Day: September 14, 2012

I left the pasture on this beautiful morning and came into the house to check my e-mail and there was, as there often is, another message from a person I call “The Angry Woman From Ohio.” I know a lot of people from Ohio, and they seem very nice to me, but this woman is usually angry with me, and if she isn’t, then her mother is. They take turns sending me impassioned and long, sometimes enraged messages of disappointment. They don’t seem to require an answer.

How striking to come from a scene like the one above – working with Red, walking the dogs, seeing the donkeys –  to the Angry Woman’s messages. It’s a fascinating thing about my life, one which brings me into the real world and back all day. Healthy, I think. I can’t get to read all of my e-mail anymore, sadly, but I do try and scan it once or twice a day, and the Angry Woman From Ohio seems to stand out, as if her messages are charged with a particular angry righteousness, appearing in psychic bold. Her mother writes less frequently, usually imagining that I am deleting her messages (or even reading them) and insulting her, and threatening to quit the blog. The last time she wrote, she said she would only read my blog every now and then. I wish.

Her daughter also threatens to quit the blog often, but they don’t seem to go away, even though I disturb them regularly. I’m not sure I understand what they get out of it, although the answer is fairly clear – some people need anger, need to be aggrieved,  it is fuel to them.

And the neat thing is that the more sincere I try and be, the angrier she gets. This morning The Angry Woman From Ohio wrote me that she ready my piece on grieving and she said she has long thought there was something wrong with me, adding she didn’t mean to be mean-spirited, just sorry for me, I think. She is more of a gift to me than the knows, The Angry Woman From Ohio, because, as is often the case, messages from the outside mirrors feelings within. There has been a lot of anger in me, still is too much, and I work hard to say goodbye to it, gently and firmly, as I do with fear. Goodbye, thank you, time to move on. Every time I see a message from The Angry Woman From Ohio, I shed some of my own anger, piece by piece, bit by bit. Rejecting anger is a healthy thing to do, it lightens the load.

I do not ever want to send angry messages like that, and because of her, and  my other continuing self-improvement projects, I am very unlikely to.

I never answer the Angry Woman From Ohio or other angry people,  because I know better than that.  In America, people hate what they disagree with, it is the true viral disease you won’t be warned about on the news. You answer just once, and it will never stop. This is a hard-earned lesson of many years of writing online.

My life is not an argument, and I just won’t be lured there. I was tempted to say, as I often do to angry people, of whom there are many in this country, just because I am different doesn’t mean there is something wrong with me – or you. Take it easy on yourself and go read something that makes you happy. Or take a walk with your dogs. But I didn’t, I deleted the message, I don’t want anger nesting in my inbox or trash. I have the feeling this Angry Woman From Ohio is not a mean-spirited person, just a sad and disturbed one, to be sending so much bad energy out into the world, and I fantasize sometimes about meeting some of these people. Every now and then, one of them turns up at a book reading, and they are often surprisingly nice, usually nervous. They just don’t know how to talk to people out of grievance and rage and the Internet makes it so easy to say hateful things hiding behind a computer screen.

I doubt I will ever meet the Angry Woman From Ohio, as people who send angry messages on the Internet are rarely brave enough for face-to-face encounters. But I thought of her this morning. I hope you have a good day, Angry Woman from Ohio,  and I hope you find peace and compassion, and all of the things you really need. If you were in my pasture this morning, with Maria and Red and the sheep, I think it would have soothed your restless spirit, your mom’s too. I try to find love and connection in this, and I am sure it is there somewhere.

I hope you find your own pasture. Take mom.

It’s time for “Dancing Dogs,” my first short story collection, now on the 100 best-selling short story collections two weeks before publication. I hope to get higher on that list.

It has become a tradition for me, and a nice one, to have my friend Marilyn Brooks, an artist and the mother of Connie Brooks, the owner of Battenkill Books, review my book the week before it is published. Marilyn is not an objective or detached reviewer, and I doubt she would be too critical of my work – she has read my books for years – yet she has a directness and simplicity about her reviews that is very important to me and very credible to her growing number of fans on the Internet. If she did not like a book, I cannot imagine her reviewing it. Her honesty and intelligence just shine through.

It is odd how this works, but I often feel that Marilyn sees things in my books that professional critics often do not.

People follow her reviews, and she sells a lot of books. So today, she is reviewing my newest paper book “Dancing Dogs: Stories,” out September 25 from Ballantine Books, a Random House imprint. The book is garnering some of the best reviews I have  gotten and it is off to a good start. “Dancing Dogs” is a collection of fictional short stories, and it is not about the farm, at least not directly. Most of the 16 short stories are about dogs, a few are about other animals, one about a barn cat, another about an old farmer, his old border collie and an old coyote (it is called “Old Dogs.”) The stories were inspired by the recession, by my life in upstate New York, by my own life with dogs, donkeys, barn cats and chickens.

In them, I worked to focus on the point of emotional connection between people and animals, a subject that has fascinated me for a long time. Short stories, like e-books, are a good form for me, and I hope to do more of both.

Although the cover shows an adorable puppy, a few of the early online reviewers seemed upset that not all of the stories were entirely happy. I know that some people use animal love to escape from the reality of the world, but I think it just helps us all survive it. Those of you who have read my books know not to expect “Boo, The Cutest Dog In The World,” yet I do see this a very upbeat collection of stories, celebrating the great love people have for their dogs and animals, even in hard times. I spent a lot of time with working women in lousy box store jobs to learn how much their pets meant to them.  I see that some people demand complete happiness, but I do not see life quite that simply. Still, this book is loaded with happy endings and happy animals doing their thing – helping people be loved.  As Marilyn grasped, the stories are at least as much about people who love animals as they are about the animals. That is sort of the point.

You can see some of the reviews for yourself here, and of course make up your own minds about whether or not you want to buy this book. If you do, it is available everywhere for pre-ordering or just plain ordering. I’d love for you to consider buying it through Battenkill Books, my local bookstore and a great independent bookstore.Connie and Marilyn do not spend a lot of time whining about Amazon and e-books (maybe just a little) but they run a wonderful bookstore that not only serves its own community but many people beyond. I will sign and personalize every copy of “Dancing Dogs” or any other of my books purchased through Battenkill Books, something online stores cannot do. Connie is also giving free signed Bedlam Farm notecards away with each book purchased. You can call the store at 518 677-2515 or purchase my books – “Lenore Finds A Friend” as well – through the store’s website, www.battenkillbooks.com. They accept Paypal.

We sold 1,100 copies of “Going Home” through Connie, and I’m shooting for 1,500 copies of “Dancing Dogs.” My book tour schedule will soon be published on the top of the website page under the “events” heading. Hope to see you around the country. I don’t hit the road until October l, although the tour kicks off at Battenkill September 25. Red will be there, Lenore too.

I’m happy to offer Marilyn Brooks review of “Dancing Dogs: Stories.” Come and see.