I loved New York

One of our first views of the madness
that is Times Square

By Julie

Still do!

I had the once-in-a-lifetime experience of visiting New York City for the first time last week. While I was making my plans and travel arrangements, I griped to Susan about how expensive things were-mostly, hotel rooms. She advised me I'd be ready to come home after four days, and not to worry about staying much longer.

Well, she was wrong. :) (And I still love her, too.)

We stayed five, and I honestly believe I could have stayed another week and been perfectly content had my children and dogs not been needing me.

I think I'm just a city girl at heart (most of my growing up years were spent in inner-city Denver), and the hustle and bustle don't bother me as long as I have a quiet room to collapse in at night.

My husband grinning in disbelief at the
sheer amount of food delivered to our table
at Junior's

The overarching purpose of my visit was to meet with my publishers and agents, of course, but we tacked on a few days for fun, and my husband and I had a blast.

We skipped many of the traditional touristy activities, figuring we will enjoy those with our daughters when we return one day, and mostly wandered and ate. I have five extra pounds to prove that all the extra walking doesn't negate all the extra calories. Yes--five pounds in five days.

A woman naming her price at a market
in Chinatown

We did visit Ellis Island and the Statue of Liberty, and the 9/11 memorial, but we also went on a walking tour of a predominately Chassidic Jewish neighborhood (Crown Heights), emerged from a subway ride to be unexpectedly dazed by the street festival of San Genarro in Little Italy, observed clusters of folks playing and betting on card and mahjong games in Columbus Park in China Town, rode the escalators up and down all eight floors of Saks Fifth Avenue, contemplated a scavenger hunt in the main New York Public Library to take photos of all my author friends' books (unfortunately, they closed too soon), ate black and white cookies whenever we came across them for comparison's sake, and watched Once, a musical based on our family's favorite movie, at the Bernard B. Jacobs Theater on Broadway. And that's just scratching the surface. And while it's true we did see a few rats in the subway tunnels, we didn't experience a single "rude New Yorker" in our whole time there (except one irate usher in the theater when my husband attempted to check us in on Facebook before the show ever started …).

Me with my St. Martin's Press editor,
Hilary Teeman. Together, we demonstrate
the true range from short to tall. 

We usually purchase an extended-day pass for public transportation wherever we travel as we find this the best way to get our bearings and really learn a place. We love the challenge of finding the best subway route to get us from point A to point B and the thrill of running up or down stairs to find the right platform in time to catch the next train.

With my literary agent, Elisabeth Weed, and my foreign rights
agent,  Jenny Meyer

I might have taken my love affair with the subway a little too seriously this time when I decided to ride one to and from my appointments with my editor and agents instead of hailing a cab. But in my mind, hailing a cab seemed more intimidating than catching a train. As a result, I returned to the hotel nearly in tears because my feet, crowded in dress shoes, which I rarely wear, almost didn't make it. I walked less that day that any other, but feet used to flip flops and athletic shoes don't do well walking any distance at all. When I saw a sign in the subway station that said, "Call here for customer assistance," I almost picked up the phone and said, "Can someone please come carry me?"

The Flatiron Building, where
St. Martin's Press is
headquartered.

Nonetheless, the meetings with my editor and the rest of the staff at St. Martin's Press, my literary agent and foreign rights agent, and my film agent were all more fun than I could have imagined. I learned a lot, and it was exciting to hear about the marketing and publicity visions each of these folks shared in person, face-to-face. I believe Calling Me Home couldn't have landed in better hands.

Hope you'll enjoy a few photos I took on the trip, and stay tuned for more news coming up in the next few weeks--one thing I think you'll find especially surprising and exciting!

Calling Me Home has a cover!

By Julie

Certain days in an author's life are a little more special than others. Obviously, there is the day you get "the call" from your dream agent. Then there is the day you make your first sale (and every sale thereafter!). The day you see your manuscript typeset in first pass pages is pretty thrilling, too.

