Make my Valentine

Anyone who really knows me knows that I am obsessed with greeting cards and stationery-type things. I have this dream of one day working as a writer at a greeting-card company (no matter what Joseph Gordon-Levitt said about the job at the end of "500 Days of Summer") and/or owning a stationery-shop-and-bakery with my best friend. I would also love to design cards, but I can't illustrate at all, so they'd all have to be collage-y and basic, like my homemade cards already are.

For those of you who share my obsession (calling all author-illustrators!), check out this super-cool contest from Kate's Paperie. (True, you may go broke buying the supplies--since they have to be from Kate's--but wouldn't seeing your creation in the store window be worth it?)

Luv,
L'Editrice

Inscripted

Blasts from my reading past:

First of all, I apparently thought "stage fright" was an adjective. Secondly, that was so not true--I was totally shy, but really wanted to be a star in spite of this. So I guess I was trying to brainwash myself.

So ambitious/modest! George Bush, Sr. was on the cover of this book, so, no, they are not eighty years old, despite looking that way. I guess paperbacks don't age well.

I was very careful about keeping my books in pristine condition, and demanded this of those who borrowed from me. (I may or may not have just had an unfortunate discovery of one of my precious BSC books littered with food stains, after my best friend let her sister read it.)

A slightly creepy inscription from one of my parents' friends. (But it was Where the Sidewalk Ends, so a great book choice.)

A super-cool collection, with different illustrators and styles for each story. I also had a chocolate cake with gummi bears on it that year. No idea, then, what has me crying in the photos from that day.

So much better than another My Little Pony.

A Christmas present from my fifth-grade teacher. I still love this book. . . .

I've been at my parents' house for the past week, and decided to go through my old room and see what stuff I could give away. The accumulation of stuff (I won't say "junk" because it offends my dad--who asked me, "Do you want to bring any of this twine back with you? I could roll some up for you.") in a big suburban house (and in my bedroom alone) is really just astounding, and it has me wanting to never give or receive any thing as a gift ever again, except for really practical things (like super-cute stationery on recycled paper), edible things (in reusable packaging that you can then pass on to your next friend, rather than throw them out or just let them pile up in your cupboards), or BOOKS!

I really think books are the perfect gift, and the one that keeps on giving. In looking at some of the inscriptions in my childhood books (made both by myself and by others), I was struck with a really fun idea for a new tradition: writing in your name and when you read the book, and then passing it on to your friend, who will do the same, and then pass it on to the next person. . . . Then it would be like when you used to look in the inside front covers of your textbooks at the beginning of the school year and see all the names and dates of the students had used them before you, and feel like you were part of this legacy. Or maybe it was just nerds like me who thought that. . . .

Anyway, this past Christmas a friend of mine had a great idea for our yearly Secret Santa exchange that I thought was just great--we were each to send one of our books that we had read and loved in the previous year to the person whose name we had drawn. So maybe next year I'll suggest that we add my little inscription idea to this new tradition.

- L'Editrice

Spotlight on my peers

One of my clients, Sharon Biggs, made a suggestion for a blog post, and I will happily indulge her (and myself, because it means an easier posting for me):

"I so agree with your blog on words we can retire. You should do one on words and phrases writers should retire. The one I hate the most is: 'I swallowed hard.' I stopped counting how many times Alyson Noel wrote that in her latest book Shadowland. My other favorite is: 'She tossed her head' (where exactly?). 'Chuckling,' 'strolling,' or 'padding barefoot' into rooms should also be axed. Descriptions of eyes as 'liquid pools' of amber/topaz/emerald should also be sent on their way. : )"

Anyone want to add their own writing bugaboos?

Also, I'm going to take this opportunity to make a shout-out to my former colleague Martha Mihalick's blog (and Twitter feed and Flickr stream). (I would have it and many others on my blog roll, if I could only figure out how to post one on here.) It's a charming representation of Martha's personality, smarts, and many talents. (But here's a warning: don't look at her "Crafty" photos if you're on a diet, or trying to save money--they will make you want to eat many delicious desserts and go on an Etsy shopping spree. How adorable are these?)

