Comments from Pre-publication Readers

This is EveryWoman's book - every age, every experience.  You will laugh, cry and learn through this fascinating, honest and courageous journey to one woman's truth - but you won't put it down.  
          ~ Patricia Mikelson


They say “the truth shall set you free,” and here it is:  a truth-telling memoir about growing up in the small-town segregated South — politics, sex, and religion; relationship, marriage, and motherhood; loss, healing, feminism, and enlightenment; and the bare beauty of a life at home by the water’s edge.  Men may be from Mars and women from Venus for some writers, but Lucinda Shirley is from Earth, and we rejoice that she is here to tell us the good news of living — awake, joyful, and dancing — on this planet!

        ~ Cassie Premo Steele, Pushcart Prize-nominated poet and author of the novel,
 Shamrock and Lotus.

Dancing on Mars is full of both wisdom and humor.  This original approach to complex issues includes a handful of poems, sprinkled throughout the text.  The poems give pause and open small windows onto moments of resonance, enabling us to better see the world through Lucinda Shirley’s eyes.  What an uplifting message.

       ~ Marjory Wentworth, South Carolina Poet Laureate, five-time Pushcart Prize nominee.  Author of four books of poetry, the award-winning children’s story Shackles,  and co-author of Taking a Stand, The Evolution of Human Rights.

Would marrying enhance your life or diminish it?  Lucinda Shirley explores this critical question for women at many stages of their lives, with courage, grace and honesty.

         ~ Sara Davidson, N.Y. Times best-selling author of Leap! and Loose Change 

Sneak Peek

Three authors I admire will have comments for the book's back cover:  Sara Davidson (NY Times best-selling author of Leap! and Loose Change), Cassie Premo Steele (Pushcart Prize nominee and author of two books of poetry and a novel, Shamrock and Lotus), and Marjory Wentworth (South Carolina's Poet Laureate whose poems have been nominated for The Pushcart Prize five times.  Her work includes four poetry books, an award-winning children's story, Shackles, and  Taking a Stand, The Evolution of Human Rights by Juan Mendez with Marjory Wentworth.)

I've told you that All Things That Matter Press selected a photo of one of my paintings for the cover.  Today I can show you what the book's cover will look like!

                                               
I'm happy to share this news on Valentine's Day.  If you like the cover, please leave a comment to celebrate with me!   Let's also celebrate all the love in our lives today and every day.
Thank you for being very much "with me" in this adventure.  I couldn't have gotten this far without your support!

Moving into the Fast Lane!

My patient publisher at All Things That Matter Press is done with edits; he was most gracious about my low-level technical skills throughout that process.  Big exhale after that was done!

I had submitted photos of one of my paintings for consideration when the time came to decide on cover design.  Even though it seemed to me like a fit for the book, I knew there was only a slim chance they'd feel the same way.  So, I didn't get attached to the idea.

Today I'm happy to report that they will use my artwork on the cover!  I hope to post an image here soon. 

The next step will be what's called a "mock-up," last chance for any corrections;  then,  it's production time!

Looks like Dancing on Mars will be blooming with the azaleas and magnolias this spring — definitely before the butter melts on the table here in South Carolina.   Please stay tuned.

Publisher's Edits Begin!

Exciting news:  Yesterday All Things That Matter Press let me know that their edits would begin in the next day or two.  Let the publishing process begin! 

We can't be certain how long this phase will take, since it involves the publisher's editing the manuscript, then sending it to me for any further edits, and my sending it back to them; seems there's one more step before a mock-up, then a review of that before publication.  Thus, it's impossible to have a definite "launch" date with uncertainties about how extensive the edits will be.  But now we know it probably won't be later than Spring.  2012!

I'm ever grateful for your support, affirmation, and offers of help when the time is right to get the word out!  It means so much to have a LOT of help from my friends -- you longtime friends and you new friends I've met along the way.  It's an honor to  have you sharing this journey; it's a longer journey than I imagined when I began writing Dancing on Mars about two and a half years ago.  But you encouraged me and helped me stay focused when it was tempting to give up.  Several of you reminded me that my purpose in writing this book is to share my life experience with others -- especially women who can identify with one aspect or many -- and you reminded me that it would affirm their experiences and inspire them to live more authentically.  Before I begin to sound like a saint (which I ain't!) my intention is also to give them a good read with  some levity in the mix.  Couldn't have gotten this far without you!  

