Hi, Cornelia! Happy New Year. (I know, that’s not a question).
Happy New Year back to you! (I know, that’s not an answer, but still...)
I think you’ve probably been asked all of the mainstream questions already, so I’ll stay on the periphery with mine. First, Lee Child called you “wry, knowing, hip” in his assessment of your debut, Field of Darkness. Have you always been hip?
I think I was hip once for about eight minutes in 1967. Unfortunately, I was both four years old and asleep the entire time.
I'm guessing you're too modest to attest to your own hip-ness. Some DLers were comparing your jacket photo to the stylish Grace Kelly. Are you a fan of her flicks? Aren’t there some interesting parallels between you and Grace? Aside from your blonde beauty?
I am sitting here at the computer hugely blushing at your very kind words, O Most Gorgeous Julia, (Note to self: buy stock in Photoshop. Photoshop is my friend.)
I think I told you at Bouchercon that I feel like I always look like either Queen Victoria or The Joker in photographs—depending on whether or not I smile.
And poor Princess Grace must be spinning in her afterlife at tremendous velocity! She is of course impeccably coiffed and Chanel-clad, despite the RPMs. I am wearing an Ernie Ball Guitars T-shirt (“Balls are Best!” http://www.ernieball.com/) and second-hand jeans that are better left undescribed, for the sake of the children. Also, my intrepid spouse has just informed me that I have a big fat wad of dryer lint in my hair (hair which cannot be described as blonde without heavy reliance on “air quotes.”)
That would pretty much shoot down the parallels?
She made wonderful movies. I am especially fond of Rear Window.
I don't see The Joker thing, but there is a certain proudness to your profile that I can see as regal. Not a bad thing.
Happy New Year back to you! (I know, that’s not an answer, but still...)
I think you’ve probably been asked all of the mainstream questions already, so I’ll stay on the periphery with mine. First, Lee Child called you “wry, knowing, hip” in his assessment of your debut, Field of Darkness. Have you always been hip?
I think I was hip once for about eight minutes in 1967. Unfortunately, I was both four years old and asleep the entire time.
I'm guessing you're too modest to attest to your own hip-ness. Some DLers were comparing your jacket photo to the stylish Grace Kelly. Are you a fan of her flicks? Aren’t there some interesting parallels between you and Grace? Aside from your blonde beauty?
I am sitting here at the computer hugely blushing at your very kind words, O Most Gorgeous Julia, (Note to self: buy stock in Photoshop. Photoshop is my friend.)
I think I told you at Bouchercon that I feel like I always look like either Queen Victoria or The Joker in photographs—depending on whether or not I smile.
And poor Princess Grace must be spinning in her afterlife at tremendous velocity! She is of course impeccably coiffed and Chanel-clad, despite the RPMs. I am wearing an Ernie Ball Guitars T-shirt (“Balls are Best!” http://www.ernieball.com/) and second-hand jeans that are better left undescribed, for the sake of the children. Also, my intrepid spouse has just informed me that I have a big fat wad of dryer lint in my hair (hair which cannot be described as blonde without heavy reliance on “air quotes.”)
That would pretty much shoot down the parallels?
She made wonderful movies. I am especially fond of Rear Window.
I don't see The Joker thing, but there is a certain proudness to your profile that I can see as regal. Not a bad thing.
As you know, I read and loved Field of Darkness, and I saw on your Naked Authors blog that your next book is called The Crazy School. What’s the premise for Madeline Dare’s next adventure? When does the book come out?
I think I just finished the final edits on The Crazy School this afternoon, at long last. It’s due out about a year from now—winter, 2008.
Madeline’s teaching at a “therapeutic” boarding school for emotionally disturbed kids outside Stockbridge, Massachusetts, in 1989. The students are great, but the school’s administrators are so vile that Madeline’s husband Dean tells her, “if you stay in that place one more week, they’re going to shave your head and make you sell flowers in an airport.”
I taught at a very similar place in 1989—The DeSisto School, outside Stockbridge, Massachusetts.
I am still haunted by what was done there in the name of therapy, and have never felt more strongly that I was in the presence of pure evil.
The Commonwealth of Massachusetts finally pulled the school’s license two years ago. I guess they could no longer ignore what was going on there, following reports that school staff had waited ninety minutes to call 911 after a student swallowed razor blades.
The Crazy School is fiction, but there’s a lot of truth in it, all the same. I still wish I could have loaded all the kids into my station wagon and taken them someplace safe.
