March 12, 2010

Dating: Or, I like talking about myself — but live in fear of the Awkward Lull

Posted by Meg under musings | Tags: , , , , , |
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What I like about first dates

I get to dress up. The anxiety revolving around what to wear, what to wear! on these outings is nothing compared to the fun of shopping for said outfit ahead of time. If I have enough advance notice, I like to run out to the mall with sis or best friend and pick up a new top — or two. (Or four, but who’s counting.) I go through the motions of choosing the right color (I favor red or blue), the right cut (flattering but not too low-cut; I’m a classy lady), the right style (modern and hip, but not too young or old. I’m a ripe 24, after all).

I get to talk about myself. Let’s not play games here, friends — I run a blog. On said blog, where you’re currently hanging out (hi! Thanks!), I talk about . . . whatever I want. Books? Sure. Writing? Yep, I love it. Me? Always. write meg! is the public display of my vanity, and that vanity runs deep. Writing post after post about my goals, dreams, projects, love life and aspirations all point to . . . me just liking me. And I totally love me, actually, since we’re on the topic.

Getting to share the hilarity that is Meg with someone new is exciting! Because, I mean, who cares if I tell the same hil-arious stories again? He’s never heard them. I can wow him with the same stuff I’ve been torturing friends and family with for years, like my obsession with England and my recent trip to London. (Did I mention I went to London last year? Um, a few times? . . .  OK, sorry about that.)

I get to learn about someone new. Despite that narcissitic preceding paragraph, I do genuinely like people and love hearing about their lives. Maybe that’s the writer in me. (Or just the nosy girl in me.) Generally speaking, if you like to talk and want to share, I’ll listen. I’ll tell you the London story, and you can . . . tell me whatever you want! Let’s talk books. Travel. Romance. Food. Stupid TV shows. You can tell me your life story and I’ll sit with a mug of coffee, giving you my patient listening face.

The promise of possibility is intoxicating. Even though I try to go into first dates with as few expectations as possible, it’s hard not to succumb to the intoxicating aroma that is possibility. I mean, we could have the best date of our lives and fall immediately in love with each other. This could be the story we tell our future (adorable, brilliant) children about when Mommy and Daddy met, a la “How I Met Your Mother”!!!1! Or, you know, the funny anecdote we bust out at cocktail parties about our first meeting. If I spill something on myself, we could laugh as you gently hand me napkins and become enamored with my reddened cheeks and way I manage to, um, maintain my composure. Sort of.

I struggle greatly with this one, I’ll admit, because the moment I start mentally tacking your last name after Megan and wrinkling my nose in thought, I’ve got a problem. But I don’t put too much stock in early dates and generally manage to stay cool, calm and confident. If it works out, awesome! If not, no worries. Um, most of the time.

Attraction. Boys — they’re cute! That’s why I date ‘em. I like looking at them, holding their hands, wrapping my arms around them. I like their boy cologne smell. And it feels good to be attracted, and to feel excited, and to be appreciated. Chances are that if I’ve made it to a first date with a guy, even one I met online, I’m going to be attracted to him — at least intellectually. And as a start, that’s enough for me!



What terrifies me about first dates

The awkward lull. Every conversation has its ups and downs, to be sure, but every now and then you spot that most dreaded of visitors: The Awkward Lull. Lord knows I’m a Chatty Cathy, but even I cannot always navigate around the Lull when it settles down at our table, takes off its jacket and grabs a roll from the bread basket. Suddenly, I can’t see anything but that Lull, all sloppy and annoying and silent. I can think of nothing to say. And I guess that’s around the time I usually get up to use the ladies’ room and frantically begin texting everyone I know for help. This hasn’t happened too often (see: “I’m a Chatty Cathy” above) but I live in perpetual fear of the moment that it does.

Who pays? After dating several men who were, um, flat broke, I’m particularly sensitive to this issue. I’m a modern woman and certainly don’t mind paying my own way, but on a first date? If a man doesn’t want to impress me now, it’s all downhill from here. I fully expect my date to pick up the check, but it can be so awkward. Do I reach for my wallet and offer to pay for myself, though I don’t want to? Will he be annoyed if I don’t offer? Will he be annoyed if I do? Gah. It’s almost enough to make me curl up with “Becoming Jane,” a mug of cocoa and my laptop and call it an early night. Almost.

