Sisterhood Everlasting Tour!
Tour Events
New York City
Barnes & Noble (Upper East Side) — Talk, Q&A, Signing — 6/15 — 7:00 PM
Boston
Wellesley Free Library — Talk, Q&A, Signing — 6/14 — 7:00 PM
Milwaukee
Next Chapter — Reception, Talk, Q&A, Signing — 6/21 — 7:00 PM
Chicago
Anderson’s (Naperville) — Talk, Q&A, Signing — 6/22 — 7:00 PM
Vernon Area Library — Luncheon, Talk, Q&A, Signing — 6/22 — Noon
Lake Villa Library — Luncheon, Talk, Q&A, Signing — 6/23 — Noon
Denver
Tattered Cover (Colfax Ave.) — Talk, Q&A, Signing — 6/27 — 7:30 PM
St. Louis
Left Bank Books (at Saks Fifth Avenue) — Reception, Talk, Q&A, Signing — 6/28 — 6:00 PM
Atlanta
Margaret Mitchell House — Talk, Q&A, Signing — 7/6 — 7:00 PM
Houston
Blue Willow Books (at Houston Public Library) — Talk, Q&A, Signing — 7/7 — 6:00 PM
Sisterhood Everlasting
Dear Readers,
When I started writing about the Sisterhood ten years ago, I wanted to create characters with big, open-ended lives—girls who wouldn’t fit into a single novel. At the same time, I wanted to tell a proper story with a beginning, middle, and end. So I planned a four-book sequence to tell that story. And as I got to the end, I realized I was ready for the end of that story, but not remotely ready for the end of the characters. They were only nineteen, after all. They had so much life ahead of them! I didn’t want to miss it. Would their friendship survive adulthood? Who, if anyone, would they marry? What about having babies? What career would Carmen choose? Would “someday” ever come for Lena and Kostos?
I promised myself that after taking a break from them and trying out some other things I would come back and find them later in their lives. So that’s what I’ve done inSisterhood Everlasting. I’ve rediscovered Carmen, Lena, Bridget, and Tibby on the cusp of their thirtieth birthdays. Though it felt right to be away—all of us off doing our different things—it felt wonderful to come back together. I don’t think I would have appreciated the characters as much without the hiatus, and I hope the characters feel the same. I discovered I have certain ways of thinking and writing that are unique to those girls, and I had really missed them while I was away.
If you are familiar with the girls of the Sisterhood, I hope you will enjoy the reunion as much as I have. If you are coming to them for the first time, I hope you will find pleasure in the introduction.
So welcome (back) to the Sisterhood. We’ve missed you.
Xo,
Ann
To Grow Up or Not To
There’s a woman I used to see at on Fire Island sometimes. I don’t think she goes there anymore. I never met her, but I was struck by her, aware for some reason we are similar in age, but that she’d been coming to this beach since she was born, while I had found a place here only as an adult.
I remember one evening around sunset a bunch of us newcomers were sitting on the deck at a friend’s house. We were drinking gin-and-tonics and talking about our jobs and sounding like our parents as our various children ran around on the sand. I remember seeing this woman ride by on her bike. She made a romantic silhouette turning the corner at the bay–almost childlike–and I was struck by her native look of freedom. She wore surfer shorts over her old lifeguard bathingsuit and I could tell she’d spent a long day on the beach. Like all true Fire Island kids, she rode her bike as though it were part of her body. I looked at her for a second and she looked back at me. I wasn’t sure what I felt, whether it was pathos or envy. She didn’t have many of the things I held sacred: children and marriage and all-day accountability. She was holding on to the house that belonged to her parents, while I was raising children in my own. But she had freedom. She had a kind of lightness I didn’t have. She had solitude and the beach to herself and her own choices all day. She finished her thoughts and her sentences, I imagined. Or maybe she felt no need to start them. When she looked at me I wasn’t sure what she felt, whether it was with envy or pathos. It was almost like we glimpsed each other through the veil between possible worlds. I could have been you, I thought. You could have been me. Do I wish that? Do you?
I can’t say that she became my character Riley, exactly. I don’t know her at all. But my idea of her, accurate or not, provided an inspiration.
It strikes me that Fire Island is a great place to be a kid. It’s a good place to be a grown up and to raise your kids. But it’s almost an impossible place to make the trip between the two.
It’s funny that it’s the place I’ve chosen–not personally, but as a writer–to attempt that very trip.
I’ve always been a big reader.
I’ve always loved books, I’ve always loved stories. And I’ve always told myself stories. I used to write some of them down, but I didn’t really have the idea of being a writer. Somehow, I didn’t imagine that it was something I could actually do as a job so I got a job after college as a receptionist at a small company that produced books mostly for children and young adults. And I was madly attracted to that, to the idea of being in that atmosphere where people were working on books. And little by little I was able to take on some editorial responsibilities and got promoted eventually to being an assistant editor and senior editor and finally I think I was editor-in-chief and then I ended up buying the company with a partner.
