Mary Kay Andrews

Long Time Gone

Yes, more than two weeks between blogs. A thousand pardons! But I’ve been working, truly I have. Book signings and speeches, and novel-hatching and such. A couple weeks ago I was the speaker at The Southern Lady Celebration, here in Atlanta, at the Grand Hyatt, sponsored by Southern Lady magazine from Birmingham. Great group of 500-600 women, and such a fun, Spanx-worthy audience–yes, I even put on hose, makeup and heels for the event! The next morning I was off to my annual writer’s retreat to the Weymouth Center for Arts & Humanities in Southern Pines, NC.





Southern Ladies Prove to be Spanx-Worthy


I’m fortunate enough to be part of a writing group called The Weymouth Seven. It just happens that we are all women novelists. We all met years ago through our mutual friend/mentor Nancy Olsen, who owns the awesome QUAIL RIDGE BOOKS in Raleigh, NC. At first we used to just get together and bitch and whine about how hard it is to write. But eventually, we decided it might be fun to go away together and write and workshop and brainstorm…and bitch and whine. That first time, I think four of us went to a borrrowed house at Holden Beach, N.C.



Weymouth 7-Minus Bren, who was MIA


But the group grew, and our deterimination sharpened, and one of the group, Diane Chamberlain, had heard of this arts center in Southern Pines that offered writer-in-residence programs that would allow us to live in the gorgeous old Boyd mansion, FREE, for up to a week. Diane went solo that first time, and the rest of us followed.



Diane and I took a stroll in the gardens


We think our retreat last week was our tenth! We’ve also met at another borrowed beach house at Topsail Island, and last year, we gathered at our own Breeze Inn on Tybee, but we always try to meet once a year at Weymouth.

Don’t know why, but the place seems to hold magic. We arrive with our laptops and crockpots, claim our rooms and writing corners, and settle down to work. There are lots of nooks and crannies at Weymouth where you can hole up and write in splendid seclusion, but there’s also a great library, where we gather at night. Each writer brings a dinner, which we eat communally, but we’re on our own for breakfast and lunch. A LOT of coffee (and Diet Coke for me) is consumed.


Alex working dark magic in the library.


We try to start mornings by setting goals and brainstorming. I’ve turned into the self-appointed retreat task-master, querying everybody on their work in progress, any stumbling blocks, and what they’d really like to achieve. And I write it ALL down. This time around, several of us–myself included, were starting new books, which can be agony. Two of our members, Sarah Shaber and Katy Munger, have new book contracts, which we celebrated. So we did a lot of brainstorming, kicking around ideas, making suggestions for characters and plot. Then, we headed for our hidey-holes to write. And plot. And chart. At the end of the day, we all drifted back to the library for dinner, wine, progress reports, more brainstorming, and then, a round of word games.



Diane “Working the Outline Grid”


If I’m the whipper-snapper, our friend Margaret Maron is the leader, the glue that holds us together, not to mention the champion at Scrabble, Balderdash and Taboo. Unfortunately, Margaret was in a car accident, where she sustained four broken ribs, just a few days before we were to leave, so she was a no-show, although we were so glad she was able to make it to the rescheduled launch of her brand-new book, CHRISTMAS MOURNING at Raleigh’s Quail Ridge Books on Saturday. If you missed her there, you can still order autographed books here, and the nice folks at QRB will ship ’em to you.

Last Monday, we did a panel discussion and group booksigning, with books supplied by our favorite local indy, The Country Bookseller. If you missed us, we left behind lots of signed books.

Another day, our own Alexandra Sokoloff treated us to a mini-workshop on her Three Act Structure charting system. Alex teaches her method frequently, and if you’re a writer, looking for a new way to plot, I highly recommend her work. In fact, she also has a fantastic workbook you can download.

In between brainstorming sessions, the good people of Southern Pines decided we needed treats. Giant bags of Peanut M&Ms (our favorite brain food) were dropped off. Mysterious foil-wrapped trays of rugelach, cookies and brownies appeared in our kitchen. “For the Writers” was taped to each tray. We got so sugar-buzzed we joked that we’d have to put up a sign on the stairway: PLEASE DON’T FEED THE WRITERS. Just joking, of course.

