The Ooh La La Life

What it Looks Like When a Writer Geeks Out

Kimberly Novosel — Thu, 17 May 2012 12:54:36 +0000

Last night I went to a “chat with” type book signing in SoHo featuring author Rosecrans Baldwin reading from his new book, Paris, I Love You But You’re Bringing Me Down as introduced by author Sloane Crosley (I Was Told There’d Be Cake and How Did You Get This Number). To begin, an adorable Sloane, in glasses and a sweet little skirt and striped top combo (très chic) introduced Rosecrans. En français. She does not speak french, she claims, though it was just the right amount of broken for me to actually understand. Then Rosecrans read two passages from Paris and I found myself laughing out loud often. Very promising.

After he read, there was a little Q&A where the author answered questions about his time in Paris, his thoughts on the French, and the process of writing this book. It was very chatty, nothing too heavy, and I found myself wanting to ask questions about the writing process. Like, Does it sometimes drive you to drink? Did you say you write in the morning/How is that possible? (I write later in the day.) And maybe ask advice from both of them for first time authors. (Moi.) But the thought of raising my hand raised my heart rate and I elected to wait until the signing line to speak.

I also wanted to tell Sloane how much I loved that bit she wrote about the antique jewelry catalog:

“This ring, that necklace, had been with a person, now gone, on the best day of her life and the worst. And so they were reminders of how very odd it is to be young. When you are ten or eleven, you know in your heart you have yet to hit either one of those days. But both are out there. Waiting for you. One like the shiny front of a broach and one like the piercing tack hinged to the back.”

I did ask one of my questions while Rosecrans signed my book (see inscription below!) and we had a mini chat about what it’s like to derive so much of your material from your own life. I didn’t get to meet Sloane (she was swarmed) but Rosecrans was gracious, and I very much look forward to reading the book. I promise to let you know what I think of it via my Goodreads page and here as well.

If you pick this one up, please let me know what you think! Also, I hope you enjoyed the potential over-use of parenthesis in this post.

I am a writer.

Kimberly Novosel — Sat, 12 May 2012 02:33:33 +0000

Writing this book is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I sit now, staring at my notes, “Go deeper here. What is she feeling? Is she nervous? Is she cold?” And I put my head in my hands and scrunch up my eyes and think, “I don’t KNOW!” and I want to quit and I want to cry.

But I do know. She’s in another world with this boy. For the amount of time that she lays there in his arms she loses the awareness that she’s at her friend’s house in a sleeping bag. She could have been on the moon for all it mattered. She loses the awareness that she’s blonde, or that there’s a little bump on the bridge of her nose, or that she’s in her yellow and blue flowered pajama pants and they feel soft. Nothing exists but his presence, his words, his eyes, peering deep into her soul.

See? Was that so hard?

Yes.

Why? I’ll never know. I’m a writer because I write. I can’t not write. I can’t not keep pushing and pushing until there are enough words on enough pages and someone tells me to stop and hit print. But I’ll never want to stop. I’ll always want to add words and change words and add pages and create new characters or fill them in more colorfully.

I am a writer.

I’m a writer because my head is still in my hands and I have no idea what to say next and yet I keep going. I’m a writer because when I read back something I wrote just last week for the two hundred and thirty eighth time, imagining it’s the first time I’ve read it and that I didn’t write it myself, I feel pleased because I like it and I did write it myself. So I put it away, but I’ll read it again in another couple of hours and I’ll do the same thing.

I’m a writer because I want to make people laugh and cry and get angry and learn something new and feel moved at my words. Even if “people” is only ever me.

I write for me. I write because I must. It hurts, but I don’t know any other way.

It’s 8:40 on a Friday night. And here I sit, my head in my hands.

One Week Left: Let’s Go Kickstarter!

Kimberly Novosel — Thu, 10 May 2012 19:37:46 +0000

Click here to read more and BACK THIS PROJECT!

Quoted: Fifteen Snippets from “Loved”

Kimberly Novosel — Fri, 04 May 2012 16:30:02 +0000

Want more of a taste of Loved? Here is a random sampling of quotes from the book!

I tucked the Camel coupon from his cigarette pack into my pocket. A souvenir of the moment where he said maybe. I would hold on to his maybe for as long as it would take, even forever.

The voice sang on, “I am ready, I am ready, I am fine. I am fine, I am fine, I am fine.” I played it again. I was not fine.