Stay tuned and let's enjoy the rest of the ride!

About "Jack"

Just before settling in to sleep last night,  I learned that my therapist and friend -- the man I call "Jack" in Dancing on Mars -- had passed away.  Whatever meanings "passing away" might hold, it means to me that he's longer in this physical world.  I have all faith in his capacity to adjust to new circumstances in a dimension we cannot see and to welcome whatever wondrous things await him there.

I can't imagine it was easy for him to leave this world though; he was so alive in it.  And he had so much love for his wife and family and such peace-centered passion for life in general.  He purposefully and purposely lived it fully.

I had not cried -- not a gut-wrenching, gully-washing cry -- in a long time.  But the dam burst last night, and still today I'm weepy.   Although I knew he had been dealing with cancer, his death has left a hole in my soul -- a hole in my solar plexus, for sure. (I can almost hear him asking me to describe that hole in my solar plexus.)  But we can't grieve in advance, believing that our pain will be lessened in the end.  It doesn't work that way, or it doesn't for me.

His beautiful obituary had this to say about his work as a clinical psychologist:  "He loved the landscape of the brave soul willing to find more self, and to help remove the weeds which choke out the light, to assist in moving the boulders which stifle breath and life."

As I was coming to the end of a decade of work with him, I wrote a poem about reincarnation -- in part, to celebrate him and honor our work together.  He helped me learn to live.  He helped me move massive "boulders" and rid my life of some  "choking weeds."  He helped me begin to like myself,  even love myself.  He helped me understand the power of forgiveness.  He helped me understand many things.   He taught me to go deeper, to expand my life.  I have no doubt I have known him in other lifetimes.  I will stop here and share that poem with you, as a tribute to "Jack."  I will miss him terribly, yet I know he is part of who I am now.  And my gratitude is immeasurable. 

                                You

          If from a mist over some foreign sea
            you spiral your Self into being,
            or in a field of daisies dance into life
            on the four leaves of a green clover
            or come from the bones of a great silver fish
            or as a raindrop falling
            on a place long rainless,
            whether you appear as liquid light
            in the eyes of an old man
            or emerge from a deep river bed,
            red clay kissing your fingers,
            whether from a mother’s belly
            or the belly of a huge round ship,
            I would know you
                though I might not read the text of your face
            I would surely know you.
   
            If in centuries beyond this time
            you take birth
                whatever body, whatever circumstance,
                whether in this place or far away,
                through a door hidden altogether from me,
            I will know you are here         or there,
            back
                beyond names, beyond language,
                beyond the shadows of reason.
   
            I will know
                and once again my heart will be glad
                you are.

Progress Report: Photo Shoot

The lyrics "I get by with a little help from my friends..." were playing around in my head the other day and I thought:  With this book I'm getting by with a whole lot of help from my friends!  I love them dearly, the ones I'll be talking about today and the ones who have helped in other ways.  The friends who were willing to share with candor about their experience being married or living single enriched this book in a major way.  Other women will be able to see themselves and hopefully benefit from what they have to say.

My sister-friend Pat edited the second-draft manuscript as meticulously as any professional editor would have.  Vicki, Paula, and Anita previewed the entire book and offered valuable comments.  Laura helped me set up my first blog and taught me how to upload photos and all the rest -- well,   most of the rest.  They've all done more than their share of listening.

Jodie, Beth, Sandy, Gail, Roz, Audrey, Trisha, Fran, Adrienne, Cora, and Ann read various parts of DANCING ON MARS and offered comments.  Friends who visit the  blog, read excerpts, and leave comments continue to cheer me along.  Indeed, I've gotten by with a LOT of help from my friends.  And they've done it all out of friendship, not for money.  Thank you all!

Paula Hines is working tirelessly on photos that could be used for publicity, to accompany book reviews, etc.  After experimenting with various qualities of afternoon and evening light, she has taken some beautiful photographs.  I'm pushing hard for her to go commercial ; she has done some breath-taking photographic work for charities, friends, family, etc.  Of course I'm not encouraging her to go pro until AFTER the book is done!  :-)

One of Paula's photos is my profile picture on Facebook, at Lucinda Shirley, author, and on my personal Facebook page.  This photography genius knew how to make me look a whole lot better than I really do!

