Stephanie Gayle

Recently I wrote a post about marketing ideas put forth by well meaning friends and family. Apparently I'm not the only one to bemoan the Oprah suggestion. (Thanks Phoebe! It's good to know my misery has company.)

That said I do have some wonderful people helping me spread the word about the book: from my publicist, Jennifer, to Jesse and Dick at Haley Booksellers, and fellow authors like Jay Atkinson. But today I want to highlight the efforts of an unlikely marketing superstar: my dad.

Dad is not a natural salesman. By training, he's an accountant. He's a successful businessman, but talking to folks is probably not his number one idea of a good time. Eating a really fabulous meal while being serenaded by Pavarotti would probably be his number one idea of a good time. (My father loves to listen to music that far exceeds his vocal range. Okay, that includes anyone not tone deaf. You get my point: my father likes singers with range and oomph for lack of a better term.)

So my not naturally inclined to talk to strangers father recently went on a mini-vacation with my mother. As they were strolling the quaint main street, my Dad espied a bookstore and said, "Let's go in." According to my Mom, who relayed this story, he then proceeded to ask the salesperson if they planned to carry my book. I asked her if he explained why he was asking. "Oh sure," she said. "He told them you were his daughter."

Bookstore salesperson #1 says she thinks they have ordered my book. So all is well.

My parents continue to stroll and window shop.
"Look! Another bookstore!" Dad says.
"You're not going in, are you?" Mom asks.
"Of course."
In Dad goes, to repeat his exercise.

Bookstore salesperson #2 is not sure if the store plan to carry my book. They'd better. At this point, I wouldn't put it past my Dad to carry out a surprise inspection in July to see if they've become "Gayle book compliant."

Luckily, the small town where they were staying only had two bookstores. So future investigation wasn't necessary.

Of course I know my parents are proud of me, but knowing that my Dad is visiting bookstores and trying to promote my book is quite wonderful. And who knows? Maybe he's convincing booksellers to order my book. When I hit the Bestseller List I'll buy him a fine meal. Who knows? I might even let him supersize it.

Posted by Stephanie at 12:03 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Thanks to the power of Google Analytics I can see what key words drive people to this here site. Not unexpectedly, searching on stephanie gayle will bring you to stephaniegayle.com.

But did you know that visitors have also come here via these words combos?

Monkey pinata
Bug flew into my eye
Stephanie let's bake a cake

Wow. I'm so excited to be considered a reference source for all your monkey pinata, bug flying into your eye, baking a cake needs. And as return visitors know, it's more than likely that I will have more "bug flew into my (insert anatomical part here)" stories to share with you.

Quite frankly those three phrases have 'story' written all over them. Combine them into one insect assaulting, birthday party tale of pinata woe (or delight!) and enjoy.

Posted by Stephanie at 03:47 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

After our last Master Fiction class last week, my classmates and I headed to a local pub to quench our thirst and talk shop. (For a bunch of writers, there were a lot of non-alcoholic drinks consumed. In fact, I was the only one drinking hard liquor. Yay me! Keeping stereotypes alive!)

Ahem, as I was saying, we were talking shop. Some of us were discussing beginning a story and I realized that among those I was speaking with I go about it a different way. Not that I think my writing technique is original. But it was interesting to note the variance in approaching a story and writing the beginning.

First: Nearly all my stories come out of the left field of my imagination. This is not to say they have no basis in truth or my life, but that, more often than not, I don't experience something and think "I'm going to write about that." My characters emerge, muddy and half-formed, asking for something to do. Sometimes I gift them with an experience or conflict I've had, but often I make them endure a new conflict. It's more fun to watch.

Second: A lot of my stories start with a first sentence. Well, duh, you're thinking. Of course. No, what I mean is that lots of my stories start with a first sentence that pops into my head. If I like the sentence enough it's the start of a story. That first sentence doesn't always make it to the final draft. Editing sometimes proves that it's better to start 'further in' the action. But a few stories, including "Interior Design" start with that same first sentence. In that case it's "No one ever won at hide and seek but me."

Third: When I start I have no idea how a story will end. I may have an inkling, but more times than not I don't know how things will play out. That's good, because it leaves me feeling open and not boxed in. Claustrophobic writing is not good writing.