That's terrible!
I think I just finished the final edits on The Crazy School this afternoon, at long last. It’s due out about a year from now—winter, 2008.
Madeline’s teaching at a “therapeutic” boarding school for emotionally disturbed kids outside Stockbridge, Massachusetts, in 1989. The students are great, but the school’s administrators are so vile that Madeline’s husband Dean tells her, “if you stay in that place one more week, they’re going to shave your head and make you sell flowers in an airport.”
I taught at a very similar place in 1989—The DeSisto School, outside Stockbridge, Massachusetts.
I am still haunted by what was done there in the name of therapy, and have never felt more strongly that I was in the presence of pure evil.
The Commonwealth of Massachusetts finally pulled the school’s license two years ago. I guess they could no longer ignore what was going on there, following reports that school staff had waited ninety minutes to call 911 after a student swallowed razor blades.
The Crazy School is fiction, but there’s a lot of truth in it, all the same. I still wish I could have loaded all the kids into my station wagon and taken them someplace safe.
That's terrible!
So, staying Mary Poppins in tone, I shall veer immediately to: Did you have a nice holiday?
It was awesome. We went to Syracuse for a week, which was oddly warmer than Berkeley for pretty much the entire time. My inlaws are way cool, and we got to eat wings from Sal’s Birdland, “home of the sassy sauce.”
Do you have any special writing resolutions
It was awesome. We went to Syracuse for a week, which was oddly warmer than Berkeley for pretty much the entire time. My inlaws are way cool, and we got to eat wings from Sal’s Birdland, “home of the sassy sauce.”
Do you have any special writing resolutions
for 2007? 
I would really like to find some emotional middle ground with writing this year. It makes me either writhe in abject terror or get insufferably pleased with myself. Probably 94% writhing, 5% undecided, and 1% insufferable. Stephen Blackmoore once summarized this brilliantly on Naked Authors as “the ‘I'm God,’ ‘I'm wormshit’ cycle.”
I would like to just get over myself and give full concentration to doing the best work I can, without all the Wagnerian boom-chaka-laka “dude, you SUCK” stuff playing on my inner radio.
Probably a hopeless cause.
I've never gotten to the "I'm God" feeling, but I'll take your word for it. :)
I would really like to find some emotional middle ground with writing this year. It makes me either writhe in abject terror or get insufferably pleased with myself. Probably 94% writhing, 5% undecided, and 1% insufferable. Stephen Blackmoore once summarized this brilliantly on Naked Authors as “the ‘I'm God,’ ‘I'm wormshit’ cycle.”
I would like to just get over myself and give full concentration to doing the best work I can, without all the Wagnerian boom-chaka-laka “dude, you SUCK” stuff playing on my inner radio.
Probably a hopeless cause.
I've never gotten to the "I'm God" feeling, but I'll take your word for it. :)
What’s your writing environment? Do you keep to a strict schedule?
My writing environment is a cupboard-desk thing we got for free off Craigslist, several years ago. It’s on a side wall in our living room, jammed with papers and books. I try to keep a strict schedule (working while my kids are in school), but I’m a terrible procrastinator.
You’re not the first person I’ve interviewed who lives in California but writes about New York. Is this bicoastal contrast a spur to creativity?
It is for me, but it’s always a little jarring to resurface at the end of the day—especially since I’m also writing about a different decade. If I get a phone call in the middle of working, I usually apologize for being so out of it, mumbling about how I’ve just come back from “Pittsfield in 1989.”
We both have main characters named Madeline. Was there a special inspiration behind your character’s name?
Originally, I was going to call her Caroline Dare, which is an anagram of my name. But several chapters into the first draft of A Field of Darkness, her buddy Ellis shows up, and I just heard this soundbite of her bursting through the door and saying “Madwoman…” as a nickname for Madeline, so I changed it. Ellis did unexpected things a lot, as I was typing. Very determined character. She changed the course of the entire plot, at one point. Thankfully, I think she improved it.
It looks like you’ll be writing about Madeline Dare well into the future. Do you have any other writing irons in the fire?
Megan Abbott invited me to contribute a story to an anthology of “Female Noir” she’s editing, in which women who might have been minor characters in classic pulp fiction take center stage. It’s due out this summer from Busted Flush Press, and I’m really honored to be part of it.
I’m happy to say I met you at Bouchercon. You seem to be good about attending a multitude of conferences. Does it ever get exhausting for you?
