Gratz Industries Employee of the Month

Congratulations to Gratz Industries Employee of the Month for May 2008--Wendi Gratz! She gets a brand new serger for her workshop, and a specially designated parking space in the driveway.

The Flitcraft Parable

I've been rereading The Maltese Falcon lately, with an eye toward using it as inspiration on the next Horatio Wilkes mystery, which is currently in production here at Gratz Industries. The Maltese Falcon is by Dashiell Hammett, not, like my previous inspirations, by Raymond Chandler, but I think I can be forgiven the transgression, as even Chandler considered Falcon to be high art. Reading it for perhaps the third time, I'm blown away all over again.

The prose is sparse and electric, and Sam Spade is an enigmatic and enthralling protagonist--a man who won't rest until the murder of his partner Miles Archer is solved and avenged, but who perhaps never really liked his partner, and had no problem having an affair with Archer's wife when his partner was alive. The action is fantastic too. The Maltese Falcon kind of magically falls into Spade's hands about 3/4 of the way through the book, but otherwise the plotting is tight and realistic, and somebody's always drawing a gun or getting beat up or ransacking an apartment.

But one of the most intriguing things I ran into again was what has come to be known as "The Flitcraft Parable." Sam Spade is a man of few extra words--he says what he needs to when he needs to, and he doesn't go in much for stories or poetic thoughts (unlike Philip Marlowe)--but he does take the time about sixty pages into the story to sit down and tell Brigid O'Shaughnessy the story of Charles Flitcraft.

I won't quote the whole thing here--it's about 1200 words--but you can read the entirety of it online here. In short, the story Spade tells is about a successful, well-adjusted family man from Tacoma named Flitcraft who is walking along one day when a heavy steel beam from a construction site hits the concrete just a foot or so from his face. Flitcraft is so rattled by his near-death experience that he never comes home from lunch that day. He leaves his wife, his two boys, his successful real estate practice, his four o'clock tee time, and just disappears.

"He went like that," Spade said, "like a fist when you open your hand."

Five years later, someone matching Flitcraft's description is seen in Spokane, and Spade, who was then working for a Seattle detective agency, is sent to investigate. It's the same man all right. He's living under a new last name, but, oddly, his life is very similar to the one he left behind. He's married, has a baby boy, and makes a good living as an auto dealer. Spade has no instructions, so he meets the man and tells him plainly why he's come. Over lunch, Flitcraft explains--for the first time ever--why he left. The day the beam fell, he was scared, of course, but not so much frightened as shocked. "He felt like somebody had taken the lid off life and let him look at the works," Spade tells Brigid.

Rather than be upset at the injustice of a cruel and indifferent world, "what disturbed him was the discovery that in sensibly ordering his affairs he had got out of step, and not in step, with life. He said he knew before he had gone twenty feet from the fallen beam that he would never know peace until he had adjusted himself to this new glimpse of life." The realization was profound: "Life could be ended for him at random by a falling beam: he would change his life at random by simply going away."

After wandering around for a few years though, Flitcraft fell into the same routines and patterns of his previous life--perhaps without even realizing it. "That's the part of it I always liked," Spade tells Brigid. "He adjusted himself to beams falling, and then no more of them fell, and he adjusted himself to them not falling."

The placement of this mysterious "parable" in the otherwise rapid-fire, no-nonsense patter of The Maltese Falcon is noticeably out of place--and for that reason you won't see it in the exceptional movie adaptation. Even Brigid O'Shaughnessy is caught off guard by the story and by Spade's sudden openness. It's so different from everything else, it practically screams, "this is the theme of the story!" Which begs the question: just what does the story mean?

Some people read it as Spade telling Brigid that no matter what crazy things people may do in the moment, they will always, eventually revert to form. Sam tells this story to Brigid specifically, and though Brigid is pretending to be innocent, Spade knows she is an inveterate liar. Is he just telling her, in a veiled way, that he knows she's a liar and that eventually she will betray him?

Others have read a more existential theme to this parable. Says one professor, "The Flitcraft parable might best be thought of as Spade's understanding of the existential universe--a world without rules. Flitcraft had fashioned his life by a set of societal expectations, and the 'beams
falling' temporarily convinced him that he'd been walking blindfolded all his life, not realizing the random nature of chance. He thinks, by leaving his wife, home, and career behind that he's behaving in a hard-boiled way, which he is until his nature channels him back into the same life he'd always lived. He 'got used to them not falling,' as Spade says."

