Wordsmithing woman warrior Deanna Fei

Emotional vistas! Filial summits! Deanna Fei’s first novel A Thread of Sky follows six women as they traverse China, history, and their hearts on a family vacay. Filled with nuanced, honest characters and vivid storytelling, there’s a reason why A Thread Of Sky has been named an Indie Next Notable Book and The Chicago Tribune sez, “this summer, no smart woman should leave on vacation without it” — it’s brillz!

We interviewed Deanna for the deets on her debut (which has  gotten support along the way from – holy resumes! — no less than the Fulbright folks, the New York Foundation for the Arts and a Chinese Cultural Scholarship).

Here are key firsts from writing her first book…

Tell us about…
…the first sentence of “A Thread Of Sky.”
“The first sentence of the novel, as it exists now, came to me whole, as soon as the first scene of the novel came to me. I don’t think I ever edited it. But that scene didn’t come to me until maybe a year into the process. I don’t think you should ever try to write a novel thinking that the first sentence you write will be the first sentence of your novel. Chances are, it’s a shitty sentence. Chances are, the first hundred pages that you write will eventually get tossed out. But you have to write them. That’s the only way to start.”

...your first published piece.
“It was a short story called “Contact” about a teenage girl getting sexually assaulted by two men on the subway, published when I was fifteen in Susquehanna University’s “The Apprentice Writer.” I never showed it to anyone, but I kept it on my resume for a long time.”

…your first novel idea ever.
“I had a lot of novel ideas as a kid, so it’s hard to say—but my best guess is that it was a Sweet Valley High rip-off, complete with characters named Crystal and Vanessa with golden hair and sapphire eyes.”

…the first thing you did when you found out you sold “A Thread Of Sky.”
“I just sat in my kitchen. I needed a moment. Then I called my husband, my mom, my dad, my older sister, and my younger sister. And then I went to work. I spent the rest of my day visiting my GED students in a trade school — carpentry, plumbing, and beauty-salon classes. That part of the day felt vital.”

…the first thing you do when you sit down to write.
“Ideally, I shut the door, silence my phone, put on noise-canceling headphones, and turn off the Internet. But sometimes I dive into gossip sites first. I love reading about celebrity scandal. When you think about it, those stories are pure character and plot. They clear my head of any personal things I’m going through and prepare me to immerse myself in the lives of my characters.”

…your first stumble writing “A Thread of Sky.”
“I don’t think I ever stopped stumbling. For me, that’s just how writing goes. You stumble around until something clicks and you take flight. That lasts for a few words, a few sentences, maybe even a few pages. Then you land on your ass and start stumbling around again. That’s why revision is so crucial. That’s when, as Annie Dillard writes, you cover your tracks.”

Have you read A Thread Of Sky? Are you wrangling with your first book?

Tell us about it!

*POP!*

Chef Vincent shreds major...lettuce.

Yes, I’m frostsmitten. Winter’s barely over and I already miss snowboarding. This season I made it out to some amazing resorts in New Mexico, among them the steep-steeped Taos Ski Valley. The family-run resort is largely expert terrain, but who knew it served up talent on the slopes and in the kitchen?

It turns out the cooksmith who designed and delivered the delectable dishes at resort restaurant Rhoda’s is a 21-year old Kansas kid named Vincent Reif. What a McTwist! The Pop caught up with him between runs to get the scoop…

How’d you end up at Taos Ski Valley?
I was living in Alaska snowboarding, working my first cooking job and looking for something different. I just kind of picked a place on the map.

Alask-huh? I thought you were from Kansas.
I grew up there and we didn’t have mountains. Every two years my dad would take me. I never had snow gear, I was always in like, jeans and a shirt. As soon as I left home I was like, I’m moving to the mountains to snowboard. I was 18. I left the day of graduation, two hours after. I jumped on a plane, went to Florida for a week, and went straight to Alaska. I stayed at Alyeska, an amazing mountain with different terrain and unbelievable powder. In Alaska, there’s also a lot of back country. This is my first year on this mountain.