Will we like each other? I know I’m all cocky and silly, talking about how gorgeous and brilliant I am (and I am!), but there’s always that off-chance a man will . . . um, not fully appreciate me. Or understand me. Or think I’m funny. My fear stems mostly from the fact that either I’ll think he’s fantastic and he’ll fail to become enamored with me or, conversely, that he’ll think I’m great and I’ll feel that leaden “meh” feeling in the pit of my stomach. Unrequited affection is just so inconvenient.



Why I want to punch brains after first dates

Communication. So, hey — let’s say we had a great time! We clicked! There was totally a “connection” between us, the sparks were flying, etc., and so on. And now? Now, I get to wait to hear from you.

Constantly.

I’m not exactly a “sit back and chill” sort of girl. I don’t like waiting. If I can jump in there and get something going or done, I probably will. So the idea of being demure, playing “hard to get” or seeming aloof isn’t something with which I’m comfortable. That doesn’t mean I’m going to start texting you nightly at 3 a.m. with my musings and professions of love, but it does mean you’ll probably hear from me. At a reasonable time of day and in reasonable intervals.

But I don’t want to contact you first. How will I know if you like me if I’m the one instigating all of our communication?! Answer: I won’t. Maybe you’re just polite and don’t want to ignore my calls or texts (or emails, or tweets . . . ), so you answer but don’t tell me you’re not interested. So how do I know?

I know if I hear from you, so I just have to wait. Like Drew Barrymore’s character in “He’s Just Not That Into You,” I get to look for you to call, text, Facebook, tweet or Gchat me. And really? You could do any or all of those things at any given time and I would probably instantly know. That’s one of the joys — or traumas — of living in the digital age. So for my iPod touch, cell phone, work phone, work computer, email inboxes and Twitter to all be silent is . . . ick. Unpleasant. Rejection on a multitude of platforms is way suckier than just waiting for your home phone to ring like, you know, in the old days. Say, 1997.



 And by all this, I mean . . .

Dating is fun, scary, intimidating, awkward, exciting, frightening, sweat-inducing, nerve-wracking, thrilling, unbelievable, crazy and . . . good. And I know that if I can swallow all my anxiety and make myself go on these dates and be myself, I have a decent shot at finding the right person for silly, dramatic and loveable me.

Let’s just hope he doesn’t freak out if he sees this OCD blog post.

 

March 11, 2010

Book review: ‘The Next Thing On My List’ by Jill Smolinski

Posted by Meg under 4-star reads, book reviews | Tags: , , , , , |
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Get a massage.
Eat ice cream in public.
Wear sexy shoes.
Take Mom and Grandma to see Wayne Newton.
Change someone’s life.

After a car accident claims the life of her passenger, a woman she barely knows, June Parker is left with a heart full of guilt — and one carefully written listed. Called “20 Things To Do Before I Turn 25,” the list belongs to Marissa Jones — a young woman whom June met at a Weight Watchers meeting and befriended not long before the crash. After losing 100 pounds, Marissa had just begun to fully experience life . . . and had quite a bit left to do.

And since she wouldn’t be able to, June decided she would — and all before Marissa’s birthday.

Adrift at her job in Los Angeles, June is a fledgling writer who typically divides her days between fighting with Lizbeth, her type-A boss, and staring at the disgusting rattail poking out of her coworker’s scalp. June is boyfriendless and carefully cocooned in her boring life before the accident that changes everything — including her own outlook. Suddenly, completing the list — especially at the prodding of Troy, Marissa’s handsome older brother — gives June’s own life purpose. And it’s only through her dogged determination to see this one thing through that she realizes who she is.

Jill Smolinski’s The Next Thing On My List isn’t anywhere near the sobfest you would expect it to be, considering our narrator is completing tasks dreamed up by a dead woman. It’s actually an incredibly entertaining, heartwarming and inspirational novel that had me flipping the pages from day one.

The strength of book, for me, came in the form of June and Smolinski’s sense of humor, which was pitch-perfect. Any off-color jokes would certainly have not been well-received by the audience — me — but we never got that point. The Next Thing On My List struck the perfect balance between remembering Marissa and her life while still allowing the characters to grow and move on. When we could have easily become mired in a depressing tale, Smolinski’s humorous and fast-paced writing kept us moving forward. I laughed out loud so many times in the book, dog-earing pages with quotes I wanted to remember. Inspirational ones, like this:

Life is funny, I thought as I hoisted my leg high and over the seat. People are living too much or too little, and I wondered if anyone out there is living the right amount.

