After chasing my lost youth via the delicious medium of avocado toast (millennials know what's what!) yesterday, I wandered homeward along Buffalo Bayou. It's a couple of crow-flown miles, but I managed to stretch it to twice that long by following the curves of the bayou and by finding art and nature to explore as I went.
And because I discovered the once well-worn paths I was on were closed still due to flooding. If you remember much about Hurricane Harvey's hit to Houston in August, you'll remember that the bayous, especially the city's principal one, Buffalo Bayou, overran their banks for days and weeks. Although the water long since receded, many of the paths are still covered in debris, and there are areas waterlogged because of all the shifting soil. The dog parks close to the restaurant where I ate my toast are still buried. A couple of the pups I passed gave me looks that clearly read, "we're supposed to be able to go off leash around here, you know."
I know, puppers. I know.
The art along Buffalo Bayou Park has survived, and it was nice to get up close to much of it as I walked through the gray and brown and green landscape. The Wortham Fountain - or The Dandelion as I always called it growing up - is fun to circle, even on a day too chilly to get close enough to be hit by the spray. And the Tolerance statues (the bodies are constructed of alphabets from around the world) are great to explore up close, instead of my usual glimpses of their large graceful forms as I drive past.
Once I reached Glenwood Cemetery, I ducked in through a side gate to look around. I've lived near it for about 18 months now, but have never really explored it, other than glancing in while walking by the bayou. Turns out Gene Tierney is buried there, and Howard Hughes, and so many well-known figures from Houston's arts, business, and governmental history. Plus, it's super-pretty. I'll be heading back to explore more deeply when the weather gets a tad friendlier.
Yesterday, I just headed up Sawyer Street to home. I always enjoy the street art in this part of the city. I often get stopped at train tracks here, and get to contemplate the colors and patterns, but walking beside it and realizing the scale and vision of the creators is even better.
I hope you've had decent enough weather to explore some beauty around you lately, too! And if you can't get outside, may I recommend you settle in at home with a nice plate of avocado toast?
I'm that rare(ish) creature: a 5th-generation Houstonian. When I went to college in California, my assurances I'd rather live in a place that gets hurricanes than a place that gets earthquakes was met with disbelief. (And soon, along came the 1989 Loma Prieta quake - you may know it as the World Series Earthquake - to test my theory. I stand by my original statement.) (Go, Banana Slugs!)
So long before this summer, I'd lived through evacuation traffic snarls, and days without power, and 2 a.m. wind that ripped a branch off an oak tree and plunged it through my bedroom roof, and rising water, and the eerie silence of the eye passing overhead after hours of being on the dirty side of the storm.
In a thousand small and a dozen large ways, Harvey wasn't the worst hurricane I've been through. We never lost power. Our water sources stayed clean. Our cars never risked flooding. The roof is as intact as ever. And though we watched the bayou 400 steps from our door rise and rise and rise until it was 4 steps from our door, we stayed dry.
But, oh, what a mess. The water flowed like a river down the cross streets, fish leapt about in the five feet of water where we usually parked, and mainly, as we texted and called and checked in and watched the news and generally worried about our friends and loved ones across the city and region, we knew this - this was going to be an ongoing mess.
My son's senior year is delayed by two weeks; teachers across the city are scrambling to get supplies for their flooded-out students and adjust lesson plans to account for lost time and storm-shaken kids. Still-flooded roads cause mind-boggling jams as drivers seek north-south corridors that their phones don't tell them are closed or dead-ends. Sidewalks teem with sheetrock and carpet and molding debris while the city attempts to deploy enough waste management to handle it all. People who have met with their insurance agents and can't do much until FEMA and local contractors are available are signing up to serve food or move boxes or fill out forms at the shelters.
It's obvious, I think, that I adore my city. I set so many books here because I love the diverse community, the international cuisine, the vibrant culture. I'm proud of how welcoming and big-hearted and accepting a place it can be. It has taken a hit - a big hit - from Harvey, but I know it will recover, in time.
A group of my fellow romance authors have pledged to help Houston with the relief efforts. Each author has chosen a cause or two and is donating royalties from their book sales during the Sept 4-17 period. I picked Interfaith Ministries Greater Houston and the Houston Food Bank, two local charities I volunteer with, which do great work feeding Houston's seniors, refugees, and children, and which have dedicated resources specifically to helping Harvey victims. I'm not the biggest selling author out there (yet!), so to increase the impact of my donation, I'm dividing the proceeds from all my September through December 2017 sales between these two charities.