By Friday, the end of our work week, I think all of us were thrilled with the amount of work we’d gotten done. I managed to write more than 10,000 words, and come up with the first five chapters of the NEXT book. So it was a very, very good week.

On the long drive back to Atlanta I decided to treat myself to a junk stop. I’d read the blog for a shop called OLD-TYME ANTIQUE MARKET in Marshallville, NC, and just had to check it out. Beth, the owner, was a doll, and her shop is a delight. I could have loaded everything i her shop into the back of my car. Instead, I practiced restraint and only picked up a few things.

It was great to get home to Mr. MKA and the rest of the family on Friday. Grandbaby Molly seemed to have sprouted another 3 inches. My to-do list grew just as rapidly. But I’ve got a solid start to the NEXT book, and am happy to be firmly back in the writing saddle once again. And now come the holidays. Sigh. At least Mr. MKA takes care of the turkey.



What Comes Next?

SUMMER RENTAL is done. Mostly. I’ve finished the copy edits, written the dedication, am working on the acknowledgements. Also the recipes still have to be written. Which means that my writing plate is, metaphorically speaking, clean. So, you ask, what comes next?

Next comes the fun. Starting a new book is like starting the first day of school–you know, back before you hated school and worried about passing math and whether or not you’d ever get a date, or get accepted to a college, any college. I like to think about starting a new book in terms of getting up excited in the morning, putting on a starched cotton plaid dress with a big sash bow in the back, and marching off, newly sharpened Number 2 pencils in hand, along with a crisp new notebook, to find knowledge and new books in the library.

I don’t want to tell you too much about What Comes Next, because I’m Irish, and deeply superstitious, and don’t want to hex the little embryonic book that is even now growing and developing in my warped subconscious.

What I will tell you is how this little puppy was conceived. I dreamed it. Yup. For several nights running this summer, I dreamt of a woman. She was sitting in a church and she was righteously PISSED. Hmm. So one night, in my dream, or maybe it was while I was driving, I asked that dream woman what she was doing. And she told me–“I’m watching my ex-husband get re-married.”

Reaallly? “Yup,” she said. “And I’m okay with it.” Reallly?

I mentioned to my agent and my editor that this woman was bothering me with repeat appearances. Since it was time for me to tell them exactly what my NEXT book would be, I thought it might be good if I went back to dream woman and asked her a few more questions.
I scribbled down some options. Cobbled together a proposal for the NEXT book. And they like it, they really like it.

Why am I telling you all this? Because I thought I might share with you the twisted process I go through when hatching an idea. Because readers ask me this all the time. Where do you get your ideas? When my children were younger, I frequently got them during carpool, either driving to school in the morning, or waiting in the school parking lot in the afternoon. I got them while reading the newspaper. Once, a dear friend’s son was involved in a searing custody battle, and I sat in the courtroom with her, and the idea for a book was born from her pain. I got the idea for HISSY FIT while sitting in a bubble bath. I had to scribble down the idea for SAVANNAH BREEZE on a paper napkin in a restaurant in Charleston, after I eavesdropped on a conversation at the next table.

Once I have an idea, I pester my agent. What do you think? Could this be a book? Is there a story here? Is this a character my readers will love? And is it I story I could tell and tell really well? Does it seem like a Mary Kay Andrews story?

Stuart is a very, very patient man. He’s used to these deranged phone calls and knows exactly how to keep me on process. Sometimes, he hates the idea, and he’ll tell me why, and I’ll go away and sulk for a while, but almost always, I come to realize he’s right. Other times he loves the idea, and he’ll brainstorm with me. That’s how the plot of SUMMER RENTAL came about, over dinner (and wine) before a book-signing two years ago at the Jersey Shore.