- L'Editrice

Ode to Estonian sheep gloves

In five years of taking the subway in New York, I never lost anything, but I'm already on my second loss on the MBTA after living in Boston for less than a year. Last March I lost a puffy coat, and while I am still perplexed as to how this was possible (I really remember wearing the coat the whole evening, since it was cold enough to have taken it with me, plus it was kind of a big, noticeable thing that would be hard to leave behind), I'd had it for several years, and was happy with the idea of some cold, coatless person adopting it from me.

But this week I lost my Estonian sheep gloves, which makes me very sad. I bought them from a market in Tallin back in August for far too much (the kroon was very strong), but they were worth it--adorable white gloves with a three-dimensional, fluffy gray sheep embroidered onto each of them, and of course memories of my trip sewn in as well. So far no one has turned them into the lost-and-found, either. My only consolation is imagining some little child with big hands finding them and loving them (since most adults don't have my childish tastes), and then coming up with a great story about the new adventures my gloves are going on.

I try to do that with all the material things I lose, or things I give away--be happy for the life they spent with me, and be even happier for the new lives they are embarking on. Just like with books.

Sentimentally,
L'Editrice

Today's guest blogger is Jezebel (and, distantly, Ann M. Martin)

. . . because they're just spot on with this (also love how that post title could also totally be an Onion headline) and this (hey, as much as I love the originals, I don't mind getting a little snarky and academic in analyzing them).

(This is pretty amazing, too.)

- L'Editrice

Were Meg Cabot and I separated at birth?

I've been catching up on all the blogs I missed when I was away, and saw that Meg Cabot had a post on the inexplicably addictive Lifetime Christmas-movie marathon, too.

Then in this post, not only does she admit to reading quinceañera magazines (which is totally something I would do), she also made me feel a whole lot less sheepish about the fact that my TeenVogue subscription won't expire until I'm almost 31, by making it known that the average subscriber is 27. Hooray!

Meg, call me! We'd totally be BFF.

- L'Editrice

It is sweet and surreal to be back home after two weeks in India, especially with the snow coming down strong and frosting everything like so many sheetcakes. (I just learned firsthand the real value of salted roads and snow tires—yikes!)

I'm looking forward to 2010 and hope it brings the best for all of you. "Baby-Sitters Club" fans definitely have something to look forward to! (Though I know a sequel with the girls all grown-up would do wonderfully, too. Don't give up on that idea yet, Ms. Martin!)

I also found this discussion of L. Frank Baum's influences on and intentions for The Wonderful Wizard of Oz fascinating. I think I will have to add it to my growing list of 2010 to-reads.

Have a happy and safe New Year's Eve!
L'Editrice

Indian winter

This will be my last post before the holidays, as I'm off to spend my Christmas vacation abroad. (Doesn't that sound glamorous/pretentious?)

To get my fill on holiday Americana before I leave, I've been enjoying the Christmas-movie marathon on Lifetime that's been running for weeks now. One of the best (and by that I mean cheesiest) so far was the one featuring Joanna Garcia, Luke Perry, and a Christmas wedding--a lethal combination!

So obviously, I love a good romantic comedy, and can generally look past their plot holes and overly simplistic (and overly gendered) characters. However, there's one holiday rom-com that so many women love, and I just can't understand why. I know this is going to be controversial, but it's . . . "Love Actually."

That movie is not romantic at all, at least not for women. It's been a while since I've seen it (and I've seen it only once, because I hated it so much), so forgive me if I'm getting the details a bit wrong, but here's what happens at the end to the "regular" women:
- Karen's husband leaves her for a younger woman.
- Sarah has to give up the opportunity to be with the hot foreign guy to be caretaker to her handicapped brother. (Which is love, sure, but do women always have to sacrifice? Can't they get both romantic and family love?)
- And, yes, Aurelia the maid gets to marry Colin Firth (Jamie, the fancy-pants novelist), but she and her husband don't even speak the same language, and she leaves her home country, once again, to be with him.

