Welcome Author, Beth Hoffman

As a reader, I am drawn to stories with characters so rich that reading about them is like reading a letter from a good friend. I hang on to every word, every image, and I fall easily into their emotions — good and bad.

Beth Hoffman’s debut novel, Saving CeeCee Honeycutt, is exactly that kind of story for me.

Ms. Hoffman weaves a beautiful tale of CeeCee, a young girl who grapples with her mother’s mental illness, agonizes over her father’s abandonment, and then discovers unconditional love, friendship, and healing — in the arms of Oletta, in the mysterious charm of Miz Goodpepper, and in the saving graces of her Great Aunt Tootie.

Saving CeeCee Honeycutt reminds us, no matter what our trials, we are carried along by a spiritual force which manifests itself in those around us.

I invited Beth Hoffman here, to answer a few questions about her novel and her writing. She graciously agreed. And, she offered to give away an autographed copy of her novel and a set of audio CD’s. So, after you read Beth’s interview, please leave a comment. If you’re shy, just leave your name.

At the end of Mother’s Day – in honor of the women in Beth Hoffman’s novel who become CeeCee’s surrogate mothers – I will choose two names. Each winner will receive either the book or the set of CD’s, the best part being that Beth Hoffman, herself, will send them — a New York Times bestseller novel, straight from the hands of the novelist to yours. That’s good karma, people.

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Beth Hoffman

BH: Thank you for your kindness and support, Christi. I’m delighted that you invited me to be featured on your blog.

CC: Which inspired you first to write this story, plot or character? And, if it was character, was it CeeCee or Aunt Tootie who whispered the tale into your ear?

BH: I’ve always been drawn to character-driven fiction, and from the get-go I knew I wanted to write a story about strong women of all ages, cultures, and backgrounds. Aunt Tootie’s kindness and wisdom are qualities that I greatly admired in my great aunt Mildred, and I knew Aunt Tootie would be a key figure in my novel. But it was CeeCee who arrived in my imagination first. I had begun a rough outline for the book I thought I would write, and then late one night CeeCee appeared. She was so fully alive and her voice was so clear that it rocked me back in the chair, and, her story was far better than the one I was outlining! So, I deleted my notes and listened to what CeeCee had to say. It was one of the most fascinating events of my writing life. I’ve heard that it’s called writers alchemy—a magical moment when a character comes to life and the story unfolds in surprising ways.

CC: You live in Kentucky, but you wrote a story mainly set in Georgia. How often did you travel to the setting of your novel, and how did you use those trips to help create such a strong sense of place?

BH: I’ve always adored the South, and my first visit to Savannah left me completely enthralled. Savannah embodies so much of what I’ve admired throughout my life: outstanding historical architecture, a rich multicultural history steeped deep within the very fabric of the city, and the lovely hospitality for which Savannahians are so well known. I’m a bit of sponge in the sense that if I like something, I soak it up until it becomes a part of me. And that’s what happened with Savannah. I’ve walked every street in the historic downtown area, talked with residents and shop owners, and I live fully in that wonderful city whenever I visit—which is quite frequently. I usually rent an apartment in the downtown area so I can immerse myself in daily living as if I were a long-time resident. The sense of place in CeeCee’s story was actually quite easy for me to create because Savannah has become a part of me.

CC: Under “For Writers” on your blog, you say, “Captivating storytelling is a gift – good writing is an art.” Clearly, you are a talented storyteller. How did you nurture that gift into the art of great writing?

BH: What a lovely thing to say, thank you. My father was a wonderful storyteller, and I think much of his gift of spinning a good yarn was passed down to me. But there’s an enormous difference between telling a captivating story and writing one. As with any art, practice is crucial. The more we practice, the more we hone our craft. And the more we hone our craft, the more we stay awake and aware to the world of words. The other thing that’s crucial is cultivating the imagination. From a very early age I had a whole cast of imaginary friends that I kept in a shoebox beneath my bed. We went on all sorts of adventures together, and to me, they were real. When I eventually outgrew playing with them, I began to write stories about their lives, which segued into short story writing when I was a teenager, and finally, to writing my first full-length novel. Even now, as an adult, I still have the vivid imagination of my childhood, and I rely upon it with my writing.

CC: What are you reading these days?

BH: I just began Page from a Tennessee Journal by Francine Thomas Howard, and thus far I’m thoroughly enjoying it.

CC: Do you have any final thoughts for writers on the rise?

