Jacqueline E. Luckett's Blog
December 7, 2012
So Many Books, So Little Time
For some crazy, inexplicable reason, I challenged myself to read one book a week this year.
Ha!
I don’t know what I was thinking, except that I believed if others could do it—reviewers, people with full time jobs, authors in the midst of writing their own books, and book lovers all over the world—so could I.
Competition be damned! I had the opportunity and time, but often not the interest. There were times when I was so hungry to read that I devoured books like candy treats and quickly moved on to the next one. Then, there were times I simply wanted to veg out in front of Top Chef or Chopped or Private Practice or an old movie or Jimmy Kimmel Live.
Quite frankly, I don’t know how people do it! When my kids were younger, I read while waiting for the soccer practice, the piano lesson, or the tutoring session to end. I can still read up to three books simultaneously, but it takes the same time it would if I read them one at a time.
Unabridged audio books work for me. Downside: I spend far too much time in my garage waiting for a chapter to end, but that’s a good thing. (BTW: I’m too chicken to listen to the audio version of Passing Love. I’m sure it’s done well, but I’ve got my own idea of Ruby and Nicole’s voices and I’m not ready for another’s interpretation. If you listen, let me know your thoughts.) Proud to say that I’m finishing my first ebook! (Passing Love e-version 2012)The experience isn’t as bad as I thought it would be. (Still, there’s nothing prettier and more inspiring than books lined up on the shelf.)
I’m proud of my list. The language, story, and characters in some of these novels are breathtaking.
Lethal, Sandra Brown
A Gathering of Water, Bernice McFadden
The Second Time we Met, Leila Cobo
Hiroshima in the Morning, Reiko Rizzuto
Weird Sisters, Eleanor Brown
Substitute Me, Lori Tharps
Open City, Teju Cole
Those Across the River, Christopher Buehlman
Three Junes, Julia Glass
The Memory of Love, Aminatta Forna
The Lover, Marguerite Dumas
Caught, Harlen Coben
Salvage the Bones, Jesmyn Ward
Bonsai, Alejandro Zambra
The State of Wonder, Ann Patchett
The Cutting Season, Attica Locke
This is How You Lose Her, Junot Diaz
The History of Love, Nicole Krauss
Gone Girl, Gillian Flynn
What was your favorite book this year?
May 21, 2012
What I Might Read This Summer
There was a time when I was excited to have summer finally arrive. The air smelled differently, the clock ticked louder as it inched toward 3PM and every kid in my class rushed toward the door and 90-days of freedom.
Back then, I’d spend many a day on the library floor trying to figure out which books were coming home with me. I can still feel the thrill of choosing what books to take on vacation or to curl up with on a sunny day in our backyard. It’s an excitement I’ll never lose.
Here are a few books I might try to read before September . . . so many books, so little time.
Those Across the River, Christopher Buehlman (I confess that I’ve already read this book. The author is a poet, the story is scary (no knives or chopping) and I loved it._
32 Candles, Ernessa Carter
Perfect Peace, Daniel Black
Home, Toni Morrison, only 145 pages
Zorro, or The Stories of Eva Luna, Isabel Allende
The Last Days of Ptolemy Grey, or maybe anything I haven’t read, by Walter Mosley
Whatever is on the airport bookstore shelves that I haven’t read, by Patricia Cromwell
Best American Short Stories 2011
Paris Wife, Paula McLain
Jane Eyre, Charlotte Bronte I’ve been working on this one for months; the type is so small.
Lush Life, Richard Price I tried this last year, and couldn’t get into it; I really like his TV show, so I plan to give it another try.
Take One Candle, Light a Room, Susan Straight, recommended by a friend; she’s supposed to be a great storyteller.
And, of course, Searching for Tina Turner or that wonderful armchair trip to Paris, Passing Love . Oh yeah, I’ve already read those.
Yes, I love the idea of that hefty stack. But please don’t hold me to reading them all, distractions and new releases are everywhere.
Let me know what you’re thinking about reading.
February 28, 2012
Living Authentically is a Worthwhile Challenge
I know when I hit my stride.