As for the guys:
- Hugh Grant, the prime minister, gets his assistant (who is beautiful and so not anywhere near fat, despite what the movie purports).
- Bill Nighy, the old fogie, runs of with some hot young thing.
- Jamie, as we know, marries the hot young Portuguese maid even though they can't even communicate. (Notice any pattern with the power differentials here?)
- And that one perverted guy goes to Wisconsin, where three hot young things very unrealistically submit to his every fantasy.
- Sure, there's the one boy who's in love with Juliet and doesn't get her, but good, because he shouldn't break up a happy young marriage between his best friend and his wife.

Perhaps this movie just showed on one hand what happens realistically to women and on the other what men would like to happen, but for this reason I just can't understand why it's such a holiday favorite with us females. I would like to rename it "Love, Crappily."

On that note, I wish you all actual love this holiday season, and only truly feel-good movies.

Merrily,
L'Editrice

The debate continues

I read this article, about a Canadian private school going totally electronic with their textbooks, with interest.

I can remember lugging my huge backpack full of heavy textbooks home from school every night, so I definitely see the advantage on that end. And of course environmentally this makes much more sense.

But I still can't imagine flipping through my e-reader to find the page I remembered X on, like I did (and still do) with physical books. Maybe kids today find this totally natural, though?

It's true that it's quite easy to do a "Find" search with a computer document, so maybe this has replaced for them the visual memory of us old-fashioned types. (Does anyone else have my frustratingly incomplete visual memory, one that can call up what the page looks like, but not exactly what was written on it?)

- L'Editrice

All about books

While we were all recovering from our Thanksgiving overeating last Friday, "On the Media" was talking about books and their future. Interesting stuff.

A few days later, Sherman Alexie made it clear to Stephen Colbert that he's very much in the traditionalist camp when it comes to book dissemination:

The Colbert Report	Mon - Thurs 11:30pm / 10:30c
Sherman Alexie
http://www.colbertnation.com/
Colbert Report Full Episodes Political Humor U.S. Speedskating

- L'Editrice

Decadent December

L'Editrice is back, after some busy days. I hope everyone else is likewise basking in a nice Thanksgiving afterglow. As George Burns once said, "Happiness is having a large, loving, caring, close-knit family in another city."

Ha! But honestly, I had a really nice reunion with my family, almost completely drama free.

To kick off December, I thought I'd share the etymology of the word "cookie," one of my favorite words all year round, but especially appropriate at this time of year. Here's what The Improper Bostonian says:

"From the Dutch word for little cakes, 'koekje,' cookies started as test batter to gauge an oven's temperature, but evolved into pats of butter and dough that represented their baker's ingenuity, pastry skills and, during the holidays, affection for the lucky recipient."

Wishing you a cookie-filled holiday season,
L'Editrice

The quotable L'Editrice

Yours truly was quoted in GalleyCat yesterday.

Though I definitely thought the assumption that a book being "orphaned" might be reason for its poor sales was a big one (in my experience, publishers and editors make every effort for the entire list to succeed, no matter who acquired a book and where he or she might be now, so definitely take heed of Liz Scheier's closing words), the question of how to overcome a weak freshman try is an interesting one.

(Note that I would have worded the introduction to my second quotation differently, so that it was clear that a publisher might request the psuedonym, not the genre change.)

- L'Editrice

Parallels in creativity

At play rehearsal the other day (insert shameless plug here), it struck me that a director's job is a lot like an editor's. After we rehearsed Act I, our director was going over his notes with us, telling the actors what came across when they did X or said Y in this way, what the audience would interpret it as.

Just as a director stands in for the audience, an editor stands in for the reader, and helps an author get her story across, helps the characters be fuller and more relatable. And then a finished book is like the final production. (Though once a book is published, an author doesn't get the chance to improve during the course of the show's run. That's what sequels are for. : P)

The show must go on . . .