Please check out the Authors Helping Houston page, and my chosen charities, and thank you to everyone who has reached out to me in the wake of this hurricane. The world is a scary place, but your love and support of us, and of the Gulf Coast region, brightens us all.
A YEAR AGO TODAY, i saw hamilton on broadway
How did I get Hamilton tickets?
That's everyone's first question. (Always with quite textual subtext. I get it.)
I spent hours coordinating dates for my family (why do the kids have to grow up and take summer internships when I want to go to Broadway?), and more hours on sites that reviewed various seats at the Richard Rodgers Theatre and, most of all, hours on the ticketing site looking for non-resale seats that dovetailed all those things into 3 seats together in the middle of row L and 1 seat way up front. (Getting 4 together was a non-starter.)
I bought them in early November for the end of June show.
Life intervened, despite all of my planning, and my husband needed to be in Ireland with his mum during June, so my Hamilton-loving niece joined us for summer in the city.
Was it amazing?
Completely. For the first half, I sat in the front row (note: not the actual front row, but the first of the rows they sell tickets for - i.e., the second row) and I turned into a bolt of pure lightness and electricity the moment Leslie Odom, Jr. came out, stood like eight feet from me, and began singing.
("Singing" seems like the weakest of words to describe his performance.)
Also, Lin-Manuel Miranda kept making eye contact with me.
WITH ME! It was intense. And delightful. And giddy-making.
I know, probably I was imagining it. BUT, a friend of my kid's and his family were sitting two rows behind me, and they said I wasn't.
Also (I maybe mention this a lot), he retweeted me after the show and said that my son (who sat in the up front seat for the second half) and I were awesome. Excuse me, "so awesome."
The view from Row L was also amazing. The whole stage was a glittering kaleidoscope of power and motion and light and such gorgeous, gorgeous sound.
My niece didn't leave her seat at intermission or after the show until she'd finished journaling. Meanwhile, my younger son - the one who split the front row with me - waited at the pit and got a signature on his songbook from Alex Lacamoire. (Both sons were Hamilfans, but the younger, who is a budding composer, was the greater, so the seat split went to him.) The four of us floated out of the theatre and into the Greatest City in the World.
At any rate, to celebrate that amazing night, and also because it's very much in line with everything I want the world be, I donated today to Lin-Manuel Miranda's latest Prizeo campaign (benefitting the Immigrants: We Get the Job Done Coalition), and made an embarrassingly inept speech as I screened an adaption of the Hamilton song "Dear Theodosia" the sons performed for my Mother's Day gift last year.
You should donate!
I've been road tripping, and remembering how I love these long, long stretches of driving time.
I know, right?
Home to college was a 2000 mile trek, and I had it all planned out. Get up early on day 1 so I could end the day just over the Texas border, in Las Cruces, NM. I had a favorite truck stop there. I loved having a favorite truck stop in Las Cruces. Day 2 meant a few brief hours watching the changing landscape and skyscape of the New Mexican desert. When I was lucky (so: if it was summer), there would be lightning storms traveling long distances as I watched. Day 2 ended somewhere in Arizona, and I had to get up early enough to skirt most of LA before traffic there got bad. The rest of Day 3 was several hours on I-5, past farms and more farms and stockyards and farms, then a quick jig over towards the coast and campus.
This trip began with those I-5 hours, and it was very much a "the more things change" situation. The billboards about water rights were focused on almonds instead of grapes, all these years later, but the streams of trucks in the right lanes, hopscotching cars in the left lanes, were just the same. I was as tickled now by the signs showing almost equal mileage to San Francisco and Sacramento as I was back then.
We had audiobooks and podcasts and music to stream on our phones instead of my collection of mix tapes (thanks, all you ex-boyfriends for the mix tapes!). We had GPS instead of AAA maps. We had a hybrid so our stops were dictated by human more often than automotive needs. But we had "road buddies" - those cars you're always passing or who are always passing you, depending on who stopped for how long. We had the sun slanting in at bad angles through the windshield. We had drive-throughs and tailgaters and speed traps and the road. The long, unfurling road, and the way time stretches into a matter of miles rather than minutes. A pit stop in 36 miles. Gas in 80. 216 more before we stop for the night, and 700 to go when we arise the next day.
i told my son, as we rolled north on 5, about my interstate college commutes, but my love of the road trip began much earlier. When we were young, my parents would load the 4 of us kids and a cooler of peanut butter and grape jam into the station wagon or Suburban and head out for a few summer weeks. The big trips were all around the eastern states one year, then the western states two summers later. We saw so many Capitol Buildings and monuments and Holiday Inns. I cried at mountains (still not great with heights, though I admire them from afar.) I gaped at redwoods. I won my share of games of Murder in the Dark, and "guess when we've gone a mile" and the License Plate game. (I know now it was my share. Back then I thought 1/2 was reasonable, not 1/4.) Mom took the whole time off to drive us, but Dad returned to Houston to work for part of these trips. You better believe she fielded a high number of "it's just you and these four kids for HOW LONG?" comments.