Fourth: I like to start with a tall glass of vodka. Kidding!

Fifth: I have several good beginnings that never made it to an end. These stories sputtered and died. I keep them around, thinking I'll untangle the yarn of the narrative, but I don't. They just clutter my computer folders.

Beginnings are great: they're full of promise and possibilities. It's the rest: the middle, the end, the editing, the critiques, the editing, and the submission, that demands endurance.

Posted by Stephanie at 03:03 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

So I've read Turn of the Screw by Henry James, at last. I'd recently read Shirley Jackson's The Haunting of Hill House, which I very much enjoyed, and I thought, "Self. You should really read Turn of the Screw." So I did, and then I thought, "Self? What the hell was that?" and also, "Self. Don't listen to my ideas. They are often stupid and painful."

I had forgotten that I have a problem with Henry James and his mazy sentences of many commas that wind, labyrinthine, throughout the story, nearly losing the reader along the way. Sometimes I would reach the end of one sentence and have to reread from the beginning because I'd forgotten how I got there. Like some sort of bad public transport system, yup, that's James!

And the ending didn't work for me. I don't mind ambiguity or even games in which the writer is exercising mastery (Nabokov). By story's end I didn't feel surprised or shocked because I didn't feel invested. In part, it's timing. James' ghostly villains: an uppity man servant and his paramour governess just don't convey evil intention in today's times. They would need bombs strapped to their chests or a history of pedophilia. As is, they feel spooky at best.

And getting back to his sentences: often fear necessitates immediacy. There is no immediacy in a forty word, five comma sentence.

I'm sure I'll catch hell for this. People adore this story, and cite it as a masterpiece, a template for future horror.
Not for me. But The Haunting of Hill House? That I recommend. It had amazing characterization and a feeling of inevitability that was well executed.

P.S. I began reading The Ax by Donald E. Westlake (until I realized that I'd read it before) and lo and behold it starts with a quote from Henry James' The Art of Fiction. The last sentence quoted is, "The only reason for the existence of a novel is that it does attempt to represent life." And here I find myself in absolute agreement with H. James. Ours is meant to be a stormy relationship it seems. Right now I've called a truce.

Posted by Stephanie at 01:15 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

It's been one of those weeks. One of those weeks in which a friend calls and I have to tell her I'm sorry, but I'm booked every day/night this week and can we hang out sometime after the next ten days? Yikes. I don't like being this busy. This busy means I see the very handsome boyfriend infrequently at best. We just had a date last night after over a week of being on separate coasts/finishing our final classes. This busy means the writing is not progressing apace. This busy means laundry accumulation.

The good news is that I'm going on mini-holiday to belatedly celebrate the very handsome boyfriend's birthday. I'm looking forward to escaping my everyday life and swapping it for something more novel and (let's hope) relaxed. Plus, part of the trip involves falconry! That could help with the writing. I've had a recent fascination with animals as characters/narrators. And this time I'll remember to bring my notebook (which I forgot last weekend at reunion). There's nothing worse than being somewhere without access to paper (or pen).

That reminds me that as a child I thought families that didn't have lots of loose paper in their "junk drawer" were strange. If they had to rip a page from the telephone book to jot down notes I thought they were crazy. It's the same way I feel about people who tell me they don't read for pleasure. Sure, they exist. But how? No, really, how?

Okay, this post has turned my mood around. I went from stress to childhood memory to gratitude that in the next 24 minutes I can take myself out in the sunshine and read during lunch. Thank you blog.

Posted by Stephanie at 09:39 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Remember the bug that flew up my nose and that I accidentally swallowed last week?
During tonight's run a tiny bug flew into my right eye. So I'm rubbing at my eye, jogging, and thinking, "There's a bug in my eye! What is it with these bugs? Why have they got it in for me?"
I rubbed my eye to the point where I could no longer feel it, and I actually managed to forget about it after I got home. But a few hours after I'd showered I looked into the mirror and saw most of it's lifeless buggy corpse on the area below my lower lashes. Terrific.

Warning to bugs: stop attacking me! It never ends well for you. Plus, it's kind of freaking me out. Twice in one week?

Posted by Stephanie at 07:49 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I'm back from reunion. Damn, Smith College is pretty. I have a soft spot for ivy and brick. And yes, yes, the new student center has neither brick nor ivy, but it's...um...useful.