Once Stuart likes the idea, I noodle around with it some more. In the meanwhile, he has a conversation with my editor, just to see if she likes it too. Fortunately, Jen seems to love the idea for the NEXT book. We have phone discussions, and I scribble some ideas. What’s the name of this character? Names are incredibly important to me. For protagonists, I like a name that sounds unique, which is why my books are peopled with characters with names like Callahan, Neva Jean, Weezie, BeBe, Mary Bliss, Keeley and Dempsey. For the protagonist of my next book, I chose the name of my late great-grandmother, whom I only met as a very young child. I love that name so much I could hug it, I could eat it for dessert, that’s how much I love this name.

Where is the book set? A real town, or a made-up place? Georgia, or someplace else? It’s looking like someplace else, this time around, probably a made-up small town in North Carolina. What does my character do? Oh, what fun I’m going to have writing about the world of this next book. I’ve already started researching that world, and at the risk of sounding smug, it’s gonna be good.

What’s my protagonist’s dilemma? Hmm. I guess we start with the fact that she’s actually attending her ex-husband’s wedding. What’s that all about? Now we’re getting down to brass tacks. Now comes the hard part. Actually plotting the story. For me, characters and setting are the icing, the sweet part that comes quite naturally. Now I’ve got to bake the cake, making sure I have a strong, stable, tasty platform to support my characters. I’ve got to figure out how to get her out of that church pew–and into and out of all kinds of plot complications.

Lucky for me, my writer’s group is having our twice-yearly retreat next week. We’ll meet up at the Weymouth Center in Southern Pines, N.C., lugging our laptops and crockpots and notebooks and index cards–and peanut M&Ms and cheap Chardonnay. We’ll all share the ideas for our next books, brainstorm, set goals, write like women possessed—and then, at night, meet to bitch and whine, discuss progress, and most importantly, play word games like Scrabble, Balderdash and Taboo.

Hopefully, at the end of the week, I’ll come home with the strong foundation–and lots of new pages, of the NEXT book. I’ll put away my little plaid dress, climb into my black yoga pants, and get down to work.

How about you? Is there a novel raging inside you? Did you know that today is the first day of National Novel Writing Month? (Also known as NaNoWriMo) Check here for the details, and let me know what you decide. Who knows? Maybe November will be the month we all get a book going.

La Bella Italia

Sunset over the Meditteranean, at Cinque Terre

Winemaker Enzo Tiezzi at his beautiful Montalcino vineyard

Mike and Shay and me, windy day in Florence


Lunch at a sidewalk cafe in Florence

Fair warning: this is a loong post. it’s the modern-day version of your Uncle Seymour’s grainy slide-shows of his vacation in Peoria. Unlike most of my posts, there will be absolutely no junk, and no whining about what hard work it is writing a book. And there will be gushing. So just deal.

