Once again, I’ve missed the “Thursday” part of our Tea Party but am beginning to embrace the idea of a FridayReads Tea Party—or at least that’s what I tell myself to feel better about being neglectful of my blogging. I figure a tea party on any day is a very good thing, so I’m not beating myself up too much over it.
I had the great privilege of being invited to do a reading and signing at Tattered Cover Bookstore in Denver, CO, this past weekend. For those unfamiliar, if we were to personify independent bookstores as classic Denver celebrities, TC would be Douglas Fairbanks. (My TCM Channel devotion comes shining through—if you don’t know who Douglas Fairbanks is, please, I beg you, go watch 1924’s The Thief of Baghdad.) Tattered Cover is a bookstore done to superiority and to no surprise they pulled out the royal carpet for me. The only way I could thank them adequately was to agree to their request that I return. I do feel a twinge of shame that this is not an entirely selfless request but just a twinge.
While in Denver I also had the great opportunity to be invited on Irene Rawling’s Clear Channel Radio show. An incredible treat! Irene is nothing short of a marvel. I won’t tell you how many times I banged the mic around during our hour-long taping, but Irene paid no mind. I’d like to think it was because we were so caught up in our discussion of The Baker’s Daughter but then, she could also simply be accustomed to authors with poor proximity judgment. Nonetheless, it was a lovely visit to the Mile High City.
But I’d be leading you astray if I tried to say it was all work. You see, some of our dearest friends and my nephew are in Denver for the year. We were able to visit and I was able to indulge in gratuitous auntie time. Please see photo evidence below.
Our plane slid into home base early Monday morning. So, needless to say, I felt a little jolted by the workweek. In fact, this is the first time since early February that I’ve been home without preparing to leave again—the first week I’ve been able to unpack my suitcase and put it away. Let me tell you, friends, there’s such relief in not seeing that beat up thing staring me down from the corner of my bedroom and/or hotel room. As much as I love meeting readers, booksellers, author friends and friends I call family, it’s fabulous to be home, in the quiet, for a spell.
My hermit roots run deep. I missed my desk chair, my ratty T-shirts and sweatpants, my dog snoring and dreaming at my feet, my house smells and the view out my office window. I missed settling into these familiarities; the comfort of knowing they are in me just as I am in them. I missed being able to shut myself in and hear my thoughts and characters again. The voices of reality are so jubilant and rich. It’s like being at a continual neighborhood potluck full of laughter and talk, music and dancing… it’s a sugar rush fueled by friends and sunny memories. And as much as you love every moment, there comes a time when a lady just needs a nap. I’m there and I’m taking that siesta all the way through April.
It’s funny that I use this “nap” analogy when truthfully, I’m a terrible napper. Physically and figuratively. I’m a doer. Don’t misunderstand: I love sleep. Mess with my sleep and you will, indeed, get the horns. However, I can’t nap in daylight—not when there’s so much to be done. So when I say I’ll be metaphorically “napping” through April, I mean I’ll be in the context of naptime. I won’t be traveling. I’m staying put to write, to give myself over to characters again. Book 3 is calling.
I will however be Skyping—and quite a lot as my schedule permits. I welcome book clubbers! If you have a club interested in an hour-long Skype session, please feel free to get in touch. I’d be delighted.
This is a FridayReads tea party so without further ado…
I picked up Lauren Groff’s newest novel Arcadia to take a peek and am now fully invested. I’ve read Lauren’s other novel The Monsters of Templeton, which I enjoyed! There’s something extremely appealing about digging into a family saga, getting to know all the secrets of the people and place. Lauren is excellent at doing that in her work. Now, 20 pages into Arcadia, I can see again her keen ability to weave story threads so while you’re technically getting one person’s story, you’re not. You’re getting ten people’s stories.
It’s warming up in El Paso, so I’ve begun the habit of dropping a couple ice cubes in my hot tea. Not enough to make it official iced tea, but it’s certainly not traditional. I’ve got English Breakfast seeped far past the suggested time until it’s black as an Irish brew. Then come the ice cubes, which water it down to its appropriate medium bodied nature. Basically I’m drinking tea the temperature of bathwater but flavored far more appealingly.
Sarah’s Sipping Summary:
I believe my tepid brew and my longing for the tea-been-sitting-on-the-stove-a-time tranquility go hand in hand. On the road, my tea was either piping hot (a freshly purchased cup) or cold (the February/March weather having chilled it before I could drink). So being able to sip a lukewarm cup at my leisure feels like an extravagance I’ve long missed. I imagine Arcadia‘s 1970s idealists would approve of it too.
Cheers, m’lovely dears!