Sur-reality Show

So I recently found out that I live near a reality show. For real. Now, I live in a town of roughly 5,000 people. What are the chances that one family's worth of those residents would appear on the Discovery Channel on Sunday nights?

Alaska: The Last Frontier follows the Kilcher clan, longtime homesteaders here in Homer, as they hunt, fish, skin rabbits, run their farm, deal with the extreme conditions, raise children, and do other typical Alaska-type things.

It's not an uncommon lifestyle here in Alaska, in fact, many people, including us, do many of those things. It honestly never occurred to me that it would make good reality-show material. But come to find out, people love watching the Kilchers. The show is now in its 4th season. Over 134,000 people follow their Facebook page, for goodness' sake.

I have to admit I haven't watched it, but plenty of people in town do. The buzz is that some things are exaggerated or staged, but the gist of the show is real. I finally decided I should check it out online. I can't tell you how surreal it is to go on the Discovery website and see someone I've chatted with in the grocery store on "live cam", trudging out to the woodshed. Is that really something people want to see? Apparently so! There were over a hundred people logged into the chat window, talking about Charlotte going to the woodshed.

Huh? 

I'm really not sure I want to watch the show; it would feel like spying on my neighbors. The Kilchers live maybe fifteen miles away as the crow flies, and I often visit a family who lives just down the road from them. Although I don't know all the Kilchers, I've been to parties with some of them. I've even been to Otto's house. Little did I know that before long, they'd be kinda-sorta-famous, in that reality/celebrity limbo kind of way.

Honestly, it's a little bit demoralizing for a writer. Here I sit in my little cabin, brainstorming ideas until the blood seeps from my ears, when maybe I should just be putting up a live camera.  I find my daily life pretty ordinary, and it certainly never occurred to me that it might be worth televising. "There goes Juniper, trudging to the kitchen to make more tea. There she goes to the outhouse." Ooh, yes, outhouse-cam, now you're talking!

But then another strange thing happened. A few author friends of mine began receiving calls from a producer in LA. Apparently he's interested in shooting a pilot for a reality show about ... you guessed it, Alaskan romance authors. Something about steaming up the long winter nights. So there you go. Take it from me, if they can make a reality show about writers sitting at their computers -- even in Alaska -- they can make a reality show about anything.

So can you imagine a reality show in your town/neighborhood/house? Would you want to star in one?

The Land of Ice

It’s been a while since I shared some Alaskan craziness, but I just had a major dose on a weekend visit to Fairbanks and thought I’d share the fun.

First up, the World Ice Art Championships. In Fairbanks, the ponds freeze into ice of unusual clarity. Huge blocks of this ice are fork-lifted into the fairgrounds, where ice artists from around the world carve intricate, elaborately detailed sculptures out of them. My camera isn’t very good, so I can’t claim credit for these photos. Hopefully they give you a taste.

It's amazing the things you can make out of ice. A sauna, for instance, fully heated by a wood stove. Inside, you can relax and admire the surreally beautiful patterns embedded in the ice walls.

The ice slides are a total blast. I have to admit the whole experience was enhanced by the flask of Bushmills we passed around.

The next night we watched the “super-moon” while soaking in Rock Lake at Chena Hot Springs.

Here’s my stepdaughter demonstrating what happens to your hair at the hot springs when your head is at 20 below and your body’s in 105 degree water. Ice mascara, anyone?

I don’t have any pictures of the “super-moon”, but it was so spectacular here in Alaska, a majestic burnt-orange disk rising over the hills. I hope it was equally gorgeous where you live. As we drove home from Chena Hot Springs, the moon lit up one half the sky, Northern Lights danced across the other.

We got home at five in the morning, stoked the wood stove in our cabin and watched the moonlight filter through the birch trees.

The next day was Spring Equinox, which is a major event here in Alaska. From here on out, we get more and more light each day, until the darkness is nearly gone, dusk fades into dawn, and we won’t see the moon again until September.

Okay, that’s my report from the Land of Ice. Aren’t you glad I live here, so you don’t have to?

Home is Where the Computer Is

At 5 am this morning, we’re landing in Anchorage after a blissful two and a half months in Hawaii including a wedding, tons of family and friends, lots of fruit tree planting and, ahem, very little writing. We’re going from 77 degrees to 7, warm sunshine to snowdrifts. Clearly, this is going to be a rough transition. Clearly, this calls for some emergency self-brainwashing. So here goes.