I had a wonderful time seeing friends and staying in the dorms, although everyone said the same thing, "Were our beds this bad? Really? How did we sleep?" The mattresses did lack a certain support system. Despite this, due to extreme exhaustion, I slept like a rock with no ill side effects upon waking.

Everyone liked my new hair cut including a vocal gentleman on a bench downtown. When I walked past with Mandy and Mollee, we heard him declare, "I like the looks of the red-haired one!" Gee, thanks sir. I've warned the very handsome boyfriend that he has a rival for my affections. He took it in stride.

I attended my class wine tasting, which featured a lecture by a geology professor on terroir (the earth and atmospheric conditions that make wine taste as it does). It was fascinating. Then we did blind taste tests with chardonnays and burgandies. Classy lady that I am, I unerringly liked the cheapest wines in both taste tests! Good to know my taste is in line with my finances.

Last night we played Trivial Pursuit (the 90s edition). My team was getting beaten by the team led by Andrea (whose scary competitive streak makes mine look tame). There were some very funny moments and some incredible saves, but in the end my team won it all. Winning answer: tomatoes. (Good on David for getting it right and letting us stop the madness and go to bed).

So to summarize, I've listed some highlights of reunion '07 below.

Scariest moment: seeing the man dressed in full clown regalia at the bus station. I fear clowns. Who doesn't? Thank God his path and mine diverged at this point.

Dumbest moment: locking myself and my roommate out of our dorm room. Thanks for letting us back in, campus security!

Number of times I told people my 'Latino gameshow star husband story': none. Can you believe it?

Amount of rainfall: a lot.

Biggest surprise: the bathrooms. Our old dorm's bathrooms were renovated (much nicer now) but the wallpaper of the bathroom in the dorm where we stayed this weekend was the original that I remember. Damn, that orange print is seizure-inducing!

Smith College paraphernalia purchased: one new t-shirt. Seems like I buy one every ten years.

Things I 'didn't miss': the ugly "silk feel" yellow scarves they distributed to our class before I arrived on campus. As Colleen said, "I don't think whoever made these has felt real silk, if he thinks it's 'silk feel.'"

All in all, a splendid time.

Posted by Stephanie at 06:57 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I'm leaving town tomorrow: to attend my college reunion. I will be traveling sans computer, so, until Sunday expect silence on this end. It will be very nice to see friends I haven't seen since the last wedding we all attended. Truly, the only time I see most of these folks is at weddings and since those have declined in recent years I don't get to see them at all.

I was just packing for the trip and I thought: wouldn't it be funny to wear a ring to reunion and pretend I married a famous Latino game show host? I'll call him Julio and tell everyone about our cinco ninos. I think this is why I became a writer: I really enjoy telling stories.

Of course I won't actually wear a ring and spin this tale, but it's appealing. I could tell everyone tales about the very handsome boyfriend, who won't be there because he's at a conference, but no...they met him at the last wedding. That won't work.

Damn. I might be stuck with the truth.
Or...I could make up wild stories about the friends who don't show up for reunion.
Serve them right.

And won't they be surprised when a friend asks them how their trial for racketeering is going?

Posted by Stephanie at 09:11 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I've been getting a lot of mileage out of the "enviable grace" part of my novel's Booklist review. Every time I tell a friend or family member about it they say, "Your writing, sure. Otherwise, not so much." Or they just howl with laughter. They have a point.

Last night as I was walking to class I was chatting with my cousin Megan. As I inhale, a teeny tiny bug flies up my left nostril.
"A bug just flew up my nose!" I tell Megan.
I fumble in my bag for a tissue so I can blow the damn thing out but two second later I feel it go down my throat.
"Ack! It just slid down my throat. I ate a bug!"
Megan grew up with me, so she is unfazed. She's witnessed worse.
"I was hungry," I tell her. "I guess it counts as protein."
A few minutes later I tell her I need to stop inside a store and get a pre-class snack.
"What? The bug wasn't enough for you?" she asks.
"No, it wasn't."

So there you have it. Enviable grace in motion. Admittedly, the bug flying up my nose wasn't intentional, but my accidents rarely are. I didn't jump on a rusty nail on purpose (Do you remember that, Megan? Of course you do, because we were playing follow the leader and YOU were leading and yet I ended up in the hospital with blood poisoning. Of course, you did give me a My Little Pony mirror to make up for it. Sweet!)