Call it true self or authenticity. The label doesn't matter. I know now when it feels like me—the real me.
It took a while. Perhaps at the cost of gray hair and crow's feet. It's been an ongoing journey, not a goal satisfied in one fell swoop. More like climbing Mt. Everest, where base camps were the solid, unchanging values that I returned to when the going got rough. When all was calm, I'd move on, ready for what came next. The goal was always the same—to be better. The plateaus and valleys either drained me or tap-danced on my soul, but when my heart soared, that's when I knew I was near the top. That I was really me.
In my twenties and thirties, I confess that I spent little time worrying about what I now call my authentic self, that which makes me a woman of integrity, my core. The real me was concerned with external qualities: clothes, parties, and the quest for a boyfriend/husband. I didn't think of myself as shallow. I had values. But, like a lot of women maturing into adulthood in the '70s, I didn't talk about them. It was the cusp of the era of self-realization. I was becoming aware of the women springing up around me who were confident in their speech and bearing. Angela Davis stood up for Black Power. Shirley Chisholm ran for President. Nikki Giovanni, Sonya Sanchez, Maya Angelou, Alice Walker wrote the struggles and joys of black women. They were inspiring role models. Women, I believed, who wouldn't sacrifice their beliefs to anyone else's.
Ten years ago, my sister was writing for television. I was jealous. "If you can write," I told her, "then so can I." My words didn't come out as the compliment I'd intended. What I'd meant was that she'd motivated me. She encouraged me to revisit my writing and reignite the passion I had suppressed.
And so, I read Toni Morrison and tried to write like her. I read Terry MacMillan, Connie Briscoe, Bebe Moore Campbell, and tried to write like them. I read dozens of other authors, and I wrote and I wrote. I rediscovered my passion for writing. And I hit my stride. That delicious groove of knowing that I was on the right track. Then the day came when I sat in front of my computer and, feeling my true self, I wrote like Jacqueline Luckett.
At readings, I'm often asked how I feel about the writing life. A smile always crosses my lips and I know exactly what to say: I love every minute of my chosen path from starting a story to standing in front of readers and sharing my novels with them.
Family at recent reading
Yes! I'm truly living my passion and I'm being me. It doesn't get much better than that.
December 21, 2011
My 2011 favorite books
I recently received an invite from a book blogger to participate in a fundraiser for the Sonoma County Library. Along with my acceptance, I invited her to read PASSING LOVE. The blogger responded that she normally reads/reviews 75++ books per year—a feat that's been mightily stumped by her 10-month-old. Whew!
More favorites
In high school, I took a speed-reading class, but that skill is only a memory (like high school). Afterward, without fail, and for the longest time, I checked page count before I began a book. Finishing in record time was as important as reading. I remember trying a marathon read of Beloved—fool that I was. Even after my third, very slow read, I still work hard to unravel that novel.It's difficult for me to read fiction while I'm writing. I don't want to be influenced by another writer's style or topic. But, at heart, I'm a reader and I need to read. Now I read slowly, savoring words and the turn of a phrase. Come a rainy or gloomy weekend, latte in hand, I speed through a mystery or thriller. It's heaven. But for me, heaven (part of it) is reading.
Revisions, playwriting, and more revisions filled my 2011. I did find time to read. Here are some of my favorites.
Shadow of the Wind, Carlos Zafron Ruiz
Murder in the Palais Royal, Cara Black
One False Move, Harlan Coben
Silver Sparrow, Tayari Jones
The Story of Beautiful Girl, Rachel Simon
Uptown, Deberry and Grant
Wading Home, Rosalyn Story
The Age of Dreaming, Nina Revoyr
French Lessons, Ellen Sussman
Children of the Waters, Carleen Brice
When the Thrill is Gone, Walter Mosley
Sag Harbor, Colson Whitehead
Rattlebone, Maxine Clair
The Taste of Salt, Martha Southgate
What books did you enjoy in 2011? Did you discover any new writers?
Wishing you joyous holidays and a wonderful 2012!
Jackie
December 14, 2011
What Do You Do Once You Get There?
