Cover now up and here’s the back blurb. We’re getting close!

My caretaker used to tell me stories, as caretakers do, of when the world was new. When the world was made up of continents and not islands; of nations, not cities; when people traveled in the air, outracing sound, over water; when healers worked not with their hands, but with machines.

She told me of the sun shining, of the snow burying the world in white, of animals kept as family—of families, not clans, tribes or corporations. Of a world without magic. Without gene modification. Without pollution covering the sky. Without people like me.
When the world was new.

But that, as she always ended every story, every phrase, every glance, was a very, very long time ago.

Secrets dominate Rue’s life in post-apocalyptic Chicago. When her past comes and swings around old favors for Rue’s help, Rue can no longer hide in the shadow pretending she is a powerless, normal human—a dud. Instead, she will have to lose carefully earned control and cause some damage in order to save her new lover and old family.
© 2019 Olivia Orndorff

It’s been quiet on the blog and twitter (truthfully, I’m always quiet on twitter), but hopefully this post makes up for it!

Here is the cover for my next book Don’t Belong to No City, which takes place in futuristic Chicago. The first book in an entirely new series!

Mark your calendars for the release date on May 24. Perfect for your Memorial day weekend!

I can’t wait to share my new story with you! Check back in for excerpts and other fun surprises leading up to the release date.

I recently finished Perfect Me: Beauty as Ethical Ideal by Heather Widdows. Widdows positioned the idea of beauty and the process of beautifying women invest so much time in through the lens of philosophical critic. Her claim is that the standards of beauty continues to evolve and envelop every woman (and soon man) to a look that is achievable only by using make-up and only by going under the knife. This isn’t a book that spends its time trying to dwell on how the individual participates but more at the overarching swell where women continually find the marker of internal self-worth is linked to physical appearance. Her connections across history of how strict beauty standards (e.g. binding feet) were limited to one socio-economic class, and how that is rapidly changing. As the world changes, the gap has gotten narrower and narrower. Women now, in the book, are expected to wear makeup at the gym, at home, and even while battling terminal diseases. Her examples are specific and while skewed toward western Europe and America also incorporate the changing global identity as well—particularly the idea of thinness.

Her discourse struck a chord with me. Even an individual, setting out not to wear make-up, or not to use a filter with a photo, becomes an investment of time and emotional energy comparable, or more so, to those who stay within the current. Examining the beauty standard does not rest on the individual, but on the society as a whole to examine why this ephemeral idea of beauty and of youth is so intrinsically skewed to inherent value. Reading her work, I found another reminder to check my own values and weigh them against why exactly “a bad hair day” seems to strike such a dismal mood so quickly. Why I am willing to pay x amount of money for a manicure or a pedicure before a big event? Why do so many young women ask for, and receive from their guardians, cosmetic procedures on their 18 birthdays? Why do women who struggle to pay for rent, food, still fork over money for hair dye? Why do I shave my legs? The answer is simple, cultural norms tell me (and them) it is expected. Not participating results in its own tagline. Letting yourself go. Not being the best you.

As Widdows puts it, this cultural trap of not participating means not believing in betterment, not believing that getting better by the careful mascara wand would result in stagnation.  Truthfully, I rarely wear makeup and am often envious of those around me able to wield their tools with mastery for the perfect look. But, I am also aware of the way it can hinder, and can trap time, effort, and mental and physical health and spiral talented women downward by not keeping up.

This is not, perhaps a new revelation (though the increasing number of cosmetic procedures was), but Widdows provides a new frame to my thinking as she shows how common practices, increasingly complex ones, begin to be woven into the fabric of everyday care and how women continually police themselves and others. This is not really about finding that heterosexual relationship. This is about the normative practice (encouraged by patriarchy and capitalized on by a global market) that slowly increases to fulfill and ever growing need to meet a standard that is not achievable. A standard linked to the idea of worth.  

Widdows helps answer the question of why culture tell us to tie our self-worth, our public personas, to masks, to the future person that is ten pounds lighter, and hair the perfect shade, and our skin without wrinkles. What I wonder though is how best we start untangling the idea of value from the mirror.

The older I get, aka the more Chicago winters I experience, the more I identify with the lion, the witch and the wardrobe, where the villain keeps Narnia in endless winter and never Christmas. There is something about the trudge of January and February, and the false promise of March, that keeps me on the edge of my seat watching to see when the lake will finally melt, when the flowers will start to bloom and I can finally put away my coat. Week by week we’re getting there. Last week, I walked along the lakefront and the ice had begun to melt in chunks. The remaining pieces clinked together like musical breaking glass. I put away my down coat and go around bravely without a hat or scarf. Soon, spring will be here and I will once again be reminded of how glad I am that, once again, the seasons change.