That's a bit heady for me. I like the former interpretation--that like Columbo, Spade sees human life as a collection of routines. But where Columbo is always looking for the things criminals do outside of their routine that trip them up, Spade seems to be focused on people's "foolish consistencies" as evidence of who they really are.

The real trick of it is, Sam Spade never explains what the parable means, so if this is a theme of The Maltese Falcon it's difficult to understand what that theme is supposed to be. He tells us what part he likes, so we can look for meaning there, but ultimately, like a Rorschach test, perhaps the meaning is in the eye of the beholder. Do you disapprove of the man for abandoning his first family the way he did, or like Sam do you understand him completely? Is it a story telling us to break the rules, or does it argue we can never escape them? Does the world not care one way or the other? Or is it telling us in far more words what Buckaroo Bonzai said so much more succinctly: "Wherever you go, there you are."

Give the "Flitcraft Parable" (or better yet, the whole book!) a read and let me know what you think.

Happy Mother's Day from Gratz HQ

Jo says, "Happy Mother's Day, moms!"

IRA 2008 - Atlanta

Why does this picture remind me of Isaac from The Love Boat?

Tuesday and Wednesday I was in Atlanta for IRA, shorthand for the International Reading Association Annual Conference. Attendance is huge--this year a reported 20,000 educators and reading specialists!--and there was definitely a buzz wherever I went. Although that may have been the cold I had that eventually robbed me of my voice. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Sarah Mlynowski, E. Lockhart, and Lauren Myracle sign How To Be Bad.

After doing lunch with editor Liz and then walking the convention floor (without my camera--d'oh), I was off to meet some great writers, illustrators, editors, and educators at the multi-publisher author reception that evening. It was a huge event, but I managed to catch up with John Green, meet Children's Book Ambassador Jon Scieszka, and connect with lots of uber-talented people.

After the reception I drove up to the Buckhead Barnes & Noble to see my friends Lauren Myracle, E. Lockhart, and Sarah Mlynowski sign their new YA collaboration, How To Be Bad. It's the story of three very different teenage girls on a road trip, and the craziness that ensues. Good stuff, and a super-fun trio of authors. They had a good crowd out for their event, and afterward I was invited to Lauren's parents' home in Buckhead for the launch party. If you don't know Buckhead, it's one of Atlanta's most posh neighborhoods, and that's saying something. The shindig was very swanky, and her family and friends were really terrific. Next up for the three amigos: a car trip/book tour to promote How To Be Bad. Let's just hope they don't get into as much trouble as their characters . . .

Let's do lunch.

The next day I was back at the conference, this time remembering to bring my camera. From two stories above the show floor I snapped the above pic of the dining area, as well as this view of the exhibits, although there are a lot more around the corner I couldn't work into the shot. It was a pretty big show, and it could easily take you an hour to walk every aisle, and that's without stopping to dawdle.


I was able to pick up signed copies of a few books I wanted--I grabbed autographed copies of Susan Vaught's Big Fat Manifesto and Mary Ann Rodman's Jimmy's Stars, though I missed seeing Mary Ann--and made a point of hitting the Bloomsbury booth to get a signed copy of Ophelia by Lisa Klein, which retells Hamlet from his estranged girlfriend's point of view. I talk this book up, among others, when I talk about Shakespeare adaptations on school visits, so I glad to actually meet her. For some reason though Bloomsbury decided to have Lisa Klein sign at the same time as Wendy Corsi Staub and Shannon Hale (!) so the line was longer than I expected. And me without our Shannon Hale books! We already own them all--including The Book of a Thousand Days, which she was there to sign. Dang. Maybe next time I should do my homework before I go. Lisa was cool though, and she told me she's taking on Macbeth next. Great minds think alike, eh?

Shannon Hale, Lisa Klein, and Wendy Staub sign at the Bloomsbury booth.

After Lisa's event I had a bit of time before my own galley signing, so I walked the Georgia World Congress Center one last time:

"Veni. Vidi. Vendi." -- I came. I saw. I snacked?

I know low voltage is certainly the way I preferred to take all my exams.

I was also able to spot some of the damage the World Congress Center took when downtown Atlanta was hit by tornadoes back in March. The damage was pretty easy to spot:



And once outside you could see just how many buildings had been affected.

The view from the greenspace in front of the World Congress Center.

