My beloved nephew Kevin is now a dad. Nicholas Townes Lipski was born the afternoon of December 13 to Kevin and his wife, Becca. This will be some interesting kid! Kevin is a former screenwriter who has music and movie blogs and is now writing for children (Jimmy the Christmas Zombie has promise but remains unfinished). He’ll be a stay-at-home dad when Becca goes back to work.
Dear Nick, here is what I would like to say to you but Kurt Vonnegut said it better: “Hello, babies. Welcome to Earth. It’s hot in the summer and cold in the winter. It’s round and wet and crowded. At the outside, babies, you’ve got about a hundred years here. There’s only one rule that I know of, babies—God damn it, you’ve got to be kind.” Welcome, Nick. Grab onto your mother’s breast and eat and drink and grow, knowing you are very much loved.
It is 18 degrees here this morning, sunny and dry but 18 degrees! We Vashon Islanders do not have the hardiness or the cold-weather expertise of folks from Minnesota, Alaska, or Siberia. We are cold and grumpy about it. But the kindly UPS man fought his way through the frigid forest to bring me a pot of gold. These coins are the brainchild of the geniuses in Clarion’s marketing department to promote the publication of Alchemy and Meggy Swann. They look fabulous, and they taste really, really good. I know from experience. See if your local bookstore has one you can try.
Philip and I are right now on the Oregon coast, and I am writing this while looking out the window at the magnificent haystack rocks of Cannon Beach. Then we head to Portland where we’ll spend Thanksgiving with Leah. Hope you all have a wonderful holiday. We have so much to be thankful for.
I just finished David Small’s graphic novel, Stitches. It is heartbreaking, not only because of his illness but also those appalling parents. I too had cancer that was caused by the 1950s enthusiasm for radiation. In my case it was a miracle cure for the skin infection called ringworm, and the radiation was on my face as was the cancer ten years ago. So I immediately related to David’s story. The book is marvelous and moving and has deservedly been nominated for a National Book Award, but there is much talk of it being an adult book and thus nominated in the wrong category. All the nominees in the Young People’s category, in fact, skew a little older than I would expect. My personal favorite is Laini Taylor’s Lips Touch. Lovely and lush and unforgettable. What do you think?
If I were the type of person to shout Huzzah! or intone with Lewis Carroll, Oh frabjous day! I would, right now. My last birthday present has arrived—the Oxford Historical Thesaurus. Not only does it give synonyms for nearly every word in English but it dates them as well. I am so excited. It’s perfect for a historical novelist. I can find out exactly what a character would say when happy or grieving or trying to get someone’s attention. My characters can swear with historical accuracy and call each other appropriate nasty names. My daughter’s friend, when she heard what I wanted for my birthday, said, “Your mother must be in love with words.” And, yes, she is. Galloping, galumphing, grizzled, glorious words! Shuffling, thrumbling, roistering, rioting words! The books are now my favorite birthday present ever, even better than the compost maker.
Wordstock in Portland was a hoot. Lots of great speakers and exhibits and panels, like ours. Here we are, talking about differences and similarities between writing historical fiction and fantasy: Ellen Howard has a new historical novel, The Crimson Cap, out next year; Susan Fletcher is the author of Shadow Spinner and the amazing Alphabet of Dreams; me, you know about; Joni Sensel is the author of The Humming of Numbers and The Farwalker’s Quest (see my post for 16 April 2009) and Mary Jane Beaufrand took us to Renaissance Florence for Primavera. All are pretty good talkers and even better writers, I recommend you check out their books. And if you are anywhere near Oregon, you might visit next year’s Wordstock. Lots of fun and lots of books.
Today is my birthday. After I get over the shock of being a year older, I will have a lovely time. My husband will bring me tea in bed and build a fire. I will stay in my pajamas all day and do whatever I want. That will probably include writing—we authors are a funny bunch. Happy birthday to you, whenever your birthday is.
Rosanne Parry and I are going to share the stage at the 
On this day in 1969 Philip and I were married in the backyard of my parents’ home in Orange, California. A rabbi in an African dashiki recited the words to the Beatles’ “In My Life.” Philip wore a brightly colored velvet vest that I made him. I carried the dog, Dog, who wanted to be part of the celebration and wore daisies in my hair.