the One Thing Stolen surprise at Radnor Memorial Library

Some things aren't surprising when I am hosted by the Radnor Memorial Library. How gracious Pamela Sedor forever is. How delicious (and pretty) is that cake. How kind my friends, husband, and father are. I hope my gratitude is felt and known. I am fully aware of how precious time is, and what it means when time is set aside to support another's floating dreams.

But last night, after photographs and stories of this regional home were shared, after I read from One Thing Stolen, after I shared the opening pages of This Is the Story of You (and gave a copy to Lucky Number 9)—after all that, when I was signing books, I turned over a copy of One Thing Stolen and saw a new cover staring out at me. The formerly black title had turned red (and glossy). There were A.S. King words over my name. The back cover was different, too.

What had happened here?

A little detective work with Annie and Pam as the night wound down, and I learned this: One Thing Stolen has gone into a second printing and Chronicle Books has taken the time to dress the book up newly—new color, Amy's words. It's like those wondrous moments when I come in from a very long day and discover folded laundry on the kitchen table, the work of a secret elf. This thing had been done, quietly done, and there was my gratitude again.

So many, many thanks to Pam and Annie of Radnor, to my friends who came, to the ladies of the Wayne Art Center (oh we, the Hidden Gems), to Kelly, Cyndi, Marie, Tom, Hilary, Bill, another Bill, and Dad, and to Temple University Press, which gave me Love: A Philadelphia Affair and Chronicle Books, which gave me a second printing of One Thing Stolen as well as the gorgeous cover and packaging (and Taylor, thank you for caring so much, you read it again and then again with dedication; you kept asking; you kept pressing; I am grateful; we've made it all right at last) of This Is the Story of You.

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Talking about our home, at Radnor Memorial Library

The extremely dear Pamela Sedor has invited me back to the Radnor Memorial Library to talk about my 2015 books, LOVE: A PHILADELPHIA AFFAIR and ONE THING STOLEN. Pam is lovely, that space is kind, and there will be cake.

I'll be reflecting on places familiar to many of you—Darby-Paoli Road, the Devon Horse Show, the Wayne Art Center, DanceSport Academy in Ardmore, the gardens of Chanticleer, the bells of Valley Forge. I'll be listening for your own stories. And I'll be showcasing some 139 photographs of this area, Philadelphia, and beyond.

I hope that you can join us.


Tuesday, October 20
7:30 PM
Radnor Memorial Library, Winsor Room
Wayne, PA

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I forget, often, about the words I've left behind

My dear friends Elizabeth Mosier and Chris Mills sent me this photo last night, following their excursion to Radnor Memorial Library.

We writers live in the forest of doubt, or at least this writer does. This photo startled me—this idea of a dear librarian (Pam Sedor) taking the time to locate my books and to place them all on one wall. This idea of a celebration going on while I've been going on elsewhere.

I forget, often, about the words I've left behind. I focus, too often, on what must be done right now, on what isn't done yet.

I neglect to pause. This celebration at Radnor Memorial Library—discovered by friends—is cause for a pause.

We'll be celebrating Going Over at this very Radnor Memorial Library on April 30, 7:30. This will be my only formal reading from the book, and this party is open to all; cake will be served. Please join us.

In the meantime, today, I am celebrating the work of Michael Sokolove and editor Avery Rome at the University of Pennsylvania's Kelly Writers House. My class has read Sokolove's fantastic Drama High. We have questions. We look forward to reflection, to a deep and true conversation.

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We're having a GOING OVER party! (do you want to come?)

And then Pamela Sedor said, she said:

But if there's a book there must be cake!

And I said, Are you sure?

And she said she was sure, very sure.

And so, my friends, there will indeed be a real-live-cake-for-all party for Going Over, the book that is launching on April 1. I invite any of you near and not so far to join us at:

Radnor Memorial Library
Winsor Room
April 30, 7:30 PM
114 W. Wayne Avenue
Wayne, PA 19087

Bring friends. Bring your sugar appetites. We'll talk about the Wall in this, the 25th year since it fell. We'll talk about walls in general—around a world that is suddenly looking a little Cold War grim.

I look forward to seeing you. For those who cannot be there in person, there is a multi-stop blog tour gearing up (thanks to Lara of Chronicle). Book giveaways, interviews, and revelations all on tap. More on that soon.

