What We're Writing? Hank's Trying To Describe It...

HANK PHILLIPPI RYAN: What were writing. HA!  I wish I could tell you, but it is so early on that I’m not quite sure. But that’s the book for 2026. 

What I was writing is the book that comes out next September,  ALL THIS COULD BE YOURS.  And that's why I need your help.

First, this just arrived, the advance bound manuscript, which is sent to authors who have agreed to read it with an eye to a blurb. It has not even been copy-edited, so you can imagine what shape it's in. :-) But people reading for blurbs know how to read around that.

(And you will not believe the fabulous authors who have already endorsed it. I'm not allowed to tell you their names, but they have used words like "captivating" and "irresistible" and "deliciously tense." So, that's good at least.  In fact, I am floating. But that's for later.)

Oh, what’s it about, you ask? Well. That’s exactly the problem.

Exactly the problem! 

In every interview, on the air, or on the page, or even just casually in the elevator, when someone hears you are writing a new book, they say "Oh, what’s it about? "

And you have to tell them, quickly and irresistibly, the plot of your story.

A different version is on the inside cover of the book, and an even different version is on the back of the book. And the somewhat different version is on the book's listings in bookstores and publisher pages. 

So I’m trying to figure out how to describe ALL THIS COULD BE YOURS. In like – – two-ish tantalizing sentences.

One way to do it would be: 

A debut author with a surprise best-selling novel is sent by her publisher on a whirlwind triumphant book tour. But --as her tour crashes and burns, she realizes there’s someone out not only to sabotage her career, but to destroy her husband and kids back home.  She begins to fear the increasing threats  might be the result of a Faustian bargain she made long ago.  And now-- seems like her dangerous deal with the devil has come back to ruin her life.  

It could also be:

A debut author once made a Faustian bargain – – and  now she is celebrating her brand new best-selling novel.  She is delighted, her publisher is thrilled, her fans adore her, and her family is supportive--but not everyone is happy. And her glorious book tour is becoming a string of terrifying disasters. Someone is  clearly out to ruin her – – is it a fan? A rival author? Or is someone from her past? If she can't figure it out, she'll lose her career, her family, and even her life. 

Or

A newly minted best-selling author is forced to juggle her career, her family, and her past – –when  her debut thriller is a  instant blockbuster bestseller, fans are clamoring to get close to her. But her book tour becomes a series of terrifying calamities, and the husband and kids she left back home are having mysterious difficulties of their own. Could it be the result of her long ago Faustian bargain – –is her deal with the devil about to come due?

Does any of that sounds interesting? 

What are the parts that sounds cool to you? 

What are the parts that make you want to read – – and what doesn’t? 

It's not the real devil, of course.  So I'm struggling with that. Although it feels like it to Tessa. 

Rats. I'm so excited about this book, and cannot wait to tell you all about it.  I just need to work on how to do that!

You know what? Sometimes the person who has the hardest time describing the book is the same  person who wrote it! 

Reds and readers, can you help?

What We're Writing: Hallie remembers a Thanksgiving...

HALLIE EPHRON: This Thanksgiving, surrounded by the glorious chaos of my children and grandchildren, I found myself remembering the Thanksgivings that I grew up with and my mother who detested domesticity but loved Thanksgiving.

Here's part of an essay I wrote about her final Thanksgiving.

**

Thanksgiving was my mother’s favorite holiday. I remember her last one. The four of us (my sisters and me) and our spouses and my dad are there with her in the living room of my parents’ New York apartment.

My mother is presiding from a sofa that was moved there from their house in Beverly Hills to this apartment on the upper East Side of Manhattan. Once upholstered in a shiny red-and-green floral print that felt cool against my face, it’s there that my mother read the Oz books to me after dinner when I was growing up. Now in their bright, modern condominium, the sofa had been re-covered in white linen.

I can still see my mother sitting there, nearly lost in a billowing gold brocade caftan. Her hair is, as always, short and brushed briskly away from her face. She smells, as always, of Eve Arden face cream, cigarettes, and Scotch whiskey.

Her cheeks are flushed and full, and she seems at first to be in the pink of health. But closer up, her face is puffy, the skin reddened with broken blood vessels. Her hair is thin. Her grey eyes rheumy. She seems at once paunchy and emaciated. A cigarette trembles between her fingers. She’s too weak to even stand and will retire to her bed before we sit down to eat.

A writer, first and foremost, her hands have always been her pride, the fingers short, stubby, and efficient, the nails cut short so as not to interfere with her typing. Thanksgiving was one of her annual days of domesticity, even if it was hired help who set the table, cooked and served the meal, and cleaned up after.

Even at that last Thanksgiving there was an elaborate centerpiece for the table – a riot of pineapple, eggplant, persimmon, nuts, and grapes. Two turkeys, three pies, three kinds of stuffing.

Not only did she have to be a successful lady writer but she had to run a perfect home and raise perfect children. And Thanksgiving, even her last one, was the time for that perfection to shine.

**

Do you have memories of a lost loved one, no longer with us, but whose memory pops up during the holidays?

Caramel Sauce, Word Search Answers, and Whatnot

 JENN McKINLAY: I was supposed to post Friday's word search answer yesterday, but shockingly (ha!) I forgot. So it is at the bottom of today's post in which I'm sharing my recipe for salted caramel sauce because it bumped my apple pie and my pumpkin pie up "two notches" according to my father-in-law and I absolutely agree.

Salted Caramel Sauce:

Ingredients: 

1 cup sugar

6 Tablespoons unsalted butter, room temperature

1/2 cup heavy cream, room temperature

1 teaspoon salt

Heat sugar in a steel saucepan over medium heat, stirring constantly with a wooden spoon. Sugar will clump but melt into an amber colored liquid. Once the sugar is all melted, add in the butter. Be careful because the sauce will bubble rapidly and it will burn you! If it starts to separate, remove from heat and whisk until smooth. Slowly add in the heavy cream while stirring constantly. After all the cream has been added, stop stirring and let it bubble for 1 minute. It will rise while it heats. Remove from heat and stir in the salt. It will be watery but will thicken while it cools. Cover tightly and it will keep for one month in the refrigerator. Mine has never lasted more than a few days :) 

True confession time: I used to be a hot fudge and marshmallow sauce gal, but I have crossed the enemy line and am all about caramel sauce now. If you're saucing up your dessert, what's your go to? Chocolate? Raspberry? Caramel? Other? 

And now, your word search answers...