How do you go from a seasonal job to running the show?
Um, I’m really quick learner. I’ve been fortunate to work with really good chefs. And then there are the 90 hour weeks. Combine those and I ended up here.

Is your menu all stuff that you like to eat at home?
There is actually stuff on the menu that I’m allergic to and have never eaten, like my Tortilla Crusted Chicken. I’m allergic to corn.

But you’re in New Mexico!
Right? I have never eaten it. It just sounded really good in my head and everybody seems to love it so there’s that. My Crunchy Fried Steak is breaded in three different types of flour. One is maseca which is corn flour so I can’t really eat that. I just kind of nibble and get rid of it.

Where does the inspiration come from?
I have about $500 worth of cookbooks that I like to stroll through. Everybody’s like, “I bet you cook so much at home,” but I’m in a kitchen 14 hours a day. I go out to eat. That’s another place where I get a lot of my ideas. Some people would say that’s ripping off but I always twist it up and do my own thing.

Do you do your thing in the terrain park?
I’m not a big park rider but I have been wanting to hit the tabletops and the jumps lately. I’m not a fan of grooms. I like getting off the trails, in the trees, and just going fast.

Describe the snowboarding vibe at Taos Ski Valley.
The snowboarders here are a little more mellow. Maybe it’s because they just got the mountain open [to snowboarding last season] and are trying to play it safe right now.

How often do you get to ride?
I didn’t get up til after the first of the year because I was getting the restaurant together. I have been up pretty much every day since. At work, I cut down from six to seven nights a week to six to five. I’ve been coming in the morning getting everybody set up and then I take off for the mountain. I come back and get ready for the night.

*POP!*

Living in A Krave? Your roomies: Chanel, Shan Q & Jazz.

Oh, pardon me! I didn’t mean for my buttockular bouncin’ backside to bump into your soy latte. It’s just that I’m listening to Krave, you see. Yes, Krave. Krave? They’re the awesome booty jam/club banger/independent lady anthem makers from the ATL!

Not ringing a bell? Don’t feel the fool. Though they’ve collabo-ed with Flo-Rida and Akon, the group — Chanel Ross, Jasmine “Jazzy” Kearse and Shanquilla “Shan Q’ Robinson — is relatively under wraps until their debut drops this fall.

In the mizzy tizzy, read on for The Apopcalypse’s chat with the girls and a listen to their new song, “Go Crazy”…

It’s lunchtime. What do you girls Krave?
Shan Q: Oooo. Ben and Jerry’s Cherry Garcia ice cream with a Sprite!
Chanel: A big piece of sweet potato pie popped up in my mind.
Jazz: My favorite restaurant in Atlanta is Flying Biscuit and they have shrimp and grits with an oatmeal pancake. And a glass of orange juice.
Chanel: Isn’t that an odd combination?
Jazz: It’s a southern thing! Oh, oh! And one last thing! We are Kraving a number one album!

Tell me about yourselves.
Jazz: I’m the grandma, the mom type, a nurturer. I’m also a Scorpio so I do have an intense side. I love anything with the arts — going to museums and jazz clubs, painting. I’m the artsy fartsy type.
Shan Q: I am the Punky Brewster in the group. I can’t never stay at home, I can’t sit in one spot. I’m a jitterbug. I’m the rapper, I bring the hip hop element to the group. Jazz is the R&B sensation, Chanel is the alternative head.
Chanel: I’m the more goofy of the three, but I am also quiet. A lot of times I won’t say much. I am a Sagittarius. I am a very free spirit. I do what I feel like doing.

What was life like before Krave?
Shan Q: I was a back up dancer, on tour with Ne-Yo and Ciarra, traveling across the country and living my dream. I eventually came back home to my girls and decided music was the thing.
Chanel: I was in school to be a psychiatrist but doing music on the side, writing records and trying to get put on. When Shan came back we decided to put the group together.
Jazz: I was in school at Georgia State to be a journalist. I actually wanted to work for Vibe.