What can I say about a trip with four long-time dear friends, a trip to Tuscany, yet? It was bravissima. Last week we flew into Florence with longtime friends Jinx and Mike, and Jack and Shay. Shay, who is a bargain travel phenom, found us an unbelievably cheap package deal, so cheap we just couldn’t say no. It was a first trip there for all of us, I think, so we allowed ourselves to be total tourists. Looking back, I’m amazed at how serendipitous the week was. Armed only with our Garmin (whom the boys nicknamed Betty), and our Rick Steves’ and Fodor’s travel guides, time after time we managed to stumble into once-in-a-lifetime experiences. We stayed in a villa outside a castle in a tiny village twenty minutes from Florence, and we had two rental cars for exploring. And did we explore! We checked out the market in a little town named Edna–no wait, that’s my grandma’s name, maybe it was Elsa. Never mind. It was a cool town and we strolled around and bought big hunks of salami and cheese to bring home. Another day we visited the ancient walled villages of Volterra and San Gimignana, which our friend Jack insisted on referring to as San Chimichanga. In Volterra, as we approached a hill overlooking the ruins of an ampitheatre, we heard the sounds of opera floating up. A movie was being filmed, and at that moment, a pianist was accompanying a fine soprano who was singing Mimi’s aria from La Boheme–(the only opera I’ve ever actually attended). Another day we explored Montalcino, which is known for its fine local wineries. At the tourist information office, Jinx asked about touring a winery and was given a phone number to call. The person who answered the phone didn’t speak much English, and like the rest of us, Jinx’s Italian is pretty much limited to words like vino, zuppa, pan and toiletta. Still, she managed to arrange a tour at a winery within walking distance. The wine gods were with us, because the proprietor of Tiezzi, Dr. Enzo Tiezzi, was so sweet and welcoming, we quickly forgot about the language barrier. He proudly showed us the winery, let us taste his exquisite Brunello, even let us climb a ladder and peer into a vat of fermenting grapes. It was an unforgettable day. Our visit to Siena was just as memorable. We were in awe of the Duomo there, and discovered we were lucky to have timed our visit for October, one of only two months of the year when the cathedral’s breathtakingly detailed inlaid marble floors are uncovered for the public. Since we only had a week in Tuscany, alas, we allowed ourselves a single day to explore Florence. So much beauty, art, and culture, we found ourselves nearly suffering from sensory overload. We hadn’t booked an advance tour of the Uffizi, but we did manage to take in the Duomo, the Medici chapels, and lastly, the Accademia, where we circled round and round Michelangelo’s 17-foot-tall David. And when I say we, I mean, Jack, Jinx, Shay and I, because Mr. Mary Kay, who’d obligingly trotted through two other museums as well as FOUR churches on this trip, decided to repair with Mike to a nearby bar to rest his barking dogs. Mike’s dogs musta been screaming, since he, Jinx and Jack clambered up all 400-something stairs at the Campanile. After all that culture, we threaded our way through the narrow cobblestoned back streets to a restaurant recommended by three different friends. Il Latini definitely lived up to its reputation. Over the course of more than two hours, we somehow managed to plow our way through SEVEN courses, fortified by two gigantic carafes of red wine, plus prosecco, grappa and limoncello. And just after we’d been presented with the bill, which amounted to about $45 apiece, the owner dropped off three bottles of the restaurant’s own chianti, as a sort of party favor. On Monday, we drove two hours to a rugged area of the Italian coast called Cinque Terre, for the five picturesque towns strung along the steep cliffs overlooking the Mediterranean. We walked a one-mile cliffside stretch called the Via Dell’Amore–Italian for Lover’s Walk. All along the way, tucked in amongst the drop-dead gorgeous scenery, were hundreds, probably thousands of little padlocks, fastened to chain-link fencing–symbols, we learned, of couples’ declarations of exclusive devotion. As we were driving away, we were treated to what must have been the most glorious, technicolor sunset we’d ever seen. And then, on our next-to-last day, we drove around the chianti trail, sampling more wine and divine food. And because everything about this trip was serendipitous, there was one more splendid sunset, this time with the soft green and golden hills of Tuscany in the foreground. I think my favorite town of the day was Greve, but it’s all fast becoming a blur, making me wonder: did we really do this? Spend a week in Tuscany? I wrote Facebook posts on my iPhone most days, just so I’d have a reminder of what we’d seen and done. And I have the photos to remind me. And a handful of chianti-scented wine corks. Oh yeah, and probably five extra pasta and pizza-related pounds. But it was so worth it. Definitely. End of gush.

Christmas…Coming to a bookstore near you!

