Bett Norris

Perspectives

This is So Great

 

Honestly, I can’t say when I have been more excited. The great Kate Clinton has a part in Steven Spielberg’s new NBC smash hit Smash, which debuts February 6.

I am very pleased, and relieved, that Kate has decided to refocus on her career and professional life and not so much on her obsession about me. Really, this is best for her as well. She can channel all her energy into her performance and make herself into a television darling.

Debra Messing, Anjelica Huston, Katherine McPhee, and Kate Clinton star in this series about what goes on behind the scenes in creating a Broadway show.  Did I mention Steven Spielberg?

Check out the extended preview, and you’ll see that the great Kate is going to steal the show.

http://www.towleroad.com/2011/12/smash-hit-video.html

 

Can we all get on board with this? Support the show, and help me to help Kate get over it already.

New review for What’s Best for Jane

I still get very excited when a review comes out. Well, I get excited about the good ones.  Below I have posted the latest, a review from Heather O’Neill for afterellen.com.  All I can say is yippee!

What’s Best For Jane by Bett Norris (Bywater)

Though Bett Morris’s What’s Best For Jane is the sequel to the love story Miss McGhee, the novel easily stands on its own.  What’s Best For Jane continues the story of Mary McGhee, who is a powerful and divisive figure in her small southern town — especially among the family of her late partner, Lila Jackson, whose estate Mary inherited.

When Mary befriends Jane Jackson, Lila’s niece, the two provide each other a surprising solace.  Jane is a lonely girl whose distinct intelligence and open-mindedness is not something her father, Lila’s brother Jimmy, appreciates or tolerates. When rumors begin to swirl about the nature of Mary and Jane’s friendship, the damage and impact is devastating.

Norris delves into the complicated aspects of this relationship and reveals how and why both characters offer each other a means of hope.  Mary is at the end of her life and Jane is just beginning — Mary encourages and fears — to find herself.

“There was no escape,” Mary thinks after Jane reads to her Yeats poem The Second Coming, “except with this bright and shining twin of Lila, this doppelganger, a mirror image of her lover, but so much younger and with so much more opportunity than Lila had. In Jane, she saw a second coming, she had a second chance. It burned her eyes and tasted like the ashes on a martyr’s pyre.”

What’s Best For Jane is a gripping second novel by a talented storyteller.

—-Heather O’Neill

Long live the King

These Two Things

Image

Two things happened yesterday. Secretary of State Hillary Clinton gave a speech about LGBT rights as human rights. It was awesome, moving, logical, articulate, passionate. At the same time, President Obama signed an order directing all US agencies to promote and protect the rights of gay people.

And a friend of mine lost her partner.

I cried when Secretary Clinton said, “Gay rights are human rights, and human rights are gay rights.” and again when she said, “It is a violation of human rights when people are beaten or killed because of their sexual orientation, or because they do not conform to cultural norms about how men and women should look or behave.”

I cried when I learned of the loss of my friend and fellow writer, Mari SanGiovanni.

I don’t know why these two things affected me so personally. I don’t understand what they share in common. They both happened on the same day. They both moved me to tears.

I am cynical about political speeches, having heard too many fine words that were followed by no change as promised in the moving rhetoric. I am hardened to loss, having suffered too much of it.

Yet I cried. Still.

The are five stages to grief, as propounded by Elisabeth Kubler-Ross. Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance.  I can relate from my own experience that these are not stages but waves, floods, and they do not progress in a linear fashion, but wash over and through you together, all at once, and you can drown in any one of these deep pools. You can get stuck in anger unable to find the waterfall that sweeps you into depression, unable to resist the swift current of denial or the whirlpool of bargaining, and and you can swim as hard as you want to reach the soothing, waters of acceptance, and you just want to float, and look at the sky, and hope that you can rest. Then another one comes, and it is a tsunami, and you are swept back into denial or anger or depression when you thought you had successfully navigated them, and they were supposed to be behind you.

Grief is a snaky, curved thing, with few peaceful eddies, with tall banks that block the view of whatever comes next.

I don’t know why I was so deeply and emotionally affected by a friend’s loss. I never met Mari’s partner. I did not know her.

The five stages of grief are not stepping stones that carry you from one side to the other.

This morning, the anger is back, for me. If it is a stepping stone to something easier to bear, then let the easier thing come. Let the easier thing wash me clean. I want the soothing waters, not this flood.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Kim and Mari.

Seriously?

So, this high school senior named Emma Sullivan attended a speech by Governor Sam Brownback with her government class. She made some tweets to her friends about the governor using #heblowsalot as a hashtag.

So apparently there is someone on the governor’s staff whose job it is to monitor tweets from teenagers. The governor’s office contacted the school, the principal demanded Emma write a letter to the governor apologizing, and so far, she is refusing to do so.