So, with PASSING LOVE coming out in less than 50 days, Paris is on my mind.
When I travel, I love to explore without purpose. Paris is a place where no one knows (and sometimes doesn't care) who I am or what I do. That creates a kind of freedom to stare and consider, don't you think?

The flower shops in Paris are "trés belle" inside and out.
In the City of Light, I get lost, safely lost, without concern (as long as I have my map and dictionary). Of course, you can argue that New York, Chicago or LA are great cities to get lost in—and you'd be right. When I can, I love to wander in those great cities, too. In Paris, there are hundreds of years, and levels and levels (literally) of history in nearly every neighborhood.During my last visit, I stayed in the 6th arrondissement* not far from the famous Boulevard St. Germain des Prés. I'd already decided that Paris and jazz were going to be important parts of PASSING LOVE, but I had no idea of its past. It wasn't until I took a tour, and started that aimless walking I so enjoy, that I learned who had tread the very same cobblestone streets of my neighborhood.
St.-Germain has a recent history that connects it to the U.S. Baldwin, Wright, and Hemingway are among the authors who walked the streets of the 6th. In late '40s and early '50s Bud Powell, Lester Young, Sidnet Bichet, Max Roach, and other well-known or struggling jazz musicians flocked to the clubs that dotted St.-Germain. The musicians were adored and enjoyed, and Parisians partied all night long to their music.
I wanted to learn as much as I could about jazz and Paris. I found many other places in the city where our American musical forefathers performed, played and lived. It was calming experience, and I felt closer to the city by learning more about it.
The booksellers on the Left Bank line the balustrade along the Seine
Wandering can be a kind of meditation that forces us to acknowledge and appreciate the details of the cities we love.
What city streets can you hardly wait to walk and explore?
*Paris is divided into 20 arrondissements or municipal districts, that spiral outward like a nautilus shell. I included a list of places and people in PASSING LOVE.
December 8, 2011
Why, Oh Why, Do I Love Paris?
Who cares? Simple enough—I do.
The famous tower from the Seine
Isn't it funny how a thing, an event, or a place settles into your subconscious without your ever intending it to be there? That's what happened to me with Paris. Though I won't call my interest an obsession (I'll leave that description to my friends), it's definitely a fascination.
The idea of all things French began with my name; both my sister and I have French names, spelled exactly the way, the French way, they're supposed to be. Le français—tiny bits of it—has surrounded me all my life. My sister is named after a saint–no ordinary saint either, one who performed miracles; there is no St. Jacqueline (that I know of, even with 12 years of Catholic school). Yes, I know where my name came from, (it's the feminine of Jacques/James), but the why remains a mystery to me.
My fascination led me to France and not one, but two novels about Paris. In the larger sense, my love of Paris, and writing about it, really speaks to something bigger and applies to each and every one of us: the importance of making our dreams come true. The size of the dream, the cost of it, the obsession with it doesn't matter.
It took me a long time to start writing. I've finally begun to understand that it doesn't matter how long it takes to get around to fulfilling your dream, just as long as we have them and try our best to fulfill them. A dream has two parts: getting there and being in the moment. Dreams complete our lives. Loving the process of moving closer to our endpoint, is what brings us joy. So, what are you dreaming of?
June 23, 2011
It’s the Simple Things
I wrote a Trip Advisor review today for Richard Nahem (Eye Prefer Paris), a man who turned his passion into his business. He lives and gives tours in Paris. I don’t know why I love that wonderful city so much, but I’m grateful that I can visit every once in a while.
My gig, writing, is my passion and I’m so grateful for it. Have I told you how much I love every single step from creation to the pains and revelations of revision, to seeing my book in stores (and my readers, too!)? I’m even more grateful to be able to blend my love for Paris and my love for writing into my work as well. My next novel, PASSING LOVE (releases January 2012), explores a woman’s admiration for Paris, and the surprises and secrets that city holds for her.
