I crossed the 50,000 word mark with my novel in progress, Pears, yesterday. This feels hugely significant to me, possibly because 50,000 words is the goal of National Novel Writing Month, plus it's such a nice big juicy round number. These 50,000 words took a year rather than a month to write, though--one of the most challenging years of my life; between the separation/divorce, taking on more teaching, and dealing with other assorted life issues, it hasn't always been easy for me to find the time/energy/focus to write. Some small part of me was worried I'd never finish this novel, that I'd have to keep renegotiating my contract with Ballantine, but reaching this milestone makes me feel as if November 1st is a do-able deadline now. Of course I'll have plenty of revision to do after this draft is complete--this draft almost feels like an outline of what the book wants to become--but just getting the story down will be such a relief. The fact that I've done NaNoWriMo twice gives me confidence that I can crank out the rest of the book with a little less than three months to go. If I finish in time, maybe I can even take part in NaNoWriMo this year!

The pears that I picked up at the Pear Fair in the Sacrmento Delta two weeks ago are ripe now; it is so lovely to be able to picture the orchard the pears came from, to watch them transform from hard and green to soft, yellow, fragrant, delicious. My novel doesn't feel ripe yet, but it's getting there, and I can finally trust that it will come to full fruition.

California is an amazing state. Sure, we have the occasional earthquake that goes on and on until you're not sure the ground beneath your feet will ever be stable again, and sometimes our mountains catch on fire, but man. What a gorgeous place. I'm not necessarily talking about Riverside (although, despite my daughter's protestations, it does have its own beauty and charm). Over the last couple of weeks, I've had a chance to take in different parts of the state's character--the slow, quiet pace of the Delta region, with its burgeoning pears and ears of corn and rivers that can't help but make you take a deep breath and settle into yourself a bit. The gentle rolling hills of Sonoma wine country, the unexpected drive through redwood forests (where the light changed as it came through the trees, turned green and syrupy, like really good olive oil). The signs to watch out for deer, and then actual deer appearing, bounding through the woods. The bursting out onto PCH with its rugged drops into the ocean. Breathtaking, truly.

I had never been to Mendocino before, and am so grateful I had a chance to soak it in during my time at the Mendocino Coast Writers Conference, even though my time was abbreviated; I had to miss the first couple of days of the conference because of my teaching schedule, and then missed my Friday night reading because of a late plane and bad (5 hr) traffic--by the time I got to the bookstore, everyone was gone, alas, and only a few cubes of cheese remained on the snack tray. But the time I did get to spend at the conference was rich and sweet; an utterly lovely group of both faculty and participants, all brought together by the director, Charlotte Gullick, who is charming and funny and does a beautiful job of making the conference tick--all while giving it a social change emphasis. To top everything off, she put me up in a stunning local guest house that had a huge skylight over the bed so I could see the stars as I fell asleep at night, and windows out to the ocean and the deer during the day. I look forward to returning to the area some day and having more time to explore, more time to partake of all its gifts.

Another reason to like Obama--he believes in fruit. :)

This is super last last last minute, but I wanted to let you know I'll be bellydancing at the Orange County Fair today at 4:30pm on the Main Mall Stage. It's fun to think about dancing at a county fair again--until this year, the last time I performed as a bellydancer was at the LA County Fair 15 years ago, when I was six months pregnant with Hannah! I seem to be in fair mode right now--last weekend, I attended the Pear Fair up in the Sacramento Delta as extra research for my novel; a sweet and yummy day.

I'll be teaching at the Mendocino Coast Writers Conference this weekend; I hope to do more blogging upon my return. Until then, take care!

I was gearing up to write a blog about how my 14 year old daughter was stranded alone at the airport in New York for several hours on Wednesday (seven of those in a grounded plane with a faulty AC system before the flight was canceled), how scary and frustrating it was to be so far away from her and not be able to do anything, how vulnerable and helpless I felt. But then I received an email this morning that put everything in perspective.

Vicki Forman, who writes the beautiful Special Needs Mama column at Literary Mama, lost her son Evan to a sudden unexpected illness yesterday. I just had dinner with Vicki and a bunch of other writer mamas last month after the Maternal is Political reading in Pasadena, and she spoke of Evan, who would have turned 8 on the 30th, with such tenderness and humor and love. My heart aches for her and her family as they process this incomprehensible loss.