                                                                         * * *

On Monday afternoon I packed three outfits, complete with earrings, for some picture-taking at my faerie goddaughter-friend Laura Lee's house.  Even though she hasn't chosen to go professional, Laura is — among many things —a mega-talented photographer.   Husband Sean recently gave her a camera that totally intimidates me.  Laura, however, can get it to make people look amazing.  She had agreed to take the "author photo" for the book.  I reminded her that in all likelihood the photo would appear slightly larger than a postage stamp, but that didn't stop her from doing it "right."

With the kids settled after school --  the youngest snoozing away and the oldest committed to checking on him -- we went outside to begin.  Ordinarily I'm self-conscious having pictures taken, but we had so much fun goofing around as I posed a zillion ways, using two sets of clothing and borrowing a pair of her really big earrings.  I insisted on planting myself in the children's Halloween graveyard, and she took a couple of shots there, just for fun.  Finally I had to force myself to stop laughing or risk a mascara-run, a "raccoon look" more haunting than any graveyard. 

                                                                    Meet Mr. Right!

Would you be more or less inclined to buy a book with this "graveyard" author photo on the back?  Would you be turned off by it?  OR would you not be likely to notice the author picture at all?  Your comments could help us decide.   Okay,  the grownup picture I chose is posted below.  Which should we use?  Please leave a comment and let me know what you think! 

                                                                               

Laura took a bazillion shots - click, click, click - until I felt like a real model doing a VANITY FAIR cover.  By the way, Laura looked like the model as she twisted her gorgeous self into a pretzel to get the shots she wanted; yoga is a miraculous thing -- that and all the motion that goes with mothering.

I was so into it, loving it all, that I wondered whether  I might become a narcissist before it was over.  Odds were against it, but still it is good to know I'm now capable of enjoying being the focus of attention.  Literally.  Personal growth doesn't always have to be painful!

Thanks to each and all of you, my Friends.

A sample from DANCING ON MARS

The opening of Part 1 - If Wishes Were Horses:

                                                    The Reluctant Thespian

                                                   When were the auditions?
                                                    I didn’t try out for this part.
                                                    The play-- no, I must say
                                                    I do much better with farce.

                                                    This mask chokes off my air;
                                                    Who wrote the script? How long ago?
                                                     I understand that nothing’s fair,
                                                     But I don’t want to do this show.

                                                     When were the auditions?
                                                      I’m really not right for the part...
                                                     The audience is seated?
                                                     Yes, I’m standing on my mark.


                                                                         ***

   
    Everybody except the beach party chaperone had left for the Pavilion by the time my mother and her friend Isabelle finished primping.  The two stragglers walked toward the island's main road knowing their hair and starched cotton didn’t stand a chance in the South Carolina humidity.   When Isabelle wished they had a car, my mother said, “If wishes were horses, beggars would ride.”  And that’s when Isabelle thought of hitchhiking.  You’ll see it was in love’s best interest that social standards were relaxed during wartime.

   As it turned out, Fate sent these beggars a convertible with two fellows in it, students at the University, happy to give them a lift.  They were headed to the Pavilion, too.  My father was the handsome one in the passenger seat, a ringer for young Brando.  

    Later that night “Brando” boasted to his friend, “I’m gonna marry that little girl.”  And he did.  Two days after finishing Midshipman School at Northwestern.  They had a sweet wedding on a freezing night just after Christmas, the church so cold Mama’s teeth chattered through the whole ceremony.  The newlyweds had only a few days together before my father reported for Navy duty,  but three days were all they needed to plant the seed that eventually would be me.

    My father was stationed in California while my mother lived pregnantly at her mother’s house.  After a couple of months, Mama took a train from South Carolina to the West Coast to visit her new husband.  I think it was courageous for a nineteen-year-old with morning sickness to make that long, rattly train trip.  No doubt her courage was fueled by the power of young love.

    When my mother got to California, she and Papa shared a single bed in the basement bedroom of a wealthy San Diego widow.   Mama told me a story about standing for ages at a bus stop one day, waiting for a ride to La Jolla.   A number of buses stopped, but not one to La Jolla.   When their bus didn’t come and didn’t come, they asked a passer-by and learned that a La Jolla bus had come and gone several times while they waited.  They had been looking for a different spelling, something involving an “h” and maybe a “y.”   Babes in the woods, those two.

[Note:  Photos from the town you'll read about in Dancing on Mars are posted at the end of the blog.]

Copyrighted material.