- L'Editrice

Overused words that annoy me

Has anyone else noticed how the word "hot" has replaced every other description of attractiveness? And sometimes it's just not appropriate. You should not call your mom "hot" if you're trying to compliment her on her makeover, a child should not look "hot" (nor should she be made to look like a 25-year-old sorority girl at age 8), etc. I mean, I understand that words' meanings often change, but the origin of the word "hot" is definitely sexual, and I think the connotation is still there.

Similarly, can we please finally retire the word "co-ed"? It comes from back in the day when it was a big deal for all-male schools to let women in. And even then, technically all the students were "co-eds" since both sexes attended a co-educational school. I'm so sick of the word being used as a synonym for female students, especially when people want them to sound all sexy and scandalous.

That's all!
- L'Editrice

You and many

I just learned of a brand-new house, focused on multicultural sci-fi and fantasy for young readers: Tu Publishing.

I love their mission statement. Here's an excerpt from it:
"Books can be both a mirror and a window to other worlds for readers. Tu Publishing hopes that by publishing books that feature multicultural characters and settings and books with worlds inspired by all the many non-Western cultures in the world, we might shine a mirror on you and open a window to many."

How great that Tu is adding more color to the world of young people's literature.

- L'Editrice

The witching hour

Yesterday a nine-year-old friend of mine asked if I was going trick-or-treating tomorrow.

"No," I said, "People think I'm too old."

"You should," she insisted. "No one will know!"

So wise.

I encourage all of you to take her advice and really enjoy the one night a year when adults can become kids again . . . or anything they want to be.

Happy Halloween!

- L'Editrice

That's "Ms. Editrice" to you

I think it's so fascinating learning the etymology of words we use every day. Before this article, I never knew the true origins of the honorific "Ms."—I, too, thought it had its roots in the women's movement of the 1960s and 70s. (Though it seems that today people often use "Ms." instead of "Miss," but then assume all married women are to be called "Mrs.")

Does anyone else know if other languages have a marriage-status-neutral title for women, just as men have "Mr."? I know that the progressive-for-some-things-but-quite-paternalistic-for-others French definitely don't.

- L'Editrice

When the line between fiction and nonfiction becomes blurred

Today's blog post is dedicated to the importance of legitimate news media.

- I found this discussion of new business models for journalism fascinating and critical.

- And then there was this interview with veteran White House reporter Helen Thomas, who I want to be just like when I grow up. Heck, I wish I were like her now.

I love how she always tells it like it is. My favorite line from today? "The American people are not well-served when people are deliberately manufacturing news and telling lies."

Yes. Let's leave the fiction to the novels, shall we?

- L'Editrice

Kids know the darndest things

Check out this interview with Kate DiCamillo on her new book, The Magician's Elephant. I especially liked what she had to say about messages versus lessons in children's books.

To quote the NPR write-up, "DiCamillo says she tries not to underestimate her young audience." (And to that I add, book snobs and/or ignorant know-it-alls should not underestimate children's books.)

"'I think that children, being human beings, are as preoccupied with those big things as we are as adults, and I do think it does them a huge disservice to assume that they are living in a world different from the one that we live in,' she says."

- L'Editrice

An unfamiliar accent

I am about to tell a slightly embarrassing story. Here goes:

In my tenth-grade honors English class, we had maybe two boys. Because of this, every time we read a play and the teacher (who I loved) asked for volunteers to act out roles, it was these same two that always got the majority of the lines, because most (if not all) of the plays had male lead characters.

So when it came time for us to read Shakespeare's Julius Caesar, I had had enough. I raised my hand to volunteer to read Caesar. My very cool teacher didn't even blink, and in fact commented that some very talented actresses had played Caesar on the stage. Now I would be added to the list (kind of)! I was so proud.

We started the reading, and I relished my part. I was as dramatic as was possible while still sitting in a high-school desk-chair (you know what I'm talking about). Finally, we were nearing the pivotal point for my character and for the play: Caesar's murder. I anxiously awaited it, but as the famous last line drew closer, I struggled internally—Should I pronounce "Bruté" the way I knew it was meant to be pronounced, or should I avoid being made fun of for being a goody-goody polyglot and just ignore the accent like Americans do on most words?

