I was thrilled and honored (CLICHE-FEST OFFICIALLY OVER NOW) to be included as part of the cover feature in the September issue of the esteemed writer's magazine, Writer's Digest. The magazine did a themed "BIG 10 ISSUE," which asked 10 bestselling authors to share their top 10 secrets. I was part of that elite TOP 10, along with Sherman Alexie, Mary Higgins Clark, Jodi Picoult, Erik Larson and Chuck Palahniuk. I answered the question (each author answered a different question), "Top 10 Ways to Stay True to Yourself in Publishing."

I, of course, answered the questions like a semi-jackass, completing them while I helped my father convalesce after shoulder surgery at his house, where happy hour started right after the Folger's. The result? Here's a peek:

10) Do Not Try to Write Mary Potter & The Half-Price Rinse & Set, or Twilight: But with Zombies!
Listen closely to this, if nothing else: Write what you know, what you feel, what you believe, what needs to come out, not what you think you should write, or what you feel might sell. Writing anything other than what you have a passion for, anything other than that story that burns to be told, and you’ll be a sellout. And you’ll know it. And everyone will know it. And you’ll feel hollow, because what you’ve written is hollow. Follow your heart. Don’t let the market dictate your art.

For my entire list, you can go to the link below, or not be a cheap-ass and actually buy a copy (it's a fabulous issue, really ...):

http://www.writersdigest.com/article/rouse-top10/

Sadly, I was most thrilled to be included in the editor's and staff list of "TOP 10 WRITERS, DEAD OR ALIVE, WE'D LOVE TO HAVE DRINKS WITH" ... I was (drum roll) NUMBER FREAKING TWO, behind only Ernest Hemingway and ahead of Hunter Thompson (and I think I was the only living writer named to the list), all of which means I'm either a drunk, insane, violent, or an insane, violent drunk, which doesn't seem so fun when you work it out in your head. Whatever: I'm thrilled. It's like being Playboy Bunny of the Year, but way better. Drunk. And still fully clothed.

When stuff like this happens, it's still strange, because all these thoughts start popping in my head (though that could be the effect of decades of gel and Rave). I still too often still think, "Me? Did they e-mail the wrong person?" when I get asked to be a part of something like this, or lecture at a major conference/event. As I wrote for Writer's Digest, this is part of the "Fear Factor," which, sadly, defines most Americans. All of us, especially writers, are defined by our fears.

"Am I good enough?"
"Can I make a living at this?"
"Who really writes for a living?"
"Who does what they love?"

Fear strangles us. Prevents us from finding our voices, and pursuing our passion. From, like I still too often find, feeling we're good enough. That we belong. That it's OK to be happy.

All I can tell you is this: Turn FEAR into "Free Every Artistic Response." Let your creativity and calling guide you. Listen to it. Follow it. I guarantee, when you do, your true voice will be unleashed ... and happiness will follow.

And, when you get there, to that little corner bar called "Happiness, Success and Fulfillment," let me know. We'll drink to our success.

And we all know I'm pretty damn good at that. So, be prepared for a Hemingway-esque night on the town. All you need to do is get out your cash, ID and lip gloss, and put away your handguns.

xx,
Wade

One of the most incredible things to happen this year -- besides the fact that Gary was able to get something to stick to our brand new non-stick pan - was my invitation to be a part of the Random House Speakers Bureau, which is billed as "The World's Best Speakers Under One Roof."

Part of my tingly excitement was because I found myself aligned with such literary legends and personal writing heroes as Jay McInerney, Richard Russo, Gay Talese and Lisa See, among many others.

Moreover, I, unlike many authors, am a writer who loves to speak, who adores crowds and Q&A, who enjoys bringing his books, messages and themes to life in front of an audience. I especially enjoy lecturing because I am able to dive more deeply into topics, to relate personally to my audience, to make them laugh and learn. It is a completion of the circle, writing alone to speaking with an audience. Lecturing is a piece of writing to me: It is how I stay whole.

My background is in journalism and public relations, especially educational PR, so I know how to ask and answer a question, work the media and a room. I'm able to connect with kids and adults, faculty and administration. But, now, I'm able to do it in on a much deeper level. And on my own terms.