Smolinski also did a great job of balancing June’s personal life with what she does at work — which is where most of us spend all our time, anyway. For once, June isn’t a publicist or a magazine editor or a New York City fashion maven; she’s a copywriter for an L.A.-based group which encourages carpooling as a way to cut down on traffic. I surely appreciated the change of pace and enjoyed reading about the world of advertising. June’s coworkers were all very funny, fleshed-out folks, too. Nothing kills a novel faster for me than a dry, one-dimensional ensemble.

Fans of women’s fiction will enjoy June’s adventures and maybe shed a tear or two (I won’t judge). And more than anything, what I took away from the novel was this: live your life to the fullest. Create lists. Fall in love. Get scared. Don’t hide from your feelings. We get one shot, one opportunity, one moment to shape our own lives — so jump in and take it. And since I’ll be 25 myself in a few short months, you might just find my own list around here sometime soon!


4 out of 5!

ISBN: 0307351297 ♥ Purchase from Amazon ♥ Author Website
Personal copy purchased by Meg

 

March 10, 2010

Book review: ‘Raven Stole The Moon’ by Garth Stein

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On the day she leaves Seattle for Wrangell, Alaska — site of a terrible tragedy that occurred years before — Jenna Rosen has snapped. It’s not enough that it’s two years to the day since her son Bobby drowned; she must also be stuck at a party with associates she despises, putting on a happy face while attendees whisper about the Rosens as her husband, Robert, schmoozes and acts like she’s insane for not being “over it.”

It’s also that time has marched forward for everyone but Jenna, pushing them all toward a new life — a new world — when her own resolved issues stay firmly on the surface, like raw wounds. Though everyone believed Bobby drowned in an accident on Thunder Bay, his body was never recovered — and Jenna is unable to find any peace or closure over his passing. To her, her 6-year-old son has still vanished. And something pulls her back to Alaska, setting off a chain of events and bringing to light pieces of native folklore she never thought possible.

Garth Stein’s Raven Stole The Moon is a contemporary novel set against an interesting backdrop: the beliefs and ancient folklore of the Tlingit people. As Jenna traipses through Wrangell and meets an interesting cast of characters — including Oscar, a dog who suddenly follows her everywhere, and Eddie, a man who befriends and shelters her, no questions asked — we begin to learn of a supernatural phenomenon which is intriguing and spooky. What did happen to Bobby?

I’m one of the few people in the world who has not read Stein’s The Art Of Racing In The Rain, so his writing style was completely new to me. Characterized by short sentences, his prose comes out in a staccato-like rhythm that took a little getting used to. It certainly wasn’t bad, but I wasn’t accustomed to getting the stream-of-consciousness-like details the author shared with us. Told in third person but focused primarily on Jenna and her viewpoint, the book hammered out important tidbits in a style pretty distinct to Stein.

After I hit roughly the 60-page mark, I was hooked — completely drawn into the tale and desperate to find out what happened to Bobby. Stein gives us just enough detail to sustain the mystery without dragging it all out too long, frustrating readers who must go hundreds of pages without new information. As we learned more and more about certain spirits known to inhabit Alaska and meet David Livingstone, a native shaman, I could feel goosebumps erupt on my skin.

I didn’t find the book to be the “horror” story some claim, but nor is it a tepid tale of family or forgiveness. It’s something in between. Relying plenty on religious and supernatural elements and requiring the reader to suspend disbelief for a sizeable chunk of the story, Raven Stole The Moon was a riveting novel — and even though I didn’t particularly like Jenna or Robert, I was unable to put the book down. It’s pretty rare that I’m so apathetic to two of the main characters and still enjoy the novel. Why? Because though I didn’t feel for them, I felt with them — and I knew that, in the wake of their son’s death, how could I judge them? I couldn’t. And didn’t. I just read their story through as unbiased a lens as I could.

Originally published in 1998, the book maintains a sort of innocence before the dawn of Google searches and iPhones. As Jenna disappears from the lush, dull world she inhabits in Washington, we’re able to remember how much easier it was to “go off the grid” before we were all accessible 24/7 via devices we keep in our pockets and palms. Stein notes in the afterword that he could have changed the timeframe and updated these references but chose not to, and I agree with the decision to keep the book firmly rooted in the late 1990s. It made me feel — dare I say it? — nostalgic.

