Daniel's Garden in 2 Bookstores!

News! My novel "Daniel's Garden" is now available at the Bull Moose store in Scarborough and Bangor.

I also just ordered another five copies and it will be featured at the Nonesuch Books South Portland location, too.

Press releases will also be sent out to local publications here in Portland, Maine. It's pretty cool and is definitely coming along. I'm thrilled, since this year kicks off the 150th anniversary of the Civil War - so what better time to feature a Civil War novel?

Progress is coming along quickly with "The Heart of a Lie" as well. I wrote another few short scenes last night. I don't have a projected end date, but am happy with the steady writing.

Cheers to selling books and banging out prose!

~ Meg

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Perry Farm

In The Heart of a Lie, Esther Perry becomes the owner of Perry Farm. It is the most beautiful farm in her little village of Bayview, Maine.

I found these images of a farm here in Maine. I don't know where, but this is such an idyllic place:





Here is how I describe it in the novel:

"The Perry Farm was nestled in the shadow of the Camden hills, within a quarter mile from a large and clear blue pond that cupped the sky and the hills in a continuous blue and green reflection. I'd swam in the pond as a little girl, and though it had a local name I always called it the Hill Sky Pond. It seemed to be like a living sky surrounded by embracing hills.

Our home was large and white, built more than one hundred years earlier by some of the first settlers of Bayview. They knew good land when they saw it, for most of Bayview's shore and soil were littered with rocks like currants in a scone. Thanks to the towering pines and the relative safety from the sea wind by the hills, this land was good, the soil rich and fertile, the wind not quite as fierce as closer to the sea. The large gray barn sat back from the house, connected to our rear kitchen by a series of woodsheds and outbuildings. Fenced pastures gently sloped away and down towards the distant forest and the pond."

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The Century I Live In

When does literary inspiration stop and my own personal voice take over?

It’s a question that’s been on my mind lately, since I’m working on “The Heart of a Lie,” my second historical fiction novel. I’m about halfway through the rough draft and making excellent progress. I wrote two scenes last night and several new chapters last week.

The story is about two sisters who are orphaned when their mother dies, they are forced to sell their Maine farm and end up in Portland, Maine with relatives they don’t know.

I was definitely inspired by “Bleak House,” a fantastic 2005 miniseries about Dickens’s interesting and character-packed novel. I didn’t know anything about the story and viewed it on Netflix one quiet wintry week two or three years ago. I really loved the story, bought the novel and read it, too. The novel is more like a series of vignettes rather than a coursing narrative, so the miniseries brought the story to life in a much more story-like way.

Another inspiration for “The Heart of a Lie” is Jane Austen’s “Sense and Sensibility.” The 2009 miniseries starring Hattie Morahan is just delightful. I also own the Emma Thompson/Kate Winslet movie version and watch it several times a year.

So, my story is a combination of these two classic novels, with an American twist of setting it in Maine three years after the Civil War. Obviously, the country is trying to recover from this immense tragedy. My main character Esther’s father was killed in the war, so he’s not around anymore to run their farm.

When I first began this story, I really felt as if I was borrowing way too heavily from past authors. The close-sister motif popularized by Jane Austen and Louisa May Alcott, the Gothic twists I’m adding that are reminiscent of “Jane Eyre,” “Bleak House” and Hawthorne – all of this weighed on my mind as being too reminiscent of 19th century novels.

As much as I love that century and that time period, I also want to stand on my own as a literary voice in this time. The one main difference between me and Austen or me and Charlotte Bronte is that I’m not repressed by my social era. I have freedoms those ladies could only dream about. I can give my characters as many burdens and obligations as I want to (and I do!), but I’m not living that situation. I’m not drawing from my own life in that sense. The problems and driving energies behind my writing have more to do with the love of the genre than to lay out my memoir-esque experiences.

For, as much as I adore Austen, Dickens, Bronte, Alcott, Hawthorne and the rest – they LIVED the social climate they wrote about. It was their world. Except for Hawthorne, who ventured into Puritan territory with “The Scarlet Letter,” they didn’t write about other time periods. So, their lives lend such an authenticity to their novels.

I don’t know if I could write about the 21st century the way they wrote about the 19th century. My social freedoms don’t lend themselves to creating enough conflict for a main character, especially a female one. That may be the reason I don’t put iPhones or divorces in my story. But the pressures, moralistic obligations, financial situations and extenuating circumstances facing men and women in the 19th century make for way better novels! There’s so much conflict built into the social structure that I can lay it on thick – and THAT keeps pages turning!