Over the past year, I have lectured around the country, making audiences laugh and reflect on topics ranging from the writing process, using humor to overcome tragedy, diversity and discrimination, and redefining one's life, at venues such as the Chicago Public Library/Cultural Center, the Wisconsin Book Festival, the Erma Bombeck Humor Writers Conference (the largest humor writers workshop in the nation), the Post and Courier Fall Book and Author Luncheon in Charleston, South Carolina (the largest book event in the Southeast), and numerous private and public colleges and universities.

Some of the topics I speak on include:

-Following Your Dreams

-Taking Risks

-Rural vs. Urban America

-Courage in All Situations

-Humor in Life to Overcome Obstacles

-Weight Loss & Maintenance (I lost over 100 pounds -- pre-Biggest Loser craze -- and have kept it off the only way one can, by meshing the physical with the mental, psychological and spiritual, and working one's rear off every single day and eating the right foods. I am happy. It is the only way to stay healthy.)

-Education (Speaking to public and private school boards, administration and faculty, and parent groups on how to handle difficult parents, and embrace diversity in school administration

-Learning to Understand Your Parents and Grandparents (a large focus of my memoirs)

-Writing (the process, overcoming fear and finding your voice)

If you are a school, college, university, corporation, HRC group, LGBT association, library, company or corporation, I hope you will consider me as a speaker for your organization or institution, and let me show you how laughter can be a magical way to learn.

For more, check out my profile at www.rhspeakers.com ... and scroll to find my name under "Speaker" or under "Category/Humor."

Now, to unstick the non-stick pan ...

Am thrilled to be featured by my alma mater in its Summer 2010 issue! Considering NU turns out quick a few folks, like Nobel and Pulitzer Prize winners, famed actors and writers, and icons of business and science, who seem to be way smarter than me, I still believe the editors attempted to dial someone like, say, NU alums Stephen Colbert or Julia Louis-Dreyfus, and when Gary and I joint-answered the phone -- as we often do -- they mistook my voice for Stephen's and Gary's for Julia's, and were too embarrassed to correct their mistake. So, I'll take it ... truly honored to be featured. Here is link to the article ... Happy June!

http://www.northwestern.edu/magazine/summer2010/alumninews/closeups/wade_rouse.html

The paperback edition of AT LEAST IN THE CITY SOMEONE WOULD HEAR ME SCREAM launches June 1 and features a ton of new, never-before-seen material and photos of myself on book tour with David Sedaris, Sarah Palin, Tori Spelling and Laura Bush.

OK, that's all a load of crap, but the paperback does feature the same great raccoon cover and fabulous, rave quote from USA TODAY on the front. The pb is really an adorable, more compact, more affordable version of the hardcover, which is basically how I compare myself to Brad Pitt.

So, I urge you to pre-order today, or run out to your local bookstore on June 1 and order many copies for yourself, your family, your friends, and even those you despise.

If I don't sell books, I can't write books. And if I can't write books, you'll see me at Subway. And you really don't want that.

"Six-inch?" I'd ask. "I think you're flattering yourself, sir."

"You know, ma'am, I'm going to suggest the veggie, with no bread or veggies. You're welcome."

Speaking of covers, my publisher recently sent me the proposed jacket for my upcoming memoir, IT'S ALL RELATIVE: A MEMOIR OF TWO FAMILIES, THREE DOGS, 34 HOLIDAYS AND 50 BOXES OF WINE (February 2011/Harmony), and it is spectacularly clever, incredibly funny and memorable, and really captures the essence of the memoir perfectly. Can't wait to share it with you soon ... along with new video trailer that Gary and I shot for the book, which my publisher recently used to promote my memoir and their upcoming books at a big Random House sales conference. Suffice it to say that the video featured me and a big box of wine ... and the box of wine won. I was going to say, "a good box of wine," but we all know that's an oxymoron. I barely remember shooting the last part of the video ... and the out-takes are humiliatingly hilarious, esp. when I yell at a neighbor to stop jacking with the engine on his hoopty.