I find I can no longer complain about Hannah's airport ordeal. Sure, it was a long confusing day, and Hannah didn't get home until 4am, but she is home, and she is safe and I can wrap my arms around her. As I waited for her at the gate at LAX, there was a large crowd waiting to board a plane to Guadalajara, and they had turned the terminal into a party--little kids running around, people playing guitar and drums and doing raucous versions of the Macarena at 2am. The rest of the airport was totally quiet except for the floor cleaning machines, but this little corner had become a festival. It was a lovely way to welcome Hannah back.

I can only begin to imagine the silence that Vicki and her family are facing today, even with all the support the community is sending their way. Marjorie Osterhout has set up a memorial fund in Evan's name; if you wish to make a donation, please click here

A couple of events on the horizon...

--I'll be teaching a workshop on Writing for Social Change at the Mendocino Coast Writers Conference August 2nd (my sister/niece/grandmother's birthday!) The conference runs from July 31st-August 3rd. I'm excited--I've never been to Mendocino before, and have heard wonderful things about both the area and the conference.

--I'll be speaking at the annual fundraiser for the Democratic Club of Carlsbad-Oceanside on Sunday, August 10th (thanks to my mom for setting this up!)

And, because things have been so quiet around here lately, let me leave you with an image of someone who seems to love strawberries as much as I do (thanks, Michael, for sending me the link):

I was delighted to see this reference to Obama talking about writing and reading at a recent event:

There was one question in particular of interest to us book lovers, and that came from a woman who asked what Obama would say to young writers. He was surprised by the question, which he admitted was one he hadn’t heard before, but didn’t hesitate to answer. He referenced his two books, and specifically mentioned how he wrote them himself, along with many of his speeches. With a light inflection, he said, “In terms of getting a job, knowing how to write is a good thing.” He talked about how he kept a journal, and how it was important for teaching him not only how to write, but also how to think. But my favorite part was when he said, “Over the course of four years I made time to read all of the Harry Potter books out loud to my daughters. If I can do that and run for president, then you can find time to read to your kids. That’s some of the most special time you have with your children.”

How refreshing to have a potential president who can actually read and write and think (his recent FISA vote excepted!)

I was also delighted to read about this recent Barbara Ehrenriech event at Skylight Books in which she shifted the spotlight away from herself and invited labor organizers who work with local car wash employees to speak about their current struggle. She was able to get the audience engaged in this very real issue--I love how she took her activism off the page and into the room, how she used her platform as a writer to give others a voice. Very inspiring indeed.

If you've read my book Fruitflesh or taken any of my classes, you're probably well aware of the fact that a strawberry changed my life. You probably not know, however, that there is a wild horse connection to that life-changing strawberry. I myself had forgotten about it until just recently.

The subject of wild horses has been rising up all around me lately. In the LA Times last Sunday, I read the front page book review piece about Deanne Stillman's latest book, Mustang with great interest. A couple of days ago, I received an email from Deanne, a fellow teacher at UCR Palm Desert, although we haven't yet crossed paths (I loved her first book, Twentynine Palms). She asked me to pass along info about her upcoming reading in Norco for local readers (sidenote: I was once the movie and restaurant reviewer for the now defunct rag, the Norco Pony Express--I have many stories to share about that experience). Norco is a fitting place for a reading about wild horses; it is a real horse town--my niece trains for horse shows there, and there are places where people can tie up their horses in front of every fast food establishment (not sure if people can ride them through the drive-throughs, too!) Here's the info about Deanne's reading:

it's at the Norco library in Riverside County on July 26 at 11 am. Address is 3954 Old Hamner Rd, Norco 92860.

"Mustang" tells the story of the wild horse on this continent, from prehistory through its plight today, with chapters on its return to the Americas with conquistadors, its partnership with Native Americans, its role on the frontier, and its plight today (round-ups, massacres). The big question my book asks is why are we, a cowboy nation, betraying the horse we rode in on?

It was while finishing up my previous book, "Twentynine Palms: A True Story of Murder, Marines, and the Mojave," that I began my journey down the wild horse trail, after learning of the massacre of 34 wild horses outside Reno. Two of the accused were Marines and one was stationed at Twentynine Palms. Having grown up around horses, I was drawn to the story.

I find myself drawn to the story now, too. Just today, I received an email petition from Care2 asking us to urge the BLM to not kill wild horses, as they have planned. I hope we can find a way to protect these majestic creatures.