Ten Reasons not to Jump Off the Plane Before Landing in Alaska

1. All the bugs in Alaska are still sleeping. After many close encounters with ants, cockroaches, centipedes, and other unidentified creatures, I’m ready for a break.
2. Enough with the green and blue. Okay, lush jungle and blue skies are nice, but white has a lot to be said for it. Bring on the snow!
3. Outerwear. It turns out that weddings are not a low-calorie occasion. Those parkas are going to come in handy hiding the extra pounds.
4. Uh oh. There’s got to be more than three. Think, think.
5. Seeing my writer friends again! I don’t know any writers in Hawaii (although I did get to meet the fabulous PG Forte!
6. Jumping off planes is a very bad idea.
7. Cold weather builds character. Yeah, I’ll keep telling myself that.
8. Peace and quiet. Okay, this is a good one. Hawaii is a noisy place at night—coqui frogs, crickets, early morning guinea hens, the rooster next door. Alaska in the winter is absolutely still and quiet.
9. Time off. This may sound strange, but we’ve been working nonstop since we got here—getting ready for the wedding, tending to our guests (many of whom stayed for a couple weeks), planting our wedding gift trees. When we get to Alaska, my days of digging up lava rocks and machete-ing cane grass will be over! Until next time.
10. I CAN FINALLY GET BACK TO WRITING! My own desk, my brand new computer, and no distractions. And that’s really all the reason I need.

Yay! Alaska, here I come!

There, I feel better now. Sleep-deprived, but better.

The Gemini Syndrome

Maybe it’s because I’m a Gemini (sign of the Twins). Or maybe every writer feels this way – or every person! – but I often feel that I’m living two lives. One is the life everyone sees, the other is the life that goes on in my head, and that comes out in my writing. (I certainly wouldn’t want it lurking inside my brain making me crazy.) The two lives are not entirely separate. Things that happen in my real life tend to make their way into my writing. And when my writing thoughts take over, I can become alarmingly spacey in my real life. I’m the same person, of course. It’s just that I’m living two parallel lives. Call it the Gemini Syndrome.

I also live two lives geographically. Mostly I live in Alaska. But we also own land in Hawaii, so we spend some time there every year working on our place. I’m in Hawaii now, as a matter of fact, for just a few more days. Talk about completely different lives! In Hawaii I go around in flip-flops and sarongs, eat papayas and avocadoes. In Alaska it’s snowboots and long underwear, potatoes and salmon. (I indulge in avocadoes from Costco because I can’t live without them.)

When all my worlds collide, it can be very disorienting. While I’ve been in Hawaii, I’ve been working on edits for my next book, which is set in Alaska during the winter. It’s very odd to be sitting in the jungle rewriting lines about the glaciers.
Sometimes I think it can actually cool me down on a hot day, but maybe that’s just my imagination. One of the book’s sexiest scenes takes place in a sauna. Now there’s something we don’t really need here in the tropics. Who knows if that sweat running down my face is from the steamy Hawaiian heat, or the fictional steam in the sauna…or the steam from the sex scene, for that matter?

We’re scheduled to fly back to Alaska a few days before GO WILD releases, so I’ll be able to look out my window at the snow while posting excerpts about it. That should make things easier. Maybe once I’m back, I’ll write a book set in Hawaii, just to really confuse myself. Then again, I’m a Gemini, the split personality of astrological signs, so I ought to be able to handle it. Or at least one of me can.

Do you like reading books that take you to a different place, time of year, world, whatever? Or do you like it when the world outside echoes the world you’re reading about (or writing about)?

Whiteout

Right now, I have only one thing on my mind, one thing taking up all my time…so when I had to pick a blog topic, I really didn’t have a choice. What else could I write about besides…

Two days ago, everything was normal here in the town of Homer, Alaska. Days were getting shorter, nights were getting colder. Every morning we’d check the temperature—hm, got down to 28 last night. We’d squint up at the sky, admire the lovely flock of sheep-like clouds flitting across the blue, then get on with our various projects.

Then, overnight, it all changed. While we were sleeping, a veil of white fluttered down on us. The veil thickened to a featherbed, which grew and grew and grew until everywhere you look, white now stares back at you. White trees, white buildings, white ground, white cars. Everything is white except the sky, which has stayed a stubborn gray, warning of more to come.

Mark it down: November 6. The day the snow started falling on Homer this winter. As I write this post, it still hasn’t stopped. Two feet of fluff and counting. It’s everywhere, in enormous, exuberant amounts.

It’s as if we’re suddenly living in a different element, not air, but snow. To get anywhere, you have to wade through hip-high piles of the stuff. When you open a door, a ridge of newly fallen snow collapses on you. Everything—cars, trees, piles of lumber—has been transformed into ghostly white yak-like blobs. When you brush against them, you’re treated to a shower of icy crystals.