Fans of contemporary fiction with a heavy mysterious, supernatural element will find plenty to enjoy here, and probably much for discussion. Though I was happy with the book’s resolution for the most part, those closing pages? Makes me wonder . . .


4 out of 5!

ISBN: 0061806382 ♥ Purchase from Amazon ♥ Author Website
Review copy provided by publicist

 

March 9, 2010

Everybody’s free (to wear bright red sunglasses)

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Looking at a recent photo of me in a pair of bright red sunglasses, my sister did a double-take.

“Who are you?” she crowed, giving me a hard look.

The answer came to me quickly: “Me. The new me.”

It’s true that I’ve recently undergone some changes. I can’t pinpoint exactly when I decided I was completely tired of my old life — mindset, misdirected energy, and the boring clothes I’ve been wearing since college: faded T-shirts with the University of Maryland splashed across the chest; ill-fitting jeans, worn with wear; scuffed sandals into which I’ve shoved my feet for years.

I’ve never been a fashion maven but I’ve never looked ridiculous, either. I generally wear feminine styles and, in terms of clothing, have a little flair for the dramatic. But lately? I’ve been stepping it up.

At least twice a week, you’ll see these little legs in a skirt or dress at work. Gone are my frumpy, baggy black dress pants — the ones I’d wear constantly to the office, hiding my expanding figure. In the past year, I’ve lost enough weight to fit back into all my “skinny” clothes . . . and invested in new pieces. Pieces that are more “me” than ever before. And see that nail up there, the one poking my cheek? That’s green, friends. Green nail polish. Would I have rocked a hue like that a year ago? Doubtful. But now? Let’s go for it.

Emerging from a very “blah” relationship and finally taking stock of my life since this time last year, I’ve sensed such a change in who I am . . . and what I want from myself. I’ve never been quiet, meek or afraid to speak up, but for a while I silenced any part of myself that was ready to step out of my comfort zone. Complacency was the name of the game, and anything that challenged me — as a person, as a writer, as a woman — was squashed. But between traveling, making new friends and strengthening old relationships, writing, bonding and generally living? I’m ready to get silly again. And bold. And crazy. 

All while wearing bright red sunglasses.

And damn if it doesn’t feel good.

 

March 8, 2010

Pam Jenoff: Fear and Loathing — The Three Scariest Moments In A Writer’s Life

Posted by Meg under book talk | Tags: , , , , , , |
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When I was but a lowly bookseller at the chain bookstore in my hometown — which was, you know, about a year ago — I distinctly remember holding a paperback copy of Pam Jenoff’s The Diplomat’s Wife in my overworked fingers. My coworkers raved about it; customers raved about it. But my time with Pam Jenoff was still yet to come!

Because it’s now my pleasure to welcome Pam to write meg! with a topic near and dear to my own heart: a writer’s life. And while I can only hope to one day experience the terror Pam describes below, we’re all fortunate to share in her wisdom — and excellent books. Almost Home, recently reviewed, was a fabulous thriller full of all the British details I love above all else — and I can’t wait to grab The Diplomat’s Wife and The Kommandant’s Girl in the near future.


Fear And Loathing –
The Three Scariest Moments In A Writer’s Life

I’m going to let you in on a little secret. Being an author is scary — really scary. Maybe this comes as no surprise, but when I was an aspiring author (okay, I am still aspiring to write, but I’m referring here to the pre-publication days) I thought getting there would be the hardest part. And that was very difficult, but I find the actual process of being published and putting my work out there even more terrifying. There are three moments in particular that send chills down my spine just thinking of them.

First, there’s sending off a manuscript to my editor (and sometimes my agent as well). There can be many weeks (or months) of nail-biting before getting feedback. I’ve actually had a nightmare during this waiting phase about an editor telling me what a stinking pile of poo the book I’d just labored on for a year really was. In actuality, the feedback is more positive and constructive than that. The second part of this phase, after I incorporate the editor’s feedback and wait to see if I’ve hit the mark, is equally frightening. Once it is all over, and the editor is generally satisfied with the manuscript, my stomach unclenches somewhat. In fact, I think the three sweetest words in the English language may be “delivery and acceptance” (meaning the manuscript is largely good to go).

The second terrifying phase to me is the pre-publication reviews. A few months before a book hits the shelves, it can be reviewed by one (or more if you’re lucky) of four industry publications: Publishers’ Weekly, Kirkus, Library Journal and Booklist. This is the first taste of what the trade thinks of a book and it is always a real nail-biter for me. Some of these publications may denote books which reviewers particularly like with a star. The much-coveted “starred review” can send important signals to booksellers and can also cause a publisher to pay more attention to a book. But the whole process is so shrouded in mystery: Which publications will review the book this time? Will reviewers like the book, and if so, which parts? Will it get that elusive star?

