Sarah Mlynowski & the All-True Gimme a Call Backstory
I’ve been friends with Sarah Mlynowski from the start of her writing career, when she was making the transition from Harlequin staffer to full-time novelist, so I was delighted earlier this year to see that her status in the YA market had been given a boost by a flurry of buzz over the #gimmeacall hashtag, as hundreds of readers (and authors) tweeted about what they would say to their younger selves if they could reach back in time and leave that message. Which is, as it happens, the premise of Gimme A Call, her new novel. Sarah is in the midst of a blog tour to promote the book (which you can follow through its Facebook fan page), and here she shares the honest-to-goodness truth about the story’s origins.
I have a secret.
When people ask me where the idea for Gimme a Call came from I make stuff up.
Some background: The story is about Devi Banks, a seventeen-year-old high school senior who accidentally drops her cell phone in a fountain at the mall while wishing she could change her past. After fishing it out, she discovers that the only person she can call is herself—as a high school freshman, at age 14.
“So, Sarah, how did you come up with the idea for Gimme a Call?”
“Well,” I say, smiling at the pretend-memory. “I was writing a new book. And when I say ‘writing,’ I mean staring at my ceiling, desperately trying to figure out how to fix a scene that was not working.” The writers in the audience chuckle and nod knowingly. “And I thought…if only Future Me would e-mail over the finished draft.” Ta da!
What do you think? Would you buy it? Too rehearsed?
14 July 2010 | guest authors |
Ellen Bryson’s Dream of Bearded Ladies
The Transformation of Bartholomew Fortunato is narrated by “the World’s Thinnest Man,” one of many “Curiosities” living and working in P.T. Barnum’s downtown Manhattan museum in the spring of 1865. Bartholomew has a very elevated sense of his calling, but his self-image has quite a few blind spots, which come into play when his own curiosity is aroused by the arrival of a bearded lady to the museum; his fascination with her coincides with Barnum’s own desire to keep tabs on his latest star attraction. Ellen Bryson says the idea for her debut novel came to her in a dream—followed by a bout of research that led her to photos of Barnum’s cast. But, she explains, the character that spoke to her in a dream was not the one whose voice would give the novel its shape…
The Transformation of Bartholomew Fortuno started with an image of six bearded sisters in a circus tent. I’d just finished Angela Carter’s amazing novel Nights at the Circus—there’s nothing better than a book about bawdy burlesque women—and drifted off to sleep. I woke up at 3:00 that morning to a vision of six fabulous sisters lined up in the shape of a half moon, their bearded faces lifted to the tent’s canvas ceiling. One after the other, they shouted out their names, a spotlight glimmering off their cheekbones and their luscious beards.
Today, I remember only two names: the first, Esmeralda, a spry young thing who still whispers to me for space on the page. The second was Iell. I can still see her calling out “Iell,” her beard a stunning, burnished red, her face the face of an angel. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. How could a woman with a beard be so beautiful? And so feminine? As the rest of the sisters dissolved into a sepia background, I couldn’t help but wonder if others would see her beauty or only see the beard? What would it have been like to be her? What was her story?
Iell will tell me, I thought. But, for the life of me, no matter how clearly I could see her, Iell would not speak.
28 June 2010 | guest authors |
Our Endless and Proper Work is my new book with Belt Publishing about starting (and sticking to) a productive writing practice. 
