A random photo of my mom's cute cat, Otis, who is permanantly small and a little special, but very sweet and fetches a ball like a dog when he isn't hanging out in the dishwasher.





J.D. Salinger. J.D. Salinger. J.D. Salinger. J.D. Salinger.J.D. Salinger. J.D. Salinger.

No, I haven't lost my mind. Do you know that the single most googled link that brings people to my blog is one reference I made A YEAR ago to J.D. Salinger (which was really a post about Joyce Maynard, who visited Bennington last summer)? And now that I've added his name as such, I'm sure to get a fresh new onslaught of visitors. Fascinating that on a weekly basis people are searching links to J.D. Salinger. High school students doing reports on Catcher in the Rye looking for quick online bytes? College students writing comparative essays? Book lovers seeking long lost work of his, or word that he's suddenly become a socialite? I have no idea. But it's rather charming. I should start peppering in other authors to see if they too are getting as much internet search action. Oh we should all be so lucky.

I am plugging along on the novel. I'm quite sure I will have a finished ROUGH draft by the end of summer at this rate. I mean, it's scary how close to the end this thing is. And then, then I have to go back through and beef up one character's storyline, up the stakes, make sure there's enough forward momentum and scenes in place where summaries are acting as placeholders right now. Oy, the writing has only barely begun. But hey, this is fun, right?

As I've been reading the blogs of my friends and assorted comrades in literary life, I've begun to feel guilty for just how terribly BORING I am. Why do you keep coming? My stat tracker tells me that you do, but I don't understand it. I have no interesting anecdotes. I've become increasingly anti-social actually and if it weren't for the fact that my dearest friend Emily lives down the block (alas, for two weeks more only!), I may never speak to a person in the flesh again. Okay, at least rarely. I don't know if I need to remedy this somehow, but I just don't feel like being with people very often. I like them plenty, but I'm even aware when I go into stores how when I interact with the clerks and such, I sort of don't know what to say, or how to respond, and I feel as though they're staring a bit at me funny, like they can tell I've got problems. See, I used to be SO social, SO comfortable in front of people, crowds even. Is this the real me, or was that person the real me?

I was pleased to pick up the copy of The Writer--August edition already on shelves, and I actually recommend this magazine to writers more and more. What I found at Bennington is true of how I regard this magazine: the most seeminly simple and possibly insultingly basic information often needs to be heard again and again by writers. The writer's essays on craft are always enlightening. And I'm not ashamed to pimp my own article which runs NEXT ISSUE (I'm already listed on the website under next issue in fact www.writermag.com) on writers choosing to go unagented to small presses. This includes some text from the quotable Terri Brown-Davidson.

PLUGS:
Also, a few books to keep your eyes peeled for. One comes out sooner than others. My friend Laila Lalami, whom many of you may know better from her blog: moorishgirl.com 's first book, a collection of linked stories --Hope and Other Dangerous Pursuits-- will be out from Algonquin in October. And sadly, you'll have to wait until next summer to catch the fabulous Ellen Meister's George Clooney is Coming to Applewood, but it will be worth the wait and I will remind you. By then, she'll likely have a pub date on her second novel as well. She's a hot number. I see movie options in her future. It's cool to have friends who are becoming successful right before my eyes. It's hopeful and inspiring.

I'm FINALLY reading The Kite Runner. I mostly like it, though I'm a bit irked by the predictibility of parts of the plot, the whole "oh gosh, he's really my brother" detail, and the "character's wife is conveniently unable to bear children so that later he can adopt his deceased brother's child." But hey, that's why it's a plot and not real life.

I'm trying to go see this homeopath that works for Kaiser. My dad's got the inside scoop on it...because though I'm not sick/sick anymore, I don't feel right, and at times think the sickness is coming back...and I don't want to take any drugs and I don't think it's something that requires a cat scan or MRI--so I figure I'd go the route of sensitive holistic treatment. We'll see. It probably means I'll have to give up coffee, and that sucks.

JPR