BH: I would say practice and editing are two of the most important things an aspiring writer should keep in mind. And when a writer honestly feels her/his work is complete, then there’s the Holy Grail of all—reading the manuscript out loud. It’s amazing how, when reading a work aloud, every single bump will reveal itself. Though it was time consuming, I read every single word of Saving CeeCee Honeycutt to my cats, and that prompted me to do one final edit that really paid off.

Beth Hoffman’s debut novel has appeared on several bestseller lists, including the New York Times, and was selected by the Southern Independent Booksellers Alliance as one of the 2010 Winter/Spring OKRA Picks for great Southern fiction. Read more about Beth Hoffman here and find her on Twitter under @wordrunner.

Don’t forget to leave a comment, so you can be included in the drawing for a copy of her book or a set of audio CD’s!

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Flash Fiction – in a Flash!

You might not believe this.

When I woke up this morning Dot’s email with her Wednesday’s Word piece sat in my inbox.

At 7:02am.

I forgot to mention yesterday that Dot didn’t want me to send her any word from my magic word bag a day or two ahead of time. She wanted to attempt the Word of the Day challenge like I do – wait until the Wordsmith sends his word out into cyberland, then write like mad.

So, when I crawled out of bed this morning, opened my laptop, and saw her story, my mouth fell open.

That’s what I’m talking about when I say commitment and dedication, and a fervor for writing. Amazing!

And, I don’t just mean her quick turnaround. Wait until you read her story….

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From Wordsmith.org, Today’s Word:

bread and circuses

MEANING:
noun: Things intended to keep people happy and to divert their attention from the problems.

ETYMOLOGY:
Translation of Latin term panis et circenses, from panis (bread) + et (and), circenses (circuses). The term originated in the satires of Roman poet Juvenal (c. 60-140). Circus refers to the circus games, such as chariot races, held in the Roman times. The term has been loan translated into many other languages. In Spanish, for example, it is pan y toros (bread and bullfights).

USAGE:
“Madrid has set up a series of summits that look a lot like bread and circuses for a domestic audience at time of economic misery.”
John Vinocur; Still Waiting for a Brave New Europe; The New York Times; Jan 4, 2010.

——————————————-

Judy opened the suede covered octagonal box, lifting each of the origami flaps – ocean blue and ponderosa green and solar yellow – as if the touch of her delicate fingers would burn them. Leaving behind a scar so ugly that no one would ever bother look inside again. And look inside was the point. Just a glance, a peek, no lingering. But if the entry point was marred then no one would come.

Each pointed flap laid open on the royal purple satin tablecloth, splayed as a ripened sunflower at the end of August. She moved forward, resting her belly on the edge of the table and peered over the box’s edge. There was the hat, just as she left it.

She felt comfort in knowing there had not been others since her last visit.

Judy reached into the box and slid her hands under the brim, whose color was the same as the dimming table. The four sprouts of the hat, the same color as the exterior of the box, bounced and giggled as she lifted it upward and toward her head.

Should she put it on now? Or wait?

“How long?” Judy yelled into the other room.

“Not long.” Margaret replied. “The ticket sellers will be here soon. Followed by the ushers. Then the food handlers. Why?”

“My hat, is it ready?” Judy shouted back, her voice now breathy as the opening moment neared.

“Wait.” Then silence.

Judy lowered the hat back into the box but left the flaps open.

“What are you doing?” Judy asked as she entered the kitchen.

“Building hardtack boxes,” Margaret answered. “Practical and nutritious and they last a long time. You entertain and I feed. Okay?”

“Deal.” Judy continued walking through the kitchen then walked right out the door and down the steps to the lawn. Where. Her naked feet met the blades of grass – again – and they smiled. She continued walking until she reached the plastic covering they’d hung from the garage. The white length of Tyvek stretching from the roof’s overhang, across the pvc pipes duct-taped together to the opposite sides where they were tightly tethered by yellow truck rope. All very carefully done so as to not smash their attendees. Or each other.

For some reason that neither of the women understood, the county government gave them a grant to do their show. Judy the performer and Margaret the nurturer. Between them they kept the people happy and kept them out of trouble. The valley was hit hard with the downward spiraling economy and people started becoming just plain mean. Hoarding. Isolating. Not taking car of themselves.

One day, Judy was in the driveway with Billy. He had just started taking acrobat lessons from her a few weeks before, she remembers. They were stretching and doing handstands and back flips and this car pulled up across the street. They even turned off their engine. Judy was having Billy practice smiling when he was upside down which was, according to him, a nearly impossible task. The couple in the car started laughing after a few minutes, with giant smiles on their faces nearly to the point of tears.

