Author Lara Zielin talks 'Donuts'

Last month, I had a really awesome opportunity to attend a book launching in Ann Arbor for Lara Zielin upon release of her book, "Donut Days." I had never met Lara, but she was kind enough to promote my own work on her own website, so we chatted and had a grand ol' time.

Seeing Lara was a huge inspiration. She is living that dream of walking into a bookstore and seeing a shelf packed with her books. I wanted to be jealous and hate her, but she was one of the sweetest people I've ever met. I purchased a copy of "Donut Days" and am severely impressed with her. I subsequently had some questions for her.

[Editor's Note: At the time I sent Lara these questions, I did not have a girlfriend. Currently, however, I'm in a great relationship with an above-subaverage young lady.]

THE INTERVIEW

Before we get started, let me say how honored I am to be a guest on your website. Thanks for hosting me. I have appreciated getting to know you and your support of DONUT DAYS. And now that the sappy part is out of the way, on to the interview!

If you had to sum up "Donut Days" in five words, which would you pick?

Girl questions faith, eats crullers.

How did you get a publishing contract? Was an agent involved? If so, how did s/he help you?

I have a wonderful agent, Susanna Einstein, who was able to sell DONUT DAYS in a matter of weeks. What’s so awesome about Susanna is that she really understood DONUT DAYS from the start—she had a total handle on the aspects of the book that would resonate with readers. I am so grateful to have someone in my court like that—who understands my writing and isn’t just out to make a buck or two off a contract.

In general, I’m a huge fan of agents. I think there’s a lot that’s new and scary in today’s publishing world, and agents are the best people to help authors navigate the new terrain. Not every one of them is as awesome as Susanna, but I believe the majority of them are honestly looking out for their authors.

Donuts are a big theme in both the graphics or the blog posts on your website, larawrites.com. What's the appeal? How do they relate to the story of a teenage girl with so much changing in her life?

I was asked recently about what parts of the book had changed during the extensive re-writing I did on the novel, and I answered it by saying that just about the only part of the novel that didn’t change was the donut camp. That had always been the backdrop for the story—from the first draft of the book to the published piece.

The donut camp was inspired by real-life events. When I was living in Minnesota, after graduating from Carleton College, the first Krispy Kreme opened up in the state. People went bananas. They camped out in advance of the store opening; they set up grills and tents; the media swarmed the scene; the line was out the door for days. All for donuts! At the time I thought, that’s an awesome setting for a book. Sadly, that Krispy Kreme is out of business now, but I have my fingers crossed that the franchise is making a comeback. And yes, I friended them on Facebook, and I follow Dunkin’ Donuts on Twitter.

The American auto industry is in trouble. The Big 3 are experiencing perilous avenues because direct competitors like Honda, Toyota and Hyundai are producing safer, cheaper and greener vehicles. How do you feel about the donut's direct competitor, the bagel?

I am a friend to all carbs. I do not discriminate. I do not judge. I simply eat.

Upon the release of your debut novel on August 6th in Ann Abor, you will be a twice-published author. Has the advice in your first book, "Make Things Happen: The Key to Networking for Teens," helped you out personally? Is there a chapter on dating and will it get me a girlfriend?

You don’t have a girlfriend? Seriously? What kind of world is this? Let me noodle on that one. Ladies, you are seriously missing out. In the meantime, I wish MAKE THINGS HAPPEN could help you, but I fear it won’t. It didn’t really help me. And here’s why.

Nonfiction is a hugely different animal than fiction. Nonfiction is a lot easier to get published, for one. Also, I’ve heard it makes more money but I have no statistics to back that up. And I’m too lazy to Google it right now.

I thought agents to whom I was pitching DONUT DAYS would be impressed that I had this nonfiction book under my belt. I thought they would all sit up and take notice of me—and want to read my work as a result. But it didn’t really open that many doors because the book was just too too different from the fiction I wanted them to look at. I guess it’s kind of like how some people can write really great history papers, but that doesn’t necessarily mean they’re making George Washington come to life on the paper. If that makes any sense.

Anyway, I’m proud of my first book and I think it’s held up over time. In fact, it might even be more useful today than it was back in 2003 when it was published because competition is so tight for jobs now. Networking can really give people a leg up in a variety of contexts. But MAKE THINGS HAPPEN and DONUT DAYS are in two separate categories, and never the twain shall meet.

What has been your best experience so far in working with a traditional publishing house?

