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Posts Tagged ‘memoirs’

Charlie Sheen wants to write a gossipy memoir about his experiences at Two and a Half Men. He is asking for the starting bid to be $10 million. The title is to be When the Laughter Stopped, so was that like, season 2?

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Good God. I’m coming into the home stretch with my young adult paranormal romance.

I’ve written 175 pages in the past six weeks. That is lightning-fast for me, because I am not a speedy writer. I really wanted to get to 300 pages and finish by March 1, but sadly it looks like that is not to be. Damn February and its short number of days. It would have been so excellent for me psychologically to be done before I flip the calendar over, but there’s no way.

Oh, but I love my characters and their swooning and their problems and their magic! Good times. I cannot wait to start editing. I haven’t let myself read anything I’ve written so far, so it will all be (sort of) new to me when I read it–the second week of March, I guess.

After the YA PR is written, I will attempt to get on the Stephen King-recommended schedule of writing in the morning and editing in the afternoon.

The next project I want to write will either be the L.A. memoir (which I think I’ve written 200 pages of?) or my self-publishing experiment, which I’m thinking may be part of a true-crime book I wrote from 2008-2010. No one knows what to do with it, including me. I tried to integrate a relationship memoir with this ripped-from-the-headlines story and… it hasn’t worked yet. Although everyone who’s seen it has said it’s an intriguing idea.

Also, I’m getting a lot of love from the independent film community and I’m not quite sure why that is. Big sloppy love right back at ya, though, guys. I’m a great believer in the cosmic flow or whatevs, so there must be a reason that in the past couple months I’ve 1) Broken a news story about a classic Seattle theater closing, 2) Been mentioned by the Independent Film Channel and 3) Been given a pep talk by one of my favorite filmmakers, indie upstart Kevin Smith.

I don’t know what it means, but it means something and I’m gonna figure it out after this teen novel is done.

Until we meet again, I’ll be off surfing the universal waves and typing ’til my arms fall off.

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According to Entertainment Weekly,

Another unbelievably tasteless tell-all memoir in the works: Jesse James has reportedly signed on with Gallery Books, an imprint of Simon & Schuster, to write a book that will divulge intimate details about his marriage to Sandra Bullock and his engagement to Kat von D.

Trade site Publishers Marketplace had just this to say under deal announcements:

Non-fiction: Memoir
Cheating former husband of Sandra Bullock, Jesse James’s AMERICAN OUTLAW, to Gallery.

The book is rumored to be coming out this year. Too bad they don’t say how much the deal was for. That’s the juiciest part. ‘Til the book comes out, I guess. Sigh.

Would his following even read a book like this? Or read a book in general?

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Even though I’m known for writing about my social life, my true nature is to be a shy homebody.

I mean I’m social and outgoing, but my heart’s desire would be to stay in every night. Especially when it gets dark at four o’clock, and very, very especially when it rains, which it does here in Seattle allfrickinwinterlong. I have to fight the staying-in urge because I’m already home writing all day and I really wouldn’t have a life if I gave into my cozylust.

I also think I get sort of an insidious low-grade depression when I isolate. So lately I’ve been prying myself out of the house and into the world. Not even the noble excuse of writing is keeping me in because I have a tiny purse-size laptop I can bring anywhere.

I even ordered business cards to give to people I meet at bars and parties so they don’t have to carefully write down “DatingAmy.com” after talking to me for a half hour. (Although, seriously? I picked that name because I thought it was, uh, memorable.)

The other night I went to 10 Mercer and had a glass of happy hour chardonnay (J. Lohr) and wrote a few pages of the California memoir. So this older couple sitting across from me asked what I was doing; I said I was writing a memoir about moving to Los Angeles with a back pack when I was in my 20s to become a singer (To which the older gentleman, by the way, said: “Was that in the 70s?” No offense to people who actually were born in the 40s and 50s, but I… wasn’t.) Anyway, the first question anyone asks about the Cali memoir is: Did you meet famous people? To which the answer is, of course, yes. Because in Los Angeles famous people walk among earthlings.

It’s funny, because to me the new book is about dreams and rock ‘n roll bad boys and reconciling the death of my father and music and sex and heartbreak and soaring romance.

But yes, there are a lot of famous people that I met in it.

You’d think with my years of marketing experience I’d know what’s important by now.

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The first writing job I ever had was for a music magazine in Los Angeles. I reviewed local bands at clubs about three or four nights a week. I cannot wait to get to the part of this current memoir where I revisit those years.

Half the time I bitterly complained about it–I didn’t like the way the music industry worked, I didn’t like the constant hustle, I didn’t like having to work temp jobs to make rent.