Really? Seriously? First, monitoring tweets from teenagers. Second, contacting the school because an eighteen-year-old girl says the governor blows? Next, um, the first amendment. Next, Really? Seriously? I think the governor should apologize to Emma Sullivan. She is upset because he cut all funding for arts in the education budget. She wants to talk to him about that.

 

This is trending on twitter #heblowsalot. The governor’s twitter id is @govsambrownback. Have fun. I certainly did.

I’d rather vote for an eighteen-year-old who speaks her mind, crudely or not, than for someone who think his best use of time and labor is to track comments about himself on twitter and crush those who dare to speak his name in unflattering terms. Seriously.

Emma thinks that depending on private support for the arts programs in school may be wishful thinking. She thinks arts are part of a well-rounded education. Maybe she wonders why they don’t cut the budget for football and other sports and let them seek private funding.

She really, seriously thinks Sam Brownback blows a lot. Emma doesn’t agree with a lot of the things he has done as governor. My guess is when she votes for the very first time, it won’t be for him.

Speaking of free speech, when Emma was told to write a letter of apology, she was given talking points. Seriously. From the principal, who had heard from someone in the governor’s office. Really!

When Emma first tweeted those comments, she had 65 followers, all friends of hers. Now she has over 3000. Seriously.

“Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.”

Not only can they not make laws restricting freedom of speech, it is protected by case law and numerous Supreme Court decisions, such as the recent Citizens United case, which stated that corporations are people and therefore have a right to free speech, and that political donations in large sums are an exercise of free speech.

Maybe Emma would like to talk about that next. It really blows a lot too. Seriously.

 

 

A Love Song

I have written passionately about writing, given advice to new writers, told them to write what they know, what they love, to write from the gut and from the heart.

I have struggled lately getting words on paper. I’ve lost my passion, the deep joy and pleasure that writing gives to me. I want it back.

I miss the eagerness, the rush, the routine of getting up early each day, sleepy but excited to begin again.

I miss being so caught up in character and rhythm and style and plot that the world diminishes to a distant thing.

I miss the hours of total concentration, and afterward getting up, stiff and exhausted, but also feeling completely satisfied.

Does this sound like a love song? Baby come back. I need you. I promise I’ll do it better.

I would leave endless voicemails and texts, sit outside and cry, listening to sad love songs, but my lover exists only in my head.

Don’t make me wait. Come back to me now.

I remember when I would go to sleep thinking bout you, and wake up from a dream, and rush to the keyboard to get it all down before it faded away. I remember how good it felt to get it exactly right.

I remember everything, the unfinished drafts that didn’t work, but even they were so much fun. The ones that did work, and went through second and third and fourth drafts, each one becoming more and more what I wanted them to be.

If you come back to me, I promise it will be just like before, only this time, I promise not to piss you off.

I’ve tried nearly everything as a substitute for the passion. Outlining, such a bore. It doesn’t have you capacity to suck me inside the story and make me tremble with excitement.

Stealing stuff from unused, discarded pieces. There is a reason they are in the discard pile.

I’ve tried reading old work, but it only makes me wonder where the good stuff came from. I know it was you.

Why did the passion, the fire, leave this relationship between me and writing? Why won’t it come back home?

There is an old and often true saying that there is a country song that fits every occasion. In this case, I will use Bonnie Raitt. There could be a Bonnie Raitt song for every circumstance in life.

Loss, Literary Icons, and Me

Everyone I have ever met who knew Barbara Grier has a story to tell about her, most revolving around her blunt, assertive, take charge personality. Not one of those stories ever gave me a sense of dislike, and all of them left me with an idea of the respect Barbara Grier garnered for her hard-headed, sometimes heavy-handed approach to getting things done.

Curious Wine was the first book I read from Naiad Press. It was sometime in the nineteen eighties. I can’t remember how I got that first book, but after that, I ordered my Naiad books from the order sheet found in the back of each one.  Barbara Grier and Donna McBride built a literature on mail order.

That book, with its distinctive green cover, sits on my bookshelf today, along with many other Naiad titles. I have driven hundreds of miles, probably thousands, to get to a bookstore that carried lesbian titles. For a very long time, almost all of those books were Naiad books.

I read all of Katherine V Forrest’s books, not even knowing at the time that she served as senior editor at Naiad for ten years and so, edited most of the other books I read, including Karin Kallmaker, and even Jane Rule.

Today, my own books are published through Bywater Books, one of whose owners is Marianne K. Martin, who knew Barbara Grier, was published by her, and has some of those stories about her I mentioned.