Design by my now-favorite book cover designer,
Olga Grlic

But it's possible one of the most exciting days after you have your book contract in hand is the day you see your cover. I experienced this once before when I received the file of my German cover art, and that was pretty mind-boggling! I loved it so much I plastered it all over the place. It still reigns on my Facebook author page for now. The book releases there August 20 and my German publishers have been SO enthusiastic, I feel it's appropriate to let it keep the place of honor a while longer!

I was on vacation the last few weeks. We spent several days in Illinois for my husband's grandmother's 100th birthday celebration. She is an amazing woman, as sharp and funny as any younger woman I know. I also had the pleasure of meeting author Amy Sue Nathan (The Glass Wives, debuting spring or summer 2013) en route from Chicago to Peoria.

In the midst of driving here and there, switching hotel rooms every night or so, I received an email from Hilary Teeman, my St. Martin's Press editor, requesting an address where they could overnight something--something NOT work. I knew immediately what it would be! Lydia Netzer, another St. Martin's author and friend who shares the same fantastic editor, had this experience months earlier when she received her cover for SHINE SHINE SHINE (which debuted last week and you MUST read!!!). It would be several days before I could get an overnight delivery without the risk we'd have already moved on. I gave Hilary our upcoming address in the gorgeous Outer Banks of North Carolina. I knew I'd go a little crazy in the four or five days before I'd receive the delivery.

We checked in on Sunday. The office promised to call when they received my package. Monday, around 4 p.m. (a day or so sooner than expected!), I got a call. Everyone had just settled in for a late sandwich or nap after our first fun day at the beach. We were sunburned, sandy, unshowered, and exhausted. And yet, my husband, the official driver on the rental car contract, graciously dragged himself up from his comfy spot in front of the television and chauffeured me the ten miles to the office. We arrived with about 15 minutes to spare before they closed.

I carried the book-shaped package to the car, handling it as though I carried an incendiary device. I knew its contents had the potential to create any number of emotions in me. Would I cry when I saw it? From joy? From disappointment? From devastation? Would I clap my hands and scream because I loved it so much? Or would I be angry and disgusted because the designer and my editor had so utterly ruined the vision my story had conjured in my mind for so many years?

I will tell you this: It was one of the most loaded moments along my journey to publication.

But I also knew this: My editor is in love with my story. I knew, from previous conversations, she had turned down several other covers she wasn't happy with. Somehow I just knew she would recognize the right one when it came along, and I trusted her.

So I opened the package. First, I peeked in, just for the littlest glance. Then I read the note she'd included with some of her thoughts on why this one worked so well and how in love the staff at St. Martin's was with it. How they literally gasped when they saw it the first time. Then I pulled the cover, which Hilary had carefully wrapped and taped around another hardcover book so I could get the full effect, from the envelope.

Strangely, my reaction was not unlike my reaction 15, 18, and 23 years ago, each time I saw one of my beautiful children for the first time. I am not a screamer. I am not a clapper. I am not one to cry at expected times. When I held and studied each of my children the very first time, I felt strangely awed. Reverent. Quiet. I simply stared at their faces, then studied each limb, each tiny fingernail, so surprised to see how different they looked than I'd ever imaged, yet somehow so perfect. On an intellectual level, I knew I already loved them more than I ever dreamed I was capable of doing, but on a human level, I wasn't quite able to grasp that just yet. With each child, it was hours before the emotions really began to flow, before I was finally able to wrap my brain around their arrivals, their surprising perfection, their little bits of me and their characteristics I never, ever, imagined. And then, I was carrying them around, showing them off, placing them here and there for photos--which light, which background, which setting could possibly show the world what I was seeing through my eyes?

And last Monday, before long, I was carrying my "book" around my vacation home, placing it on the hammock in the ocean breeze for a shot here, propping it in the port hole window with a view of the Outer Banks there, stacking it with a book about the Outer Banks so I'd never forget where I saw it the first time.

And I loved it.



EDIT: I guess I should also add that Calling Me Home is available for pre-order now! It's at Amazon and BN.com! Pre-orders are really important in the lead-up to publication, so I appreciate each and every one of you who takes the time to do so! You are guaranteed the lowest price up to the shipping date once you place your order. More info about the story is available at my website.