Don’t Forget Your Fixer-Upper Catastrophes

Wow–I thought I had some horror stories! Dead dogs, cat piss, falling naked into the garage–now that’s what I call some drama. Entries for the best/worst Fixer-Upper comments close at midnight tonight. Three winners will receive Advance Readers Copies of my next novel, THE FIXER-UPPER. Book publishes in June, but you’ll have your own advance copy months earlier!

You Know You Want One…

This is one of my sister-in-law Laurie’s adorable aussiedoodle puppies. They’ll be ready for adoption in time for Christmas. Find out more here.

In the meantime, don’t forget to post your worst fixer-upper story for a chance to win a free Advance Readers Copy of THE FIXER-UPPER. The book won’t be out ’til June, but three people will win ARCs, giving them a sneak peek months before anybody else.

I’m Thankful for Young Love

Thirty-two years ago today, I became Mrs. Mary Kay. We were 22 and the ink was barely dry on our college diplomas. We had one car, a 1972 Capri, an envelope full of wedding cash, and high hopes. On our wedding day in 1976, it was 86 degrees in St. Petersburg. We drove up to the Blue Ridge Parkway to stay at a romantic lodge. In the middle of the night, I had an asthma attack so severe that he had to drive me down an ice-slicked mountain to an emergency room in Virginia.
We had jobs in Savannah–he working as a surveyor, me as a reporter for the Savannah Morning News. Our weekly combined take-home pay was maybe $300, and we lived in a three-room apartment on the top floor of an old house on East 48th Street. Our deal was that we would live on my paycheck and bank his because the plan was for him to return to school–Georgia Tech–to get an engineering degree. The plan worked. He got his degree. I got another job–as a reporter at The Atlanta Journal-Constitution. Along the way God blessed us with two beautiful children, Katie and Andy. The road hasn’t always been smooth, but it’s never boring, and mostly fun. So I’m thankful for this marriage. For my children and other family members, far and near, friends who’ve become extended family. I’m thankful for Diet Coke in the morning, the pecan pie we’ll have for dinner, the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade this morning and for the junk I’ll pursue tomorrow. I’m thankful we have not just jobs, but work that fulfills and sustains us. I’m thankful we had parents who took us to church and made us stand up straight and pledge the flag. I’m thankful for this flag of ours, and hopeful that we can all remember that no matter our political or philosophical beliefs, we all pledge to stand for liberty and justice. For all.

Busy Hands, warm heart

This is me, getting ready for Thanksgiving dinner, only not. I wish I did have a festive apron like this, crisp organdy kitchen curtains, salon-fresh coiffeure. Instead, I’m wearing sweats, and my hair looks like the back-end of a poodle. I do, however, have some very spiffy kitchen curtains made of old linen dish-towels. Our family will be dining with friends tomorrow, and tonight, we’re joining posse member Susie’s family for their traditional night-before feast featuring oysters, lobster and other yummies. My contribution will be brunswick stew, made with the pork butt Mr. Mary Kay smoked last night, the quails he and Wyatt brought home this morning, some venison sausage from Boomerang Boy’s stash and fresh veggies.

What’s Your Fixer-Upper Story?

The air conditioner condenser that drained into the shower. Check. The tile guy who arrived for work at 8 a.m. so drunk he fell off the back step. Check. The electrician who installed the exhaust fan in the wrong room. Check.The disappearing carpenter. Check. Adventures in do-it-yourself sheetrock. Check. The shocking experience of 80-year-old wiring. Check.

I’m a sucker for an old house. Which means that for the past 25 years or so, my husband and I have endured a never-ending series of fixer-upper catastrophes, some of which, I’ll admit, we perpetrated ourselves. If you’ve been following my blog posts lately, you know I’ve been working on my latest novel, THE FIXER-UPPER, at the same time we’ve been fixing up our circa-1943 beach house on Tybee Island.

So here’s a little contest. Post a comment by Tues. Dec. 2, 2008 about your very own true Fixer-Upper story and a photo, and you could win a free Advance Readers Copy of THE FIXER UPPER by Mary Kay Andrews, which won’t be out ’til June. Be the first kid on your block to read it! Three prizes will be awarded. If your entry is chosen, I’ll also read it on a video which will be posted on my website as well as HarperColllin’s website. Now don’t be shy. Tell all.

Doorknobs and Broom Closets

Better than gold or jewels–antique doorknobs!