Posted by Stephanie at 12:22 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Several people, notified of my impending publishing debut, have offered me marketing tips. A popular one is, "You should get on Oprah!" Wow. Thanks. That never would have occurred to me. In fact, it's right after marketing idea #1: find a genie in a bottle and make some wishes!

But truly, there have been some interesting moments born of this topic. Please keep in mind these are publicity ideas put forth by people who love me:

Stand outside a bookstore with a bat and ask the exiting patrons if they've bought my book yet. Hit the bat against palm in a meaningful way. Send patron back inside to buy book.

Write into contracts a clause that demands all signers purchase a copy of my book.

Become part of a scandal.

The last became more scary when Amy and Tracey were discussing posting videos of me dancing on YouTube. (Note to self: no more cameras/videos at any parties I'm attending. Ever. It's too much to expect me not to dance.)

Amy has put forth that she'd be willing to ride public transportation while reading my book. She'll laugh loudly, dab her eyes at other times and then declare, "This is the best book ever!" I think she hasn't ridden public transportation lately or she misunderstands commuting culture, which demands you ignore fellow passengers. But I love her for trying.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some digital cameras to sabotage.

Posted by Stephanie at 10:19 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

My editor wrote me this morning to let me know that MY SUMMER OF SOUTHERN DISCOMFORT is a Booksense Notable pick for July 2007. Booksense books are chosen by independent bookstore employees. So that makes me damn happy. And it means the book will be prominently displayed in a lot of indie bookstores in July.

Hu-freaking-zaah y'all!

Posted by Stephanie at 12:47 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Word's been making it's way around the lab where I work that I wrote a book coming out soon. This has led several people to say, "So are you going to be writing about the lab? About people here?" They nudge me with elbows and wink.

No. No. I'm not going to write about people at work, or the place, especially not while I work there. This is for multiple reasons:

1. Lawsuits
2. I've never written a story in which my work setting would be an appropriate backdrop.
3. I tend not to write stories around a place; I write them around characters.
4. I spend eight hours of my waking life, five days a week, there. That's plenty. I don't want to revisit it during my off time.
5. You can work at an amazing place where crazy cool work is being done and have nothing new to say about it.
6. Lawsuits

So there you have it: why I'm unlikely ever to set a book or story in my work setting.
Oh, and there's that other reason. I generally resist people's efforts to tell me what to write about.

Posted by Stephanie at 10:10 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I think I experienced perfect hair at approximately 2:13 PM today. Terrible, really, since I was alone in the ladies' bathroom at MIT. No one to appreciate it. Made more sad by the fact that I did nothing to achieve it unless you call lack of care a method. So I cannot replicate it and no photo evidence of it exists. But trust me: it was a perfect blend of insouciant curl and lively color.

Posted by Stephanie at 09:03 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Okay, so Sunday was awesome what with the fabulous, wonderful, make me dizzy Booklist review.
Sometime between then and Monday evening I angered a major deity and I just want to say to it/he/she/them that I am really sorry and could you maybe forgive me and stop raining suck down upon me?

Evidence I pissed off major deity:

The woman we really hoped to make our new roommate turned down the opportunity to live with me, Tracey and Amy. That's very bad b/c we have no back up candidate and it's also bad b/c it means the process continues and the process hurts! It's like a combo date/interview with many strangers.

I have an infection. I won't get more specific than that, except to say, "Tengo un fuego por la bajo." I knew that phrase would come in use some terrible day!

My Maclappy was making bad noises last night and overheating (the bottom was very hot--almost feverish). I had to power down twice. I cannot afford to lose my Maclappy. I love my Maclappy. I don't want to buy another.

So if the deity I upset could find it in its heart or other love-central organ to forgive me that would be great.

Posted by Stephanie at 01:07 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

This weekend I discovered that two reviews of MY SUMMER OF SOUTHERN DISCOMFORT were out, so I hied myself posthaste to said reviews and read as fast as I can.