The onslaught of snow has to be factored into everything we do. If anything was left on the ground before the snow fell, you can forget about finding it until sometime in May. Everything takes twice as long to accomplish, once you add in the time it takes to put on your snow gear and wade through the drifts and chip the ice off the car. The drive into town, which usually takes fifteen minutes, can take half an hour of white-knuckle, afraid-to-blink navigating of icy curves.

Better to stay home. Which brings me back to where I started. Shoveling. Yes, that’s been my life for the last two days. Shoveling paths, making huge snow mountains, clearing the driveway, digging out the cars. Sure, the snow’s still coming, but we’ve got to start sometime, and who knows when it will stop? It’s hard, sweaty work, but when I take a break and the quiet flakes cool my face and I sense the silent sigh of the land settling in for the winter, it’s a joy.

Those of you who live in the North, has anyone else had snow this early in the winter? You in the South… jealous? ;) Or thanking your lucky stars?

Okay…back to work. Thanks for the break! If no one hears from me for a while, I’m either still shoveling…or we’re drowning in the stuff. I'll keep you posted.

Let the Games Begin

BREAKING NEWS! The winners of the Welcome Juniper party have been selected, thanks to the genius of Random.org. They are:

Courtesy of Kinsey Holley, a copy of Training the Receptionist goes to Willa.

Courtesy of Erin Nicholas, elaing8 is the winner of a copy of My Three Lords.

Courtesy of PG Forte, a copy of The Extremist goes to *yadkny*.

Courtesy of Kelly Jamieson, hotcha12 wins a copy of Doll.

And since they've given away all my books, I'm awarding some Vosges exotic truffles to ... Tamara Lynn!

Congratulations everyone and thanks for playing.

Now back to our regularly scheduled programming. Since this is my first official post as one of the Nine Naughty Novelists, I really want to impress everyone. Maybe I should talk about my books … nah. I write books, you already know that. Or my upcoming wedding … uh oh. Haven’t started planning yet.

Well, I’ve heard that some people are fascinated by Alaska – perhaps I can impress everyone by talking about our lesser-known favorite sports. No, not the Iditarod. I’m talking about the OUTHOUSE RACES.

Yep, every winter, people bring their homemade outhouses – decorated for the occasion – to the race. One person has to be on the throne, the others have to be pushing, carrying, or otherwise manhandling the outhouse across the finish line.

Yes, it’s a long winter -- we have to amuse ourselves somehow.

For instance, the NENANA ICE CLASSIC. In this action-packed event, a tripod is placed on the frozen Tanana River at the beginning of winter. People place bets on the precise moment – to the minute -- “break-up” will cause the tripod to fall into the river. Sure, it’s silly – until you hear the size of the jackpot. Last year, if you guessed right, you could have won $279,030.

Ready to move here yet?

If you lived here, you too could participate in the SEWARD POLAR BEAR JUMP. All you have to do is jump into the ocean … in JANUARY!

But what about the summer, you ask?

Yes, there is a summer. Kind of. You can always take part in the MOUNT MARATHON RACE.

That’s the one where you run a mile and a half straight up a mountain, complete with cliffs and waterfalls and rockslides, then back down, trying like hell to stay on your feet.

Maybe you’d like something more relaxing. Here’s a competition in which all you have to do is grow facial hair. (Sorry, I’m out.) THE WORLD BEARD AND MOUSTACHE COMPETITION happens every two years. Categories include the “musketeer,” “the Imperial,” and freestyle. Although this event travels the world, I’m including it because the reigning freestyle champ is Anchorage’s own David Trainor.

Not only that – Beard Team USA dominated the 2009 event. (Sorry, Canada, better luck next time.)

Unique to Alaska – and this one I truly love and attend whenever I can – is the WORLD ESKIMO-INDIAN OLYMPICS, which features events based on native Alaskan skills and games.
The Ear Pull, the Fish Cutting Competition, the Greased Log Walk, the Blanket Toss – they celebrate and honor ancient survival skills. At WEIO, competitors dress in street clothes, sincerely cheer each other on, and turn the stadium into a big party.

Have I convinced you to move here yet, or at least visit? I like to affectionately tease my adopted state, but Alaska truly is a fascinating – if weird -- place to live. If there’s anything you’d like to ask about Alaska, and what it’s like to live here, now’s your chance. Ask me anything! If I don't know the answer, I'll make it up. Couldn't be stranger than the truth!

Juniper