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Launching Dr. Radway at the Radnor Memorial Library. Join us?

Earlier this summer New City Community Press/Temple University Press released a book that means so much to me—Dr. Radway's Sarsaparilla Resolvent. It's a book about poor Philadelphia in 1871, a book about Eastern State Penitentiary, Baldwin Locomotives Works, My River (notice the caps), two best friends, and an heroic blowzy named Pearl. Among other things.

Reviewers have been extremely kind, some of their thoughts here.

I'll be officially launching that book in just a few weeks at Radnor Memorial Library—reading from it for the first time, talking about it for the first time, sharing it, because that's what we do.

I hope you will consider joining us. Huge thanks to Pamela Sedor, who throws a wonderful party.

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humbled, and grateful.

For reasons too complex, too personal to render fully here, yesterday was a day of deep emotion.

There were, however, friends all along the way.  Elizabeth Mosier, the beauty in the dark gray dress, will always stand, in my mind, on either side of the day—at its beginnings, at its very late-night end.  For your mid-day phone kindness, for your breathtaking introduction of me at last night's book launch, for the night on the town, for the talk in the car, for the bounty of your family—Libby, I will always be so grateful. 

To Patti Mallet and her friend, Anne, who drove all the way from Ohio to be part of last night's celebration, I will never forget your gesture of great kindness, your love for green things at Chanticleer, and a certain prayer beside my mother's stone.  Patti and I are there, above, at the pond which inspired two of my books.

To Pam Sedor, the lovely blonde in violet, a world-class Dragon Boat rower recently returned from an international competition in Hong Kong, the librarian who makes books happen and dreams come true, and to Molly, who puts up with my techno anxieties (and who, recently married, has a new last name), and to Radnor Memorial Library, for being my true home—thank you, always.  (And to Children's Book World, for finding us books in time.)

To my friends who came (from church, from books, from architecture, from corporate life, from the early years through now)—thank you.  Among you were Avery Rome, the beautiful red-head who edits Libby, me, and others at the Philadelphia Inquirer, and Kathy Barham, my brilliant and wholly whole son's high school English teacher, who is also a poet (shown here in green).  To the town of Wayne, which received our open-air tears and laughter late into the night (and to Cyndi, Kelly, Libby, Avery, and Kathye who cried and laughed with me)—thank you.

And also, finally, to Heather Mussari—my muse (along with Tamra Tuller) for the Berlin novel, a young lady so wise beyond her years, and a cool, cool chick who (along with Sandy) does my hair—I arrived at 11:15 at your shop inconsolable.  You listened.  You said all the right things by telling the truth and telling it kindly.  I adore you, Heather.  I hope you know that.

After I posted this, my dear friend Kate Walton (who was there with our friend Elisa Ludwig), sent me this link to last night's party.  Kate—whose kindness is so clear in her post—preserved the night for me in photographs.  I will always be grateful.

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My thoughts on social media and etc. at Philadelphia Stories

Michelle Wittle invited me to share my thoughts about publishing, social media, and cake (well, I threw in the cake part) for her always-informational Philadelphia Stories blog.  I have the great privilege of joining Michelle and others at the annual Philadelphia Stories Push to Publish conference, being held on October 13th at Rosemont College, and I was glad for this excuse to talk to Ms. Wittle again.

Michelle, you want a hug?  You'll get one.

For the whole interview, go here.  A first question answered, below.

Wittle: What do you find are the most helpful tools for a writer in YA to market his or her book? Should they have a blog? A twitter account? Maybe reach out to the local libraries and host a writing and or reading session?

Kephart: I am afraid that I never really think about tools or strategies.  I think about who I want to be in the world—what kind of community I want to live within.  And so I blog as much to exercise my own brain (made stagnant at times by too much corporate work) as to exchange thoughts with readers and writers who inspire me.  I twitter very rarely, and usually it’s to have some comedic relief or to spread word.  I have a book party each time a book comes out at Radnor Memorial Library with the great hostess Pamela Sedor because she is so kind and because friends come (indeed, we are having a party for Small Damages on September 12 at 7:30 at Pam’s fabulous library, should any readers of this interview like to come; there will be cake!).  Mostly, though, I try to participate in the greater literary community.  I write for The New York Times Book Review, Chicago Tribune, Shelf Awareness, Philadelphia Inquirer, Publishing Perspectives, and elsewhere on the state of books and culture and teens, or on places that I love.  And this, I think, keeps me in the mix more than anything.