You can see the busted windows on the skyscrapers. I think the round tower is the Westin Peachtree, one of the hotels where people stay for Dragon*Con and where the IRA Author Reception was held. The CNN building--there to catch the news as it happened, I suppose--sits in the right foreground. How odd to have a tornado hit a metropolitan area! It must have been a frightening thing.

Finally I was off to my own event, where I signed copies of Samurai Shortstop, Something Rotten, and advance reader copies of Something Wicked, which comes out this October. The Penguin booth was hopping every time I came by:

And did I remember to get someone to take a picture of me while I was signing? Of course not. That would require a brain. I was a little off my game anyhow, as by this point the near-yelling conversations I had the night before at the author reception and a lingering cold combined to rob me of my voice. I was able to croak well enough to chat with people as they came up to see me, but by the end of the hour my throat was pretty much gone.

My editor Liz Waniewski and me, back at the Love Boat bar. Outta sight!

Despite the loss of my voice, it was a great. I gave out tons of galleys and met people who had actually read my books and were looking forward to what was next.

Next up for me: the keynote speech this weekend at the Richland County Public Library Kids in Print event in Columbia, South Carolina.

Assuming, of course, I get my voice back.

Tutorial - The Sarah Apron

I've been making lots of aprons lately. I finally got them all listed so if you want to buy a finished one they're in my Etsy shop and also at Joseph-Beth Booksellers. If you want to make your own, you can find my patterns here and here.

I love the aprons that I've been making, but I decided to make a girl-sized one to match the apron I made for Kit. I wanted to design something a little simpler than the Madeline apron - something that would retail for less and that would be easier to make. It's so easy that it's the perfect beginner's project - here's how to make it.

Start out by cutting out all the pieces. Cut one rectangle 22" wide by 12" high. That's the skirt part of the apron. For the pockets, cut two 5" x 5" squares. For the waistband cut enough pieces to make a strip 3" wide and 66" long. I'll show you how to join the strips together later.

First we'll start with prepping the pockets. Turn in the sides and press them down. It doesn't really matter what your seam allowance is - just do whatever feels easy for you. My eyeball seams always seem to measure 3/8". It should look like this.
Now turn the bottom edge up the same way and press. It should look like this.

You'll want a more clean edge for the top, so turn that top edge in and press, then turn it in again and press. It should look like this.

Stitch down the top edge pretty close to the folded edge.

Repeat for the second pocket. Now you need to hem the sides and bottom of the apron. Use the same method that you used on the top of the pocket, turn the hem under, press, turn it under again and press again. Stitch down both sides, and then repeat the turning, pressing and stitching for the bottom hem. I didn't take pictures of this part, but it's pretty straightforward.

Now you're going to place the pockets on the skirt of the apron. Line things up so that the top right corner of the finished pocket is 5" down from the top edge of the skirt, and 2 1/2" in from the right edge of the skirt. See the picture below - the gridlines on the cutting mat and the ruler are all 1 inch.
Pin the pocket in place and repeat for the other side. Stitch each pocket down one side, across the bottom, and up the other side of the pocket.

Now it's time to gather the top of the apron. In my pattern I show how to gather using basting stitches, but I recently acquired a gathering foot and it has changed my life. Seriously. This thing cost about $20 and I can't believe how long I've been sewing without one. You snap the foot on, adjust the stitch length and the tension, and run the fabric through. It comes out all gathered and nice - and in no time flat. This foot should come standard with every machine. I can't believe I made this without one. Look how pretty!

Gather the top of the skirt until it's about 12" across. That's an approximation - this isn't rocket science so don't go ripping out stitches (or your hair) if you end up an inch shorter or longer.

Now you need to make the waistband. I like to use a double-fold waistband - it has a little extra body without having to add interfacing or anything like that. First you need to join your strips together into one long strip. Do this on the diagonal so that you don't get annoying lumps where all your seam allowances pile up. Lay out two strips so that they make a corner. Stitch across on the diagonal.

Cut away the extra fabric.

And press the seam allowance open.

Repeat, joining as many pieces as you need to get a strip roughly 66" long. Again - close to 66" is good. Now fold the strip in half the long way, right sides out, and press.

Open it back up and fold one side in to the crease in the middle. Press.

Now fold the other side in to the crease in the middle and press.

Now attach the waistband to the apron by folding the two sides around the top (gathered) part of the skirt. It's easiest if you fold the waistband in half to mark the center, line that center mark up with the center of the apron and then work your way out from the middle.

Pin the waistband strip in place.

You're almost done. Time to stitch the waistband on. To get a nice clean finish on the end of the tie, open it back up and fold in a bit at the top.