My web site will also undergo a major redesign with launch of next book ... actually, next TWO books. Also working hard on the humorous anthology I created and am editing, I'M NOT THE BIGGEST BITCH IN THIS RELATIONSHIP!, (summer/fall 2011 from NAL/Penguin) which will feature essays by some of America's favorite humorists about their dogs, and from which a portion of the proceeds will benefit The Humane Society of the United States. I've announced some of the contributors on my site, but will make a special announcement SOON about some mega-names who have recently signed on ... so, stay tuned.

That said, I plan to make this site more interactive ... for IT'S ALL RELATIVE, I'm hoping to create a page where readers and fans - in advance of the book - can post their hideous and hilarious (and sweet) holiday stories and photos. And I plan to create a similar page - in advance of BITCH! - where readers and fans can post photos of their rescue dogs who not only make them laugh but also changed their lives. CAN'T WAIT!

I also recently penned a piece for Forbes.com about pressure that prep school students face, and forgot to post the link, which follows: http://www.forbes.com/2010/04/29/kids-pressure-privilege-opinions-wade-rouse.html

And I continue to be a contributing columnist for Metrosource Magazine (check out my home page for link). I just wrote a piece for their annual "Pride" issue, which I'm -- pardon the awful pun -- very proud of.

Meanwhile, I'm cranking away on TWO new memoirs, and looking forward to the perfection that is summer along the coast of Michigan. And for all those who have emailed about Marge, she is doing amazingly well following her surgery, though is now on Pepcid AC every day, Cosequin, fish oil and REQUIRES Iams Chicken Gravy on her "bites," or she boycotts her food. In other words, she's old, but has a way better gig than me. And little, dipshit Mabel is fascinated with butterflies ... one flits by and she's off ... down the driveway ... into the woods ... OOOH! FUN, SHINY OBJECT! FOLLOW IT! FOLLOW IT! ... She's basically Gary in female dog form.

More soon ... enjoy your Memorial Day BBQ's, pool parties, beach bonfires, wine, family and friends. Box of wine chilling for me right now ... and it's only 9:30 in the morning ... but I think it might provide a nice counterbalance to my quad shot coffee.

xx,
Wade

Just back from the Erma Bombeck Humor Writers' Workshop (the largest humor writers' conference in America) and was blown away by the event: Well-organized, great presenters, and an enthusiastic, loving, talented group of emerging writers who showered me with love, laughs talent, and tears. I was humbled that my presentation (THE THREE H'S: How Humor, Heartbreak and Honesty Are Intimately Intertwined) touched so many, and that my books sold out in the blink of an eye. And you head to my Facebook account to see pix of the "WADE-ETTES"!

My mom introduced me to Erma at a young age, and her influence on me was foundational.

As we approach Mother's Day, I wanted to share part of what I said at the conference ... and part of what I've been writing. In fact, essays that I wrote about Erma and my mom will be appearing in the June/July issue of Metrosource Magazine (www.metrosource.com) and on a Mother's Day blog at www.bookreporter.com featuring some amazing writers.

I am also currently writing a memoir titled ME, MY MOM & ERMA: How I Learned to Laugh Through Tragedy and Pursue My Passion from Two Midwestern Mothers.

Hope you enjoy the following ... Oh! ... and for the many of you that have asked, Marge is doing well! Walking, running (albeit slowly), eating and giving me lots of kisses! She's farting again, I tell everyone, which means she's largely back to normal.


MY MIDWESTERN MOMS

Not long after singing “Delta Dawn” in a rural talent contest – a throng of Conway Twitty look-alikes laughing into their cowboy hats – my mother told me she was proud of me.

“You were true to yourself,” she said. “And that can only bring happiness.”

She then bought me a little, leather journal.

“This is how you will make sense of the world,” she wrote in it. “So, write!”

And I did. Mostly about her.

My nickname for my mom was “Digit.”

As a beloved nurse in our little Ozarks town, my mother was the go-to gal whenever a local idiot whacked off a finger with a chainsaw.

She would answer our giant, red, rotary phone and say in her lilting Southern accent, “Can you locate your thumb? Good!” Then she’d rush out with an Igloo cooler filled with ice.