I know, I know, the holidays creep up on us earlier every year, and I sorta resent the intrusion. I mean, it’s still in the 80s here in Atlanta. But the calendar doesn’t lie. It’s nearly mid-October. The stores are full of Halloween candy and costumes, and just lurking on the loading dock of every retail outlet in America are all those cases and cartons of Christmas merchandise. The thing is, if you have a Christmas book, which I do, you get asked to do book signings in advance of the holidays.
So, in the spirit of cooperation, and let’s face it, writers have to sell books, or they don’t get asked to write any more books, plus, it’s a total buzz-kill for a writer to show up at a signing WITH NO CUSTOMERS (trust me, it’s happened to me, more than once). I thought I’d give you my upcoming event schedule for BLUE CHRISTMAS. I hope some of you will come. Or a lot of you. Yeah, a lot would be good. That way I can get in the Christmas spirit my ownself. And besides, one of the good things about holiday book signings is, they’re usually good for some free snacks, maybe some wine or that awesome Hawaiian Punch/Ginger Ale/goony green sherbert punch–which I actually like, because it reminds me of my Girl Scout days. But don’t be looking for fruitcake. I think it’s in my contract. No fruitcake at MKA book signings. Cookies, fudge, pound cake, cheese straws, those Bisquick-sausage thingies, yes. Fruitcake no. Do come. Bring some friends. Maybe I’ll bring some leftover Halloween candy. As if.
Tues. Oct. 26, 6:30pm
The Book Exchange, Marietta, Ga.
2956 Canton Rd.
770-427-4848.
Holiday signing with Patti Callahan Henry.
RSVP, plus $5 donation and children’s book for charity donation.
Fri. Nov. 5, 7:45pm
Southern Lady Celebration
Grand Hyatt, Atlanta
Dinner Speech and book signing
Mon. Nov. 8, 2pm.
Weymouth Center for the Arts
Southern Pines, N.C.
Tues. Nov. 16, 7p.m.
Holiday book signing with Patti Callahan Henry
105 E. Main St. #138
Woodstock, GA. 30188
770-516-9989
Weds. Dec. 8
Hilton Head Island, SC
Holiday luncheon & book signing
Sea Pines Conference Center/Harbour Inn
Dec. 10-12
Lavish Lifestyle Blogger Event
Atlanta, GA.

Me and The Junk Hunk

Me, Mike and the Phillip Morris bellhop


Me and Mike, with Danielle and my junk buddy Barb


Mike’s mom Rita, a sweetheart for sure


Hanging out at Pelo’s coffee shop


Beautiful LeClaire’s Riverfront View of the Mississippi

Okay, I admit it. I’m a little bit starstruck. Like five million other Americans, I’ve been watching AMERICAN PICKERS since it began airing on The History Channel last year. I learned about the program from my junk buddy Sue over at Vintage Rescue Squad. Once I saw the show, a little bell rang. I knew this guy. Yeah. When “Savannah Blues” was first published, way back in 2002, I got an email from this guy named Mike Wolfe. He told me he was a picker, and was intrigued that I’d written a novel about an antique picker. We corresponded, and he sent me a short video clip of his picking adventures, explaining that he was trying to sell a show to a cable network. Riiiight, I thought. Like that’s gonna happen. Shows you what I know. It took Mike seven or eight years of hard work, but darned if he didn’t sell a show. And it rocks. When my friend Barb and I set out on our Midwest Junk Junket, starting in Dayton, Ohio this week, Barb pointed out that our eventual destination, Champaign, Illinois, was only a few hours from LeClaire, Iowa, where Antique Archaeology is based. So…we drove to LeClaire. What the heck? I’d never been to Iowa, and maybe we’d run into Mike, the junk hunk. Suuuure. We got to LeClaire at about six Wednesday night, and drove around, trying to locate the shop. It’s a small, gorgeous town, set right on the banks of the Mississippi River. So picturesque, with neat little shops and restaurants downtown. No luck. So we turned a corner, to look for the library, and instead, drove right up to a building with the trademark Antique Archaeology truck parked around back. We got out of our car, decided it must be Mike’s house, but did not want to engage in what my daughter would describe as creepy stalker-girl behavior. We took pictures of ourselves with the truck, and then went to dinner at a restaurant just down the block. Wouldn’t you know it, walking back to our car afterwards, I spotted a familiar-looking guy walking two black dogs down the street. Mike? Mike! We stopped and chatted. He remembered our correspondence, and we agreed to meet for coffee this morning. If you ever get to LeClaire, definitely stop at Pelo’s, which is in a charming old building, run by the third generation owner. Maybe you’ll run into Mike, or at least Mike’s mom, Rita, who is just a total sweetheart. She plays Mrs. Santa Claus for the community children every Christmas. Love her. And Mike–ya gotta love a guy who spends time with his mama, right? And how can you not love a guy who sets up a facebook page for his Border Collie, Ruby? Long story short, we were lucky enough to spend an hour or so with Mike and his Mom. Did not get to meet Frank, darn it. We went to the shop, got to meet Danielle for a skinny minute, before she left to run errands, and best of all, we got to see some of Mike’s favorite picks, up close and personal–the giant Phillip Morris statue, the carnival games, the big red arrow, the Laurel and Hardy heads, ect. Mike’s passion for “rusty gold” is so genuine, so infectious, it’s no wonder his show is a huge hit. He’s like a kid who’s been given the keys to the candy store. And here’s some of what he shared with us: it takes a crew of nine people to shoot the show. They work two weeks on, then two weeks off. California is the next pick–starting in San Diego and working north to San Francisco. Danielle has become such a celebrity, they’ve had to hire three other people just to help clean up and sell their vintage finds, which they actually do sell, either through the shop or on eBay. They get an estimated 10,000 leads for potential picks EVERY WEEK! Mike has bought a shop in downtown Nashville, in an awesome old brick building that used to be an auto plant, and they’ll divide their time between Nashville and LeClaire. We saw pix, and it is going to be amazing, and very accessible to fans who want to visit, buy a T-shirt or an antique bike, and maybe even meet the guys. What else? Oh yeah. They definitely keep up on their tetanus shots.