What were the early days of the group like?
Shan Q: Oh my god. We were in the basement or in someone’s broke down studio practicing songs, doing dance moves in the mirror. That was Krave, with hair brushes, lotions, water bottles, throwing off our shoes, sweating — just going crazy. And it eventually led us to [Upfront Megatainment CEO] Devyne [Stephens] . And God is good, God is good.

Tell us some lessons you’ve learned as a group.
Chanel: We are really big on respecting each other. Never really any cat fights; we are grown women. I would also say you definitely have to know that this is a business and it’s not just glitz and glamour.

What’s not glitzerous?
Shan Q: Uh, like, every day of rehearsal? Waking up at 10 o’clock in the morning and working out and being sore as ever afterwards?  And then in rehearsal from what 8 o’clock in the evening to after midnight and then getting up that morning to do something? Child! It’s not easy. That’s not the pretty part.
Chanel: Just to add to that, there’s the politics behind the music industry. There’s a lot of stuff you guys don’t see that we’re not really fond of.

Like, “Video ho…activate!”
Jazz: Yes. Yes. Sometimes people think it’s the label, but it’s not even always them. Just the people around you. Being young and being in the entertainment business, people just pressure you to do things because they think that sex sells.

I love that you guys are hot without being hoochie.
Jazz: We’re southern belles and our mothers taught us well so we know the lines not to cross. We do  stress that women  should embrace their sexuality and not at all are we saying that if you wear a miniskirt and a bra top it’s inappropriate. Do you. But at the same time, if you’re not comfortable with it don’t do it. Know your boundaries.

*POP!*

What the cluck?! The champ just winged it!

Who knew Long Island loins were laced with such precious pixie dust, resulting in superstar spawn including Billy Joel, Harvey Milk, Walt Whitman and its newest It-Boy, Matthew L. Bobiak.

Gloating grease-stained and triumphant in the pic above above, the full-time science nerd/part-time chicken-chomping champ studies at Stony Brook University. New to competitive nom nom nomming, this  fowl player entered and won his first chicken wing eating contest last Sunday at the Velvet Lounge, downing a gristly 65 wings in 15 minutes…

Ok, so he’s not quite Takeru Kobayahi (who battles a bear in a hot dog eating contest via this awesome link), but the event qualified Bobiak for the Clash of the Clucks finals, a competition sponsored by Good Times Magazine.

“I just showed up to eat,” says the humble hulkster of his win. “I was hungry…”

Bobiak, a 3MT IGERT doctoral candidate at SBU, enjoys fly fishing, homebrewing and entering hi-caloric contests on a whim. His secret to pulverizing all that pokpok?

“You can’t chew too much. You just have to swallow.”

*POP!*

Booze clues: Legal or not?

Thanks to botox, Pearl Cream, a cursed portrait genetics, at 32 I can still pass as a school girl. Like me, My Younger Boyfriend also defies age. While some guys bald and bloat at 25, his emo locks, skinny jeans and custom Dunks could land him the role of American sk8r at Degrassi High.

For the most part, our kiddie looks are fodder for fun, like the time we crashed the 8th grade prom in Irvington, VA. (“You two have to leave. No, not after ‘Lollipop.’ Now.”) BUT, it can be frustrating when we’re mistaken for kids in grown up situations…

I know at a certain age (mine), you’re supposed to get flushed and flattered when you’re carded for drinks. After all, in the grand scheme of things, that margarita is just a few sips away from a shot of Ensure, right? Truth is, I get carded often, and I don’t like it – especially when I am at booze-infused work events. It’s hard to feel like a professional when I’m pawing through my bag for an ID, insisting my first crush was on Jimmy Carter and I that I nearly died when Pam found Bobby in the shower, died.

When I am out with My Younger Boyfriend it’s worse. Together, one’s young looks magnifies the other’s, and we look like two “NYC Prep” rejects trying to sneak a buzz on fake IDs.