My mom discovered my journal one day while cleaning my room and promptly shoved our local newspaper in front of my nose while I was eating a bowl of Quisp. “You need to read Erma!”

From that day on, Erma Bombeck and my mom became my best friends. They taught me you had to have a passion for what you did, a pride in who you were, and, mostly, the ability to laugh at yourself and life, or you wouldn’t survive.

Those would be fortuitous lessons.

My older brother died just after graduating high school. When my mother seemed no longer able to laugh, to get out of bed, I made it my sole goal to bring her back to life. I read to her from Erma and my journals. And, slowly, she began to laugh. We became more than mother-son, we became best friends.

My mom and I joked that we invented e-mail. When I was in college – before technology had taken over – we wrote each other humorous letters about life. We titled them “E-mail,” short for Erma mail.

In our E-mails, my mom implored me to write, to be the next Erma.

And she would not be deterred.

I vividly remember the New Year’s Day I stood in front of my city mailbox, alongside my mother, clutching a fistful of query letters after I’d spent two years completing my first memoir, America’s Boy.

“Here’s to rejection!” I said.

“Here’s to dreams!” my mom had said.

She forced my hand into the mailbox and shook the letters free, the slot careening back on my fingers.

“Thanks, Digit!” I said.

“I’m so proud of you,” she said. “And so is Erma.”

Two weeks later, I had three offers of representation.

When America’s Boy was published, my mom sent me a copy of The Grass Is Always Greener Over the Septic Tank, and wrote the following Erma quote inside: “There are people who put their dreams in a little box and say, ‘Yes, I’ve got dreams, of course I’ve got dreams.’ Then they put the box away and bring it out once in a while to look in it, and, yep, they’re still there. These are great dreams, but they never even get out of the box. It takes an uncommon amount of guts to put your dreams on the line, to hold them up and say, ‘How good or how bad am I?’ That’s where courage comes in.”

My mother passed away last June of cancer, just weeks after seeing my current memoir, At Least in the City Someone Would Hear Me Scream, featured on NBC’s Today Show.

“I’m so proud of you,” she told me that day. “See, being true to yourself led to happiness.”

“But I’m so sad,” I bawled.

“And I’m so happy,” she replied. “I could not have asked for a better son or life.” And then she whispered, “You know, laughter rises out of tragedy, when you need it most, and rewards you for your courage.”

It was an Erma quote, one we’d often recited to each other in dire times.

And then I said, pulling another Erma quote from my memory, “And insanity is hereditary. You can catch it from your kids.”

She laughed. Hard.

“You’re my best friend,” I told her.

This is my first Mother’s Day without the woman who brought me into it, and though that dull ache will not fade – and I fear it never will – I am blessed to share the simple lessons my two Midwestern moms taught me, because we can never hear them enough:

Love. Laugh. Be true to yourself.

And happiness will follow.

I have moved my writing office from the carriage house to the dining room, where I can keep a close eye on Marge, our nearly 13-year-old mutt and love of our loves. We returned home from seeing IT'S COMPLICATED (which, btw, isn't) on Saturday evening, and fed our dogs as usual. I noticed Marge acting uncomfortably after dinner, unable to rest or relax. She then started trying to vomit, but couldn't. She kept looking at us, and then her stomach, and Gary, thankfully, immediately, called our vet, who told us to rush her to the ER. Prognosis after X-rays? Turned stomach. Potentially life-threatening. Surgery, a must. Chances of survival? 50-50.

Just that day, Marge had played with her sis (as we call Mable, our two-year-old Labradoodle/Beagle mix), and gone on a walk. She had barked at deer in the woods; she had played tug-of-war with me on her stretchy, PetSmart duck toy she'd gotten for Christmas.

And, now, here she was, a needle going into her paw, me whispering into the softest ear I've ever known, "Hold on. You're my best friend."

Gary and I didn't sleep that night. As midnight turned to three a.m., and still no update, I thought the worst. She was old; she's had so many issues of late.

It has been a brutal past year or so. My mom passed away of cancer in June, and now the other girl in my life was fighting for her life. Why would God take my two best friends so soon? How could he test me so harshly and frequently?

