A few minutes ago I received an email letting me know that LINGER is available on pre-order. The release date is October 1st.
Linger is the first book I wrote, and the one that’s most personal. The day I sell my first copy of this book will be one of those days I will remember forever. Even thinking about it brings me to tears.
On August 15 of 2012, I got off a plane in Denver after a visit to East Aurora. On the drive home I told Doug I was going to write a book. I’m not sure how much stock he put in that statement, but over the course of the following six weeks, he realized I was serious about it.
We learned a lot about me as a writer, together. He’d come in to where I was writing and find me laughing out loud, or crying my eyes out, sometimes both within minutes of each other. We both found out how impossible I am to live with when I hit send on the email to the first beta reader, and how little sleep I get waiting for them to finish and tell me what they think.
The most impactful thing we learned was that I am capable of writing a book. The first six iterations of this book were not release-worthy, but after two years of writing under my belt (still a literary infant), I’m finally to the place where I'm ready to share this book with the world.
Releasing it is terrifying, not unlike any other book I’ve released. Putting myself out there, exposing myself to the criticism that is inherent when you place your creation in the hands of others, is daunting. But here goes anyway . . . LINGER.
Pre-order Linger by clicking here.
Frank and I have been looking forward to seeing Fall Out Boy since . . . January, when I bought the tickets. August seemed a long, long, long way off back then. We’ve waited impatiently since. With every concert we’ve gone to at Red Rocks between then and now, there has been a point in the evening when one of us says (wistfully), “Fall Out Boy is going to be so great.”
Tonight we talked about what time we wanted to leave on Tuesday. We were sad for Noah, whose mom waited to get tickets and now can’t, because its sold out. We decided what we’re going to wear, and yes . . . that may sound weird, but as a mom it’s also über cool.
Both of us, almost at the same time said, “I wish it was tomorrow.” Yes, we do. Six months and twenty-six days we’ve been waiting . . . less than forty-eight hours from now we’ll be there, at Red Rocks, in the center of the front row, dancing and singing our faces off.
I wish it was tomorrow.
I had a day today. One of those days. It wasn’t a bad day. It was just a day that felt as though everything wasn’t lining up quite right. It started off weird because when I left the house, no one else was up yet. I don’t do well with change, evidently, given that threw me off a little.
And it’s been a long, long, long time since I put in a ten-hour day at the office. I put in plenty of ten, twelve, twenty hour days at my home office, just not in my away-office.
And in the midst of it, I went from one thing to another, back again and then to another . . . learning new things, trying to finish things partially done, and revisiting other things I thought I never would again. None of that is unusual for me, I’ve been the wearer of many hats most of my life. It was just that not lining up thing.
There were imaginary fires to put out, where someone yelled fire, but there really wasn’t one. Better to take a few minutes to make sure there isn’t, than have to deal with the fallout of something real.
Again, in the midst of it, one thing became apparent, and it is the reason for this blog post. I’ve worked with great people in my life, and I’ve also worked with not so greats. There was a time that I thought the place was what made people lean one way or another. In this environment, one I wasn’t completely sure of, I have found that the people make all the difference. It isn’t the place, it’s the people.
In the course of my day, there were things I knew for sure. If I needed help, it would be there. If I needed guidance, I would find that too. And if I needed someone to go to bat for the program I facilitate, I could count on that as well.
I feel as though I’m part of a team that was already in place when I got there, which no matter what kind of a day you’re having, makes facing the next day something to smile about.
I don’t think I’ve ever written a bad review of a concert. Almost always there is something redeeming. This will be my first.
Last night we went to see REO Speedwagon and Chicago at Red Rocks. Neither were bands I really ever got into, but with REO Speedwagon enough of their popular music played on the radio back when I was in junior high school, that I knew it. As for Chicago, it was another one of those bands that was nearly impossible not to know. When I looked through their set lists from previous concerts, I knew at least 80 percent of the songs.
I’ll start with REO Speedwagon. They were great. High energy performance; their songs sounded like their songs. They were fun, they engaged the audience, and I could’ve listened to them play another hour, at least.