I chose the latter: “Et tu, Brute?”

Well, it was as if the murderous betrayal was taking place right there in the classroom. My teacher stopped the reading, and made a big show of spelling out Bruté really big on the board, circling the accent over the “e.”

"This is one of the most famous lines in all of English literature!" she said.

I was so embarrassed, and tried to defend myself, but to no avail.

A related thing happened a few months later when I was downtown with friends. We’d just gone to see a Tom Stoppard play that I found so unbearable (we thought we were really cultured, but even my ego couldn’t stop me from complaining about the show to my friends) that I was already in a bad mood, and were walking back to our car when I started reading the signs on the hip new drinking-and-dining complex they’d recently built in the Theater District.

“Sake Lounge looks really cool,” I said, pronouncing the first word like you would in “For Pete’s sake.”

“Sake!” My friends started cracking up. “It’s saké, duh!” (Yes, we were all nerds. They probably snorted superiorly, too.)

Again, so embarrassed, but mostly annoyed that my friends expected me to know this. After all, I was a good girl who did not have an exhaustive knowledge of international alchoholic beverages.

“But it doesn’t have an accent on it,” I said.

“It’s Japanese—hello!” one of my friends said.

“Didn’t you say ‘Et tu, Brute?’ in English class, too?” my BFF guffawed. So much for best friends standing by you.

All this to say that, know matter how much of a wordly, voracious reader you are, you never know how a word is really pronounced until you hear it said out loud.

Chagrin, anyone?

I capture the "Castle" . . . or rather, it captures me

I've always been one of those people who rolled her eyes at all those murder-mystery/forensics shows on the networks--"CSI," "CSI: Miami," "CSI: Jakarta," etc. And I always thought it was insane how you can find some iteration of "Law & Order" on TV at any given time of day or night--just flip through the channels and you'll find one, really. I would huff in idignation when I saw the top-shows lists, with the really great serials (like "Lost," "Veronica Mars," etc.) way at the bottom, if there at all.

But I must admit that my recent acquisition of cable (and, when we were pre-digital transition, of a TV whose rabbit ears would pick up a signal at all), has got me seeing the appeal of some of these. Don't get me wrong, I'm not into the autopsy ones--where the guest star is always a beautiful young woman, whose brutal death they fetishize (and of course the poor actor gets no lines, but lots of deathly makeup)--but I do like the "Law & Order" non-courtroom spin-offs a lot. There's something to be said about just being able to turn on the TV and for an hour be told a full story, without having to really know any background aside from what is presented in that episode. (And apparently this is why they're really popular and profitable for the networks.)

The point of all this is that I came across another one of these when I was flipping channels the other night, and it had a little extra something that I thought writer- and editor-types would enjoy. It's "Castle," a series about a tough female homicide detective (I know, is there any other kind?) and the annoying, know-it-all mystery writer (Castle) who gets to follow her around (because of his friendship to the mayor) in order to improve his novels. From what I could tell, Castle is constantly talking about the grammatical errors in murderers' notes, contesting the probability of a murder having taken place in the way Detective Beckett supposes because it wouldn't work well as a book plot, etc. The nerd in me giggles and appreciates his attempt at literary justice.

I'm tempted to watch it again next week, but am trying to resist, because the episode's preview showed that it's totally about the murder of a beautiful, young model. . . . So, it's really not that different from the others, but at least they know the importance of proper punctuation when saying that a suspect "Eats, Shoots & Leaves." Badum-bum.

(Thanks, folks, I'll be here all night!)

- S

All the single babies

This is bound to be the next viral video, but I just had to post it. Amazing!


I adore babies dancing, period, but you can tell baby Ava has got real talent when you compare her to the original video (which won't allow me to embed it).

Woah, oh, oh,
- L'Editrice

Our rockstars *are* like your rockstars

Meg Cabot's blog had a link to this news report on her visit to Brazil, and I just had to re-post. It makes me so giddy to see all these readers screaming over her, and the fact that it's in Portuguese, a language which I don't understand at all, makes it even more fun. (Though I did understand the girl saying she was "Twelve. Twelve and three-quarters." so seriously, which I loved.)

