HANK PHILLIPPI RYAN: You know how they always talk about “a hook” for a book? Or movie? And for us writers, when we heart a good one, we think: OHHHHHHHHH SUCH a good ideeeea.
(And it sounds just like that that. The writer’s moan of envy. And deep approval.)
Well, prepare to be dazzled. Listen to this:
Remembrance is the story of four women told across three centuries, beginning on the eve of the Haitian Revolution and moving through to the 21st century. All struggling to survive devastating circumstances, the woman share a connection with Mother Abigail, a Voodoo priestess who uses her powers to create a parallel universe that becomes a stop on the Underground Railroad.
SO GREAT.
I met the amazing Rita Woods on Zoom--I mean, of course, where else these days? And it was all serendipity. We are both authors at the fabulous Forge Books, hurray, and they asked me to moderate a panel of their authors. SO it was Julie Carrick Dalton, Heather Webber, and Rita Woods. Julie and Heather I knew, but not Rita.
What an amazing night! We could have talked for days. Weeks! And so of course, I invited the wonderful Rita to visit us here today.
And awww. She's talking about how we met.
And by that I mean: Zoom. Rita has a very special (and super-appropriate) nickname for Zoom, as you will see below.
(And she’s giving away THREE copies of her book! So three of you are big to have a very good day.)
The Devil’s Hand Mirror
By Rita Woods
I was ever the late bloomer.
Married at thirty. Nearly forty before I started a family. And **mumble** when my debut novel, Remembrance, came out last January.
Becoming a first-time novelist of a certain age was exciting, terrifying, wonderful, surprising and exhausting. In those first few months of 2020, I had a fantastic launch party, got to travel, discovered some amazing independent bookstores, and met the most wonderful readers and writers. And then came Covid, undeniably one of 2020’s absolute worst surprises. Like almost everyone, my publisher tried to pivot, turning as many of the already planned events, into virtual affairs.
Enter, Zoom.
AKA Satan’s hand mirror.
While Zoom has served to keep the world more or less connected, it has also allowed me to see myself in a way that has been as dismaying as it has been edifying. In event after event with other authors, (note: I have bras older than many of them), I found myself gazing in abject horror at my image on the screen. I mean . . is that what I really look like? Holy God!
Despite my best efforts, I was constantly distracted by that poorly lit doppelgänger floating there in the tiny window, my name posted across its chest.
In Remembrance, you have four strong women spread across three centuries, using their will power and their magic to survive in horrific circumstances.
Yeah, I know, but what the heck is going on with my neck? Is it melting? It looks like it’s melting. Should I move the camera? Should I turn off the camera?
The Haitian Revolution, New Orleans in the early 19th century and the 2010 Haitian earthquake all figure prominently in Remembrance and yet in the novel, these events are placed in the milieu of magical realism.
Uh-hunh. How come no one else has bags under their eyes? Is there an app for that? Does Zoom have an anti eye-bag app?
Do you think . . .?
How come she has a background that looks like she’s on a French terrace?
I keep hitting the button for ‘change background’ and mine still looks like a bargain basement version of the Matrix.
And this, dear reader, is the way that I have spent my last two thousand four hundred Zoom meetings.
Don’t get me wrong. I am incredibly thankful that Zoom exists. It has given me the opportunity to stay connected with readers and libraries and other writers, but I have to be honest. I am also daily traumatized by the fact that, seventy five percent of the time on camera, I bear a striking resemblance to a re-animated corpse.
Currently, I am finishing book two, The Last Dreamwalker, and like absolutely every living, breathing human being on planet Earth, I am Zoomed out and desperate to return to in-person events.
But I have a sinking feeling that Zoom will not entirely vanish, and so in between researching the types of native birds found on the Gullah Sea Islands, I’ve been binging make-up tutorials and experimenting with camera angles.
So far, low lighting, turtlenecks and large coffee mugs seem most effective in making me look less used up and dried out, but I’m all about any and all suggestions on how to look fabulous in the cursed Zoom-sphere.
Otherwise, The Last Dreamwalker onscreen events may well all end up being done by a hand puppet.
HANK: I love that idea! We will all use puppets! And I know we should be walking about Zoom--do you have special lighting? Are you business jackets and yoga pants, like I am?
But wow, wouldn’t you like to know more about Rita’s book, too? So--and I never thought I would be offering this particular choice: Zoom tips? Or Voodoo?
(And don’t forget to leave a comment here to be one of the three lucky winners!)
Rita Woods is a writer and Board Certified Internal Medicine physician serving as Medical Director of a Wellness Center for one of the nations largest Locals in suburban Chicago.
Her debut novel, Remembrance, received the African American Literary Award for Best Historical fiction, was a SIBA Winter Okra Pick, one of NPR's Best books of 2020. And was included on Essence, Vogue and PopSugar's lists of Best Books of 2020.
She is an elected Trustee of her local library board and is currently a mentor for Cinnamon Girl's Inc, and organization that fosters the love of writing in high school girls of color.
Rita lives outside of Chicago with her husband, children and house full of cats.
www.ritawoodswrites.com
Twitter: @RitaWoodsAuthor
IG: ritawoods723
Remembrance is the story of four women told across three centuries, beginning on the eve of the Haitian Revolution and moving through to the 21st century. All struggling to survive devastating circumstances, the woman share a connection with Mother Abigail, a Voodoo priestess who uses her powers to create a parallel universe that becomes a stop on the Underground Railroad.
