Tag Archives: storytellers

Little is the Real Big

Jack is in Scotland for his sister’s funeral (and thank you all for the many kind thoughts and well wishes you have sent). In place of his guest blog, let me offer a commencement speech forwarded by my editor at St. Martin’s Press, the amazing and astute Nichole.

We like ideas that mirror our own, of course, and Nichole and I share a belief that little has always been the real big. The best stories are the little ones we share with each other that bind us together; the stories that happen to us individually may seem small, but they make up the big picture of human existence. Or something like that. I don’t want to put words in her mouth, but thanks Nichole for sharing this speech. It’s lovely, affirming, inspiring, and a tiny indictment all at the same time.

Little is the real big. Go for it, ye writers, storytellers, and poets all!

FULL TRANSCRIPT: Lin-Manuel Miranda’s Commencement Speech at UPenn

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Filed under between books, Big Stone Gap, bookstore management, humor, Life reflections, Little Bookstore of Big Stone Gap, out of things to read, publishing, reading, Scotland, small town USA, Uncategorized, VA, Wendy Welch, writing

The Ceiling that Started It All

palmer house cornerJack and I were sitting in the Palmer House Hotel in Chicago when my book sold; I talked to two different publishing houses, chose one, and off we went.

It’s a story I’ve been reliving from telling it at back-to-back literary festivals these past three days, and because my friend Tele Aadsen has sold her memoir. Rejoicing at a fellow writer’s recognition sparks happy memories.

Tele’s book on being a fisherwoman, which caught bids from no less than four publishing houses, will be out in about a year. Her blog is HOOKED; it comes right up if you google her. If you want to read my “sold the book” story, it’s “THE DAY THE BORDERS CLOSED AND OPENED AT THE SAME TIME” in the December blog postings.

palmer house ceilingBack to that ceiling: The Palmer House Hotel in Chicago is a wonderful place, and since Jack and I got it on a last-minute half-price deal a week before we left, it wasn’t ruinously expensive. And they have a swimming pool. Getting into water always makes me happy.

I sat under this glorious human-made sky, feeling like anything in the world was possible, the day the competing editors talked to me about their vision for my book. It was a heady time, and Editor Nichole turned out to be as lovely as she sounded that first day. She shaped and smoothed, guided with a gentle hand, and smiled the whole time with more than just gritted teeth. She was having fun, and that was fun.

teleWhich is what I’m wishing for Tele, whose sky and sea are of a different hue and temperament, and for all my new friends made these past three days. Whether you self-publish or work with a house, may you have a voice you trust, a hand whose firmness is comforting rather than restraining, and fun, fun, fun. Underneath the miasma of economics and marketing and other underbelly necessities of publishing, there are stories waiting to be told. Great stories, quiet stories, honest and enlightening stories, tales that will make us laugh and think and remember.

So here’s to all the storytellers giving us back the tales of our lives. I lift my own cup of overflowing happiness to you, and wish you well.

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Filed under publishing, Uncategorized