Refold the strip along the crease and stitch it down. Sew down the short end first.

When you get to the corner - stop, turn your needle down so it's in the fabric, raise the presser foot and turn the fabric 1/4 turn so that you can sew down the long way. Don't forget to lower the presser foot before you start sewing again or you'll get a nasty mess of thread under your project.

Keep sewing down the whole length of the waistband. Don't sew too close to the edge - if you do that you may not catch the folded edge on the back side. I like to sew about 1/8" from the folded edge - that's the point on my presser foot where it goes from clear to metal so it's a good, easy mark to follow.

Pivot again at the end of the waistband and sew up the last short edge. Don't forget to fold down the short edge like you did at the start of the waistband.

You could stop at this point and you'd have a finished apron, but I like to add an extra feature when I make aprons for children. I know mine's not the only kid out there who likes to do things herself. Even after they learn how to tie a bow things that tie in the back can be really frustrating - so I add a bit of velcro at one hip. Nifty! Here's how. First you have to cut your new, nicely finished waistband. Make the cut about 1/2" from the edge of the apron.

Cut a piece of velcro about 1 1/2" long. Fold that little 1/2" tab you left to the FRONT of the apron.

Lay the soft side of the velcro right over the tab (it will cover the raw edge) and stitch it down all the way around the edges.

Fold back a little bit on the cut end of the waistband and stitch the prickly side of the velcro over that.
Put them back together and NOW you have a finished apron. Tie it on to fit and after that your girl can put it on and take it off all by herself.

Perfect for keeping little friends close by.

Something Newsletterish

Introducing my new monthly newsletter, Something Newsletterish! If you've ever corresponded with me via e-mail or exchanged contact info with me or written your e-mail address on a bathroom wall, you were probably among the four hundred or so people who got the first issue over the weekend.

If you didn't, please don't take it personally. Be assured that you, [your name here], are a terrific friend and somehow your e-mail slipped through the tedious combing of my disorganized contact list. But I am disorganized no more! Thanks to my wonderful new e-mail newsletter provider, your e-mail address can be quickly and magically added to my database without me having to do a thing. Just scroll down the right hand column here on the blog and find the form that says "Get Alan's Newsletter." Put in your e-mail address, hit submit, reply to the confirmation sent to you over the interweb, and hocus pocus - you're in like Flynn!

Oh, and if you missed out on the first newsletter, you can always catch up by checking out the online archive, which will open up Something Newsletterish in your browser.

That's it. I'm off to figure out what the heck I'm going to talk about next month . . .

An Angel Gone Bad - But Redeemed

So Friday was the big, fun fundraising auction for Jo's school. I offered to make a an angel food cake with lemon curd for the dessert table. Should be easy - right? I've made angel food cake before, I think I know which recipe I use, and they always turn out fine.

This one did not turn out fine.

Angel food cake is supposed to be tall and fluffy. Mine was short and. . . dense. More like a pound cake. What happened? I thought I found the recipe I had used before - Emeril's recipe for angel food cake with lemon curd. I remember liking it because the curd uses almost all the yolks left over from the cake. But as I was making the batter things just didn't seem right. I separated the eggs. Whipped the whites with some salt and cream of tartar. Added sugar and whipped until stiff peaks formed. So far so good. Then the recipe said to add the flour and beat for another two minutes. Hmm, I thought. That doesn't seem right. It seems like that will deflate all the air I just beat in. It seems like I should be gently folding the flour into the egg whites. Did I follow my cake-making instincts? No - I gamely followed the recipe and beat that batter for one minute and watched it get less airy by the second. So I stopped beating, poured it into the pan and hoped for the best.

The best did not happen. I anxiously watched it bake, hoping a miracle would occur and the cake would climb right up the sides of the pan. Nope. I took it out, let it cool, and ran to the grocery store to buy an angel food cake, which I layered with the lemon curd. The lemon curd came out great, by the way.

But what do to with the flat cake? The pennypincher in me did not want to throw it away - there were ten eggs in that cake! Jo suggested we taste it. It tasted ok - sweet, but it was really dense. I thought that denseness would keep the cake from disintegrating if it were soaked in berry juice, so I decided to make a trifle sort of thing. I cut it in cubes, layered it with macerated strawberries, added some extra strawberry juice (actually strawberry daiquiri mix left in the freezer from our pink lemonade experiments), and drizzled some extra lemon curd on the top.Delicious! And I hope I never make it again. :-)