Suzanne Palmieri's Blog

NOTE: This is a repost, but it is a story that takes place in Rockport MA, which is where I'm heading, so I thought you might enjoy it! XO Suzy





Yesterday my mother called me to relay a message from a dear, old friend. Older than me, he was the "older" man I was in love with from sixteen until... oh well, you know. It wasn't a crush that could have ever materialized. Not only was he a grown up man when I first met him, but he was also Montgomery Clift like in many ways. I had (and still have) hero worship for him.

And he was kind. Always so kind to me. We grew to know each other in a summer place, where the rocks of Massachusetts loomed against a cove. I am sure the mineral components of that water took on magical proportions. I can still see him there, standing on a high rock, making his body arc and dive into the deep, deep ocean. He shined.

And I remember that afternoon, on the stone porch of the summer house, while I played guitar (badly) and tried to be someone I wasn't as he swung in the hammock with a drink and convinced me, silently, that who I was was better than anyone I could ever lie up.

Anyway, he called me Suzannah with the "h" on the end as if he knew already it was my secret wish, to have that softness on my name.

I haven't seen him in almost twenty years, and still he asks about me.

My mother just got back from her summer stay at that house by the ocean. She still goes, every year. I don't go. I have many reasons. Some things have to stay in the past. They stay sweet and pretty that way. My grown self could muck up those memories and I won't chance that because those summers are my safest, sanest places to run to in my head when the crazies come.

She called me on the phone to extend an invitation from that old dear friend. She said he was excited to hear about my writing, and that he'd just bought home in New York and wanted me to come and stay with him for a bit... to write.

My mother described the house as he must have described it to her. Old and charming. Big windows, a lot of light. A third floor studio type space. I visualized it in my head, the sun streaming in the windows, I could hear the quiet.

She told me he said he would only bother me when it was time to eat. That he would yell up the stairs "Suzannnah! Dinner's ready." Imagine. Someone calling me down to dinner.

I let out a long sigh on the phone. "Give me his email..."I said.

"But don't you want to go?" she asked.

"I can't." I said.... and she knew it.

It isn't because of the three children. It isn't because of the full time job. It isn't because of spousitis . It is more complicated and simple than that.

I can't go because I can not (at this point in my life) immerse myself in the other option. The option I chose to veer away from when I decided on normalcy instead of bohemianism.

I can't go because I am afraid of what could have been, and of what could possibly become, if the quiet peacefulness and soft attention from a beloved and accepting person should penetrate the armor I wear so fiercely.

But the option? The tantalizing lure? Oh my. It is truly crazy making.

For now, I will email him and ask him to visit my world. Maybe in a few years, maybe then I can visit his.

(Update: I have been back. And I have seen this wonderful man. And I have shaken out most of these demons. But still... that time in my life was the beginning of ALL the magic.)

(Photo of oldest and middle witch taken at a book signing in May. That's the lovely owner in the background...)

"I'm DONE." she yelled.
And I heard myself right there.
It's one of my favorite things to say, but I've never heard it quite that way.
Oy, Vey.

And she has every right to fight
and scream and kick and wail at the unfair
uneven
cracks in this creaky life

where doors open to anger
and slam to the soft exclusionary
whispers of two lovers
navigating an unsafe ship
through a storm
that does not belong to her
(but sweeps her up inside its rip tide
anyway)

and all I want to whisper-say
is this

swim to the side
swim to the side
swim to the side

WARNING: If this makes sense to you, YOU ARE IN CRAZYPANTS LAND. If it does not make sense to you (you lucky, lucky people), I want to have what you're having. 

There are more than seven reasons. There are like, all the reasons. Reasons that aren't even numbers anymore or even infinity because there MIGHT BE SOMETHING BIGGER than that.. or if bigger means smaller than maybe it's zero. Or not. Because in a world where all the sane people number things in hierarchical order, and the rest of us feel we must live up (or NOT live up) to whatever number we deem important, (because non compliance really means you must first be in compliance or you don't understand what you are working against, right)… wait….. what?

See, I'd rather be batshit crazy.
So, number….