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The DeWitt Henry Evening, in photos and introduction

Radnor High graduates of the class of '59 came out in force last night to welcome DeWitt Henry home.  Pamela Sedor, the ever-young, always-beautiful mistress of the Radnor Memorial Library, did what she does to make the evening seamless.  Elizabeth Mosier and Chris Mills brought Ben Yagoda, Kelly Simmons, Cynthia Reeves, and me to their warm hearth; Kathye Fetsko Petrie brought her most ineffable self. And I was given the honor of introducing a man who has given stories—his own, those of others—a place of permanence. 

This was his evening.

When DeWitt Henry turned 30 years old, he wrote the following in a journal he was keeping:

“I can’t get a job.  I can’t have the things that normal people my age enjoy.  I can’t afford a family.  When I was twenty-five, that was clearly a matter of choice.  I was trying to be an artist, and I could always give up that ambition and still succeed by worldly standards.  But here I am skilled, educated, and living alone on $4,000 where any stiff can make $10,000.”

It’s classic DeWitt.  Self-effacing.  Never murky.  Sentences built of particulates.  It’s also preamble.  Because DeWitt Henry wasn’t actually just moping around in his thirtieth year.  He was on the verge of a next great thing, a brand new future—not just for himself, but for all us readerly stiffs.

So he was frequenting a bar called Plough.  So, in the early fall of 1971, $2,000 were played against 1,000 copies of what would become the first issue of Ploughshares, now one of the most esteemed literary magazines in the world.  What writer doesn’t know Ploughshares, or lust after a Ploughshares page?  The intention was, to quote DeWitt quoting Gordon Lish, to make “a distinct contribution to the national adventure in writing” and, to now quote DeWitt quoting Ted Solotaroff, “to convey the bright hope” of contemporary writing.

DeWitt has brightened the bulb of hope in many ways throughout his career—teaching at Harvard before becoming the Chair of Writing, Literature, and Publishing at Emerson College, and publishing his own essays and stories, pieces that the great Tim O’Brien called “flat-out wonderful.”  He has made a career of launching careers while steadily tending his own.

Through the thickness and the thinness, DeWitt Henry never forgot his roots.  The house on Bloomingdale Avenue.  Howard, the butcher at Espenshade’s.  Kay’s Dress Shop.  The Anthony Wayne Theater.  St. David’s Golf Club. St. Martin’s Dam. The halls of Radnor High.  These memories are the stuff of Sweet Dreams, the memoir he’ll be sharing tonight.

In an essay called “On Aging,” about running the Boston marathon, DeWitt writes “There is the lesson of self-awareness and acceptance, beyond unrealistic ambition....” and then:  “There is the lesson of celebrating, from your individual limits, the glory of full human possibility.”  Tonight we celebrate DeWitt Henry—self aware and wholly accepting, the absolutely full human.

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Florinda's Kindness. Best of Graces. K.M. Walton. DeWitt Henry. And the beach in winter.

I have been sitting here since four this morning, when it was all dark and all cold.  At one point I looked up, and there was blue within the black.  And then, a little while on, I looked and saw the float of pillowed pink.

Just ahead of the pinking, I went to my favorite blogs list and clicked onto the 3 R's Blog to see what Florinda has cooking.  Oh, good, I thought.  Her best of year list.  With great interest, I read.  The Warmth of Other Suns—a fabulous choice.  Tina Fey's Bossypants—absolutely; that book made me laugh when I needed a laugh. Just Kids by Patti Smith, one of my all-time favorite memoirs.  The Girls of Murder City.

It was when I got to the fiction list that I did a double take, for there was You Are My Only, alongside Faith, Girl in Translation, and Fathermucker. My little book beside some very big books.  Florinda's goodness forever transparent.

Why are there always 3,000 miles between me and the people that I want to hug?  I'm hoping Florinda can feel my hug today.  I am hoping there is pink in her sky.

Florinda, you deserve some major pink in your sky. Thank you. For everything.