If they were the jokes, I was the punch line.

And so I just kept writing to myself.

It was strange walking through the empty apartment. My battered purple room was gone, Brittany’s bruised blue was gone. Two coats covered everything. It was like none of it had ever happened.

I threw his framed picture off my balcony just to hear my heart break.

I decided I would fill the emptiness in me with God and with paint.

I wrote. I wrote all the things I couldn’t say to him. I wrote about how much I believed in us. I wrote about how much I trusted God. I wrote that I was praying for him. I wrote down all the jokes I could remember, which weren’t many.

Each guy stamped the passport of my heart. “You’re worthy.” Stamp. “You’re enough.” “You have not failed completely.” Stamp, stamp.

I used to cover my windows in heavy curtains, never drawn. Now I danced in the sunlight on my hardwood floors.

Unfortunately, he still hadn’t asked for my number, or a date, or my hand in marriage, and my drink was getting low.

I didn’t answer. We were not buddies. We could not chat about the proximity of our offices, or football, or forgiveness.

Go for it, my heart said, my heart always said.

I told him I had once lost everything I had, too, and that I think that can be God’s way of building walls around us to force us to look up at Him.

Like what you read? Feel free to post these with the hashtag #LovedBook.

Check out the Kickstarter page to read more about Loved.

A is for Always

Kimberly Novosel — Thu, 03 May 2012 13:29:11 +0000

al·ways
[awl-weyz, -weez]
adverb
1. every time; on every occasion; without exception: He always works on Saturday.
2. all the time; continuously; uninterruptedly: There is always some pollution in the air.
3. forever: Will you always love me?

There is a man. Or sometimes I think I should say boy, despite his age. There is a man/boy. He’s commandingly tall, with strong shoulders. Curly dark hair. An electric smile. He talks fast and moves not so much gracefully but determinedly. Every gesture knows the one that follows. Every step is headed somewhere, even if to the other side of the bar and back again. That’s how we met. He made my summer cocktails.

The french word for always, toujours, also means anyhow, still, and yet.

But that’s not how we fell in love. We fell in love in the car, singing at the top of our voices, holding hands. We fell in love in the quiet space of the fields that surrounded us, with the sureness of the road that lay ahead. And even if we never pass by that way again, in that field, on that road, we are still in love. Still. Anyhow. Yet.

“You will always be my always.” -David Levithan

When I think of him, I cannot think of any other word than the word always. I don’t have any other feeling than the feeling of always. Continuously, without exception, forever.

There was a time we were out of touch. I changed jobs. I traveled to France and back. I bought a home. I began to prefer red wine over white. I dated someone else. He moved to a new city. He bought a car. He cut his hair shorter. He traveled to France and back. Then he wrote to me. I hope all is well with you and I think of you always, he said. Now we write letters until the ink runs out.

But I have a feeling there will always be ink.

American Sign Language: “always”

The sign for “always” can also be used to mean forever and eternity. (There are other variations for “forever” and “eternity” though. My point is that all three concepts can be expressed by the sign for “ALWAYS.”)

To do the sign for “always” hold your index finger up in the air, palm back, and draw a couple of large circles. The movement is not small like the movement used for “single/someone/something” — instead the movement is much larger–more like the size of a saucer (small dish). All of the movement is in the elbow. None of the movement is in the finger or wrist, they are kept straight.

The movement is not small.

It’s funny the things that bring two people together. Someone asked me recently what it was that drew me to him. It’s a series of small things that made a large movement. It’s also funny what can keep two people apart. It’s a series of small things that can prevent a large movement.

I don’t know how this story ends. Maybe because it will go on forever. Continuously. Anyhow.

Always.

Meet the women who inspired the characters in Loved!

Kimberly Novosel — Wed, 02 May 2012 13:13:22 +0000

I asked some of the most amazing women I know about their “Loved” stories; to share what it was that grabbed ahold of them and tried to pull them down when they were trying to grow from girls to women. Many of these stories are from the women who inspired characters in the book, proof that we do survive and shine. Now they are generous, confident, smart, and driven; wonderful mothers, cherished wives, inspiring friends.

Here are their responses.

“The hardest beast I’ve had to face has been my abuse with alcohol and my abuse of my self-esteem by dating the wrong men, and both of those happening together at the same time. Our demon on our shoulder likes to whisper seductive lies and tell us we will be happy if we listen to him. But it only aids in a slow, painful, lonely, depressing, death of a life that once used to be filled with God’s love. I climbed out only by his unending love, the love of an amazing man who I call my husband, and my 2 precious sons who remind me everyday that life is enjoyed the most by those who follow the Lord and love him.”