1. It's okay to be B..S..T crazy because really? Why not.

4. It's okay to go out of order if you are B.S Crazy. (you can also change up the way you shorten BATSHIT) Which is really,

2. … you don't have to do anything in any particular order, ever. Unless being disorderly becomes order. OR unless it sends you to jail. (Unless, of course, you find your bliss in jail, in which case, CARRY ON.) … which is really number FIVE, Because….

5. ….being BATSH** crazy means you don't ever really judge anything ever. Like, LIVE AND LET LIVE. Sort of. Because the big things? B. Shit people don't care. We only really judge you if you are wearing really, really terrible shoes. Not ugly trendy… those are cool. Just, like, inappropriate. Which is really….

7. ….It's okay to be BATSHIT Crazy because only YOU need to know what you are talking about, or if you are REALLY going to poke a fork in someones eye, which you know you would not do, but thinking about it amuses you and maybe someday you will…. because number 6,,,

6. You are easily amused by yourself. This means you save a lot of money on entertainment expenses.

And there doesn't even have to be a number 3. Because if you are Batshit Crazy you can keep your favorite number and write down an invisible, terribly important reason, that only OTHER Lost and B.S Crazy Witches will be able to read in the invisible ink of the internet. Okay, there you go!

If you can clearly read reason number 3, comment here! I can't wait. And if you have just decided you can't understand a word I wrote, Don't be ALARMED!…. I am currently in the BS CRAZY mode. When I return from crazy pants land, I will not be able to read it either. So, simply bookmark this post and read when you are feeling like nothing makes sense. Because at that point? YES, you get it… this will!

LOVE, The Lost Witch. (ME)

*this is a repost... but I wanted to revisit it today*

It was so simple. Most right things are. The key to my secret peace.

I was a tight fist of lonesome and tyrant of rage. A small little girl with tangled hair and balled up hands. I can remember my fingernails cutting my palms. The nail biting habit fixed that.

And every. Single. Time I started to relax... something would happen to make me turn around again. Slam the door. Shut my eyes. Squeeze my fingers blue.

In grammar school the church and steeple game made me feel more exposed than dodge ball.

In high school boys thought me cold 'cause I would kiss but not cuddle. No hand holding.

"I keep my hands to myself... do what you want with yours." I'd say.

And then you came. After a swell of chaos. In a blizzard when I was too young and everyone was mad. You were mad too. A mad little newborn with balled up fists. You shook them at me and cried your own blues. But.... when you fell asleep in my arms, your baby body softened and your tiny fingers loosened, there you were... all lazy fuzz and graceful fingernails. I stroked them and admired you.

In the parking lot. You were what? Two? Yes... and you reached up and grabbed my hand. Our palms met. A perfect fit. A rush of knowing. A startled peace.

I opened up my hand for you because you asked me to. And then I practiced harder, and opened up my hand for him.

Hands and hearts. It's all so simple, really.