As for the strawberry/wild horse connection...After Ms. Sweers gave everyone in my high school philosophy class a strawberry and had us explore it with all our senses but taste for five minutes, then take five more minutes to eat the strawberry, slowly, mindfully, she showed us a short, wordless film of wild horses, set to soaring music. Wild horses stampeding across fields, wild horses crossing rivers, wild horses--strangely, disturbingly--running through fire. It was only after the film was over that she asked us to write haiku about our experience. I had forgotten about the film part of the exercise until now. I was so thoroughly mindblown, woken up, by the strawberry, it makes sense that's what has burned most brightly in my memory over the years, but now I remember feeling some wild part of me stir as I watched those horses gallop across the screen, strawberry still zinging on my tongue. The horses didn't enter my poem, but they set something racing inside my heart at the time. It makes me very happy to think of them still running free; may that ever continue, despite all the challenges they face today...

This Sunday, July 13th at 7pm, I'm going to be part of a panel on Activist Writing sponsored by PEN Center USA. The other panelists are Celesete Fremon, George Larkin, and my amazing former Antioch mentor, Diane Lefer. It will be so wonderful to reconnect with her, especially now that I am an Antioch mentor, myself. My time at the residency was incredibly rich--inspiring and energizing (even as it was exhausting!) I am thrilled to be able to work with my group of mentees.

The event this Sunday is going to be held at a private residence in Los Angeles; if you're interested in attending, please email Victoria McCoy at Victoria@penusa.org and she'll send you the address (you can email me for the info, too, but you'll also have to email Victoria to rsvp.)

Sorry for the silence around here--life has been a dizzy spin (sometimes exhilarating, sometimes disorienting) and my brain has not been able to find any blogging space for a while. Until I do find that space, here is a blast from the past--an "Odd Shelf" I pulled together for Readerville five ago has been reprinted at the now-online Readerville Journal. It's great to see the Journal resurrected. The same part of my brain that doesn't have time for blogging hasn't had time--in ages, alas--to dip into the vibrant forums at Readerville, but I'll be forever grateful for the community and friendships I found there.

Hope you're all having a wonderful summer. I have some good writerly news to share, but I think I'll wait until the contract is signed before I spread the word in a public way--I don't want to jinx myself! If you're super-curious, drop me an email and I'll whisper it in your digital ear...

Talk about fruitflesh! Here, artist Sigalit Landau floats naked with watermelons in the Dead Sea. Imagine how it would feel to be bobbing in salt water, surrounded by cool round fruit. A good feeling to access in the middle of all this heat!

I have been moved to tears by all the beautiful photos of same sex weddings in the media this week--it's humbling to see such pure joy. I was delighted to learn today that one of my lovely Palm Desert MFA students, Bryan Burch, and his partner Mark, were the first same sex couple to get married in San Bernardino County. Mazel tov, Bryan and Mark, and all other couples who can finally tie the legal knot that should have been yours all along.

This is a much much less historic occasion, but still a landmark in my little world--tomorrow (well, today, to be technical about it) I begin my stint as a faculty member at the Antioch MFA residency. I graduated from the program in 2001; it is awfully cool to be able to step through the looking glass and join the program now as a mentor; I'm sure I'll learn just as much in this role as I did as a mentee!

Today, I took part in the UCR graduation--my first graduation as a faculty member. I felt like a little kid playing dress up--the only robes they could find for me were huge; they swept the floor as I walked, and my hands got lost inside the enormous sleeves. I sat on the stage with other faculty members and watched my wonderful students--some of whom I've had every quarter since I started teaching at UCR last summer--get their diplomas. I think back to when my husband graduated from UCR 13 years ago and I was a shy young mother, just starting to write fiction, sitting in the bleachers under the hot sun. I never could have imagined that 13 years later, I'd be on the stage among the faculty. I never could have imagined that 13 years later, I'd be in the middle of a divorce. Life is full of so many surprises.

My son graduated from high school on Tuesday. He'll be starting UCR in the fall. I can barely wrap my mind around the fact that we will be able to have lunch together--him as a college student, me as faculty--on the same campus where I used to push him around in a stroller when we lived in student family housing.

At his graduation, I sat on the "Visitor" side of the field while his dad sat on the "Home" side--this wasn't intentional; the crowd was utter chaos, and my parents and I took seats where we could find them. It was fitting, though--my son is living with his dad, while our daughter is living with me, so I am very much a visitor in his life right now. It is hard to not see him every day, but thankfully we're still close; I suppose when kids reach this age, we're all just visitors in their lives. It's such a time of letting go. I am grateful for any amount of time I can spend with my beautiful boy (who has grown into a beautiful man).