I cannot say the same thing about Chicago. In fact, we left after a half dozen songs. The first thing I noticed when they came on stage was that no one was old enough to be Chicago. A few minutes later, the horn section came out, and those were the only guys I recognized. When they started to play the first song, I was incredulous. The so-called lead singer was so bad, and I mean so bad. He was horribly off-key, and kept pointing to his earpiece. I can only assume that meant it wasn’t working (or something), and he couldn't hear how horrible he sounded.
I hoped it might get better. It didn’t. When they continued to massacre songs I grew up with, I sat and hoped my two fellow concert-goers were hearing the same thing I was, and might want to leave. I think it was one more song before we all fessed up that we were enjoying it equally, meaning not at all.
We weren’t alone. People were leaving in droves. And the weather was perfect. So no one can say there was any other reason except the band being really bad.
The thing I’m most disappointed about is that I feel cheated. I feel as though someone sometime somewhere should’ve made it known that 75 percent of the band wasn’t original, or even close to original. I felt as though I was in Las Vegas watching a really bad Chicago cover band.
The tickets weren’t cheap, even at face value. I sympathize with those who paid scalper prices for this sold out show. I’d be really mad had I gone that route.
I haven’t posted an official review anywhere, but I plan to. I don’t know how many dates they have left on this tour, but I feel as though future concert-goers should at least be warned. I can’t say whether I still would’ve gone or not. Probably not, especially if I’d read a review that said it was bad.
My next Red Rocks experience is Tuesday. And we’re seeing Fall Out Boy. And no matter what, that show will be amazing. So I will cleanse this bad experience through writing about it, and move on.
Last night Frank and I went to see ZZ Ward and Amos Lee at Red Rocks. She opened for him. It’s the second time we’ve seen her, the first was last December with Great Big World and the Fray.
We were as impressed as hell in December, and honestly, we were looking forward to seeing her more than we were Amos Lee. She didn’t disappoint. We were in the fourth row, dead center. And from there, the sound wasn’t great. We heard more of the lead guitar than her voice, which was all sound system because her voice is a force to be reckoned with. The sound did get better as the show went on.
There we were, dead front and center, and among the only two people standing up, dancing and singing along to every song. If you haven’t heard her music, take the time to listen. She is badass. No other word for it.
Her dad came out and played harmonica on one song. Sweet, and cool, and special. Clearly the two are exceedingly proud of one another—the way it should be.
In between her performance and Amos Lee taking the stage, Frank and I went down to the merch booth, and met her. We talked for a couple of minutes, took photos with her. I mentioned we were the two in the front . . . she told me she knew who we were. Which made us laugh and get a little embarrassed. Not that she probably meant it in a bad way.
We missed Amos Lee’s opening number, one of my favorite songs of his, but meeting her was more important at the time. While on stage, she told a story of meeting Amos Lee at his merch booth seven years prior. And now, there she was, opening for him at Red Rocks. Couldn’t help but think how cool it would be for Frank to one day say that about her. It isn’t exactly his dream, I mean, it’s probably a dream. He plays guitar, sings and writes songs all the time, he just hasn’t done anything to put a band together . . .
So back to Amos Lee, but the segue works . . . he was a school teacher. And a self-proclaimed nerd. He used to play guitar and sing, but never in front of anyone. He said he’d go sit on a rooftop in South Carolina and play. Only one guy ever came and listened, or he only let one guy—who was nerdier than he was, so it was okay. It took him several years to be confident enough to play in front of people. He went to an open mic night, and the reaction he got that night was enough to convince him he should quit his day job.
Listening to him last night I wondered how it was that so many years went by without anyone hearing that voice. He is incredibly, remarkably, extraordinarily talented. How did anyone miss that?
I have to be honest, I never thought much about Amos Lee. I like his music. Thought it was pretty good, certain songs I liked . . . but DAMN, last night changed all that. Often the way it is when fate puts you in the path of someone or something you hadn’t yet discovered only for you to be dumbfounded by how clueless you were to something so amazing for so long.
In the middle of his set, he thanked ZZ Ward. He said they stood and watched and listened to her, and then he said they were a little scared to follow her. I would’ve been too. I know this, without question, it won’t be long before she’s the headliner. All over the world.