My editor. For sure. She knew just what the book needed in order for it to shine, and that kind of help is invaluable. I am a better writer for having gone through the editing process with her.

Your worst experience?

I think just figuring out the ropes has been a challenge. Like, how much input do I get on my cover? What happens when deadlines are missed? Who does what with regard to publicity? The good news is, it will all be so much easier with my second book!

Your Facebook page says you once swallowed a moth. How has this particular incident influenced your writing?

Ah yes, the infamous moth-swallowing incident. Pure protein, as they say.

I think the moth has made me less afraid of putting my characters in really uncomfortable—or even flat-out gross—situations. For example, in my next book, PROMGATE (coming out in summer 2011), I have my main character throw up on the carpet at one point, then watch it sort of sink into the fibers. Oh, sorry is that TMI? My bad.

Your email address is new.zielind@gmail.com. Where did the "new" come from? Were you aware that there is a nation called New Zealand or is it just a coincidence? Do you fear there might be a lawsuit against you for taking the name?

I actually invented the address after my ex and I split, and I returned to my maiden name, Zielin. I was all like, this is the new me. So I made a play on New Zealand with my email address. So far, the aborigines haven’t come after me or anything, but I do sleep with a light on, just in case.

Besides your next book, PROMGATE, do you have any other projects in the hopper?

I started this new website called Crap I Used To Write, showcasing the totally amazing works I penned as a little kid. I was a genius right out of the gate. Truly. I mean, with works with titles like SALLY AND THE TIME MACHINE, how could I not be? I’m looking for peeps to contribute crap they used to write, so if you have any—or know of someone who has any—have them visit the site and email me.

Any words of wisdom for readers (i.e. me)?

I know the road to publication can be arduous. It took me a looong time to get an agent and get my first book out there. So, even though it sounds cliché, keep writing and keep working. [cue music] And that’s one to grow on.

Our Dumb World

I wrote this email to a friend yesterday and decided that the thoughts are worth putting up on the blog. Enjoy.


I just got back from being a "bodyguard" for my friend's mother while she kicked out a very hotheaded renter. (I'm apparently the most intimidating young man she knows.) She had gotten this renter through Craiglist, which, if you're not familiar, is sort of a catch-all for services via web 2.0 -- from odd jobs to blow jobs.

Literally. Later, when the renter was out, she, another mother and I talked. My advice to her was that I would never invite someone into my house through a website from which I could also hire prostitutes. But it is what it is.

There's really no way around Facebook and I hate it. It's used for both apathetic time-wasting and professional networking. The line between the two hardly exists anymore and I'm having a hard time coming to terms with it. I'm finally -- and I mean FINALLY -- at a point in my life where I want to start a serious career... and the first step is dependent on a tool I use to check in on girls I used to have crushes on (NOT a pair of binocculars).

Really, Country? Like... Honestly?

Tonite, I'd like to bring your attention to a few videos.

The first is a meeting in which attendees protest the crazy idea that Barack Obama does not have a legitimate American birth certificate. Click here.

The second is not that. Click here.

But still, there are huge similarities.

But for a fistful of relevant awesome, click here.

You Will Be Missed, Frank McCourt

Author Frank McCourt died of meningitis yesterday at age seventy-eight.

In October of 2005, I was going through a bit of an Enlightenment, late blooming as it was. I was understanding that the world is, in fact, much bigger than Southeastern Michigan and that there was a distinct possibility that I might not make it as an actor. Many of my dreams were crushed and I became quite lost. With the last of my innocence hanging on my a thread, I wanted something to hide inside. I decided I wanted to be a reader. Only I didn't know where to begin.

My mother very persistently suggested a book called "Angela's Ashes." She told me that it's the story of a boy growing up in poverty-stricken Ireland during World War II. The boy's father was an alcoholic and his mother had more children than she could afford. All the while having religion shoved down his throat by a pious grandmother. I admit it did not sound to appealing to me -- it sounded downright depressing -- but I knew nothing else. I gave it a go.

And how very impressed I was! Immediately, I was taken in by McCourt's charm, his grace. He did not seem to regret his terrible upbringing; he was celebrating it, pouring his embarrassment on paper for the entertainment of us who were ashamed of our very own younger years:

"When I look back on my childhood, I wonder how I survived at all. It was, of course, a miserable childhood: the happy childhood is hardly worth your while. Worse than the ordinary miserable childhood is the miserable Irish childhood, and worse yet is the miserable Irish Catholic childhood."