“I had a few disappointing relationships that ultimately helped me learn about myself and what I needed to be looking for in a man. While in the midst of this learning process, one of my breakups was so devastating that it launched me into a depression that brought me so low I didn’t even recognize myself anymore. I was so co-dependant that I didn’t know how to detach from him and it took years before I was able to move on…We learn to live with those hurts and choose happiness with the blessings God does bestow on us (and those are INCREDIBLE) but those past memories, hurts, and joys always hang over us, watching us in our new lives in their own way.”

“Though moving to a new city where I didn’t know a soul had always been a dream of mine, it never occurred to me how difficult of an adjustment it would be. Instead of feeling exhilarated and grown-up, I was lonely and uncertain, missing my family, and spending as much time as possible on the phone with friends from home and college. The plan was easy to execute, but the emotions that came along with it were unexpected and there were so many days I wanted to pack up and go home. With the encouragement of friends and the kindness of strangers, I convinced myself that it was too soon to give up on this goal…The remaining months I lived there are full of laughter, music, friendship, and memories that never fail to make me smile. If I had let my fear of being alone drive me back to what was comfortable, I would not be as strong as I am today.”

Being far away from home, trouble making friends, unhealthy relationships, alcohol abuse, hard breakups, these struggles are all touched on in the book, and more. This really isn’t my story, as I keep saying, it’s the story of every girl and it needs to be told.

Please spread the word on by posting a blog, tweeting, or sharing on Facebook. Email kimberly (at) kimberlynovosel (dot) com for interview inquiries. Use #lovedbook!

Here are some Q&A’s that have been posted on two fabulous book blogs!
Books and Bowel Movements & A Novel Place

An Exploration of Grief: Thoughts on Sarah Manguso’s “The Guardians”

Kimberly Novosel — Sun, 22 Apr 2012 17:39:36 +0000

The Guardians: An Elegy by Sarah Manguso

My rating: 3 of 5 stars

My only complaint about this book is that it wasn’t longer. It’s not quite novel length but is a little longer than a short story. The writing is stunning. Sarah Manguso writes about grief in a way that its mysterious to her and yet familiar to you. You almost want to ask her to coffee just to say to her, “I understand.” The book isn’t so much an homage to her lost friend as it is the exploration of the feelings that follow loss, the memories that sharpen, the clarity of understanding that fades, and how all of those things tumble around like clothes in a dryer. Just like in life, the end doesn’t bring resolution, but you’ll always want more.

View all my reviews

The Loved Video: “We are already becoming who we are going to be.”

Kimberly Novosel — Thu, 19 Apr 2012 13:59:26 +0000

Click to check out Loved on Kickstarter.

Book Announcement: “Loved” is on Kickstarter!

Kimberly Novosel — Wed, 18 Apr 2012 13:00:04 +0000

So many of you have asked how you can get involved in the pre-release of Loved. There is now a way you can show your support by backing the project on Kickstarter! The book is ready for final editing, printing to hardcover, and formatting for digital readers but I need your help to do that. Check out the Kickstarter video and read all the details. You can even get all kinds of exclusive rewards for backing the project like unpublished bonus material, copies of the book before anyone else has it, or a private book release party!

I have to hit my goal in less than 30 days to get any of the pledged funds, so please help spread the word by posting on your blog or facebook page and telling all your friends about this unique opportunity to be a part of the release of a book!

Click the photo to go to the Kickstarter page!

The Sharp Edges of Broken People: Thoughts on “Girlchild” by Tupelo Hassman

Kimberly Novosel — Tue, 17 Apr 2012 19:04:25 +0000

Girlchild: A Novel by Tupelo Hassman

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

I had to read the first page five times before I could move on, for Girlchild opens with the kind of writing that I will from my own fingertips. Beautiful, brilliant metaphors about life and pain. As the story unfolds, I found myself captivated by the life in which Rory Dawn is trapped, cheering her on to find a way out before the sharp edges of the broken people around her have trapped her for good. Raw and fearless, at times so much so that it’s hard to swallow, Girlchild is an honest and moving portrait of how rough life can be and how some patterns refuse to be broken. Read it!

View all my reviews