My deep affection for the bloggers who have been so kind to You Are My Only is well-established.  I am so surprised and so moved by all of you who named You Are My Only at year's end (listing alphabetically): 

Caribousmom/Short List for Fiction
Caribousmom/Buzz Books Which Did Not Disappoint
Dear Author
My Friend Amy
On a Southern Breeze
The 3 R's Blog
Two Heads Together
Washington, D.C. Literature/Examiner.com

Tonight I'm going lift a glass in your honor in Atlantic City, where I'll be with my boys, doing that winter-at-the-beach thing we do.

I'll come home in time to lift another glass to K.M. Walton (though I promise not to arrive already tripping), who is launching her first book, Cracked, at the Chester County Book Company on Saturday night.  There's going to be a gonzo crowd.  Be there, I say.

On Sunday, I'm off to celebrate Little Miss Eva's birthday.  Of course there will be photos; there always are.

And then on Tuesday, I'll be in the company of my good friends, Elizabeth Mosier, Chris Mills, Kelly Simmons, and Pam Sedor as we toast DeWitt Henry, writer, founding editor of Ploughshares, and former Chair of Writing, Literature, and Publishing at Emerson College, who is returning to his childhood haunts on the Main Line with an evening talk at the Radnor Memorial Library.  I'll repeat myself, because I can: 

Be there.

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worth celebrating

It's been hot in this house (a mild understatement) and I haven't been sleeping long hours (ditto). But I've had horses and children to keep me company by day and this brand new book project to keep me curious and calm in the middle of the night. I had a notion. I pushed it. I am digging in deep with the historic record. A nugget grows.

I'm not writing a book yet (or, I should say, I've written but 3,000 words).  I'm letting that book linger. Making calls to historians, checking the records on Library of Congress databases, reading old newspapers online, thanks to my friends at Radnor Memorial Library (thanks, Pam Sedor). Festering isn't always a good thing, but in this case I think it is. I have moved away from the land of vague ennui and unnerving uncertainty to be fully engaged once more.

Every time I learn this lesson, it feels brand new: I can't live fully without being inside a project. It just doesn't work for me.

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Dangerous Neighbors: The School Library Review

I have Egmont USA's Greg Ferguson to thank for inspiriting this afternoon with the good news of a very kind School Library Journal review for Dangerous Neighbors, the final words of which I quote here, and Pamela Sedor and Ann Pagano to thank for the Radnor Memorial Library event poster above.

I honestly don't know what I'd do, on some of these darkish, headed toward winter days without this kind of light.

Thank you.

Ultimately, it is through chance meetings with “dangerous neighbors” and caring strangers that Katherine begins to consider the possibilities of her own life going forward. Her forgiveness of Bennett and herself gives birth to a sense of hope and helps this tenderly crafted story end with a positive spin. Kephart has painted a vivid picture of the Exhibition. Readers can practically smell the roasted peanuts and feel the bruise of crowds shoving by as she creates a lively setting against which a quiet, desperate struggle is played out.–Karen Elliott, Grafton High School, WI(School Library Journal)

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Inviting you to a commemorative evening

This is a page torn from (or falling out of) my Radnor High School scrapbook, a place where I keep the ribbons we—the tennis team, the track team—won, a place that houses all the goofiness and wonder of then.

It was to this scrapbook that I returned in late March of this year, when I received word that I would be inducted into the Radnor High School Hall of Fame this coming November.  The news came as an utter surprise to me.  Few honors have moved me so thoroughly; few upcoming events have been anticipated so eagerly.  I loved my high school and I've placed some of my own stories, including Undercover, within a reimagined version of it.  At Radnor, I had an English teacher who cared, who set me on the path that I am now on.  That very same English teacher, Dr. Maryanne Caporaletti, will introduce me during the induction ceremonies, where I will be joined by Lee Daniels, the director/producer behind such films as Precious and Monster Ball; Christopher Goutman, currently the head writer of As the World Turns; Paul R. Michel, a federal judge; the theologian, John Galloway; the musician/producer Andy Mark; the international banker Charlie Ryan; the football star Chris Sydnor; and the family of Eygptologist Henry George Fischer.  Previous Radnor High Hall of Famers include David Brooks, Sally Bedell Smith, Janis Grant Berenstain, and Anna Moffo.

Pamela Sedor of Radnor Memorial Library has offered to make this moment in my life even more special by setting aside the evening of November 16th at 7:30 PM for what will be my first reading from Dangerous Neighbors.  I'll talk as well about my years at Radnor and about what is next in my writing life.  I hope those of you who live near can join us.

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