So I was a small-business owner for a brief time. Basically I was working on a lot of manuscripts, as an editor. I was revising them, working with writers, writing revision letters, writing cover copies, and doing line editing, which is a real art and I just loved it and worked on it for years and years. So I did that for about ten or eleven years and as I did I realized that my strengths were definitely not administrative and not managerial. They were not organizational in any way. The thing that I was good at and the thing that I loved was just being close to the manuscript and I became known as the kind-off expert re-writer. So if a book was in trouble I would be brought in to do major re-writes, like write 200 pages of a book. And that was so much fun because there’s no ego in that – I just wanted to try to get into a voice and do the best job I could. And the closer I was to the most creative part of it, the happier I was. And finally I did this gigantic re-write and I gave it to an editor at Random House, who was publishing the book. She read over my work and said, “If you ever decide to be a writer, please show me your work. I strongly encourage you to be a writer.” I was very fearful about it and was afraid that I couldn’t do it, but finally with her encouragement and encouragement from other places, I decided to kind of take a risk and I wrote my first book.
The first page
Two summers ago I went for a run on the beach and stopped to look at the ocean. For some reason a sort of gruesome and highly dramatic scene came into my head, where a woman and a man are in a dire situation. There is no way out, it seems, and she tries to persuade him to kill her and then kill himself, because she believes they will come out on the other side of death and be together again.
I poked at the idea a little and my mind served up some quick answers. Why does the woman believe this? Because the man told her so. Why did he tell her so? Because he’s navigated death before and he knows that most people live again and again. How does he know this? Because he remembers it. Why does he remember it? Hmmm. It just happens sometimes. Because there is a wide continuum of memory. Because once in a few centuries somebody is born who has a memory that extends past death.
As I walked home my story got more voluptuous. He loves her, I decided. Not just in this life but before, too. She can’t remember it, but he can. And then I started to wonder: how far back does this memory of his go? When was the very first time he saw her and what happened?
So anyway, that was how the idea started. The more I thought about it, the more interested I became in the idea of his memory.
I got home and wrote up a page, which I ended up using as the first page of the book.
Exciting News
My Name is Memory was optioned for film. If you are interested in more details, you can read about it here. It happened really quickly. In fact the book hadn’t yet been copyedited, and I felt bad for those scouts and producers having to soldier through my typos and other dumb errors. But it was thrilling, more than anything, to feel that this book was connecting with readers. Peter Chernin is the buyer, and I’ve heard only great things about him.
My Name is Memory
My name is not memory, in fact. But that is the name of my new book, which I just finished this week. I am excited about it. It will be published by Riverhead Books in early June.
But before I go on, I have to apologize. I think I am the worst multi-tasker in the world. No, that is too grand. I am a bad multi-tasker. I have a lot of trouble focusing on writing a book while also keeping my website up to date (not to mention taking care of my children, making dinner, calling my mom back, keeping the pets alive and so on.) To those of you who have continued to check in, thank you. I am so grateful to you for being interested in my books and for letting me know your thoughts. I’m sorry I haven’t been writing in and updating the site more frequently. I hope to do better.
This new book is kind of a departure for me. Not a total departure–it’s mainly about love. But it takes place on a broad canvas of time. I’m going to include a part of a scene below to give you an idea of it. This scene is told from the point of view of Daniel, a young man blessed (or cursed, it often seems) with a long history and a very unusual memory.
each birth your body starts out fresh and mostly blank, but then you print yourself
on it over time. You hold onto
old experiences: injuries, injustices, and great love affairs, too.” I glanced up at Sophia. “And you hold them in your joints and
your organs and wear them on your skin.”
“You do.” She was giving me that same look of indulgence, but it was less
confident.
“We all do.”
My new hobby
A little over a year ago I started taking piano lessons. I last took them when I was ten, so it’s been awhile. I am terrible at it, and my brain and fingers are maddeningly slow, but I really love it. The piece I’ve been working on is a Mozart sonata (#16 in C) and it is beautiful. Well, it’s not beautiful when I play it, but you know what I mean.
Fire Island
Fire Island is a barrier island–a skinny stretch of sand between the Great South Bay and the Atlantic Ocean. It’s just sitting out there in the water, 32 miles long and 1/4 of a mile wide at its widest. Because it’s essentially a sandbar, it’s vulnerable.
In the famous and terrible hurricane of 1938, the eye passed right over Saltaire, the town where we live. According to town lore, the ocean met the bay that day, and the entire island lay under water. Three-quarters of the houses were destroyed and even those that weren’t were washed off their pilings and floated around like boats until the water finally receded.
There used to be a promenade–a wide boardwalk–along the ocean and there were houses on both sides of it. Ocean Prom, as they called it, was long ago destroyed and so were all the houses on either side. It’s a bit haunting to me, the ghosts of those old houses and walks, now deep under the sea. They say when a big storm is coming, the ocean pulls far back and you can see the stone hearths from those houses long since washed away.
You feel like you’re in the hand of nature there, subject to her moods. In New York City, were we live for most of the year, nature seems more like our guest. In a place like Fire Island, we are hers. It’s a dumb place to build a house when you think of it, but also thrilling and beautiful. As with many things, the curse and the blessing of it are pretty much the same.
The fragility makes it a good setting for a novel, I think. The sea-light brings on nostalgia much quicker. It conjures a state almost like deja-vu, when you feel like you are living an experience and remembering it at the same time. As a writer, I love that spot where land and sea and sky meet. I love that blurry place where life’s transitions are made without you even knowing it.
The latest
There has been some confusion in switching over from my old website to my new one. I think it’s all figured out, finally. Thanks for your patience. We’re still trying to bring the comments section over from the old site. They should get here soon.