Steve’s little treasure chest


Why settle for one medicine chest when you could have six?


Vintage fan, antique pharmaceuticals add that aged look at Steve & Polly’s.

The Breeze Inn is beginning to look mighty like a house. While I’ve been on Tybee writing, I’ve stopped by at least once a day to check in on the progress, and to work on those pesky little details that make the difference between a house and a home. Like those doorknobs I wrote about the other day. After I got them over to the house, my contractor reminded me that we’d still need mortise sets and backplates for those old doors of mine. The dollars started adding up in my head. It looked like I’d be spending around a hundred bucks outfitting each of those nine or ten doors in proper vintage style. In this economy, that’s a lot of money. Reluctantly, I took the knobs back.

Thankfully, my friends Polly and Steve had a better option. Their house on Tybee is only ten or twelve years old, but in the years since they built it, Steve has been slowly retro-fitting their new house with vintage style. One by one, he replaced the builder-grade hollow-core doors with antique solid wood doors he scrounged at salvage yards and antique shops around Savannah. After he had the old doors up, they looked so good he started fitting them with proper hardware, meaning glass or brass knobs and backplates. Old stuff is particularly easy to find in Savannah, because of the huge stock of old homes here. Then he started working on the light fixtures, scouting out fixtures from the 1920s thru 1940s to give their house that aged beachy look. He and Polly have filled the house with old wicker, funky painted furniture, and Steve’s collection of vintage fans, radios, toasters and phones, some of which he finds on eBay. Last year, they pulled up the wall to wall carpet in the house and had beautiful reclaimed heart-pine floors put down. They ripped out the formica bath and kitchen countertops and substituted antique cupboards and boards for the new stuff. Those cheap-o builder towel bars and toilet tissue holders were replaced by vintage glass towel rods and tissue holders. Steve started buying old wooden medicine cabinets with mirrors, and those got added into the mix.

When I asked Polly where Steve buys his antique hardware, he volunteered that he had a box full of old doorknobs that he didn’t need–and that I could have as many as I wanted. Score!

This morning I took myself over to their house to dig for buried treasure. Appropriately, the hardware was in a crusty green carpenter’s chest in their bedroom. As I sat on the floor sifting through Steve’s finds, I felt like I’d found the proverbial pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.
I’ll still have to buy some missing pieces, like escutcheons and some more mortise sets and backplates, but the major piece of the doorknob puzzle seems to be solved.

Now to figure out where to put the broom and dustpan and other cleaning supplies. The hall closet I’d planned to stash those necessities somehow came out shallow–by 18 inches. Towels and sheets may fit there, but nothing bigger will. Because this is a beach house, every inch of real estate inside is precious, so we only planned to have two closets downstairs, and one, upstairs, in the master bedroom. Today Mr. Mary Kay and I walked around the utility room, measuring to see if we can have a large free-standing cupboard built there to hold all those pesky things like a vacuum cleaner, light bulbs and paper towels. Hopefully, we’ve found a solution to this decidedly un-sexy storage issue.

So the week was a somewhat qualified success. I did start the new book, and it’s going nicely, thank you. But I didn’t meet my 30-page quota. On the house front, we have shiplap siding up in all the downstairs rooms, and beadboard siding in the downstairs bath and master bath. I’d hoped we might even have tile laid in the bathrooms this week, but that won’t happen until after Thanksgiving. Still, progress is progress. And for that, I’m thankful.