I believe with all we have to do and all that we’re bombarded with (the responsibilities for home, family, work, and the ever-invasive (and addictive) Internet and TV) we sometimes forget the little things that fulfill our passions. So today, I declared that my passion is the present, the here and now. I focused on the joys each moment this day has held: phoning rather than emailing a friend and laughing together (LOL just doesn’t make up for the sound of a good giggle), finding a great recipe for buttery scones and, yes, planning to bake them soon, finally understanding the directions to a new writing software program and starting to put down my thoughts for novel number three; my mother’s voice, strong and steady, on the other end of my phone, her wish that I have a good day and the “I love you,” at the end of our conversation.
Simple stuff but, taking a closer look, aren’t most of the things we’re passionate about just that? Simple. If you could break your passion down into one simple thing today, do you know what it would be?
It's the Simple Things
I wrote a Trip Advisor review today for Richard Nahem (Eye Prefer Paris), a man who turned his passion into his business. He lives and gives tours in Paris. I don't know why I love that wonderful city so much, but I'm grateful that I can visit every once in a while.
My gig, writing, is my passion and I'm so grateful for it. Have I told you how much I love every single step from creation to the pains and revelations of revision, to seeing my book in stores (and my readers, too!)? I'm even more grateful to be able to blend my love for Paris and my love for writing into my work as well. My next novel, PASSING LOVE (releases January 2012), explores a woman's admiration for Paris, and the surprises and secrets that city holds for her.
I believe with all we have to do and all that we're bombarded with (the responsibilities for home, family, work, and the ever-invasive (and addictive) Internet and TV) we sometimes forget the little things that fulfill our passions. So today, I declared that my passion is the present, the here and now. I focused on the joys each moment this day has held: phoning rather than emailing a friend and laughing together (LOL just doesn't make up for the sound of a good giggle), finding a great recipe for buttery scones and, yes, planning to bake them soon, finally understanding the directions to a new writing software program and starting to put down my thoughts for novel number three; my mother's voice, strong and steady, on the other end of my phone, her wish that I have a good day and the "I love you," at the end of our conversation.
Simple stuff but, taking a closer look, aren't most of the things we're passionate about just that? Simple. If you could break your passion down into one simple thing today, do you know what it would be?
March 21, 2011
To Journal or Not–A Big Question
I've decided to "journal."
My plan is to make daily entries over the next 365 days. I admire everyone who "journals." It takes tenacity and commitment to self. Different, I believe, from the commitment I have when writing a novel or short story. Reality vs. fiction. Hmmm. Working on my stories becomes my job, a job I love, when I sit down at my computer. (That's why my journal entries will be by hand.) I don't know what I'm trying, or if I'm trying, to discover anything. It's another opportunity to write, a chance to get out of my head, and perhaps, a chance for safe release.
Over various times in my life, I've kept diaries. Maybe if I'd thought of them as journals, I wouldn't have had so many pages filled with such curt entries: "I didn't do anything today." "Went to school, came home, watched TV" (which kind of sounds like my life today). "Bored." "Another Saturday night with Mary Tyler Moore."
My parents gave me diaries; Christmas and birthday gifts for their teenager. (Their subtle encouragement to write?) They were five-year diaries. Small books with lined pages divided by bold blue lines into sections for each of the years they covered. The diaries had a lock and key. I think my sister read my entries at least once or twice (isn't that what all little sisters do?). I remember her teasing me—I'm sure I wrote out the names of boys that I liked, boys that rejected me because I was skinny and naïve. I'm sure I tried to beat her up.
I still have one of those diaries. It might be the original. I'm not sure. It's from high school and seems to have a few entries from my college days. I had a habit of skipping years and returning to the same diary, filling in and re-dating empty pages. The spaces in that book were not enough, sometimes, to hold all of my thoughts, so I wrote on separate pieces of paper and taped them to the dates that I was writing about—more feelings than the details of events. The extra pages still stick out, letting me recall now those emotional turning points in my life.