In 1999, Kelly Smith formed Bella Books, which acquired much of Naiad’s backstock. Kelly Smith saw Bella Books grow into the largest lesbian publishing company of the time.  She then left to start Bywater Books with Marianne K. Martin. Kelly Smith is now my editor.

How inextricably intertwined we all are, right?

I owe a lot to Barbara Grier, to Katherine V. Forrest, to Marianne K. Martin and to Kelly Smith. In 2004, I attended the Saints and Sinners literary conference held in New Orleans each year in May. (You should go.)  At that time, I was an unknown, unpublished writer. That was the year of the women. Karin Kallmaker was there. So were Katherine V. Forrest, Jewel Gomez, Ann Bannon, Marianne K. martin, Kelly Smith, Jean Redmann, and me. Unknown. Scared. Determined. I was in awe, soaking in as much as I could from every panel discussion and workshop. There was a workshop on the romance novel during which Kallmaker raved about Curious Wine and its enormous influence on her, and was too shy to quote from it. I was not, and so I did, not realizing that the author of that seminal work, Katherine V. Forrest, was herself in attendance. I met her in the bathroom afterward. Awkward.

I went to a panel discussion on the history of lesbian literature, whose members are seen pictured above: Karin Kallmaker, Jewel Gomez, Katherine V. Forrest, and the iconic Ann Bannon. I sat in the largest audience of any panel at the conference, as Ms. Forrest paid homage to Ann Bannon and said that Bannon’s books literally saved her life. I was not alone in being choked with tears, as I felt an impulse to stand and say to Forrest that her books had done the same for me.

That day, in that panel discussion, two other people did stand. Kelly Smith and Marianne K. Martin stood when it was announced that they, joined by JM Redmann, had formed Bywater Books.

I also attended a panel discussion on editing with JM Redmann, Kelly Smith, and Katherine V. Forrest on the panel. We sat in a courtyard in the hot sun and listened enthralled as they discussed the art and war of editing.

When I learned of the newly created Bywater Books, I found a goal, and eventually, a home.

At the closing reception that year, I got to actually talk to Katherine V. Forrest. From that brief conversation later came the idea for a retrospective look at her Kate Delafield series, whose eighth book was released during the conference. That article, along with an interview of Ms. Forrest, was my first published work.

When my first book Miss McGhee was accepted at Bywater, I learned that Katherine Forrest had been the secret celebrity judge of their fiction contest, which brought my manuscript to their attention.  I am very proud that Ms. Forrest wrote the blurb for the cover.

Just last week, I read Taking My Life, a memoir found in Jane Rule’s papers after her death and just published. Katherine Forrest edited two books for Jane Rule while at Naiad. To say that these two writers have influenced me as much as any writer can impact another, to say that they both served as inspiration for the standard I hoped to reach, does not at all convey the very real personal, compelling force each has had in shaping who I am today, an out lesbian, a writer, one who has joined the ranks of published authors and contributes to the growing body of work that lesbian literature is.

Marianne K. Martin is herself a lesbian icon and trailblazer. She is one of the best-selling romance novelists of all time, and has written many classic and classy romances. That she now helps me in writing my own books is an honor and a rare advantage. That her own work was shaped and published by Barbara Grier and Katherine V. Forrest makes me dizzy. Marianne’s help and influence on my writing is invaluable, and makes me feel very lucky.

Kelly Smith is a genius editor, a sometimes maniacal, torturous editor, (I did not say masochistic!) but one whose real gift is that she sees a writer’s intent, hears a writer’s true voice, and shapes a book to be more of what the author wanted it to be. The real talent in editing is to make a book better. Kelly Smith always does that. A former bookstore owner,  the founder of Bella Books, and now publisher and editor at Bywater, Kelly embodies the term evil genius, which may have been invented for Barbara Grier,

That I have come to know and to work with these women, to know their roots, to know that those roots run deep, and tie me to them, through them to pioneers like Barbara Grier and Katherine v. Forrest and others, makes me feel part of a community of strong, stubborn women.

If you think you’ve read a lot of lesbian romance, go read Emergence of Green or Mirrors or Curious Wine. If you think you have read too many lesbian detective mysteries, go find Murder at the Nightwood Bar or Murder by Tradition. If you have not found enough quality lesbian writing, read any one of Jane Rule’s books. Or The Girls Club. Or Field Guide to Deception. Haven’t laughed enough lately? Read Camptown Ladies or I Came Out for This?

The roots run very deep. We all have something to say to each other, and thanks to people like Barbara Grier, today we can speak to each other, entertain each other, in many venues, genres, formats, and places. This growing body of work that is lesbian literature owes a lot to one stubborn woman who insisted we had a right to have our own.

What’s Missing in This Photo?