But who cares what other people think? What’s the big deal, anyway? I dunno, I guess I feel gypped out of hard earned years. A lot of people I know cringe as they tick the time away, edging into decades they had only previously watched with horror from a safe distance on TV…

But I like getting older, being my age. And I guess when I am out with My Younger Boyfriend, I’d like for folks to rekonize the ornery, wizened, crone I’ve become (inside). Not because I’m some cougar with a trophy/arm candy, but because I’m me now and not the dew-eyed (albeit fly and awesome) n00b I was back in the day.

Thus, I make a point of “casually” referencing my age around new people who meet us so no one gets it twisted. That inevitably leads to the reveal of My Younger Boyfriend’s age, at which point everyone does the math and a double take. Then come the raised eyebrows, incredulous outbursts, sly nods of approval/disapproval/confusion.

But the most shocking reaction of all? You’ll have to wait ’til my next column to read all about it.

*POP!*

Maui, wowie!

Just got back from New Years on the sun-soaked isle and had to give some skins to Little Beach, a sandy haven for nudists, free spirits and buds of Mary Jane in Makena State Park. We went on a Sunday when the clear waves were crashing, the drums a-thumping, and a vast assortment of buns toasting in the midday sun…

I know a lot of folks are squeamish about nudity. Some are prudes (“It’s so inappropriate, TMI!”), others insecure (“I don’t want anyone to see my fat/bones/rash/wang/boobs/butt/vajayjay.”), and plenty snobby (“Models only please. Otherwise, cover it up, Fatty/Skinny/Rashy/Wangy/Booby/Butty/Vajayjay-y!”).

Yawnz. All that says more about the concerned parties than the nakertons running free.

Now, I know that nude beaches can be shady. I went to one in Miami that was a skeevy flex-off of a meat market that made me long for a body condom before I jumped in the waves. I can see why people would shy away from a shoreline of erections, bulbous and fake ta-tas, and whispered propositions that sound like espionage code (“The eagle is landing where to do what??”).

But thankfully, Little Beach isn’t like that. Drawing a hippie/stoner crowd (that isn’t even entirely naked), the beach draws a range of ages and body types who just want to frolic free and groove to the Sunday drum circle. People happily share their sunblock, boogie boards, and other tasty treats.

No arched-eyebrow body scans. No snide reviews. No sexual advances. No tan lines. Just people body surfing (naked!), drinking wine from the bottle (naked!), eating sandwiches (naked!) and chilling with friends (naked!).

It’s so normal, and so relaxed, and so full of people who are comfortable with themselves…it’s almost as if those people swathed in fabric, obstructing the cool breeze, the ferocious waves and the blazing sun are the weirdos.

*POP!*

Marc Lawrence isn’t quite Jay-Z, but he can rep as hard for the five boroughs as hip hop’s kingpin.

Sarah Jessica Parker and Hugh Grant rom-com “Did You Hear About the Morgans?” opens tonight.

They say it’s about busted wuv and murder and city folk reconnecting in the wilderness and blah blah blah blah…BUT The Apopcalypse snagged writer/director Marc Lawrence for an interview, and turns out, it’s all that AND an indirect ode to NYC.

Here’s what he had to say…

So. How was making a movie about city slickers in the sticks?
I think some New Yorkers feel that being away from New York is painful. Sarah Jessica is one of those people and so am I. It’s just being here, raising kids here, eating here  — it’s just in your blood. It was a good bonding experience, leaving the city for the rodeos and horses. We were both equally terrified whereas Hugh was fascinated by it.

When I talked to him, he seemed very amused by your misery.
Yeah, there is nothing I really like about it. Central Park is all the nature I ever need for the rest of my life and honestly, sometimes even that is too much. In the film, SJ’s character is allergic to horses. I actually am. I managed to exorcise a lot of my fears of leaving New York through her character.

So really, the movie’s not about relationships. It’s about a great terror of the outdoors.
Basically! Don’t go outside! [laughs] New York fits with your bio rhythms in a way no place else does.

