Authors (Girls) Just Want to Have Fun
In November, Dr. Lynn Miller and I were at the New Mexico/Arizona Book Awards with our spouses and our matching gold pants, fitting to celebrate this first book awards banquet for me (but not for Lynn). Her novel, The Day After Death, had been a finalist in the LAMBDA awards. My novel, What Survives, had been short-listed for the Santa Fe Writers Project. Both of us learned we were finalists in the NM/AZ awards, but on that night, we didn’t win. I was not unhappy with this, because What Survives, published in 2016, was my first novel. Being shortlisted and then a finalist is no small feat for me. And so, I am hardly a sore loser, especially since the legendary John Nichols, best-known as author of The Milagro Beanfield War, was the winner in my category for The...
Pleasant Encounters: A Great Book Club Session on What Survives
Due to the persistence of a neighbor I had never really met, Ruth Ives (front left in purple), I was invited to a “meet the author” at the Placitas Library book club’s meetings. It was Ruth’s turn to select a book, and I had just met Geri Verble at the Hoot Gallery (see her fabulous jewelry there) where she purchased my novel, What Survives. Geri told Ruth that if she chose my book, I lived right in the neighborhood and probably would agree to come to answer questions. What a smart and lovely group of women! I enjoyed this event immensely. And I did get to meet and speak with Ruth at my Bookworks’ reading for my newest book, Myopia, a memoir, in October. Book Clubs, like most other clubs, can be as stimulating as they can be dull. This one is stellar....
What Does Survive? A Reading in New York
From the author of What Survives A Reading and Book Signing at the American Sephardi Federation in New York City Jan. 18, 2017 Arthur and I arrive in New York City in the early morning hours at JFK via the Jet Blue red-eye. I am here to do a reading and book signing for my novel What Survives. We settle into our taxi, just half-awake, accustomed to the heavy morning rush hour traffic and ready for the long drive into midtown Manhattan. We cross the bridge we’ve crossed a gazillion times before and like little children returning to the Emerald City in the wonderful Land of Oz, we call out to each other as if we are seeing these old friends for the first time. “Oh look, there she is, the Lady of Liberty, waking up with us!” “And there’s the Chrysler...
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