That type of ironic humor kept me transfixed throughout the entire month. (I was a slow reader. Still am.) As a once-sheltered Catholic myself, McCourt's honesty pummeled everything I knew about being human, made me realize that it's OK to question faith, to chase certain emotions, and -- most importantly -- to laugh at yourself. His was a endearing self-deprecation that would stay in my heart forever.

From the moment I read the last word of McCourt's memoir, I knew what I wanted to do for the rest of my life: I wanted to write; to tell stories; to incite laughter, sorrow, anger and lust in people I'd never meet. Sure, "Ashes" was the first real book I'd ever read, and I had little experience writing anything, but why not? Why not try writing a book at nineteen? Better yet, why not try writing a memoir? Just like the author of the book I adored so much!

And I did, Frank. It is four years later and my life is forever changed because of you. I've since published that memoir, am working on a novel, and I'm reaching out to people. EXACTLY in the way you inspired me to. I'm making people happy, and I'm making people upset, and I'm helping people cope with -- and especially laugh at -- their own crumby pasts by using mine as an example. Just like you. Just like I wanted to do. Do you see what you've done? The cycle is still going. There are so many just like me who have looked to you as a role model and are giving back in the best ways we know how, in the ways you showed us.

Sometimes, people enter your life with the most perfect timing. I do not know how my life would have turned out had I not picked up that book so long ago. I also cannot explain why it struck such a chord with me. What I do know is that it pushed me along gently through my own work and shaped my own humor and voice and even forgiveness. Because of Frank McCourt, I'm happy today. I have direction, I have feelings, and I have love. It's sad that he left us, but he deserves his peace -- he's lived more lives than most of us.

Well, There Goes The Gym Membership

[This entry made me realize how difficult it is to write when I'm not bitter about something. It is really really boring.]

My understanding is that when people graduate from college, the thing they miss the most is their membership to the gym. Too much stress is put on the Freshman Fifteen. No one ever talks about the Graduate Twenty.

Metabolism aside, that is something I need to start thinking about. Two weeks ago, I discovered that I'll be graduating in December, only to later find out that there were two gen. ed. courses I skipped and I'll be graduating next May as planned.

Then two days ago, I saw a counselor who told me that, because I've been technically registered at Wayne since 2004, the two gen. eds., which they added in '05-6, don't apply to me. I was "grandfathered in," Luke said, though I don't feel any older.

I never quite got the hang of college and being a student has never felt the way I thought it was supposed to feel. I've always had a job or two, never got piss drunk on Thirsty Thursday, never sat in a study group in the library and, really, never had fun. It's an experience I never got and don't really give a fuck.

What's increasingly amazing to me is how many people are actually like this. It seems like the much larger demographic (unless you attend USC). But I don't think college ever REALLY stops. It's not like in high school where if you're still going to parties two years after you graduated, you're a creepy asshole. You can still get the experience without having to pay for the education. (Much like a journalism degree.)

And now I'll be graduating in in December '09. Wow. A year ago, this time, I had no idea if or when I would graduate. I never quite planned on it, assuming I'd be in college forever -- forever stuck in a world in which I've never felt completely comfortable. (The ironic thing about not being good at making friends is you make friends with other people who are not good at making friends.)

While that is very exciting news to be sure, it is not the best part part. (Why did I write 'part' twice? How strange.) Yesterday, I met with someone who is quickly becoming one of my favorite people about doing a Directed Study next semester in which I would write a novel. I've had this idea cultivating in my head for well into the last year, but have been simply too stressed out to give it the attention I think it deserves. I didn't expect anything from this meeting -- after all, college, for me, has never been a place to do something you loved -- and was whole-heartedly ready for disappointment.

But before I could present the four-page proposal I had written the night before to prove my seriousness, he said, "Let's talk about this project." Stupidly, I stumbled into the speech I had rehearsed in the car on the way there to convince him to let me do this. I didn't know he was already down.

I had to write a formal proposal to the Communications Department, but that was it.

Next semester, my last semester, I'll be writing a very silly novel about the auto industry. For a class.

It won't be that killer college experience I'm sure and will be a helluva lotta work, but goddamn am I excited.

Book Review: 'Jolt City'

Before Batman had Terry McGinnis, before Captain America had John Walker, and before Indiana Jones had Shia LaBeouf, the Green Knight had Martin Rock.