In the most recent issue of O Magazine, Oprah included pages from her journals. I read the first entry about the boy who asked her to be his girlfriend and released a huge sigh of relief. I, too, had written about that first boy who asked me to "go" with him when we were leaving the eighth grade and off to our separate schools. D. Montgomery—I can see him now. As skinny as I was; cute, curly hair, nice smile. I wanted to "go" with him, but I was afraid to. I didn't understand what "going" with someone meant and that obedient Catholic girl, the good girl who lived inside of me and kaboshed any efforts I ever made to extend beyond her control, made me say no. No! All through high school, I recalled how I must have looked at the first dance of his all-boys school: alone, standing in the corner, watching him holding hands with some other girl and wishing I could take back that "no."
For me, Oprah's revelation of her private thoughts (the pining so close to the same sadness I had in my twenties, heck! my thirties) was a bit like eavesdropping at the door of my parent's bedroom; the reality of what might have been going on a bit too much to handle. Thankfully, Oprah's sidebar comments summarized her entries so that I didn't have to read her words, face her emotions, work through her handwriting or consider how close to her heart these words were. Maybe this ability of Miss O, her willingness to open her life and let go of the past, is just another secret to her success. I admire her for sharing. I find it hard to make even the smallest personal admissions to my close friends, let alone millions of people.
Now, let me go on record and say that I'm not journaling because Oprah does. Puh-leeze! Frankly, I've been toying with the idea of starting again for a while. The bigger lesson, for me, is to journal not as much as a way of keeping track of what I do everyday (though sometimes I need that reminder), but more as a trusted and sacred place to record how I feel, what I'm grateful for, what keeps me going, and how I can conquer the negatives that assault each and every one of us on a daily basis. Once the year is up, I don't know if I'll continue or even read what I've written—unless, perhaps, I find a core for another novel. I know for sure I won't share more than one or two lines that might make good tweets. ☺
Whatever, it's going to be interesting. Join me?
February 12, 2011
A Bit Late for the New Year, but thankful anyway.
I fear I've reached the age where the deaths of friends and acquaintances are becoming frequent, where aches and pains, real or imagined, occur daily, in my own body, my friends' bodies as well. I'm not sure how to deal with this shift; for sure, I don't like it.
Today, I'm invited to a party, a celebration. My hostess told me that while waiting for her mother at the doctor's office, she came across the obituary of a man we knew. He's the second or third peer who has passed over the last year. "I'm tired," my friend said, "of running into people I used to know at the funerals of people who are my age. It's time to celebrate life."
In December, another friend had a medical crisis. The reality of her situation and the recent news of death has caused a bit of reflection. This awareness of the thin lines between health and illness, between life and death remind me to be thankful. Not just at the beginning of the year with resolutions and lists, not just because someone I cared about was ill, but because I want gratitude and celebration to be constants in my life.
I believe each of us has to take some sort of recap of our lives, whether it's prompted by year end, the new year or learning that someone you knew has passed on. We should do it often—a reality check and a declaration of gratitude. So thinking about this celebration of life I'm invited to, I reflect back on 2010 and some of the things I'm grateful for.
1) For closets and drawers full of clothes and clean underwear. There are those who have nothing to put on their bodies, and sometimes no one to care that they don't.
2) My first novel was published!! In bookstores I saw MY book, MY name on its spine and cover. My spirit feels settled in my passion—my love of reading, of creating stories like I did so long ago. Book 2, PASSING LOVE, due out in January 2012. An opening . . .
3) My sister. My mother, vibrant still at 88. She attends all my local readings. If her knees and back worked better, I know she'd be with me on every flight, right there in the audience, my anchor. If I were on Oprah, she'd be in the audience, asking that famous woman what took her so long to get me on her show . . .
4) The joy of positive, supportive people. I've rediscovered old acquaintances and friendship from all corners.
5) For the lesson of minding my money and asking questions when people want to spend it . . . 'cause ain't nobody gonna worry about your nickels and dimes, quarters and dollars, except you—ENUF said.
6) I'm learning to pause, to observe my breath, my heart beat, the joy that resonates in my spirit . . .
the cookie, the peanut brittle, the cake crumb
the hot tea, the latte
the 5'oclock glow of the setting sun
laughter
a good meal
leaves on the ground
silence
my next breath . .
What's on your list?