I grew up in Queens, so I feel you.
I am from Brooklyn. I know SJ isn’t originally from here, but in that E.B. White tradition, people who come from other places can become even more attached than native New Yorkers.

You mentioned you and Sarah Jessica swapped parenting secrets. Did you meet her kids on the set?
You mean the twins? I have not seen the twins. I sent them some presents but I have not gotten a note back from either of them. [laughs] My daughter is in the movie and SJ’s son came by the set so we continued to talk about kids in the city, school, that stuff. If you can raise a kid in the city, I think it’s an incredibly great thing to do.

Totally. Look how awesome I turned out!
I grew up in Brooklyn until I was 8, and then we moved to Long Island. I always envied kids from the city because it always felt like they were From Somewhere. They just had a unique quality of what they knew and how they talked. You’re exposed to so many different kinds of people and languages and philosophies and influences, it changes how you look at the world. Living here fosters some sort of toleration. Even if you can’t stand some other people, you have to get along with them because everyone is so packed together.

Have you arranged to have play dates with your kids?
My youngest son Linus and SJ’s son John Wilkie are the same age and apparently share a lot of the same interests, including “Star Wars.” The summit is being arranged between the two.

*POP!*

Caught in the act! It pinches a petite loaf.

Man oh man. With the recession, the weather, my broken heater, and this unyielding cough, lately it feels like everything is shizzing on me, every last thing. Yesterday, I try to take solace in the one act that brings me peace: feeding my worm bins. And then what?

This homie drops a stinky kid off at My Hand Lake.

True, that worm turdlet isn’t stinky at all, smelling (when collected in handfuls) like rich, wet soil. And actually, being a Dirty Girl, I’m kinda thrilled to have captured this dookie shot, because that’s the magic happening, folks, that’s what and where we all end up one day.

But before I become worm feed, I will feed worms my kitchen scraps. They got a luscious mix of coffee grinds, tea leaves, lemons, Chinese broccoli, enoki mushroom, sweetie tomatoes, and cauliflower greens.

Like me at Thanksgiving (ohbaconmashedpotatoes), it’s easy to overfeed a bin. I killed my first pound of worms that way. I heard that worms eat half their weight a day (an untrue ideal, like “if you do crunches you will get a 6-pack,” sooo not happening)  so I tossed in a pound of food 3-4 times a week. I was on a big smoothie kick at the time, hanging out with a yogi/massage therapist/mostly-vegetarian who occasionally lived out of a rusty Toyota van with sage, crystals, stickers and a Buddha on the dash. Can you smell the pending doom? CAN YOU?  (hint: it ain’t fresh like worm doo)

A whole Mack truck of healing crystals couldn’t save those poor worms, grossly overfed. Most of the food rotted, creating deathly anaerobic conditions. The result: a stinking, sopping, murdered mess. My herd pulled a creepy pinchy body contortion, segmenting so they looked like pearl necklaces.

But I learned that lesson and my bins have thrived since. And because Dirty Girl is all about the love, here’s some tips for fellow vermicomposters on properly feeding your worm bin:

1. Freeze and thaw your scraps. The big chill kills fruit fly eggs and thawing allows excess water to separate out (pour it down the drain). A too-wet bin creates all sorts of drama, including stink, death, and the growth of additional critters like mites and potworms.
   
2. Add browns each time you feed. Shredded paper/cardboard “bedding” soaks up extra moisture and adds essential carbon to your composting ecosystem.
3. Feed only when hungry. I eat all day, hungry or not, and see how that’s all working out — cursed pending muffin top! I feed my worms once a week, the amount of time it takes for the previous week’s food to disappear. I don’t mind if there’s a day or two without new food food, because worms keep reprocessing what’s left, making finer castings.
4. Use convenient, single serving containers to collect scraps. I’m not trying to mess around in the sloppy mega-muck of bulk scraps from a big plastic bag or “slop bucket,” as some wormers call it. I collect my scraps in a Campbell’s microwave soup container that I keep by my kitchen sink. When it’s full, I stick it in the freezer and pull out a second one. At feeding time, I thaw it, top it off with coffee or tea scraps (which don’t need to be frozen), and dump it in the bin. Exactly what I know they’ll consume by the next feeding.