Congratulations to Arin and to my graduating students. I am so proud of all of you.

In Liz Bradfield's fantastic workshop, "Rough Music: Incorporating Other Voices into Poems", she had us do a very cool exercise. She asked us to quickly write lyrics from songs we knew in high school, then she had us write down as many facts as we could about Alaska, then a list of words or rules from a trade, then phrases we knew in foreign languages, with translations, then mathematical or scientific formulas, then phrases we had overheard recently. She had also given us a sheet full of information about glaciers and the natural history of the area and asked us to circle the words and phrases that jumped out at us. After we did this, she had us pass the resulting pages to the person on our left, and she asked us to write a poem using their words.

This is what I came up with--all the words are from my neighbor, none are my own, yet in stringing them together, and choosing a line of her lyrics as a refrain, I found they spoke to me in an unexpected and profound way:

I have more memories than if I were a hundred years old
But you don't know me.
Saws, hammers, nails, vises, levels, drills, planes, screwdrivers, screws, chisels
But you don't know me.
E=MCsquared
But you don't know me.
Four or five ducks rose out of the sedge
But you don't know me.
The sky is above the roof
But you don't know me.
Plumb lines, trucks, lifts, siding, sheetrock, tiles, concrete
But you don't know me.
Magpies were in the balsalms
But you don't know me.
Cirque, corrie, cwm
But you don't know me.
They disappeared with a magic velocity
But you don't know me.
Je vous en pris (You're welcome)
But you don't know me.

During one of his wonderful talks at the Kachemak Bay Writers' Conference, Alaska State Writer Laureate John Straley talked about how as a child, he would take pictures with his mind. He'd look at something he wanted to remember, click his eyes like a camera shutter, and burn the image into his brain. Because I couldn't take many pictures with my camera, here are some mental snapshots from Homer, Alaska:

--Watching otters roll through the water, their hands clasped together as if in prayer, their bodies obviously loving the slow sinuous turning. Seeing some mother otters swimming on their backs, their babies perched on their bellies. Learning that otters have over a million hairs per square inch of their bodies to keep them warm in the cold water.

--Glancing out my window as a bald eagle soared by (this happened several times, but never grew old!)

--Hearing Nora Dauenhauer, Tlingit elder, read her classic poem, "How to Make Good Baked Salmon" (which we were told is read at barbeques all over Alaska.)

--Meeting the most wonderful group of people (I wish there were pictures of all the participants as well as all the faculty!)

--Seeing Anne Lamott pick up one of my books during one of her talks, and say "This is why we love books", then ruffling through the pages to show people the sound of a book, raising the book to her rose to show people how delicious books smell. So cool to see The Book of Dead Birds in her hands! So cool to get to know Anne, too, and to soak in her inspiration (I have many mental snapshots of her sweet face).

--Watching John Straley and David Gessner emerge, stunned and triumphant, from the frigid bay after their post-reading dip (it wasn't surprising to learn that David can be quite the wild man!)

--Watching the light change over the course of the day, gathering in luminous pools on the tops of certain mountains, turning thin and silvery at times, pink and golden at others. Coalescing into the most brilliant rainbow I've ever seen the first night I was there.

--Not seeing whales (sadly), but meeting several people who study whales and who will be great resources if I need to pick brains as I write the whale scenes of my novel-in-progress. Eve Saulitis has studied killer whales for 20 years, recounted in her amazing essay collection, Leaving Resurrection; Nancy Lord has written a wonderful book, Beluga Days, about her work with white whales; Liz Bradfield has studied humpbacks--the whales in my novel--with her partner, and has several whale poems in her gorgeous collection, Interpretive Work; John Straley's wife happens to be a humpback expert, as well. I was deeply moved and inspired by the number of writers at the conference who are also naturalists (it was a boon when we were on the boat tour and Liz was able to name all the birds we saw and give us great information about their behavior; her binoculars, which she let me look through a couple of times, were not too shabby, either). It made me want to spend more time in the wild, observing, learning.

--Marveling at the dandelions. Alaskan dandelions are the most beautiful, robust dandelions I've ever seen. They're dandelions on steriods--big and bright and healthy, their stems succulent and strong. I'm sure 20 hours of light a day helps contribute to their vigor. Of all the wildlife I saw in Homer, it's strangely the dandelions that burn most vividly in my mind now.

--Listening to the amazing, generous work the participants produced in my workshops. I taught three classes--"Finding Your Authentic Voice", "Writing from the Senses" and "Embodying Our Characters"--and the writing that sprang from them blew me away.

