Shebooks announced an incredible opportunity for writers—a contest in collaboration with Good Housekeeping. Shebooks is looking for women to write on the topic "Every Mother Has a Story." Particularly:

We're looking for submissions of 3,500-7,500 words. The contest is open to anyone 21+ who is a legal resident of the U.S., D.C., or Canada. There is a $15 submission fee and all entries must be received no later than midnight on December 15. The winner will receive $2,000 and possible publication in Shebooks and Good Housekeeping. What's more, all entrants will get a free two-month subscription to Shebooks. You can read more at www.goodhousekeeping.com/memoir-contest <http://www.goodhousekeeping.com/memoir-contest> .

 I can't think of a better organization to trust your best work to.

Read more...

from the writerly life to the reviewing life

There's a funny thing that happens when you stop writing your own books—when you cool the fever, when you walk the garden, when you do not rise at 3 AM, determined.  Other people's books become your obsession.  Their stories, their words, their worlds.  You grow responsible for understanding.  You yield your empathy, devote your time.  The days are long and hot and languid, and New Orleans wafts by courtesy of Ruta Sepetys, and Haiti, thanks to Edwidge Danticat, and the humor of Haven Kimmel, the confessions of Caroline Knapp, the daughter of a salt god (Ilie Ruby), Cambodia at war (Vaddey Ratner), the very secret life of objects (Dawn Raffel).

Over the course of the last month, I have bought nearly 100 books and others, due out soon, have made their way to me, courtesy of publishing houses and authors.  My triple-stacked shelves in every book-devoted room are officially overtaxed.  Book piles approximate architecture.  Most women get up and ask, What will I wear?  I wonder, upon rising, what to read.

My mind is clear; it is at peace; it is satiated.  I sleep better than I did.  I want less.  I am comforted by books, comfortable around them, and the words I do write these days are reviews and essays, opinion pieces, suggestions.  Short pieces, perhaps 1,000 words a day, that help me put into context those things that I'm learning about language and how it works for others.

It seems enough, for summer.

Read more...

The Secret Life of Objects/Dawn Raffel: Reflections

Long ago, in my snowy city, Dawn Raffel read from her then-new novel in a Walnut Street bookstore.  No, Dawn did not read from her book.  She evoked it, reciting the words without ever once consulting the bound pages before her.  It was extraordinary.  A writer in tune with the rhythms of her story.  A book night I will always remember. 

Just as I will always remember my own sweet yesterday afternoon as I read Dawn's new book, The Secret Life of Objects, to myself. This enchanting Jaded Ibis Press production, illustrated by Dawn's son, Sean Evers, is a suite of miniature essays about things—found things, lost things, remembered and misremembered things.  The rocking chair.  The lock of hair. The nesting bowls.  The moonstone ring.  The glass angel.  The father's hat.  It is an exploration of attachments, a series of prose poems, a little bit of memoir as well as commentary on memoir.  It's an archeological dig, of sorts.  It's scrapbook and philosophy.

And it is so easy to love.   Its sweet brevity.  It's uncoiled profundity.  It's kindness toward others.

Secret Life is an original book, destined, I think, for classic status.  It's a perfect teaching book; I know precisely how I'll use it next spring at Penn.  For now I share the essay that hit me hardest.  It's a paragraph, only, three sentences.  It is the right enough:

The Frogs

My husband saw me looking in the window of a store at five wooden Balinese frogs, each playing a musical instrument.  A week later, on our anniversary, those frogs were on our bed.  This is why we're married.

Read more...