Reading Old Friends

These are tough times. You turn on the news, and the news makes your stomach turn. Your daily newspaper gets thinner every day. I’m a recovering journalist, so I NEED my daily newspaper. Friends are being down-sized. The stores you love are going under. Your 401-K is shrinking like a pair of K-Mart panties. What’s a girl to do? Curl up with an old friend. In the past two weeks, I’ve turned to new books by some favorite authors. I wrote mysteries for ten years, and let me tell you, mystery writing is an art as well as a craft. One of the premiere craftsmen of the genre is Michael Connelly. Mr. Mary Kay and I seldom read the same books, but we always read the newest Michael Connelly, and we always buy it in hardback. That’s a pretty high compliment. Connelly’s newest, THE BRASS VERDICT is another stunner. For the first time he brings together two of his most popular fictional sleuths, Harry Bosch (from books like BLOOD WORK and TRUNK MUSIC) and Mickey Haller–THE LINCOLN LAWYER. The results are satisfying on every level. Go. Buy. I’ve also got the advance reader’s copy (ARC as we call ’em in the book biz) of Elmore Leonard’s new book, ROAD DOGS. It won’t be available to the general public until May, but I can tell you, this is vintage Elmore Leonard. If you don’t know Dutch (that’s his nickname) you should run, not walk, to a bookstore to stock up on his backlist. Tons of his books have been made into movies, the most recent including GET SHORTY and BE COOL. If that’s not enough of a pedigree, he also wrote HOMBRE, you know, the book before the Paul Newman western? Leonard writes crime capers full of dark humor and knowing bravado. My favorites are the books set in Florida. He’s also the originator of the best writing advice I’ve ever heard. When asked the secret to his best-selling success, Dutch said simply, “I leave out the stuff readers skip over.” Duh. You want more recommendations? Margaret Maron, who has won every award in the mystery-writing world. Some of ’em, she’s won more than once. Full disclosure, Margaret is a dear, wonderful friend. If you haven’t read her, start with THE BOOTLEGGER’S DAUGHTER, the first in her multi-award winning Judge Deborah Knott mystery series. Set in Margaret’s native North Carolina, these mysteries combine small-town Southern sleuthing with keen plotting and an endearing cast of characters. And should you not like mysteries–but, why wouldn’t you?–try another of my favorite recent novels, THE GUERNSEY LITERARY AND POTATO PEEL PIE SOCIETY. It’s set in the immediate post-WWII years in London and the Channel Islands. Who knew Guernsey was occupied by the Nazis during the war? It’s a novel, it’s history, it’s got a charming love story…I loved it so much I’ve bought three copies for friends and family members, including my 80-year-old Aunt Alice. Take it to bed with you and forget, for a few evenings, about the scary stuff going on around us, and remember, at least the Nazis aren’t dropping bombs on us.

A good day for writing, and junking

Pinch of the Past Antique Hardware, Savannah

The Tybeeites are shivering–it might have gotten down to forty degrees here this morning, and beach-dwellers don’t love cold weather. I woke up shortly after 5 am, with pieces of the new book jumping around in my brain. I get like that when it’s been a while since I’ve written. Ideas start to bubble up to the surface from my subconscious (or is it unconscious? I can never keep them straight). I get cranky when I haven’t written in a while–I compare it to imagination constipation. Anyway, I was hearing pieces of dialogue in my head. Finally, I got up and made it over to my laptop. After a couple false starts, I started seeing Weezie. And her mother, the long-suffering Marian. I wrote three pages, then took a break to do house things.
Our contractor is starting to make real progress on the beach house. The plank walls are complete in the living/dining room, and in the utility room and stairwell. The lumber company was delivering bead-board as I was leaving. I drove into Savannah to hunt for old glass door-knobs for the gorgeous old doors that will be installed in Breeze Inn. Maybe you remember how I snagged them at a circa 1920s-era house that was being torn down in the Virginia-Highlands neighborhood in Atlanta. I’d answered an ad for a vintage gas stove, but sadly, the stove wouldn’t work for the beach house. When the owner of the house mentioned he was going to start tearing the house down the following day, I started looking for something to buy. He ended up selling me nine or so solid wood interior doors. They were a bargain at $20 apiece, but he had stripped them all of the doorknobs and mortise sets. I can’t bear the idea of putting cheap, contemporary hardware on these vintage beauties. So I hit some of my favorite antique spots in Savannah. I found two sets of glass knobs at Habersham Antique Market, and the owner, who knows me, let me take them on approval. I found eight more sets at a great architectural salvage shop in the Victorian district, Pinch of the Past, which is located at Whitaker and 43rd Streets. This shop was originally located downtown on Broughton Street, but moved to its new spot in the past year. I took the doorknobs on approval, and headed over to President Street Extension, and Youman’s Antiques. Youman’s is a junky-looking old building, but there are treasures within, if you look hard enough. I found two more sets of knobs there, and will go back to get them, now that I know what I’m looking for. While I was looking at the display case full of assorted odds and ends, I spotted a piece of Jadeite something. It was a slender Jadeite glass towel rod. Missing it’s end brackets, but for $8.50, I scooped it up, and I’m sure when I go back to Pinch of the Past, I’ll find a pair of replacement brackets. Or, if that fails, when I get back to Atlanta, I’ll make a trip to Eugenia’s Antique Hardware in Chamblee. If Eugenia’s doesn’t have it, nobody does. What? You’ve never been to Eugenia’s? It’s totally worth a trip to Atlanta, if you’re jonesing for the good old stuff. That towel bar will be the perfect complement to the vintage green sink from Scott’s Antique Market that’s going in the upstairs guest bath.