"Jolt City" (2009) is the story of the Acrobat (Rock), once sidekick to the great superhero, the Green Knight. Ten years have passed since they worked together, their relationship marred by irreconcilable differences. But when billionaire Ray Cradle, the Knight's secret identity, falls victim to cancer, what happens to the city's symbol of hope? Can no one take up the mask and stop the consistent onslaught of ravenous superfiends?

Lucky for Cradle, Rock has kept tabs on him since their falling out and has a pretty good idea of what happens next. Always putting others before himself, Rock sacrifices his personal life to keep up the city's belief that the Green Knight is an eternal force not to be reckoned with. The younger, stronger (and sometimes homeless) crimefighter loyally keeps the city at peace.

But when a demented sharpshooter threatens the life of not the Green Knight, but Rock himself, the once private citizen is suddenly thrown wildly into the spotlight. Media speculate on his dark past as he is posted on the front page of newspapers -- often beside a story of a very different nature about his masked alter ego. Can Martin Rock keep up the very public appearances of both himself, loathed by the entire population, and the Green Knight, Jolt City's beloved vigilante?

A long-time fan of superhero comics, third time Detroit-area author Tom Russell of Turtleneck Films has behind him a lifetime of research that played in the development of this very well-crafted masterwork. With it, he brings his own criticism of the genre and magnificently intertwines the timeless themes that have kept it so very popular. He also throws out the cliches that have long been beaten to death. Forget everything you ever knew about superheroes and put on the coffee; it's going to be a sleepless night.

Four years and 330 pages in the making, "Jolt City" is not just a story for superhero fans; it is a story for everyone. Though the plot largely revolves around thwarting the bad guy and saving the city, it is far more cerebral than that. The pages are evocative, intelligent, ambitious and sexual. Though the Green Knight is one in a million, Rock is all too human: He still feels heartache over his stolen childhood; still feels torn between the love of two beautiful women; and still struggles in teaming up with the enemy for a greater good.

It should also be noted that the book is self-published through Amazon's CreateSpace.com and indicative of the current state of the publishing industry. With the world economic crisis at hand, and reading material gradually moving into cyberspace, publishing houses are suffering just as much as any business and are acting accordingly: More and more manuscripts are being rejected to make room for those that they anticipate will be immediate bestsellers. Therefore, authors are trying their hands at print-on-demand services, if only just for the pride of seeing the hard work properly bound.

Self-publishing is quickly becoming the future of the publishing world, seeing as the industry increases by roughly 30 percent a year. Self-published books generally get a bad wrap because there are little-to-no standards to see a finished product. Because so much bad writing outweighs the good stuff, it's a shame that many readers may never enjoy great works such as "Jolt City."

Russell's book would most definitely circumvent the slush pile and land a publishing deal should he ever decide to send out his manuscript. Support the author and buy this book today!

An Unwelcome Disruption to An Otherwise Productive Afternoon

The libido makes us do stupid things.

While doing an interview today for my upcoming blog book tour, I received an email notifying me that someone sent me a Facebook message. (Actually, it said someone "cast ye a scroll on ye olde Facebook," seeing as my language setting is on English (Pirate).) The message read:

$2 Drinks and $175 admission all night and if you message me back right now i will put on my unlimited viplist. Only a few booths remain so go reserve yours now before it is too late thank you and hope to see you tomorrow :)

$175? I thought. Oh, well there are going to be $2 drinks, so...

Accompanying the message was a video of people dancing. Many bars, I've always felt, are generally for people who have nothing to say to each other but are still lonesome, so what the hell? Next time you're in a bar that has music BLARING, look around. No real conversations going on. In fact, the tables are more or less occupied by awkward looking groups of people looking around and sometimes smiling at one another. And thank God when that popular song comes on; this gives the members of those groups an excuse to sing to each other as if to say, "What fun we are having with our friends!" The underlying thought, of course, is, What am I doing here with these idiots?

More importantly, the video did not make me want to go to the venue tomorrow night anymore than I did before seeing it. Which makes me wonder why anyone would spend $175, and then some, on a night of sloppy drunken dancing (which, I might add, I do every night in my back yard for free.)

Are we that stupid that we'll believe that we'll have a better time at a party that has the same basic outline of a house party -- minus beer pong -- if we pay $200 to get in? Is it true that I'll get to experience the life of a movie star if I go here? Maybe, but the difference is that movie stars don't wake up the next morning broke.

Except maybe Pauly Shore.

In short:

• Girls need to learn that there are easier ways to look pretty and dance.
• Guys need to learn that there are cheaper ways to get girls to touch their penises.