Monday, January 22, 2007

Parlez Vous?

I have a confession to make- after four years of high school French I still had no idea how to say "ART GEEKS AND PROM QUEENS" - until now. That's right, my second novel, is now being sold in France! They've given it a new super cute cover to go with the French translation, and I can hardly wait to get my hands on one and see just how much I retained from those long ago lessons. . . though if any of you know the real translation for Riens Du Lycee, I'd love to hear it. Without the benefit of my French/English dictionary I'm thinking- High School Nobody? But please feel free to correct me if I'm wrong!

Also, this Wednesday marks the official end of the "FLY ME TO THE MOON" tour. I'll be signing copies at:

7:00 pm at Borders
3333 Bear Street, Costa Mesa, CA (across from South Coast Plaza!)

I'd love to meet some new people. So any of you who are in the area, please feel free to stop by and say hello!

Wednesday, January 17, 2007

2 nite & 2morrow nite!

Yet another reminder that I'll be signing copies of my new book, FLY ME TO THE MOON, tonight at:

Barnes & Noble

7881 Edinger Avenue

Huntington Beach, CA

at 7:00 pm

And tomorrow night at:


125 W. Thousand Oaks Blvd.

Thousand Oaks, CA

at 7:00 pm

Hope to see you there!


Monday, January 15, 2007

R.I.P. O.C.

According to my most trusted Internet source for late breaking news (Defamer), this really is the final season for that quasi-documentary pop-culture phenom, The OC. Apparently Josh Schwartz, the writer behind the show, is heading east so that he can write about those other privileged kids, those beloved by Gossip Girls fans. And while I’m happy that Mr. Schwartz is able to pick up and move on so quickly and seamlessly, I can’t help but wonder what this might mean for those of us still stuck in an OC that is so officially over? I mean, having stretched our 15 minutes for as long as we possibly could, are we destined to suffer the fate of those other, once hip yet now forgotten neighborhoods- 90210, and Melrose Place? And even more important, what will become of all that OC merchandise- you know, the pink hoodies, the coffee mugs, the bumper stickers, the key chains, the baseball caps, the tote bags, the baby bibs- that currently adorn our beloved John Wayne airport gift shop, (nearly renamed The OC Airport during the height of our heady celebrity), as well as every other mall kiosk? Will it all be shipped off to EBay? And what do those of us born and raised here call ourselves now that the phrase "OC native" has so clearly lost it’s cool?

I guess the fall out of all this remains to be seen. I’m just counting on the longevity of "The Real OC" to keep the traffic nice and clogged, and all of the parking spaces filled.

Wednesday, January 03, 2007

Behind the Book- Fly Me to the Moon!!

Back when I was a kid, right before I wanted to be Judy Blume, I wanted to be Eloise-that iconic, naughty, six year old who lived in New York City’s Plaza Hotel. It seemed so glamorous, hotel living. To reside in a place where others make the bed, where skating in the lobby is a choice, and where ice-cream sundaes are delivered right to your door.

I told my mom as much, making the announcement the day she refused to let me eat chocolate chip cookie dough for dinner: “Someday I’m going to live in a hotel,” I’d said. “And then you’ll be sorry.”

Years later, when I found myself spending yet another night in some anonymous, low budget, roach motel, the kind where the sheets are suspect, and showering in your shoes is a must, I realized that this is where my Eloise fantasy had led me. This is where my dream had gotten me. Into a bunion building, flammable skirt wearing, bag dragging, Buh-Bye chanting, not so glamorous career as a flight attendant. One where I spent more time in hotels than I did at home. One where I never, not once, got to skate down the hall.

Of course I’d been warned that it wouldn’t be all coffee, tea, or me, that I’d spend most of my time just picking up other people’s trash. But I refused to listen to that sort of heresy. I mean, how could it not be the greatest job in the world when they paid you to layover in Paris?

Let me count the ways. . .

Still I hung in there. Logging in over a decade’s worth of flying, partly because of all that free travel, but mostly because it provided lots of time for writing. My debut novel, Faking 19, was cribbed during boring layovers and long weather delays. And even though I followed it up with two more YA’s, the flight attendant story was always there, patiently waiting, occasionally giving me a gentle nudge and saying- Hey, what about me? When do I get a say?

Fly Me to the Moon is that book. It’s the result of eleven years spent “researching” life behind the navy blue suit, the control top pantyhose, and the little plastic wings. It’s a revealing, insider look at what it’s really like to work in a metal tube, hurling through the sky, at 37,000 feet.

It’s also the story of Hailey Lane, a lovable, bumbling, flight attendant/aspiring novelist, whose life undergoes a traumatic, unexpected reroute that propels her on a worldwide journey to fix her broken heart. A journey filled with mojitos at every layover, outrageous passengers in every seat, and a cute guy at every gate, as Hailey ultimately discovers she has more options than she ever could’ve imagined.

Publisher’s Weekly calls it- “Sex in the City at 37,000 feet.”

I call it my Valentine to flight attendants, and anyone who’s ever been curious about them.