She is certainly an author to look up to for inspiration, no? Talk about fairytales coming true . . .

- L'Editrice

P.S. And I'll be honest, it made me tear up a bit, amidst my giggles.

On beauty

I was listening to "Speaking of Faith" on the radio yesterday, and I heard this amazing interview with the late Irish poet and philosopher John O'Donohue. I strongly recommend that you listen to or read the whole thing, but I'll go ahead and pull out some of my favorite quotes, which tie in nicely to yesterday's post as well:


- "I mean, when you think about language and you think about consciousness, it's just incredible to think that we can make any sounds that can reach over across to each other at all. Because I mean, I think we're— I think the beauty of being human is that we're incredibly, intimately near each other. We know about each other, but yet we do not know or never can know what it's like inside another person. And it's amazing, you know, here am I sitting in front of you now, looking at your face, you're looking at mine and yet neither of us have ever seen our own faces. And that in some way, thought is the face that we put on the meaning that we feel and that we struggle with and that the world is always larger and more intense and stranger than our best thought will ever reach. And that's the mystery of poetry, you know, is poetry tries to draw alongside the mystery as it's emerging and somehow bring it into presence and into birth."

(This is something my mom always told me—that no matter what, we can never fully know any person except ourselves—and I've forever found it fascinating and sad at the same time. There is hope in art, though, which I think is what helps us get as close as possible to knowing "what it's like inside another person.")


-"I think it makes a huge difference when you wake in the morning and come out of your house. Whether you believe you are walking into dead geographical location, which is used to get to a destination, or whether you are emerging out into a landscape that is just as much, if not more, alive as you but in a totally different form. And if you go towards it with an open heart and a real watchful reverence, that you will be absolutely amazed at what it will reveal to you. And I think that was one of the recognitions of the Celtic imagination: that landscape wasn't just matter, but that it was actually alive. What amazes me about landscape, landscape recalls you into a mindful mode of stillness, solitude, and silence where you can truly receive time."


-"Music is what language would love to be if it could."

(And the best writing can be described as "musical" or "lyrical," no? This sounds like healthy a challenge for those of us using language as our instrument!)


- "[I]n the book I wrote on beauty, I was trying to say that one of the huge confusions in our times is to mistake glamour for beauty. . . . And we do live in a culture which is very addicted to the image, and I think that there is always an uncanny symmetry between the way you are inward with yourself and the way you are outward. And I feel that there is an evacuation of interiority going on in our times. And that we need to draw back inside ourselves and that we'll find immense resources there. . . . That's why I find the aesthetic things like poetry, fiction, good film, theater, drama, dance, and music actually awaken that inside you, you know? And remind you that there is a huge interiority within you. . . . I think that is the magnificence of beauty, is that even in landscapes of control, corrugated categories that you can be swept off your feet by just beauty. . . . I love Pascal's phrase, you know, that you should always 'keep something beautiful in your mind.' And I have often — like in times when it's been really difficult for me, if you can keep some kind of little contour that you can glimpse sideways at now and again, you can endure great bleakness."


- L'Editrice

I wish we all could be California girls (and gals)

Trip #2, to Southern California, had me thinking a lot about inspiration. I found myself wondering how anyone could get any work done in such a wonderful place. I mean, when you have the distractions of year-round gorgeous weather and beaches, open-air shopping malls, and Yogurtland, how can a writer be expected to have the discipline to sit down and actually write something, let alone to suffer, as all great artists must?

I exaggerate, of course, but I do wonder if different types of people get inspiration from different types of environments, and/or if the same person might write totally distinct things when placed in these varying worlds. For example, I could definitely see how the Mission Viejo library (see photo above) might inspire one to actually go to the library and work--and stay there--while those of us who live in places where fall is beginning to make its presence known might be inspired by the perennial sense of hope, change, and excitement that a classic fall brings, never mind that it's been years since we were in school. (And let's not forget the new fall clothes--judging by my recent purchases, it seems I still long to be Blair Waldorf. My recent binge on "Gossip Girl," Season 2 episodes may have had a slight influence there.)