Our Fair Affair

It’s fall, y’all, up here in Ohio

Our great Midwest junk jaunt started Sunday with a trip to Columbus, Ohio for the Country Living Antique Fair. We had a great time, but the name “antique fair” is a little bit of a misnomer, because from my experience, the majority of the dealers weren’t selling antiques, but rather handcrafts, with some vintage, some new seasonal items, lots of vendors of gift-type foods, and yes, some antiques. I did spend some time browsing the booth of one of my favorite dealers from Franklin, Tenn., Scarlett Scales. Some of the crafts, especially those made from vintage ephemera, were really original and appealing. And don’t get me wrong, of course I managed to score some junk–including some gorgeous old linen sheets with hand-crocheted lace, three adorable old aprons–incliuding two Christmas aprons, and a sweet leaf-shaped wooden wall bracket. Saw lots of wonderful chippy furniture with good prices, since we were there the last day of the fair, but alas, I don’t think Delta will let me check a step-back cupboard in with my luggage.

Goin’ to hell in a Longaberger handbasket with Barb

The weather was perfect Sunday, sunny, but cool enough for a jacket. In fact, it was the first time I’ve had on closed-toed shoes since June! The setting for the fair was neat too, since it was held in the Ohio Village, near the Ohio History Center. The village is full of period-type buildings, and the grounds were decorated with hay bales and pumpkins and gourds and chrysanthemums and corn shocks–a beautiful autumnal setting. The Country Living magazine folks had lots of cooking, craft and decorating demonstrations going on all day, and there were tons of food booths. I stood for a long time salivating over the grilled pork chop booth, but finally my friend Barb and I settled for barbecue. Who knew Ohioans could do ‘cue?

Pickin’ and grinnin’ at the fair

I stood for a long time, listening to these two fellas, harmonizing on “You Are My Sunshine,” but then I had to get back to the business of junking. Finally, Barb and I dragged ourselves back to her home in Yellow Springs. We fixed a quick dinner, then headed out to her town’s movie theatre, The Little Art, where we saw “Get Low.” I always love Robert Duvall and Bill Murray, and it was especially fun sitting in an Ohio movie theatre, watching a movie filmed partially in Georgia. This morning, we headed out for Indiana, specifically Old U.S. 40, also called The National Highway, and it’s “Antique Alley.” I scored so much good stuff today I’ll end up shipping back some of it. Will try to post pix tomorrow, but in the meantime, wanted to share this Addams Family type house we spotted in Greenfield, Indiana. We halfway expected Uncle Fester to come popping out of the shrubbery!