I loved meeting you at Bouchercon, and I love conferences— it’s so much fun hanging out with grownups, plus I get to sleep late and somebody else does the dishes! They are a bit exhausting, though, aren’t they? Just being around so many people who are passionate about reading and writing… I want to talk to everyone so much, and then I’m always afraid I’ll miss something if I go to sleep.
Would you have expected, five years ago, that you would be doing the things you are doing today?
Never in a million, billion, jillion years. Except for the procrastination and the dishes. Everything else just astonishes me, and I am very grateful.
What books are you reading right now?
I’m reading a two-volume biography of Vladimir Nabokov by Brian Boyd, which is the first non-fiction—not to mention non-mystery—that I’ve picked up in a long time. It’s languished on my bookshelf for years, and I started it on a whim right before the holidays. I’m at the point where Lolita has been published in France, but not here.
Is there a writer you haven’t met at a conference that you’d really like to meet?
Barbara Seranella. I’ve seen her, but I haven’t ever gotten up the courage to introduce myself. I think I’d just blurt, “Dude, you are so awesome…” and then I would start blushing and faint.
My writing environment is a cupboard-desk thing we got for free off Craigslist, several years ago. It’s on a side wall in our living room, jammed with papers and books. I try to keep a strict schedule (working while my kids are in school), but I’m a terrible procrastinator.
You’re not the first person I’ve interviewed who lives in California but writes about New York. Is this bicoastal contrast a spur to creativity?
It is for me, but it’s always a little jarring to resurface at the end of the day—especially since I’m also writing about a different decade. If I get a phone call in the middle of working, I usually apologize for being so out of it, mumbling about how I’ve just come back from “Pittsfield in 1989.”
We both have main characters named Madeline. Was there a special inspiration behind your character’s name?
Originally, I was going to call her Caroline Dare, which is an anagram of my name. But several chapters into the first draft of A Field of Darkness, her buddy Ellis shows up, and I just heard this soundbite of her bursting through the door and saying “Madwoman…” as a nickname for Madeline, so I changed it. Ellis did unexpected things a lot, as I was typing. Very determined character. She changed the course of the entire plot, at one point. Thankfully, I think she improved it.
It looks like you’ll be writing about Madeline Dare well into the future. Do you have any other writing irons in the fire?
Megan Abbott invited me to contribute a story to an anthology of “Female Noir” she’s editing, in which women who might have been minor characters in classic pulp fiction take center stage. It’s due out this summer from Busted Flush Press, and I’m really honored to be part of it.
I’m happy to say I met you at Bouchercon. You seem to be good about attending a multitude of conferences. Does it ever get exhausting for you?
I loved meeting you at Bouchercon, and I love conferences— it’s so much fun hanging out with grownups, plus I get to sleep late and somebody else does the dishes! They are a bit exhausting, though, aren’t they? Just being around so many people who are passionate about reading and writing… I want to talk to everyone so much, and then I’m always afraid I’ll miss something if I go to sleep.
Would you have expected, five years ago, that you would be doing the things you are doing today?
Never in a million, billion, jillion years. Except for the procrastination and the dishes. Everything else just astonishes me, and I am very grateful.
What books are you reading right now?
I’m reading a two-volume biography of Vladimir Nabokov by Brian Boyd, which is the first non-fiction—not to mention non-mystery—that I’ve picked up in a long time. It’s languished on my bookshelf for years, and I started it on a whim right before the holidays. I’m at the point where Lolita has been published in France, but not here.
Is there a writer you haven’t met at a conference that you’d really like to meet?
Barbara Seranella. I’ve seen her, but I haven’t ever gotten up the courage to introduce myself. I think I’d just blurt, “Dude, you are so awesome…” and then I would start blushing and faint.
In the historical notes on your website, you mention that the Erie Canal was known among its detractors in the 19th century as “Clinton’s Folly.” What do you think would be called “Clinton’s Folly” in the 20th Century? :)
Well, of course there’s that blue dress from The Gap…
No, seriously, the Erie Canal altered the history of the United States irrevocably in a very short time—it was opened for travel in 1825, but was basically replaced by railroads starting in the 1840s. Without it, our financial capital would probably be New Orleans, rather than New York. DeWitt Clinton did right by his state, as governor.
The canal immediately dropped the cost of transporting goods between the Great Lakes and the Atlantic Ocean by 95%. I don’t know if the advent of any government-sponsored 20th-Century American infrastructure could rival its initial impact—even the highway system or the Hoover Dam. Maybe landing on the moon.