The first, from Publisher's Weekly, refers to me "as short story writer Gayle" which I found odd, since I consider myself a novelist. Then I remembered that all the reviewer would have seen for publication credits would be short stories (stories I wrote after MSOSD). It's a good review. They take issues with some of my sentences (and then go on to cite an example which contains the phrase 'pubic hair'. Thanks PW! That won't make reading it to my parents awkward. At all.)

The PW review concludes, "Don't be fooled by the ditzy jacket art." Hahahahahahaha. Good one.

Today I found my Booklist review. Someday, sometime I must have done something wonderful, karma-wise, because here's how that review ends: "In this finely crafted debut novel, Gayle evinces a superb mastery of character development, rendering Natalie's various crises of faith with empathetic authenticity, endearing humor, and enviable grace."

I have to lie down now. That made my head spin. Wow.

I read that last line to Tracey and we both started laughing, because "enviable grace" is generally not a virtue I possess. You've never known anyone more likely to spontaneously injure themselves than me.

Now, if you'll excuse me I believe I have a cake to bake. Yes, yes, I was supposed to do it yesterday but I got bogged down with roommate interviews and editing stories and other mundane things. If ever, however, there was a reason for cake, that Booklist review is the reason.

Off to bake with enviable grace!

Posted by Stephanie at 03:36 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

So I was trying to add some links to my sidebar today, and then realized I'd forgotten how. Honestly, for someone who works at MIT by day I am a complete Luddite. That got me to thinking about how I *just* learned how to text messages on my cell phone earlier this year. And that got me to thinking about how I'm pretty old school. And sometimes just old. Let's refer to the evidence!

* I miss squat bodied house telephones with lovely rings.
* I hate the annoying electronic ringtones all phones have now.
* As you can see, I'm not a big fan of cell phones.
* I get disgruntled by the failure of baggers at grocery stores to properly pack a bag (heavy stuff on the bottom, fragile stuff on top!)
* When I worked at a library and people would behave badly: try to carry an ice cream cone into the stacks, say, I could feel the older woman within thinking, "Have you no familiarity with the concept of a library?" The older lady sort of wanted to kneecap these folks. She's feisty!
* Are my house slippers old-ladyesque? Huh. Not sure on this.
* I own more than one apron. A full apron and a demi-apron.
* I used to sing old songs or quote old movies and my Bumpa would say, "How do you know that?" as if a young thing like me ought not to have such familiarity w/older media.
* I have a bottle of wheat germ in the fridge (but it's for waffles! The world's best waffles! And only waffles!)
* I have accumulated knowledge of old housekeeping hints: bluing to white things (how many people even know what bluing is, much less have handled it?)
* The lack of letter writing in society saddens me. Email is no substitute!
* It took me longer than my peers to convert from typewriter to word processor to computer.
* I think Gene Kelly is the bee's knees (even though he's dead).
* I have a store of superstitions that I inherited from other old ladies (and thus can't wear opals even though they're lovely and I quite like them because they're not my birthstone and thus would bring me bad luck)

Okay, I'm freaking myself out. I should go listen to my Ipod while writing an email and texting--all at the same time! Screw that. I'm going to bake a cake.

Cake: a happy treat for both old and young ladies! Only problem is that I have to go to the grocery for some ingredients. And the baggers are going to drive me crazy with their poor packing skills. Perhaps I'll avert my eyes.

Posted by Stephanie at 01:32 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

What's classier than drinks and barbecue, you ask?
Good question!
How about a literary launch party featuring drinks and BBQ!

The very kind duo at Haley Booksellers is throwing me a launch party at Redbone's BBQ in Davis Square to celebrate the premier of MY SUMMER OF SOUTHERN DISCOMFORT.
June 25th, 7:30 PM
We'll be selling copies of my book (a day earlier than you get it anywhere else!) And I'll be signing them (trying to keep the BBQ stains from the pages).

There will also be a selection of my favorite "Southern" songs playing and free appetizers for the hungry masses.

I think this will be a rockin' party, maybe even as good as the birthday I celebrated a few years ago w/friends and a monkey pinata. Ah, the monkey pinata. Its severed head hung from a tree branch and its dismembered corpse was staked on our front lawn. I'm sure passersby thought we were Satanists. Good times.

So if you like hanging out w/monkey pinata murderers, please come by to Redbone's on June 25th.
It's going to be FUN to the MENTAL.

Posted by Stephanie at 09:24 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)