I finshed off E. K Johnston's book That Inveitable Victorian Thing, my first story from this author, and enjoyed the story. More then anything I loved the concept of an alternative future where the world is perhaps not so scarred by colonialism. My main complaint was how short the novel was. I hope the author ventures into this world again. In the notes, the author remarks the idea came from asking "what-if" the world was not quite so terrible.

The more I read, the more I write, the more I find stories come from this question. A question of how reality could be differnt. Like a mirror, some books only require a slight twist. Then others are more like fun houses--twisted perceptions. That's always the first choice on the part of the author, the distortion. The second, and one I'm struggling with, is how to orient the reader to that twist. Should it be a kick off the high-dive or a gentle immersion? I've read both ways and enjoyed floundering, working to keep up with the charcters--but, the story has to really engage me or I have to trust the author. Like with this book I finished, the read is easier when I already had my bearings.

Any thoughts, fellow book-lovers?

I hit a milestone in the current manuscript of 40 thousand words. No matter how many drafts I do, something about hitting that many words is a magical feeling.

This past week I've been thinking a lot about inspiration and where the ideas come from. So many times other mediums outside the written word. The nexus of an idea may come from the line in a song, a story from the forgotten pages of history, or an image.

Europeana always has images full of rich colors, images across the years, as it's pulled from the collections across Europe. My Spotify is full of playlists containing music across genres, always looking for that next idea.

I love how experiences can all pull together and find its way out into my stories. Reading, learning, exploring all shape the perspective and just lead to more ideas.

Have a great weekend!

Not quite of course, but the book is in to the editor. I officially just have to wait until her edits are done. At least with that draft. I can always tell when I am done with a story, when I start getting excited by new ideas for the sequel and outside the box ideas. It's times like these, right before I decide what project to start, I really do wish I can do this writing gig full time.

Still do what you can. I hope it's a happy Thursday for you! Here is a picture of some street art I saw in the West Loop last week to tide  you over.

Have a great weekend!

Chicago is currently 60 odd degrees and that is starting to feel cold enough to fall to indulge in light jackets while porch sitting. This morning, I went to the Maiden Voyage Cafe that is my neighborhood. I love their food! I usually get the Nihilist, which I always mispronounce, for breakfast (pictured) and gobble it down. They always serve it on the long rectangle plate and at least one brussel sprout or potato  will get knocked off the plate. My beta readers (aka family, thanks family!) got their notes back to me on my current draft so I wanted to go through everything. The past few months have gone by so quickly that I wanted to get a move on so I don't have to scramble getting it to my editor on the agreed date of October 1.

I got to cross a few more places off my travel list this week as the day job took me to New York City. I didn't get to see much more then what I could see out a cab window but that was enough for Brooklyn Bridge and signs for Time Square. Crazy to me how different a city can be in look and feel. Coming back my direct flight to Chicago was cancelled, so I got to experience the wonders of the Houston (Hobby) airport.

Stay safe, drink water, and I wish you better travel luck then I had this week!

I got back to the studio this week to work on a print.

Letterpress printing is always an exercise in patience and tends to reward those detail oriented. Sputnik Press has open studio time on Mondays, Thursdays, Fridays and Saturdays for about four hours for each day. To complete a usual project, like this one, I normally need two sessions. One to handset the type and then one to actually set up, run the press and final clean-up. Depending on the amount of text, I could probably get away with one session, but since I like more then one line it will usually take me two. On my last poem, it took me four sessions. Two to set, one to run, and one to clean-up.  Of course, I made it more complicated. For something like Nature, I can set the lines the same, and there aren't too many gaps. The quote is from Emerson’s work called Nature.

I used 5.5” by 8.5” paper with green ink something called ivy moss. I used this color for the first time, but it came out well. Once I had the lock-up on the bed of the press, I needed about three adjustments through. Even with catching spelling errors and using the wrong type piece, the type won’t necessarily catch the ink. There are different ways to accomplish making sure each letter is inked.

I think all in all the prints turned out well. My spelling errors and wrong letters have gone down dramatically. Since each letter is hand set, and put away by hand, it’s easy to pick up a “b” placed in the wrong drawer and not realize it until your on press. Luckily, Adam came out spelled correctly!

Most of it comes down to stubbornness. I’ll switch out the letters, double check the look and then go from there. It doesn’t meet the fine printing standards, but I tend to think that’s part of the reason to do the letterpress printing with the handset type. Working within the constraints to create.