I took the Struwwelpeter quiz on your website and failed, mostly because it was in German. This would horrify my mother, who is German. What was it that drew you to this story that became an important aspect of your novel?
When we were kids, there was a family who lived nearby with a bunch of daughters—the Angels. They used to babysit for us a lot. One day they brought over a box of kids’ books they’d outgrown, among which was a copy of Struwwelpeter, in German. Scared the CRAP out of me, especially since I didn’t know what the text meant—it was just a jumble of pictures of children getting their thumbs cut off, or bursting into flames, or falling down wells, or withering away to stick figures while seated in front of a bowl of soup.
It still gives me the creeps.
Well, of course there’s that blue dress from The Gap…
No, seriously, the Erie Canal altered the history of the United States irrevocably in a very short time—it was opened for travel in 1825, but was basically replaced by railroads starting in the 1840s. Without it, our financial capital would probably be New Orleans, rather than New York. DeWitt Clinton did right by his state, as governor.
The canal immediately dropped the cost of transporting goods between the Great Lakes and the Atlantic Ocean by 95%. I don’t know if the advent of any government-sponsored 20th-Century American infrastructure could rival its initial impact—even the highway system or the Hoover Dam. Maybe landing on the moon.
I took the Struwwelpeter quiz on your website and failed, mostly because it was in German. This would horrify my mother, who is German. What was it that drew you to this story that became an important aspect of your novel?
When we were kids, there was a family who lived nearby with a bunch of daughters—the Angels. They used to babysit for us a lot. One day they brought over a box of kids’ books they’d outgrown, among which was a copy of Struwwelpeter, in German. Scared the CRAP out of me, especially since I didn’t know what the text meant—it was just a jumble of pictures of children getting their thumbs cut off, or bursting into flames, or falling down wells, or withering away to stick figures while seated in front of a bowl of soup.
It still gives me the creeps.
It's interesting, though, that you had neighbors named The Angels.
What was it like touring with Lee Child? Do you feel tempted to send him flowers on a daily basis because he was so instrumental in launching your book?
I have often said that it's pretty much impossible to describe Lee without sounding suspiciously like Frank Sinatra's character in The Manchurian Candidate: the guy who's been brainwashed to say, "Raymond Shaw is the kindest, bravest, warmest, most wonderful person I've ever known in my life," whenever Shaw's name is mentioned.
This is because Lee Child is the kindest, bravest, warmest, most wonderful person I’ve ever known in my life. Also he’s really funny.
Touring with him was profoundly amazing, and I’m proud to say I only threw up once.
I definitely feel tempted to send him flowers on a daily basis, but I don’t want to scare him.
Okay, one more. How can readers find out more about you, your writing, and your upcoming release, The Crazy School?
There’s a bit more about me on my website, www.corneliaread.com, and I’m part of a wonderful group writers’ blog with James Grippando, Paul Levine, Patty Smiley, and Jacqueline Winspear at www.nakedauthors.com. I am, perhaps not surprisingly, Wednesday’s child there.
Thanks a million for the interview, Cornelia.
Thank you, Julia! You are wonderful to have invited me, and I loved your questions.
What was it like touring with Lee Child? Do you feel tempted to send him flowers on a daily basis because he was so instrumental in launching your book?
I have often said that it's pretty much impossible to describe Lee without sounding suspiciously like Frank Sinatra's character in The Manchurian Candidate: the guy who's been brainwashed to say, "Raymond Shaw is the kindest, bravest, warmest, most wonderful person I've ever known in my life," whenever Shaw's name is mentioned.
This is because Lee Child is the kindest, bravest, warmest, most wonderful person I’ve ever known in my life. Also he’s really funny.
Touring with him was profoundly amazing, and I’m proud to say I only threw up once.
I definitely feel tempted to send him flowers on a daily basis, but I don’t want to scare him.
Okay, one more. How can readers find out more about you, your writing, and your upcoming release, The Crazy School?
There’s a bit more about me on my website, www.corneliaread.com, and I’m part of a wonderful group writers’ blog with James Grippando, Paul Levine, Patty Smiley, and Jacqueline Winspear at www.nakedauthors.com. I am, perhaps not surprisingly, Wednesday’s child there.
Thanks a million for the interview, Cornelia.
Thank you, Julia! You are wonderful to have invited me, and I loved your questions.
0 Yorumlar