When I got back to the house, I showed the knobs to Keith, my contractor. The knobs will work, all right, but he pointed out I’ll still have to buy lock and mortise sets for each of the dozen or so doors we’re outfitting. Gawd knows what that’ll cost. Restoration ain’t no cheap thang, I’ll tell you that right now. At least I won’t have to buy antique hinges for all the doors–I made sure to save them when they were being removed from the house in Virginia Highlands.
And then it was back to work. I ate my customary spaghetti dinner, had a glass of Two-Buck Chuck chardonnay from Trader Joe’s, and sat down to my laptop. Wonder of wonders, I finished the first chapter. Yay me!

Tybee Island Eye Candy

Photos of Fish Camp Cottoge, above by Richard Leo Johnson
So…I’m back at Tybee Island. Today I gave a luncheon talk at Georgia Southern University in Statesboro, and I think I can say a good time was had by all. Then I cruised down U.S. 80 to Tybee. It was a beautiful, sunny fall day. I passed fields full of just-picked cotton, farmhouses, changing leaves. It was a good day to be alive. It was even better when I got to my final destination, Fish Camp Cottage, another one of the adorable Mermaid Cottages. Fish Camp is a Jane Coslick creation, which means every corner of its restoration and decoration was lovingly thought out and executed. I’m going to do a little sidewalk supervising on The Breeze Inn while I’m down here, so stay tuned for new pics of the progress. But mostly, what I hope to be doing is starting my next book. Yes, it’s that time again. The island is quiet, I’ve got my chardonnay and pot of spaghetti, all I need now is some inspiration. Which I should get plenty of from Fish Camp.
If you’ve never been to Tybee for a little R&R, now is the ideal time. Lots of wonderful cottages available for rent, at reasonable prices. Beautiful sunny weather, cool temps, perfect for beach-combing, bike-riding and just hanging out. No traffic to speak of, no waits for a table at Sundae Cafe–our favorite dinner destination, or The Breakfast Club–which has just started serving an expanded lunch menu. Or you could go to The Tybee Market and pick up a steak or some seafood, and stay home and cook. Or drop by the blue seafood market as you come onto the island–do what the natives do and throw yourself an oyster roast. Don’t forget something to read. You could stop by Seaside Sisters and pick up a book–need I suggest a title?

Cottage thoughts

The stack of shelter magazines beside my bed is so high and teetering (not to mention dusty) that I can barely climb into bed at night. But last night I treated myself to the November issue of HOUSE BEAUTIFUL mostly to get a glimpse of Barefoot Contessa Ina Garten’s new barn. But lo and behold, I found a new crush: the Moroccan influenced Miami home of Gene Meyer and Frank De Biasi. It’s hard to tell from these photos, but I think maybe their house is a CBS (concrete block structure) like our little Tybee cottage. Our CBS is currently a radioactive yellow with loud blue trim. Check the Miami house exterior–white stucco? with bold turquoise trim.

But it’s those concrete seahorse reliefs on either side of the front entry that snagged me. I WANT those seahorses. They remind me of all the Florida flourishes on houses of my childhood growing up in St. Petersburg. According to BH, the color on the door is Benjamin Moore Cayman Lagoon. We’re painting the outside of the Breeze Inn a soft turquoise with a little gray in it–I think it’s a Sherwin-Williams color called Aquaduct. How groovy would a pair of those seahorses be on either side of my front door–which will be a hot hibiscus pink screen door with aluminum heron relief that I bought at Brimfield this past summer? Anybody got a couple seahorses hanging out that they don’t want? I also love how they painted their library pink–and crafted those intricate seashell relief doodles. I can tell you right now that Mr. Mary Kay would put the kibosh on that in a New York minute if I tried glueing seashells on the wall of our new house. However, I am going to show him the photo of this sitting room, with its line-up of forties rattan furniture. I’ve been hoarding rattan for years now, just waiting to put it in my virtual beach house. Yes, this magazine is definitely going to the top of the bedside stack.