In the package on the pillow there was a long black lace shawl, hand made, from Sevilla. Ronda is sitting on the bed, wearing it now cloaked over her head and face and that is the only thing she is wearing.
"Jack, please, Jack, please come back, Jack! Please." But Jack hasn't heard a word she's said, and before she can say another word, he has fled the room and all she hears are his feet sprinting down the hall.
Ronda blushed and Jesús bowed slightly. "I'm afraid I must go inside now. Otherwise, there is a bride who will have no music." He reached down and only then did she notice the black guitar case beside his feet.
She went up onto her elbows. Stared into his gray blue eyes. The salmon-colored curls ringing his sweaty forehead. She saw the earnest look in his face. "So I think I would like the same thing," she said, not knowing her own voice.
Years later, she tries to focus on the details: the cinnamon sugar sticking to her shoulder. The thick fold of leaves overhead. The cold buttered toast wrapped in tin foil. The smell of his sweat mixed into the smell of pine needles.
One thing that renders me reluctant to begin writing about the "business" of writing and the teaching of writing is the sneaking suspicion that there are things I lack that "real writers" should have in order to teach.
How can it be 2010, and the premier chronicler of American family dynamics in our generation producing this retro, cautionary tale about the dreadful consequences of female lust? And then, being called a genius for it?
There something a little creepy about knowing that as my friends and family read the novel I wrote, that they're probably thinking: Oh, that's how she really views her kids! My God, she lies to her husband?
In her inability to feel content with her life, with the "blackness" that accompanies her through her household tasks and is often expressed through anger and even cruelty, Olive seems, in a way, to be too big for the town that has always been her home.
One year ago today -- Bastille Day -- I released my debut novel The French Revolution on Twitter. It got some pretty good attention, and last fall I landed a traditional book deal with Soft Skull Press.