Two weeks later Judy received the distinguished monetary grant award for performers whose work inspires others to “Just Be Happy.”

That was about two years ago now. And here they are again, except that they bought the house next door and it was currently under remodel. The goal was to finish the master suite and to make the unused child’s room into a guest area. Every visitor needs a little “me time.”

And now was Judy’s time. She skipped back into the house and into the room with the box with her hat. This time she lifted it onto her head. Then she checked herself in the mirror and ran through the kitchen and out the door. She would not have her guests upset – so she places the hostess with the mostess hat on her head and let the spokes bounce with each step back to the garage where she could help people forget their troubles, just for a day. Or an hour, even. Every moment counts. Every moment is important to the health and well-being of the individual which is important for the survival of the planet.

“You feed their bodies and I feed their soul,” Judy shouted toward the kitchen window, where Margaret was standing, shoulders up, hands pressed against the window’s ledge. And the faint beginnings of her smile.

“Y-up,” Margaret mouthed, since Judy wouldn’t be able to hear her, anyway. Best to save the vocal cords for the evening’s performance. Judy said she had a surprise for them all tonight. Margaret would wait, as she always waits. And be there with Judy’s hardtack when she was done. For now, she needed to get the first pan out of the oven, before it burned.

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Dot is a writer in the spaces between work and working out. Current projects are completion of a memoir and revision of a mystery novel, alongside writing short stories and poetry.

She blogs at The Writing Vein.

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Back to Wednesday’s routine, sort of

Last week, I took a break from the usual Wednesday’s Word challenge, and hosted guest author Linda Lappin. Tomorrow, I will get back into the virtual ring with Wordsmith.org and his never predictable word of the day.

Well, it won’t be me in the ring exactly. I’ll be cheering from the corner.

For the last two months, I’ve invited another writer to participate in Wednesday’s Word of the day. E. Victoria Flynn started us out. Ann M. Lynn braved the second round. And, tomorrow,  I welcome my friend Dot Hearn.

Dot and I met through Ariel Gore’s Lit Star Training online writing course. During introductions, we discovered we were both new to the NaNoWriMo madness that year, that we both recently embarked on a serious commitment to write, and that we were both sign language interpreters. Of course, I connected with Dot right away.

But, it wasn’t until after Ariel’s class ended, when we embarked on a project together, that I understood the true depth of her commitment to writing and her unconditional support of other writers.

Dot and I, along with a small group of other Lit Star graduates, designed and self-published an anthology (On the Fly: Stories in Eight Minutes or Less) of quick writes that resulted from several writing exercises in Ariel’s class. We were all amazed at the kind of writing that came out of one prompt and an eight minute time limit, and we wanted to share that magic with others. The anthology project gave us all a taste of the publishing world and an even more solid connection to each other.

Dot continues to work with the same spirit and determination. She maintains a website called The Writing Vein, where she posts her own writing prompts every Friday – The Razor’s Edge. I love reading her prompts, as they tap into several avenues of inspiration by combining a written prompt with an image and a song.

I could blather on and on about Dot, but I’ll let her tell you – in her own words – how she came to love writing:

Writing has been one constant throughout my life. Sure, I’ve taken a little time off here and there, but I wrote my first stage script at age 9 and hand-wrote my first novel – all 72 pages – at age 10.

As a teenager and during my early adult years, I submitted poems and a few of them were published. My early college days were spent in journalism, the middle college years brought a sign language interpreting degree, and my most recent college degree included a minor in theater and a minor in writing.

Right now I have one novel in revision; a memoir still being written; short stories and flash fiction and poems floating around on editors’ and contest judges’ desks; a produced radio script, freewrites galore – and more. And I am into the fourth year of a ten-year commitment to write no matter what; I think writing is becoming a habit I don’t want to shake.

I am a writer in the spaces between work and working out. Current projects are completion of a memoir and revision of a mystery novel, alongside writing short stories and poetry. I hope soon to tip the balance of work and writing life, so that work will happen in the spaces between writing and outdoor adventures.

Thank you, Christi, for giving me this opportunity to step outside of my box to participate in your Wednesday’s Word. I’ve been a fan since it’s inception and I’m excited to be able to participate in this way. You are an inspiration.

Thank you, Dot! I can’t wait to see how you wrangle Wordsmith into a crafty creative submission tomorrow!

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