Well, once the story is finished I will definitely reach out to readers and ask if the story stands on its own 21st century legs. I’m still not sure if it draws too heavily from past authors and classic works, but the elements of good storytelling are definitely there – a strong and well-defined main character, a simple but deep plot, great villains, wonderful supporting cast, intrigue and mystery, secrets, lies and a whole lot of motivation bubbling under the surface.

My particular take on classic novels is to make them exciting for today’s reader. Update them with a more modern style and more visceral details. I’m not afraid to peek under corsets, but neither am I willing to buck all traditional convention. It’s okay to make 19th century characters human – really human. It’s okay to add post-Freudian psychological depth to villain motivation. It’s okay to break antique teacups in the quest for the truth.

That may be the best thing about being a 21st century writer: my social era gives me courage.

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Writing is Like Diving

Hi everyone, just wanted to drop in and let everyone know I'm plugging away at "The Heart of a Lie." I have about 40% of the scenes done and have written quite a bit in it the past week. I also rearranged some of the scenes and created a scene file. Thankfully, I have finished chapters one through four, which is cool. I'm now moving forward and working on other chapters. The whole novel is 27 chapters.

If I wrote one scene per day and there are roughly thirty-five scenes in the novel, then theoretically a rough draft should take me about five or six weeks. I could definitely see myself writing a book every six months or so, if that's what I was exclusively doing and not writing articles for money.

"Daniel's Lions," meanwhile, only has about 10% of the scenes done. I don't have a firm idea of what Daniel's life is like in Richmond, so Act Two has gaping holes. At least I can work on the Gettysburg and love scenes. I can also work on the meeting Marcus Reed scene, and maybe some scattered dialogue here and there. Details and place names can always be added, but it's difficult to write about a historic location I've never been to.

Once the completed rough drafts are done, then I read through them and write notes for myself in red, like: Add more feeling behind Esther's reaction. Flesh out this scene. Research what the buildings were on Middle Street. That kind of thing. Once I've added the notes, then I start working through them. That process takes several weeks and is pretty cumbersome because I'm dealing with the whole novel rather than just an isolated scene here and there. The novel is definitely my preferred creative medium, but they are large! After I've tackled the notes, then I do a final read-through or two and the book is done.

I know the book is done because it feels done. I don't have any eh-feelings about a scene or a character. What I read on the page matches what I have in my head, and that is such a feeling of satisfaction. The closest metaphor I've ever found to writing is diving. I'm continuously diving into myself and pulling out words to describe what I see in my head and feel in my heart. The stories are so abstract until I'm able to put them into words and actually describe what's going on inside me.

It's such an oddly personal and wrenching process. I'm not using physical materials like a sewer or a potter. I'm not mastering a tool like a pianist or a computer programmer. I'm more like a dancer, in that every expression I show comes entirely from me and my body. However, novels are more permanent than a dance and so in the end, I do have a physical representation of this wrenching process.

But it takes an unbelievable amount of practice. I put in my own 10,000 hours writing Daniel's Garden and so this process of notes, scenes, rough draft, notes, editing, finishing seems comfortable now. I'm familiar enough with it to expect it and to embrace its structure.

I'm also amazed at how free I feel now that a friend of mine is acting as my publicist. Erik made the wry comment last night that I may make more money now that I'm not thinking about money! I simply sit down and write as innocently as I did as a child, with no thought as to how to market or sell or look at my work as a product. Someone else can do that.

Meanwhile, I'll just sit here and practice my inner diving. And when at last the words bubble to the surface, I'll catch them and write them down. Scene after scene, the novel unfolds and grows. One day, I finish the final sentence and realize it's complete. That is, until the next time to dive and write again.

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Who Knows

I have this funny little song I sing whenever I think about death. Death is the great unknown, the great who knows. I guess I half-believed the heaven idea but when I saw my friend in his coffin lying there last November, any fantasies about death or angels or whatever flew out of my head forever. All I could think of was that he wouldn't laugh with me again.

So, I started singing this little song, and in the great spirit of death, it's called "Who Knows."

Who knows if heaven's got
Chocolate bites as a treat, snoring pugs at my feet
A Saturday dream, hot coffee with cream?
Who knows if heaven's got
Warm arms to hold when nights turn cold
Books with fresh pages, theatrical stages
Who knows if heaven is even above?
But I do know ... heaven ain't got our love.

Who knows if heaven's got
Amusement park rides, strolls by the tides
A new piano tune, the yellow harvest moon.
Who knows if heaven's got
The glasses we clink as you and I drink
To the nights we've had, good times and bad

Who knows if heaven is even above?
But I do know ... heaven ain't got our love.