There are a lot of questions that aspiring authors ask whenever I'm lucky enough to meet them at book events.... but by far, the most frequently asked question is, "So, do you have a writing process? Are you a plotter, or do you wing it?" Well, the lovely author Susie Orman Schnall was nice enough to invite me into this blog hop and share not only some amazing tips of her own, but her book, ON GRACE. Check her out, and then... come back here for my answers.
I'm waiting.
Waiting..... still waiting.... yep.... 
You back? Good! 
SO, *Drum Roll*....here are my answers to these questions. (DO NOT JUDGE ME!!!!) Or judge, whatever, I still love you... Because I seem to have a STRANGE sort of process. But I'm The Lost Witch, so there. It would be SO MUCH COOLER if I could magically make the words appear on the page. But magic doesn't work that way. Sigh. 
Here we go! 
1) What am I working on?Right now I'm working on my 2015 novel THE WITCH OF TIVOLI PARISH. I have two books coming out in the next few weeks, (THE WITCH OF BELLADONNA BAY and EMPIRE GIRLS (ohmygodgopreordersoIcanquitmydayjobifyouloveme)--- so finding time to get all the finishing touches on my current project is, how can I put this? Terrifying. But no matter what, those characters scream out to me, and it gets done. 
2) How does my work differ from others of its genre?
Oh, I have a thing or two to say about genre. I call mine Tragic Cotton. You can read about it HERE. But I suppose, if we are going with Magical Fiction, Historical Fiction, General Fiction, Women's Fiction Genre's... the thing that makes my novels a little different is that I try to find the balance between dark and light. I kill people with flowers and nostalgia and vintage gardens. If that makes sense. 
3) Why do I write what I do?
I write the things I write because I have to. So, I'll be driving or taking a shower or walking around and this image will pop in my head. I write it down, describing it, and before I know it there's a whole book that grows around that image. I write dark, magical novels, laced with history and family secrets. I write about love and loss and redemption... and I write about those things because it helps me make sense of my own life (so far) that was full of sharp angles of love and blurry edges of sad. 
4) How does your writing process work? 
I wish I had a better way. But here it goes. The first draft comes in spurts of words. Sometimes 2k. Sometimes 10k in a sitting (ALL DAY LONG). Then... I wait. And the editing takes longer. I love the editing. The delete button is my best friend. When I'm in that phase, I make sure to edit a pre-determined set of pages a day. And I have cold readers who know my work, and who know to "Rip me a knew one" when they think I can do better. This is the most important part of my process... taking criticism. 
Thank you Susie for inviting me! And next week, please check out Jennifer Gooch Hummer who will tell us about GIRL UNMOORED. (Which I just ordered because... YES!)
Thanks for reading, you guys. And if you have a question about my process I didn't answer, feel free to ask in the comments!
Best to you all, Suzy 

When I was little, I had a best friend whose name was Erika. And man, did I need a best friend.
We had a lot in common. We both had crazy, beautiful mothers who were caught up in the wild 1970's and who lived their lives out loud.

Sometimes, Erika and I would sit for hours, just being quiet. Because that's what you have to do when you're six years old and you are convinced that you might just be OLDER than the people raising you.

We weren't, of course. We both grew up colored by that childhood we shared. Dark and light. We knew how to respect beauty and art. We knew how to dull pain. We grew to understand the hidden truths behind what people say.  I'll always be grateful for that.

We also learned how to hide.

Erika taught me how to tie my shoes and how to spell CAT. She held my hand when I cried over ... well, everything. Because I was a dramatic beast of a child.

She helped me throw a mean tantrum and she laughed with me when we had to clean it up.

Once, we soaped the floor of a bathtub because we didn't like the lady living with us and we got into a lot of trouble. I don't regret it. No one got hurt.

Erika understood why I liked to lock myself in bathrooms. I did that a lot. At home, in restaurants. Everywhere I could. Don't ask.

We sat together, late at night in the back of her father's car and waited for him (while he did something terribly exciting and most likely lurid that we couldn't be involved in...) and ate pint after pint of blueberries while we sang the entire score to The Rocky Horror Picture Show. Oh, and the Eagles. I can't listen to the Eagles without hearing her voice.

Your voice. I miss you.

Dear Erika, wherever I may find you,

There is this past that no one knows but you. A past full of pain and joy and lost things. There were fights and tears and bites and pushes and running away from home. There were jealousies and desperate moments of love.

I don't think anyone will ever know the side of me you know. And that's a damn shame. If I found you, we could laugh about things that would make other people cry.

If I found you I could tell you secrets I can't tell anyone else.

I didn't imagine you, or the white shag carpet, or the inappropriate books. I didn't imagine eating too many plums or walking on the yellow lines barefoot so we wouldn't burn our feet. I didn't imagine knowing, no matter what, that someone saw me... that I wasn't invisible. I didn't imagine any of it. Did I?

Find me. I still have words I can't spell, and stairs too hard to climb. I still have tantrums and epic crying jags. I still want to sprawl out on the floor and remember all the secret sorrow we harbored together too young.

Sometimes I see you standing behind me, or walking in front. Sometimes I see you right in my eyes when I look in the mirror.