And speaking of feeding, I am hungry. Unlike a worm bin, I won’t wait til my brekky has made it’s safe passage through. I will stuff my face with the sweet potato pie that I made last night. Byez!

*POP!*

Back in Queens during the 80s and 90s, freestyle music was to my ears as Aqua Net was to my perm, la vida, ¿sabes? I would listen to those nasal, synthesized, nasal, repetitive, nasal jams on my red Sony walkman, falling asleep to Exposé and pre-pop Lisa Lisa as I pondered Menudo, Ralph Macchio, and Corey Haim.

Due to a freakish, unrelenting glitch in the space time continuum, 80s/90s freestyle never dies. Instead, it lives on in throwback shows that draw a nostalgic party crowd. How hot does it get? I spent Thanksgiving Eve at Webster Hall with Freestyle Fever…

"like oh wow my god, this was me and hector's jam..."

Is that the crowd going wild for any number of freestyle greats?

Perhaps. Or maybe they’re just excited the show finally kicked off. Though the flyer said 9 and the freestyle floor opened at 10:30, performances didn’t start til past 12. I guess I really am over the hill, one of the “Over-30s!” the DJs kept shouting out all night (to Under-20s-style shrieking enthusiasm). I bailed just before 2 am, right after Chubb Rock lurched around to a medly of other people’s hits, before my beloved TKA or Judy Torres.

However, I did get to see The Cover Girls, who looked jaw droppingly hot:

And Saphire, who had fun back up dancers:

But for the first time, I felt maybe I had outgrown these jams. The thrill had turned to shrill, the beats to ow-my-feets (and I was wearing hi-tops, wtf), and the crowd to too loud and lewd for my taste. (Like, do the hype men need to interject “M-EFer” into every joke?)

Jizzy Chrizzy, as I write this I feel my boyshorts spreading into grannypants and my beauty marks fading into liver spots. Am I no longer fun? Have I become a curmudgeon? Do I only like swap meets and food instead of late night clubbing and fun?

“Meh to late shows! Meh to cursewords! I shake a gnarled fist at you!”

OH. EM. GEE. What is happening to me???

*POP!*

SCORE! — for more than dummies.

OMG, you missed it? Boo hoo! Go cry your emo eyes out over the spilt organic soy milk of your freecycling soul!

Last week’s  SCORE! Pop-Up Swap at 3rd Ward basically ruled, besting the Mormons who clearly need a latter day style saint to help curate.

With a DJ, drinks, and mounds of delectable donations, the lively scene had hipsters hauling carts of clothes and kitstch out the door.

I lugged 4 bags of books, baubles and clothes to this Fun-raiser, which donated leftovers to charity and $3 door fees to my very fave do-gooders City Harvest.

Click here for

We got there at 4 pm as dusk (effingwinter) began to set in. The line was up the block, with folks carrying their-trash/another’s-treasure in their reusable bags. After waiting on another line, we dumped off our stuff at the welcome desk, got a handful of sorted items to deliver to a table, and began to cruise.

The clothing room was a madhouse. Tables and racks were piled high with merch. People clawed through them hungrily and happily with occasional whiffs of envy (“That smoking jacket is so ironic, you’re so lucky.”) and surprising shows generosity (“No, really, this is so YOU. Take it. Really.”)

ooo we has a free clothz!

By comparison, the other areas of the swap felt a lil lacking. It may have been the hour of the day or maybe attendees only cleared out their closets. Housewares and art supplies were barebones. Books, DVDs, and music were confined to lonely little tables…

"sniff. i'm lonely."

If you wanted, you could get sexy shirtless David Hasselhoff silk screened onto anything you scored (those shoulder bags, btw, are still available at etsy for $10)….

Shut up, he's still hawt.

What did The Apopcalypse take home?

For a peek at my fresh booty (and I’m not talking about My Younger Boyfriend), click here!