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Randy Susan Meyers's Blog

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My Shameful Beloved Kindle
I’ve been a bit in the closet with my Kindle (and of course, my Kindle book light,) fearing the wrath of purist friends and Indie bookstores and worrying that I will be part of an online horde slowly removing books, beautiful, lovely, wonderful books from the shelves of the world. But here’s the...
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A Tree Grows in Brooklyn
Perhaps every insatiable reader has a book so thoroughly imprinted at a vulnerable age, that they carry those characters like family of the heart forever. Some marked me for horror. IN COLD BLOOD assured I’d never stay alone in a country house. Others taught me about the awful mixes of fear,...
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The Murderer's Daughters
Naturally, as a debut author, I had about as much say about my cover as Mrs. Claus does at Christmas, but somehow the talented art department at St. Martin’s Press, led by the wonderful Steve Snider, snuck into my brain, shook out my imagination, and colored it into something far more beautiful...
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For all those who moan about the many ways we are being changed by on line networking, Facebook, twittering, spacing, Googling, etc, I can only answer this: Get over yourselves! Leave your mean-spirited gnawing on the bones of yesterday, and put a toe in the web water. It wasn’t long ago that I...
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TOWN HOUSE by Tish Cohen
Fourth of July weekend and I wasn’t swimming, sunning, or drinking gin and tonic. The first draft of my new novel screamed to be done (and by Sunday it was) but even the best of intentions need a break for the arm muscles. I needed a book juicy enough to suck me in, interesting enough to nourish,...
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Patient Books
  I am awash in books. My proverbial book eyes are far bigger than my book stomach. (Were that only true in real life!) I wander bookstores and my heart pounds. I buy a pile of books. I read a review; I buy the book. I remember a book I once loved, I find it or buy it, and add it to my pile....
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In the continuous stream of NPR that is my life, I just learned that Jerri Nielson died of breast cancer. Dr. Nielson wrote a book I’ve read more than once, and that has now become the final solidification of my vow not to lend out well-loved books. Her book, ICE BOUND: a Doctor's Incredible...
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Every book has a genesis, right? When my sister was eight, my mother warned her against letting my father into our apartment in Brooklyn. Perhaps she also cautioned me, but I was barely five and can’t remember. Years later, as adults, when my sister and I began exploring our childhood in that way...
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Before there was the movie, and the other movie, there was, THE BOOK. I liked the first movie. I will probably like this movie. Denzel Washington. John Travolta. Luis Guzman. What’s not to like? But the book, ah, I loved the book. “Steever stood on the southbound local platform of the Lexington...
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Time to come clean. I am a former blog-snob (what did I care about what Mary Maple Avenue ate for breakfast,) who became a toe-in-the-water blog reader (so that’s how my character would feel after surgery,) turned greedy reader of smart blogs providing instant information (I need Splenda-based...
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Randy Susan Meyers
The Little Giant of Aberdeen County by Tiffany Baker Admit it, what in this world do we hate more than a fat woman? Oh, we may pretend otherwise . . . oh, perhaps some of our best friends are fat women. Or, ohhhhhh, perhaps we are the fat women. In that case, we are duty-bound to hate ourselves. In...
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Randy Susan Meyers
I’ve been to more than a few writing conferences, and except for the (unnamed) one, where the men-in-charge engendered every competitive activity possible (except perhaps writing in the snow with their god-given equipment—but this may have come up since I attended) I’ve taken something from each...
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I rarely even chuckle aloud while reading, and almost never cry at the written word, but while lying in bed, 11:30 Saturday night, alone (which my husband—who was away—will be happy to know,) I smiled, laughed, and then almost cried, as I read this Steve Almond essay from his book titled (Not That...
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"In the airport, coming home from vacation, he stops at a kiosk and buys grapefruits, which he arranges to have sent to his daughters. They will stumble over the crates waiting on their porches, when they get home from his funeral.” Thus opens this stark and haunting memoir, written in prose...
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Picking Cotton: Our Memoir of Injustice and Redemption by Jennifer Thompson-Canninoand Ronald Thompson with Erin Torneo I’m fascinated by redemption, forgiveness, and the power of being strong at the broken places, so Picking Cotton: Our Memoir of Injustice and Redemption by Jennifer Thompson-...
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