But I think the scariest phase of being published is the period after the book comes out. You walk into the bookstore and finally hold your baby in your arms. Then you realize: People are going to (hopefully) read your guts-spilled-out-and-bound-up-as-book. People you don’t know, some of whom will post nice-and-not-so-nice reviews. People you do know like (gulp!) your mother. You fiendishly check your Amazon rankings and wait for the feedback.

At some point (hopefully early on while you are still waiting for editor feedback) you have to put the fear away and sit back down at the computer and keep working on the next one. After all as authors, that is what we do — write. (And fret. Lots and lots of fretting.) Then, depending upon the nature of your contract, it’s time to take the next one out to market, and see if the door will open when you knock once more. But that’s a whole other type of fear… and a topic for another day.

– Pam Jenoff

 

March 4, 2010

Book review: ‘Almost Home’ by Pam Jenoff

Posted by Meg under 4-star reads, book reviews | Tags: , , , , , , , |
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Since a tragedy claimed the life of her boyfriend Jared at Cambridge University, U.S. State Department intelligence officer Jordan Weiss has been run, run, running away from the past — fighting always to stay one step ahead of the painful memories. Advancing to her current post in Washington, D.C., Jordan chooses to stay emotionally aloof by burying her feelings and focusing always on her work.

Until a letter arrives, that is, changing everything. Sent from her close friend, now terminally ill, Sarah mentions she’s returned to England. Aware of her friend’s deteoriating health, Jordan barely hesitates before asking for a transfer to London to help care for her — in a place she has steadfastly avoided since her life there was shattered in the wake of Jared’s drowning. Now ten years removed from that terrible night, Jordan returns to the U.K. and immediately begins work with Maureen Martindale, a friend and superior who asks for her assistance in busting up a serious mob ring.

Aware of the danger surrounding her new task, Jordan carefully begins uncovering more than a few secrets floating around England — and one close to her heart. When an old Cambridge classmate reappears and begins asking questions about their shared past, the wounds on Jordan’s heart reopen. And it’s only through searching for the covered truth — with Chris Bannister, Jordan’s old best friend — that they might finally heal.

Atmospheric, cerebral and exciting, Pam Jenoff’s rollicking Almost Home kept me on the edge of my seat from page one. I wasn’t quite sure what to expect from a novel filled with so many elements — romance, murder, grief, passion, suspense, family — but Jenoff’s masterful use of description and language dropped me in the middle of each scene and refused to let me out.

As a reader, a novel’s setting — and the way in which it’s described — can make or break a book for me. In the case of Almost Home, the sense of place couldn’t have been more perfect or artfully described. As an Anglophile, I eagerly consumed Jenoff’s descriptions of England and British culture. And as the novel opens in Washington, my hometown, I could easily picture everywhere Jordan was traversing, giving the book added authenticity.

The mysteries embedded in the plot — plentiful, complicated — are what kept me up reading until 3 a.m. and up again just four hours later to finish. Jenoff dispenses enough information at each twist for us to feel like we’re “getting somewhere,” only to then flip around and unmask another complication. And I have one gripe about these mysteries: I think the back cover description gave away too much of the plot, and I knew more about the “mystery” going in than I would have wanted. In my own story description above, I’ve left out several key pieces of information you’d get from an Amazon or other description, so beware. It certainly did not ruin the novel for me, but I wish that one secret, in particular, hadn’t already been divulged.

Jordan’s character, while sometimes prickly, was someone I admired, respected and rooted for. I couldn’t completely understand her “any port in a storm” approach to romance, but I could also recognize the deep grief from which she was just beginning to recover and didn’t fault her for that. While some of her fledgling relationships felt a little one-dimensional, I did appreciate Jenoff’s development of one in particular.

Every reader will come to Almost Home with a different expectation — mystery, thriller, women’s fiction, historical fiction, British fiction — and probably find their needs met, as I did. Jenoff’s sequel Hidden Things is due out in July, and yours truly will be running (or, you know, driving) to the bookstore to find out what’s up next.


4.5 out of 5!

ISBN: 1416590706 ♥ Purchase from Amazon ♥ Author Website
Review copy provided by author

 

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