Who knows if heaven has any of this. None of us do. But I do know that heaven doesn't have my friend and I laughing together or Erik and I hand-in-hand on a Florida beach or snoring pugs at the end of my feet. Here is where they are. Here is where they all are. This life, as it is now, even if it snows in April - here is where the things I love, the things that make my world go round, reside.

I'm not going to bank my happiness on a simple but unfounded idea that the best times in my life are after I say good-bye to everything I know. Paradise comes in funny packages, and maybe the funniest thing of all is that we never left. It's here.

It's always here.

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Movies vs. Books

When it comes to novels and films, most people have the clear and decisive opinion that the book is 'better' than the movie. The book explains more, gives more insight into the main character's head, fleshes out the plot more, etc. It's plain that when comparing the two, the book comes out the winner.

Or does it?

Let me play on the movie's team and stand up for my teammate for a moment. The movie's greatest strength over the book is visuals. I can picture amazing scenes from fiction in my head, to be sure, but to see it projected on the big screen is an unforgettable experience. I never tire of it. "The English Patient" is jaw-droppingly beautiful and so is "Girl with a Pearl Earring," both exquisite novels in their own right.

The second huge strength for movies is their score and soundtrack. Books don't have music, and music can add so much color and emotion to scenes. John Williams' deft score for "Memoirs of a Geisha" brings that world to life, and while I read the book I can hear that score in my head. Same for "Little Women" and "Pride and Prejudice." I can hear the music from the films while I read along.

The third movie strength is length. I'm a fast reader, but I can't get through a novel in less than two or three days. Whereas, I can quickly pop in a movie and even the longest ones are three hours. I can also zip to a scene in the movie and re-watch it if I only want to see that scene.

A fourth movie strength and a definite bonus, is the ability for remakes. New versions of "Pride and Prejudice" and "Jane Eyre" come down the pike at least once a generation. New faces join the cast of "Little Women," new actors become Mrs. Macawber and Oliver Twist, new advances in technology make blood spatters, Victorian London, and opening credits pop off the screen.

I'm standing up for movies because they are an important literary contribution to story-telling. Yes, literary. The best movies, the most heart-breaking films, are not a separate category from their textual counterparts sitting on bookstore shelves. They work together. They complement one another. It takes an extraordinary collaboration between screenwriter, director, producer, actors, composer and crew to put a book on screen. When they do it well, I'm in awe.

I watch far more movies than read new fiction. It's the truth. I'm not ashamed to admit it, either. If the movie is based on a literary work and I love the movie, then I'll put the book on my to-read list. For example, "Water for Elephants" is coming to the theatres in a few weeks. I haven't read the book, but the movie trailer piqued my interest and it definitely looked like something up my alley - romantic love story, retro setting, a stunning and colorful visual look and a dramatic plot. All of those elements hook me and bring me right in. So, I'm more than happy to curl up with the novel.

It may be blasphemous for a novelist to watch the movie version first, but I get so much enjoyment out of films. I also realize that inspiration and good story-telling can come from anywhere. I get inspired by movies, by soundtracks, by people, by things that have happened to me. Heck, my two biggest inspirations are "Phantom of the Opera" and "Les Miserables" - both musicals! I am truly a product of a swirling creative multimedia environment, a golden age of storytelling where good stories can come from the page, the stage or the screen.

So, the next time you see the movie version of a book you're interested in is coming to a theatre near you, try not reading the book first. Try the movie out. See the movie as the director did and enjoy it as a writer, not an audience member. Enjoy it as a literary work.

Someday, there will be movie versions of my novels. I won't grump and grouse about script changes or the 'wrong' actor cast. The movie version will stand on its own as its own work. My story was the inspiration but not the final telling.

Let my stories inspire, whatever form they take!

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Love Only Knows

Josh Groban is my favorite modern artist - in fact, we're going to see him in concert in Boston in July! I can't wait. I was sitting in a Subway as a freshman in college eating a sandwich when this voice of an angel came drifting through the speakers. I HAD to know who he was, and I've been a fan ever since. :)

His newest album "Illuminations" came out last November and has been on repeat in both my car and my computer ever since. My favorite song on this album is "Love Only Knows," and it reminds me of Daniel and Mary from "Daniel's Garden."

Love only knows
If we'll give into fear and choose life under cover ...
Love only knows
If it's special enough that we'll choose one another ...


Yes, love only knows if we do choose fear or choose each other. It's a beautiful song. :)

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