Thursday, November 1: Femme Fatale
NATIONAL AUTHOR’S DAY
by Deborah Elliott-Upton
Today is National Author’s Day. The date on my calendar listed the “holiday” to coincide with National Family Literacy Day and the birthday of Stephen Crane. I was surprised. I’d never heard of anyone celebrating authors on the first day of November in an official capacity.
Accordingly, some bright authors probably scheduled speaking engagements at libraries and booksignings. Unfortunately, none I know personally is taking advantage of the date to draw in crowds to buy their books simply because today has been labeled a holiday. Pity. It’s such a good excuse for a gathering of writers and readers to get to know each other better.
On the heels of Halloween, if I were in Elmira, New York, I could celebrate by visiting Mark Twain’s gravesite. Jack London’s grave is located on the Jack London Ranch in Glen Ellen, California and Alex Haley is buried in the front yard of his home in Henning, Tennessee.
What would a listing of notable author’s gravesites be without one of the father of the American mystery? Edgar Allan Poe is buried in Baltimore, Maryland’s Westminster Presbyterian Church’s yard.
If I were to investigate an author for National Author’s Day, perhaps I’d begin with Poe. A museum dedicated to Poe is in Richmond, Virginia’s oldest surviving building, The Old Stone House, circa 1754.
Poe’s life was as mysterious as his death and reads more like a fictional character than not. A stint at West Point seems interesting for a man who wrote dark poetry and both horror and mystery short stories.
At the museum, an 1845 copy of The Raven and Other Poems is displayed. Even our most-revered Edgar Allan Poe didn’t always create winning manuscripts. Poe’s first book, Tamerlane, was an 1827 publishing flop. The remaining copy is said now to be the rarest and most valuable piece of American literature. A scandalous literary gossip piece, “ Literati of New York City,” which made Poe unwelcome in New York’s successful writing circles but popular with the public, is included for our scrutiny at the museum.
Some people attending a function for National Author’s Day may be disappointed to find their favorite bestselling romance writer sports an ankle tattoo. They may cringe a little to hear the children’s author use swear words or gulp a martini. Mystery writers have an edge here: we’re supposed to be a little weird anyway.
National Author’s Day should be for readers as much as writers. I suggest we celebrate the “holiday” by reading a great short story.
Excuse me? What’s wrong with an ankle tatoo? I would be disappointed if they didn’t! I think most are disappointed to find authors for the most part, look like everyday people. Great column!
For several weeks Steve Steinbock entertained and educated us on the principle of serendipity. By the time Steve got to Jimi Hendrix, Elvis and the hill, (You know which hill I mean.) I was compelled to comment that I try to avoid the concept of serendipity but sometimes it just grabs you.
Ladies and Gentlemen, consider me grabbed. I popped by to see what Debbie has to say this morning and learned that today is national Author’s Day, and ~TA DA~ today I am an author. At seven o’clock this evening, during a book launch in Crime and Partners in New York City, the world will meet the anthology Murder New York Style and therein the world (or at least the forty or so people who attend) will meet my first published work “Strike Zone.”
Ordinarily, I would not dare a comment like this because it would be a shameless, self centered plug, but not today. Today my comment is SERENDIPITY.
Happy Author’s Day to one and all! Have to grab my copy of tough Guys and Dangerous Dames and read a story from the Golden Age to celebrate.
Terrie
Terrie, major congrats and welcome to the club where tattoos are allowed and sometimes even expected.
Or a reader coudl discover a women’s fiction writers witha big bush goatee.
By the way today is also All Saints Day, a holy day of obligation in Catholic Church. But since authors are saints as well this may not be a coincidence.
National Authors Day?! Pefect. The one holiday that nobody knows about including the people it’s for. It somehow fits.
And it’s the birthday of sportswriter/poet Grantland Rice who wrote the poem that ends (I gotta paraphrase, I don’t have it memorized!) “When the One Great Scorer comes/To mark against your name/He marks not whether you won or lost/But how you played the game.” And H.P. Lovecraft is buried not too far away from Poe. AND: Congrats, Terrie! Hope to read it soon!
Man, Steven Crane gets National Writer’s Day for his birthday. What do I get for MINE every year?
International Talk Like A Pirate Day.
Sheesh. I mean Aaar!
My birthday falls on the anniversary of Edgar Allan Poe marrying his 13-year-old cousin Virginia. Wanna trade?