It’s creepy and it’s spooky…mysterious & ooky…

The Great Midwest Junk Junket

Tomorrow I fly to Dayton, Ohio, to hook up with junk buddy Barb. We’ll hit the Country Living Antique Fair in Columbus, on Sunday, and then we’ll start our Midwest odyssey, heading across Ohio, and Indiana, to Illinois, with possibly a detour to Iowa. To tell ya the truth, being a directionally challenged Southern gal, I couldn’t swear that we won’t hit Wyoming or Kansas on the way, although I don’t think so. Anyway, watch this space to follow up on all our cool junking adventures.

Just had to write to say

Sorry I’ve been away from the blog for two whole weeks. But life has been crazy. I finally finished the last set of revisions for TFB (the friggin’ book). I’m beyond ecstatic about the final product, which is called SUMMER RENTAL, and which should be out next summer. And then I had to launch immediately into coming up with an idea for the book for summer 2012. And I did. I really love this idea and can’t wait to get started. And then I had to go down to Tybee and get The Breeze Inn ready for Boomerang Boy’s birthday celebration. He and a “few” of his closest friends gathered there this past weekend, and the good news is that there were no arrests and the place is reportedly still standing. While I was there, I stocked my booth at Seaside Sisters chockful of excellent treasures. You should go check it out, and check into The Breeze Inn. Did I mention, it’s still standing?


Chalkware kittycat
As soon as I got home from Tybee, it was time to take off for Lake Oconee, where some posse members celebrated our friend Shay’s double-nickel birthday. The guys golfed and the girls shopped. We had a great time junking in Greensboro and Madison, where, of course, HISSY FIT is set. I picked up the chalkware kitty for a song at an antique mall in Greensboro.


This adorable toy ironing board and iron came from the Madison Marketplace antique mall and reminded me I might need to catch up on my ironing. No maker’s mark that I can find, but I just couldn’t pass this up, or the Tom Thumb toy typewriter at the top of the page. I seem to have a thing for children’s tin toys. I’ve sold at least three Tom Thumb cash registers, a couple of tin phones, and now the above typewriter, which I’m tempted to keep, since I do make a living from typing, right?


Madison has so many cute shops, including a great vintage clothing consignment shop, where I found this cute black faille pocketbook with lucite fastener and handles. It’ll look great with the vintage black satin slips accented with rhinestone bling that I put in the booth last week. I can just picture some cute young SCAD (Savannah College of Art and Design) girl wearing these for a fun evening out.


And now? I must sail away, although not on this spiffy chalkware sailing ship bookend I found in Greensboro. Busy week ahead with starting proposal for the new book, and then on Saturday, I’m headed for Ohio where I’ll team up with junk buddy Barb for a trip to the Country Living Antique Fair in Columbus, followed by a junk junket all the way through Indiana and Illinois to Champaign, where I’m giving a talk for the library Sept. 30th. Hope to see some of you along the way!