For me, last week sadly marked the first time in many months that I had to wear a jacket, as well as shoes with socks--but I'm fighting hard not to break my rule of No Boots, Tights, or Wool Coats Before October. I actually do like fall (the cooler weather reminds me of childhood summers in Belgium, and Christmastime in Houston : P), but I just wish that winter--and Daylight Savings--didn't have to follow it. And for the record, I found myself spontaneously coming up with many creative ideas in SoCal, though maybe my relaxed, vacation state of mind (pun unintended, yet appropriate) was also a big reason for it.

When and where are you most inspired? What are your "back-to-school" goals?

XOXO,

L'Editrice

Notes on a travel (long overdue, due to technical difficulties)

1) Some things are hilariously lost in translation (see above).

2) SkyMall is--hands down--the most entertaining part of any flight.

3) Best quote of my whole trip: "You're the lady!" (Said by an airport employee upon hearing that I had no checked baggage to pick up before going on to the customs agent.)

- L'Editrice

From the outside looking in

Tomorrow I'm heading off on a week's vacation, which will include five foreign destinations (not counting my layover in Ohio). In an unintentionally fitting kick-off to my trip, tonight I went to a Spanish conversation meet-up, where it was confirmed that, (1) yes, I have lost almost all of my formerly great Spanish-speaking skills, but (2) I can still understand a lot.

It was interesting to be in a situation where I could follow conversation and be reminded of this world I used to inhabit almost effortlessly, and yet not be able to express myself very easily at all, let alone be understood. But I think it's a good position to put oneself in every once in a while, especially in contrast to the smugness I sometimes let myself fall into when I'm at the French meet-ups and feel like a star.

Maybe you writers should try something similar--try out a different POV, explore a different world, attempt to inhabit the mind of a character who at first seems so foreign to you. You may be pleasantly surprised at the results.

So, with this optimism in mind, I'm going to go pack for the Baltics, where I know not a word of the languages spoken--and maybe that will make my experience even richer. You never know.

Happy (interesting, thought-provoking, challenging) travels!

- L'Editrice

Seeing quadruples

One of the many benefits of reading your work out loud is hearing when you overuse a word or phrase. I should have followed my own advice on this post in particular. Apparently, I like the expression "a bit" a bit too much.

Hmm, and some people have said I was bit too harsh on the bored copywriter who penned the Eurostar sign-off I referenced yesterday. Fair enough, but I still say personality and whimsy should be kept to products and services that have whimsical prices, too.

- L'Editrice

So snarky

Listen, I like a bit of cheekiness as much as the next person, but I do have an issue when customer service communications are more sarcastic than smart. Call me crazy, but when I've just given you my credit card information, I want you to be all business and "Thank you very much, ma'am," and not "We'll send you a confirmation email shortly. We look forward to seeing you on board! Unless you have a photographic memory, you might want to print this page for your records."

- L'Editrice

Archie-types

I'm pretty ambivalent about Stephen Colbert, but I liked this--dare I say it? Yes!--feminist clip from last night's show. Sure, it has its trademark Comedy Central immaturity, especially at the end, but it's in the service of Colbert making fun of himself at the same time, so I can live with it.

In terms of it being a "teachable [and post-able] moment," it says a lot about the easy stereotypes writers can fall into, as well as the importance of making all your characters three-dimensional and well-rounded (Hey, Colbert, stop snickering--no pun intended!).

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Speaking of the representation of women in fiction, even by women, check out this great criticism of films like The Ugly Truth and The Proposal. (Stephanie, I thought you especially would be interested in this.)

- L'Editrice

Speaking of bookshelf must-haves . . .

. . . I've finally started reading Joan Didion's The Year of Magical Thinking, and it is indeed as brilliant and heartbreakingly beautiful as everyone says. I want to underline every other sentence, mark every page, and let my waiting tears out.

This. Is. Writing. I'm even more regretful now that I missed Vanessa Redgrave's one-woman show of it.

- L'Editrice