So when I set out to drive a few hundred or a couple thousand miles, I'm undaunted. I grew up with a great road map.
Mom: better than AAA and GPS combined.
Writing Let the Good Times Roll was a challenge, and not just because I transformed Chloe from antagonist (in Eye of the Tiger) to main character I spent every moment longing for Cajun food, and for New Orleans.
(Well, I wrote part of it while visiting New Orleans, so I wasn't longing for much then. Except for more hours to explore and eat and walk and talk and eat and eat and eat. Lucky me!)
As I do for all of my books, I created a Pinterest page full of the images that inspired me for this novella. Before you check it out, a warning: you will long to visit New Orleans for yourself! (As an alternative, read Let the Good Times Roll!)
Feel so so sorry for me. I'm recently returned from New Orleans.
I had to go. It was research.
(It was also so I could chaperone my son's field trip, but don't tell his band director that was my primary motivation.)
You remember Evan's mean sister Chloe from Eye of the Tiger? You didn't think she deserved her happily ever after, did you? Well, I am more forgiving than you. (I am probably not more forgiving than you.) (I admit that writing her comeuppance was fun, and not just because it gave me an excuse to visit New Orleans.)
Let the Good Times Roll will be available very soon! Subscribe to my newsletter and you can be the first to know when it's published.
Eye of the Tiger - Book 3 of Melanie Greene's Roll of the Dice Series, on sale everywhere 2/29/16 (#FunFact: 2-29 is Bachelor's Day! What a cruel trick for me to play on Evan.)
Check out some of the inspiration pins for Natalie and Evan on my Eye of the Tiger Pinterest board. You'll notice a certain obsession with outward appearances with these two. What will happen to them when they start to focus on what's inside, instead? Buy Eye of the Tiger to find out!
Roll of the Dice, Book 3 - Natalie's story is now available for pre-order!
Order now, and TIGER will leap onto your e-reader on 2/29 (#FunFact: 2-29 is Bachelor Day. This doesn't bode well for Natalie's matchmaking mom!)
Warning: contains several silly, lewd limericks. (Evan is a charming, light-hearted man--or is he?)
I'm excited for y'all to read where Natalie's roll of the dice is taking her, whether she's ready for it or not.
I love fairy tales. Back in college, one of my classes had us write a modern take on a Grimm's fairy tale, and I've been exploring them ever since. But it wasn't until I heard about Decadent Publishing's Beyond Fairytales line that I thought about doing it again, as a romance this time.
They gave me Grimm's The Griffin - it's a fun tale with three brothers (including the requisite simpleton youngest), a sick princess, a series of impossible tasks, and a rather grim end for the king who didn't follow through on his initial promises.
I flipped it around so the female character was the underestimated one who wins against the odds, and set it in the fictional Texas hill country college town of Jackrabbit. I had a great deal of fun playing with the fairy tale tropes, the themes of the story, and giving my prince a happy ending.
I hope everyone has fun reading it! And visit my Pinterest board for Feather in Her Cap to check out some of the visual inspiration for this story!
Happy New Year! I'm so excited by the crazy amount of work I've lined up for this year.
First up, the latest ROLL OF THE DICE novel, EYE OF THE TIGER! I'll go on about Natalie and Evan's story at greater length once I've recovered from the virus-that-doesn't-want-me-to-work, but for now I'm excited to share the gorgeous cover (designed, as always, by the talented Killion Group.)
The other novels and novellas on the cards for this year are going to be such fun to work on...so long as I don't get too obsessed by my new favorite distraction, Instagram. Come follow me! You'll surely never tire of well-filtered shots of my gorgeous dog.
I hope your plans for 2016 are energizing enough to keep your spirits up even if you, too, have the virus-that-thinks-you-should-sleep-lots-more-and-forget-words-halfway-through-saying-them.
Writing is a journey undertaken by the mind in conjunction with the soul....