Me, that’s what. Given the ongoing obsession the Great Kate Clinton nourishes for me, I asked the brave and unflappable Georgia Beers to take one on the chin for me during this year’s Women’s Week in P Town. She really came through for me.

It has been a quiet time since Women’s Week. No emails, no contact of any kind from Great Kate. I think this plan might have worked.

Or maybe the GK is focusing on the upcoming election season. Lord knows there is enough material already with the Republican clown car series. Herman Cain singing, denying his earlier denials, Rick Perry absolutely goofy over maple syrup, and Mitt insisting corporations are people too, well the list is too long.

Georgia managed to launch her newest book 96 Hours, which I am dying to read. Unique premise. I just have to get this book, and soon.

Also out for P Town: Marianne K. martin’s long=awaited new book, The Indelible Heart. This one I have already read, and trust me, you will love it. Heart-wrenching, and tough in places, but so real, especially the main character Sharon.

 

 

 

 

Sally Bellerose was also there, promoting her first novel The Girls Club. This one is a definite winner.  The story of three sisters coming of age in a working class town, struggling with marriage, babies, love, and self awareness during the seventies. Gritty and real.

 

 

And coming out next from Bywater, another book I have waited for and am excited to read: the sequel to Greetings From Jamaica, Camptown Ladies.

 

If you loved Greetings From Jamaica, and laughed as much as I did, then you will want to grab this one as soon as it comes out.

 

Joan Opyr’s very fine Shaken and Stirred is also out now. I believe this is Opyr’s best work yet.

So, lots of good reading out or soon to be out. Get your Christmas lists ready. All of these are also available as ebooks. Which you can’t wrap. Even so, books make great gifts.

An American Person

“Ultimately, the American people won’t take ‘no’ for an answer.” President Obama.

Excuse me for a moment while I respond. I am an American person, and I refuse to take no for an answer to the jobs bill. I refuse to wait until the next election to have my voice heard.

I refuse to accept that a 96-year-old woman is forced to produce her marriage certificate before she is “allowed” to vote.

What part of “we are fed up, unemployed, hungry, worried, homeless, uninsured, and mad as hell” does Congress not get?

I have a sister who has been unemployed for a year and a half because her employer, New Era, closed all its American plants. (They make caps for major league baseball, but apparently not in the US any longer.)

I have a brother who was laid off along with everybody else at his job, but was refused unemployment benefits because he “confronted” his employer about it.

I have a sister who lost her job when her corporation was taken over by another, and after thirty years on the job, forced into early retirement.

I have a sister who lives on Social Security.

I work at a job that just reduced my pay, while my property taxes and health insurance increased.

I want Congress to do their job, and put people back to work, and I think it is fair that the wealthy pay their fair share of the tax burden to pay for the jobs bill.

I do not think it is ironic that police in Boston refused to let marchers onto a bridge to hang a sign reading “Fix this Bridge” because it would not hold their weight.

I think it is fair that corporations who are sitting on profits and refusing to invest in jobs lose tax loopholes.

I think that the Occupy Wall Street movement should surround the Capitol building in Washington and refuse to leave until the Jobs bill is passed. A 24/7 watch. Free coffee for any member of Congress who wants to join them.

Forget Wall Street. Occupy Congress from now until election day.

This is not politics as usual. This is personal. I am an American person who has never marched or protested, never joined a movement, never contributed in any way to politics or campaigns. And I am ready to do all those things. Where do I sign up?

The Week That Was

“Fidelity to any human place, except the heart, seems dubious to me.” Desert of the Heart, Jane Rule.

This is a photo of my brother. We talked this week, and things are not going too well for him right now. Hard Times, the economy. He lost his job. My sister lost her job over a year ago. Hard times.

Barry has worked hard all his life. He drives heavy machines. He has raised a family, bought a house, lost it, been strong, and somehow, retained a sensitive heart. He feels things deeply. I am like him in that.

He can’t understand the loss of family, nor can I. We talked about that, about how we assumed that family would always be there for us, no matter what, to help out when they can, to listen, to support.

He cried a little, and I cried a little, and I did what I could.

My brother is a strong man with a simple understanding of love. I am like him in that.

He loves deeply, and gets hurt easily. I am like him in that way too.

He is quick to anger, but repents and forgives. I am like him in that.

We both miss our mother, and wish she were still here to demand that this family pull together.

My brother can’t understand why one son is willing to help his parents when they need help, and one son is not.

Barry tries to retreat into a shell, and say that he only depends on himself and his wife, and doesn’t want or expect anyone else to care. I say the same, but neither of us mean it.

Barry and I both believed that our family would grow closer after the loss of our mother, and we are both immeasurably damaged because they didn’t.

My little brother and I both believe in the fidelity of the human heart.

 

 

 

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 558 other followers