The Man in the Other Room

I left the life of a newspaper reporter way back in 1991, and since that time, I’ve worked at home, solo. My first “office” was our dining room table. Since our children were four and eight at the time, I pushed aside the mounds of unfolded laundry and toys, and wrote there. Later, I converted a closet into an office, setting up my very first huge desktop computer. Several years after that, my husband built me an office in a shed left-over from the 1996 Atlanta Olympics. It measured 10-by-10, was heated and cooled with a motel HVAC unit, and was frequently visited by bugs and birds, who figured out how to get in through the eaves. We moved to Raleigh, and I got a nicer, bigger office, in the back half of our garage, from a room that had once been a work-out room. Hah! When we moved back to Atlanta three years ago, my office was set up in a former sewing room. All this time, as I said, I’ve worked solo. But now there’s A MAN IN THE OTHER ROOM. Mr. Mary Kay is working from home these days. Gulp. Our home. His office abuts mine. I can hear the squeak of his office chair. He can hear me muttering under my breath. He doesn’t like the way I sort the mail. I don’t like having to share the morning paper. But we are working things out. Since he’s in such close proximity, he actually agreed to read the latest draft of my next book, and he had many amazingly helpful suggestions. Of course, some of them were amazingly pain-in-the-ass comments. I mean, come on, we’ve been married for centuries. Many days, he pokes his head in the door and wants to know my thoughts on lunch. Usually my thoughts run to….leftovers. Or M&Ms, but I never tell him about those M&M lunches. MMK’s thoughts run to something hot, and specially prepared, because for all these years, he’s used to business lunches. So…as I said, we’re working it out. Now that what I hope (and pray to GAWD) are the final revisions for SUMMER RENTAL are in, I’m noodling around with ideas for the next book. I’ve had this weird vision of an opening, and I’m trying to figure out what the story is. Yesterday, I sketched out some ideas, and showed them to him. His general reaction was…WTF? There’s no book here. Which was true,all I had was a name for the main character, and a description of her ex-husband, which was to say that he was an asshat–a phrase MMK had never heard before. Today was one of those very special days. I suggested a lunch place to him, barbecue. He agreed. On the way to the restaurant, I filled him in on the conversation I’d had with my agent, and told him I needed a family business for my character to run. I suggested one, and he quickly came up with another suggestion. WHICH WAS GENIUS. Truly. We went to lunch, and my mind was running a mile a minute with ways this could work. So. Maybe I’ll have to overlook the squeaky chair and the picky lunch notions. Yeah. I think I’ll keep him.

Winners of the Beach Basket Giveaway!

With summer is drawing to a close, I figured it was high time I awarded the prize in my Book Club Beach Basket Giveaway. As you may recall, I invited anyone in a book club to share their most memorable experience. Reading all the e-mails gave me a nice break in the action from revisions on my next novel. There were some great entries—many which reminded me of exactly what I love about taking part in the two book clubs that I’m in.

I heard all about cocktails and BBQs in backyards, on decks and porches while gathering to talk about books and life in general. I heard about Andrea and the Chick Lits’ trip to Savannah, GA, Kathy’s club’s adventures on Fripp Island, SC, the time Kristi’s club got snowed in at a ski house, and Felicia’s long-distance club’s first-ever in-person meeting in Texas. Your stories about your club saving you with their friendship, seeing you through cancer, and surprising you with baby showers warmed my heart and had me reflecting on the true blue friendships I’ve made through my own clubs. Your tales of potlucks with food and cocktails inspired by the books, of girls’ days out and movie nights made me look forward to whatever adventure my club’s next meeting will bring. Ann-Marie relayed a story about her club sharing bar space with the local men’s softball team which reminded me of a school dance with the boys lined up on one side of the gym and the girls on the other. (The more things change, the more they stay the same.) Several readers wrote in to say how much they enjoy having the author join their discussion by phone and Skype. I loved to hear this because, as an author, I so enjoy meeting with clubs who are discussing my books; as a reader, I’m thrilled when my own club manages to get an author to join our chat. I propose a toast to Jennifer who wrote that her favorite moment with her book club is trumped every time they meet again!

OK, now for the envelope please. Again I found myself with the familiar dilemma of not being able to pick just one winner. So I will be sending out two baskets.

The first goes to Michelle Swindle Pardue whose Barbie Book Club sounds like a heckuva good time to me. OK, so they did read my very own Savannah Breeze on a group trip to Tybee Island, GA, but their excellent taste in books and getaway destinations did not sway my decision. It was their incredible spunk, their “togo Bloody Marys” fixed out of the trunk of a car, and their “happy place” under a pink and green beach umbrella that really got me.

The second winner is Sheila DeChantal who wrote in about The Bookies’ annual tradition of crowning a queen at an event complete with formal wear and a talent competition. The queen gets to be the tie-breaking decision on book selections and meeting places for the entire next year. Sheila, I bow to you and your fellow members.

Congratulations to Michelle and Sheila. Enjoy the baskets with your clubs in good health. Thanks to everyone for entering. And for anyone who is not already subscribed to my e-mail list, be sure to sign up. Another newsletter will be coming out soon featuring a recipe, a giveaway, and other good stuff.

Cheers!
MKA