--Finding a moose! My last hour in Homer, I told Jo-Ann Mapson (with whom I've shared both professors and editors over the years--so wonderful to connect with her) that I hadn't seen a moose yet, and I asked if we could go in search of one. Everyone else at the conference had seen a moose, it seemed, but I had not been so lucky. So we set out in her car and drove around Homer to no avail; as we were headed back, though, Jo-Ann said "There's one!" I wouldn't have seen it--a pale moose in a little dip of grass by the road--if she hadn't said anything. She pulled over and I ran across the street with her camera to get closer (she's going to send me pictures later); it turned out the moose was a mother, and her baby, a darker caramel color, stood right behind her. The mother turned her head and stared at me, the hair on her back raised and bristled. Jo-Ann later told me that I had gotten a bit too close. But I'm grateful that I was able to get a good close look, that my moose quest was successful. It was a wonderful way to end my time in Homer.

Flying into the Ontario airport was a bit depressing--everything looked so brown and smoggy and industrial. It made me miss the pristine, wide open space of Alaska, the fresh air, the wildness. I hope to return someday and spend even more time exploring the area. For now, I have my mental snapshots to take me back!

I hope to have some time soon to write in depth about my trip to Alaska. Until then, I'll leave you with this picture (one of the few I had a chance to snap before my camera bit the dust.) I took this on a boat tour as we neared Gull Island. When we got closer to the rocks, a bald eagle approached and hundreds of birds took to the air. The captain warned all of us to keep our mouths closed--bird droppings were showering everywhere--but it's hard to keep one's mouth closed in the face of total awe.

Here are some changes to the June schedule I posted a while back:

--On Wednesday, June 11th at 7pm, I'll be reading at the UCLA Extension Writers Program Publication Party (I'm not listed on the roster yet--I had been on the waiting list and space just opened up for me.)

--My event at the Long Beach Library has been moved from Thursday, June 19th to Saturday, June 28th at 2pm. I will also be reading from The Maternal is Political at Vroman's in Pasadena on the 28th at 5pm.

--My reading at Antioch University will be on Sunday, June 22, not the 21st as I originally mentioned. The reading starts at 5:15. I'll be sharing the stage with my friend Alistair McCartney, whose new novel, The End of the World Book, is utterly mind-blowing, and deserves a blog-post of its own some time soon. Alistair and I will both be teaching at the Antioch MFA residency from June 19-28th. I'll also be teaching at UCR during that time; it's going to be a bit hectic--lots of driving--but should be a lot of fun.)

In case I don't have a chance to check in while I'm in Alaska, see you after I return!

I am so thrilled to be included in this amazing new anthology, The Maternal is Political: Women Writers at the Intersection of Motherhood and Social Change. When the book arrived in the mail a couple of days ago, I was stunned to see my name on the cover, in such incredible company. I have a feeling people will pick up the book and nod as they read every name. Then they'll come to mine, do a double take, and say "Who?" I almost feel as if the inclusion of my name on the cover is a joke--I suppose it's sort of the way I used to feel when I went into a bookstore and saw my work on the shelf and figured the bookseller was just humoring me by having it there. It didn't seem possible to me that I was actually a full-fledged author with a real book that people could buy and read. It still sometimes doesn't seem possible to me! I'm very honored and grateful to be part of this new collection--it's a book that will inspire you (maybe even move you to action!)

Every once in a while, I check my stats to see what search terms have brought people to this blog. Most of the (few) people who end up here seem--to my amusement--to come for reasons that have nothing to do with me or my work. Many are searching for the Calvin and Hobbes dead bird comic strip. A bunch lately have been looking for poems about turning 40. Someone recently was looking for "Halfway the 90th century shell started to realize that there had to be more socially responsible for the society" (I suppose it's nice to know that in the future, shells will be socially responsible!) So amidst such entries, I was quite tickled when today I discovered that someone in Italy did a search for "'gayle brandeis' confection."

Most likely, they were looking for my poem, comfit, but it's fun to imagine what a gayle brandeis confection would look like, what it would taste like. I hope it would be frosted the color of jacaranda blossoms, which are blooming everywhere right now and are making me so happy (although I guess I have to stop rhapsodizing about them. My daughter told me "Enough with the jacarandas" the other day when I couldn't stop my oohing and ahhing on the way to school.) A gayle brandeis confection wouldn't necessarily be as pretty as this painting, though. It might be a little bit sloppy. A bit undercooked. Maybe with a salt crystal embedded somewhere inside. That sounds good to me--I love caramels spiked with sea salt. A bite of sharp mixed with the sweet.