And I know, I mean... KNOW... that I'd be a little less lost if I could wear your denim jacket and run far, far away with you one more time. Because, didn't it feel good when we got home and the cops were there? We knew they loved us then. And then we forgot. I need to remember.

Love, to EGWC from SMC

That quote, "Mermaids don't drown", is from my newest novel, The Witch of Belladonna Bay which  hits shelves on May 13th. I'm terrified, and honored, and excited... and a little overwhelmed by everything. I have another novel, Empire Girls, hitting shelves on May 27th and a book tour that begins in June.

There are so many things I didn't expect when I entered the world of traditional publishing.

One of the things I never considered, (which is strange as I am a reader who underlines and highlights EVERYTHING), was that there would be readers who would enjoy certain quotes from my books. I can't quite explain the pure, raw, emotion I feel whenever I visit a book club and the lovely group asks about specific passages from the novels. It makes my soul soar. And sore. How I love words.

People quoting words I've written falls under the category of "Hidden Dreams of my Soul Revealed" And "Heaven, Stay."

So, as part of the gear up to the release of The Witch of Belladonna Bay, I thought about WORDS. Because, of course.

So here's how this goes....

1.  Leave a comment here, or wherever this is posted on FB or Twitter, that includes a quote from The Witch of Little Italy (released last year). No worries if you don't have a copy, there are excerpts online, as well as quotes that delicious readers have posted on the internet that you can grab! I guess this is where we could write..."No purchase necessary..."

2. Feel free to share this giveaway, though it is NOT required.

3. On Friday, 4/4/14, 11:59 pm EST I will close the contest and put all the names of those of you who commented with a quote into a random pick generator. Got to love technology, right?

4. On Saturday I will announce the winner, contact you personally, and send you a copy of The Witch of Belladonna Bay! You get to be a "First Read" reader.

That's it! So, here you go. Comment and share away.  NOTE: I am not limiting the amount of comments per person, so... yeah, the more you throw your name into the hat, the better your chances with that random generator.

I hope you enjoy this giveaway, and I look forward to posting more as the release date draws ever closer. YIKES!

XO ~ Suzy

I never preach. Really. I don't tell people what to do, unless they are related to me, in which case I am bossy in a HIGHLY manipulative way. (Just ask my daughters).

I believe that everyone walks their own road, in their own way, in their own time.

I know I did.

But... (there's always one of those, right?)... here's the thing. I get a lot (A LOT) of emails and letters from aspiring writers asking how to break into publishing. When I'm out and about at regular ol' life events, and people ask what I do... there is ALWAYS that person who is writing a book and wants to know the trick, the secret handshake... who I slept with. All that. So, I'm going to break it down for you in two parts. One quick list thingie about from whence I come, and then I'll expose the secret handshake. And no, I didn't sleep with anyone. So I can't go there. But if I HAD done that... (think casting couch), I probably would tell you, because... why not! But no. Anyway, here we go.

ONE: Quick List Thingie about ME

I was a young single mother on welfare. (I learned to hustle. I learned persistence. I learned humility)I was a young single mother on welfare. ( I learned how, and WHEN, to ask for help, take it graciously, and hold my head up high)I was a young single mother who finished her education and got off welfare. (Nothing is ever beneath me. I'm not better than anyone.)TWO: The Secret Handshake
It's you. YOU are the secret handshake. When I started writing, I didn't write to get published. I wrote because I was having a huge life tantrum and writing seemed to keep me sane. I didn't know anyone in this business.  I didn't know about agents, or publishers. I didn't have an MFA. I made all the mistakes. I wrote TWO novels before I scored an agent and landed two 2 book deals. (That's a LOT of two's aint it?). It took me two years. 287 query letters with the first novel. 187 queries with the second novel. 11 queries and an agent with the third. 
So here's what I tell people in person, via email, Facebook, etc.... "NO I DID NOT SLEEP WITH ANYONE." Ha! No. Really... here's what I say:
When you write, write for you. Write because you can't NOT write. Write because you would explode if you couldn't lace those words together. Write because it's a compulsion, a joy, a drug, an obsession. Write for for bliss, for therapy, for aching out all that pain of yours. Write the story that you always wanted to read, and weave your own lovely words together so they make sense TO YOU. Laugh, cry, kick, scream. Live inside your pages... your words strung together like the clothes on the line when you were little. Smell them, fix them, own them. Hate them, delight in them. 
The love you have for a story you write for YOU will waft out through your query letter. It will interest an agent and it will excite an editor. Mostly, it will (oh god please let me be right!) give your readers a piece of your soul. 
That's the secret handshake. There is no genre. No market. No agent. No publishing house. There is only you, and your words, and your passion. 
That's the end of my PREACHING. Back to nostalgia and self doubt tomorrow. XO Suzy