Looking back, of course, it was the most fun I’ve had as a writer by about a million. The Dating Amy project was fun in its own way because it was so high profile, but I was basically writing about regular guys in Seattle. Performers in Los Angeles, on the other hand, (and even the other music critics) were bigger than life. Because that’s the way people roll in L.A. The city itself is bigger than life, so it’s flaunt or perish.

This [as-yet unnamed] Los Angeles memoir is the most fun I’ve had with book writing, for sure. I’m working from about 50 journals I kept and even those read like gossipy paperbacks. They’re my bedtime reading and they’re keeping me up until 3 a.m.

I apologize in advance to the many, many musicians, writers and photographers I knew from the mid-to-late 90s.

Just kidding! I love you! Well, some of you!

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As anyone who knows me knows, I’ve been working on a memoir “about my neighborhood” for over two years. It’s really much bigger and more intriguing than that, but that’s its code name. It’s like when you’re driving through Los Angeles and you see cardboard signs with arrows that say this way to “Clearasil Commercial Shoot” which is really secret code for the latest Brad Pitt movie.

Anyway. There has been a lot of interest in the Neighborhood Book, but not enough to keep me going, and for now… I am deciding to cut my losses and put it aside.

The truth is, I met another project and I’m crazy about it. I get up at 5 a.m. to work on it and when friends text me to go to lunch at 7 a.m., I think they’re weird, but then I look at the clock and it’s 1 p.m. and it’s just that I’ve been that absorbed in my work for hours.

There is resistance, though. A mini outcry. The old project is like the boyfriend that everyone has gotten used to–actually people really like him and want me to keep seeing him.

I don’t know what to say. It’s not him, it’s me. Maybe someday we will get back together and work things out. I just need space to work on this new book (that I’m really, really excited about). We’re in the throes of ecstasy, but I know I need to act like I at least feel a little bad for leaving that other project. (Clearasil? Neighborhood? I’m already forgetting its name!)

Speaking of misleading cardboard signs, the new memoir takes place in L.A. It may sound like an acne commercial, but it’s totally Brad Pitt.

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The woman at the used bookstore by my house recommended The Glass Castle as “a book for people who don’t even like to read.”

I flipped through the first few pages and didn’t buy it, but I couldn’t get the first image — a woman in New York looking out of her taxi window and seeing her homeless mom rummaging through a dumpster — out of my head, so the next day I went back and coughed up the $7.

I love this book; it’s one of the best I’ve read this year and I’ve been reading a lot.

It’s about four kids and the extremely capricious, bright, destitute parents who drag them all over the country. Narrated by Jeannette Walls, the middle sister, these plucky little Dickensian kids made me want to live in their dirt-poor reality.

The Glass Castle is also a lesson in how to write a memoir. So often people think that if they write a bunch of horrible things that happened to them, other people will automatically relate.

It’s the resilience in the face of misery that people are relating to, though, not the misery.

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Hyperion has cancelled Displaced, the rebuttal book by Eat, Pray, Love author Elizabeth Gilbert’s ex-husband Michael Cooper.

Cooper told Page Six he finished the manuscript, but parted ways because of Hyperion’s “eleventh-hour demands” to make it more racy.

It sounds like the guy is well-meaning if a little naive. He wanted to talk about his human-rights work and says that the publisher wanted more controversy, so they parted ways.

Publishing is interesting in that it’s sort of a branch of the entertainment business. Meaning, I doubt his manuscript would have sold in the first place if it was just about humanitarian relief.

The full Page Six story is here.

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Elizabeth Gilbert wrote a memoir of self-discovery across three countries in the bestseller Eat, Pray, Love. The book starts off with her traumatic divorce and subsequent breakup with the man she initially left her husband for.

Now her ex-husband has a book coming out later this year chronicling their divorce and its aftermath, which he also dealt with through travel. I am told his book is not called My Wife Cheated on Me with a Really Good-looking Guy and Now There’s Movie as I originally guessed.

From Publishers Marketplace:

Michael Cooper’s DISPLACED, a memoir of one man’s journey to reconnect with his values and reconstruct his life in the wake of an unexpected and devastating divorce; Michael was Elizabeth Gilbert’s first husband, the man she left behind as she embarked on the adventures that form the basis of “Eat, Pray, Love;” offering an intimate look at the end of his relationship with her, and his own search for purpose as he journeys through Kosovo, Mongolia, Iran, Iraq, and other developing countries, working with people displaced by natural disaster and armed conflict, to Brenda Copeland at Hyperion, for publication at Fall 2010

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