If you did come here because you were actually searching for me, and not because you're looking for a comic strip or poem or strangely translated sentence, you can find a little profile of me in the Homer News (I'll be in Homer, Alaska a week from today!)

If you were a candy, what kind would you be?

The lovely Madame Mayo graciously invited me to be a guest-blogger on her site. Guest-blogs there, more often than not, are centered around a list of 5 things, based on the guest-bloggers' whim (recent ones include 5 Whale Music Links, 5 Favorite Baja Writers' Websites, and Top 5 Research Sites for Historical Novelists). As I played around with potential list subjects, I remembered my favorite grouping of five: the senses. You can read the resulting list, Five Works of Fiction that Explore the Senses in Fresh Strange Ways, here.

I've been going through a sad and confusing time lately, a time of much change, much transition. Along with all the heartbreak, though, there is the rush of new beginnings, and I am trying to say YES to my future with a wide open heart.

A couple of weeks ago, I wore the YES necklace that my sister gave me for my birthday. When my friend and colleague Judy Kronenfeld saw it, she asked if I had read Muriel Rukeyser's Yes poem. I hadn't--which surprises me, given my love of Rukeyser and all my YES research as I wrote Self Storage--so she whipped out a copy. Here it is:

It’s like a tap dance
Or a new pink dress
A shit-naïve feeling
Saying Yes.

Some say Good morning
Some say God bless-
Some say Possibly
Others say Yes.

Some say Never
Some say Unless
It’s stupid and lovely
To rush into Yes.

What can it mean?
It’s just like life
One thing to you
One to your wife.

Some go local
Some go express
Some can’t wait
To answer Yes.

Some complain
Of strain and stress
The answer may be
No for Yes.

Some like failure
Some like success
Some like Yes Yes
Yes Yes Yes.

Open your eyes,
Dream but don’t guess.
Your biggest surprise
Comes after Yes.

Life is full of so many surprises right now. I am trying to approach them with curiosity, with open eyes, instead of fear; I am trying to approach them with an attitude of YES. Not always easy, I admit. I find myself weeping at the oddest moments. But then that passes and I feel clear and strong and eager to see what will happen next. Yes yes yes yes yes yes yes.

A few weeks ago, this editorial, Protests Only Embarrass Troops, appeared in the Press-Enterprise, and I couldn't not respond. You'll find my rebuttal (quite heavily edited by the paper) here.

CODEPINK is most notorious for our outrageous acts of activism--disrupting congressional hearings, dropping huge "pink slips" from sides of buildings, etc.--so sometimes our more quiet acts don't get as much attention, even though they are equally (and sometimes even more) powerful. I am very proud of our current campaign to help Iraq refugees. Here you can see the latest alert I wrote to encourage people to honor the original anti-war intention of Mother's Day by donating to help the displaced mothers of Iraq.

A few more events on the horizon:

-Tuesday, May 13th, 6pm: Covina Library
-Sunday, May 18th, 3pm: Raqs LA Dance Festival
-Thursday, May 29, 11am: Brandeis Women's Book and Author Luncheon, Rancho Santa Fe
-Friday, June 6-Tuesday, June 10: Kachemak Bay Writers Conference, Homer, Alaska
-Monday, June 16, 6:30pm Buena Park Library
-Wednesday, June 18, , 6pm, Alta Dena Library
-Thursday, June 19, 5pm, Bay Shore Library (Long Beach)
-Saturday, June 21, Arcadia Library, 2pm (I think I'll also be reading at Antioch University that evening)

I have more to add, but I'll do that when the time draws nearer. I still can't believe I'm going to Alaska (and racing home to get to my son's high school graduation)! June should be a rich and crazy month; May already is...

A brief note to let you know where you can find me over the next few days:

Tomorrow, Sunday, May 4th, at 2:30pm, I will be moderating a panel on the "Spirit and Craft of Writing: Finding What Works" with Alex Espinoza, Kathryn Jordan, and Marisa Silver at the Palm Springs Book Festival. The festival runs from 10am-6pm and is chock full of great readings and panels, even cooking demonstrations!

Tuesday, May 6th, at 11am, I will be giving the keynote address at San Bernardino Valley College's Humanities Day.

I hope some of you can come and make funny faces at me while I'm on stage! :)