"How are you?" he asked.
And I, being surprised at the question, did not have time to do what I usually do. I did not have the time or the energy to rephrase, reform, remake the words blooming behind my lips.
"I am paper thin. I am a ghost." I said.
"What?" I saw his eyes go wild. They do that when I don't make sense, or make too much sense, or scare him.
I could have stopped there... I should have, maybe. But there were things I wanted to say, to him... to you. To the new life under the ground and the violent shoots of green springing up beneath the snow.

I HAVE THINGS TO SAY.

"Like vellum, maybe. No, not that. Like parchment... only not old. I'm just... thin. I feel as if everyone can see through me to my bones and to what is behind me. I'm tired, and busy, and have this lovely sense of FREEDOM all at the same time. I'm fulfilled and overfilled. I'm so, so wrong about all the things I'm right about. How about that? Does that make sense?" I asked.

"Not one word of it."

"Exactly. Exactly that. I love you."

"I love you too," he said.

And so it goes.

I'll be around too much very soon. And you will all be sick of me. Until then... I'm paper. How are you? XO ~The Lost Witch (me.)

One of the most common mistakes of people is to use moisturizers or sunscreen lotions in order to remove the dark circles formed under eyes. Well, even though this can be the preliminary step to keep your skin under control, but this cannot prevent further formation of wrinkles or fine lines. It is an inevitable truth that skin cells starts breaking down after a certain time span and no one can stop this natural process. The main aim of Dermology Eye Cream is to slower the entire process, to keep the skin flawless and young for a long time.

Ways to use

You might come across a special and reliable Dermology Eye Cream for the first time in your eyes and are not at all aware of the proper applying methods. On the other hand, if not applied properly, these anti ageing creams will not work properly, even after using these for years.

Look for top-notch quality products, which will meet your skin condition. Active ingredients must be present in your chosen product to be applied on circular motions.
You need to wash your face properly, before applying the cream. Get rid of oil, dirt and excess makeup with the help of mild face wash, without hampering your skin condition.
Take out only a small portion of the cream, just what is needed. Applying excessive amount of cream will not help you, in this regard.
Apply the cream with the help of a cotton swab, and close your eyes while applying it.
Tap the areas in gentle motion, so that your skin can absorb the cream well.

Various forms of creams

Reliable anti aging eye cream can be availed in different forms, to meet up the growing demands of the customers.

The first and most common is the cream form. You can apply it with a cotton swab on the affective area and circulate the cream in slow motion.
Next is the roll-on form of anti ageing cream. You just need to roll the eye cream under your skin to remove fine lines and dark spots.
Powdered forms are also available, when you need a little bit of water. Mix it in right proportion, to get apt result.

Reasons to use

The primary reason to use Dermology Eye Cream is to remove fine lines, dark spots and wrinkled skin condition formed around your eyes.
It helps in formation of collagen, which helps in regenerating new cells. This will keep your skin young and glowing, for a longer time span.
It will help in normal flow of blood cells without breaking it down. Prevention of broken blood cells can help in reducing dark spots from forming under your eyes.

However, before choosing any kind of eye cream or anti ageing solutions, make sure to check the ingredients page well. Check the back of the label or additional pamphlet available, in order to know more about this field. You can also take advices from expert doctors and other professionals, who are into this business for quite some time now.