I write memoirs, where I spill the most intimate details of my life. But, on a daily basis, my laptop -- along with Gary -- are really two of the few who I feel comfortable sharing such information. I have lost so many, that I have become guarded. I worry that as soon as I become close to someone, I will lose him or her again.

My mom and Marge were two of the few I could talk to without fear, knowing I would receive unconditional love. Take that away, and what are we left with?

I cried all night, as I waited to hear from the vet, so hard that the bed shook, my stomach ached, and Gary repeated, "Come back to me. Come back to me."

And, slowly, I did. A piece of me -- a very selfish part -- wondered if it might be for the best if Marge simply passed. She does not have much time left. She is old. She will get sicker. Could I care for another person I loved so much, try to nurse them back to health, believe, hope, hug, kiss, cater to and cajole, knowing, truly, the eventual outcome?

I thought, at 4 in the morning, of the ultimate irony of the projects in which I am deeply involved right now: A memoir on my mother and Erma Bombeck, two of the greatest influences in my life, women who taught me the power of believing in yourself and the fact that laughter can buoy you through life's tragedies; and the anthology I am editing, a collection of essays from some of America's favorite humorists about their dogs (I'M NOT THE BIGGEST BITCH IN THIS RELATIONSHIP!). The goal? To raise awareness and funds for strays/shelters/The Humane Society by making people laugh.

I thought of Marge fighting for her life, of how life can change so dramatically in the blink of an eye, of how we all must fight, every day, to survive.

That's when Gary leaned over to me, also unable to sleep, gauging my restlessness, and said, "Just think. Marge is getting the tummy tuck you never will."

And I started to laugh.

I shut my eyes and prayed for my mom to fly her ass to the ER. Stat! I told her I needed one of my best friends for just a little while longer. No matter how much caring I had to give. No matter how much time she had left. As long as Marge had the chance to be healthy again, I wanted her, those ears, those eyes. My feet were cold, dammit.

I learned from my mom -- a nurse and woman of great faith -- that is the nature of unconditional love.

You take the good with the bad. Death is simply a part of life. Only by risking your heart, your soul, can you find true love, true joy, true happiness.

And, then, as if on cue, Gary's cell rang. Marge had made it through surgery.

And, here she is, snoozing in front of me, sore, woozy, but resting.

When Marge catches me staring, her eyes widen, brighten, and her tail gives off a pathetic but telling thump, thump, thump.

She is home.

I remember what author, icon, and animal lover Rita Mae Brown told me when I sat next to her at an author's event in Charleston this fall. "Dogs don't know how much time they have left; they live in the moment. And what a blessing that is. Humans spend so much time fearing death, fearing the end, that we lose sight of the now, this very moment. If we could only be like dogs, even for a day."

I am trying to take her advice. No matter how much time Marge has, or I have, or any of us have, I plan to hit "Publish Post" on my blog, and then lay down beside her, to live in this moment, and whisper into her ear, "You're my best friend."

And I know, because it always happens, she will kiss me gently on the face, and I will sigh, and suddenly be centered, and somehow have, once again, the strength to take each day as it comes, to try and laugh, at least once a day, no matter how much my heart may be breaking.

Hey, Chicago writers, emerging writers and wanna-be writers!

Due to your requests, I have added and will be teaching a two-day, intensive writing seminar Friday, January 22, and Saturday, January 23.

Cost is $155.00 per person, and classes will run from 6-9:30 p.m. on Friday and from 9 a.m.-12:30 p.m. on Saturday (followed by a par-tee!).

My seminar focuses on "finding your voice, finding your way, and finding your agent," and it's truly an amazing adventure to be a part of ... writing groups have formed from my previous classes, agents have been piqued by prospective works, and long-lasting friendships have been formed. Most importantly, you will write and you will learn about real-world publishing and how to make it in this world.

We need 10 to make this a go!

The Book Cellar is a fabulous indy bookstore located in the heart of Lincoln Square (4736-38 N. Lincoln Avenue; 773-293-2665). What's especially cool is that they pair books and wine (Could there be a more fabulous idea?). So, we'll drink and learn. Wouldn't that have made sophomore year so much more doable?

RSVP for this one is directly through my man, Gary ... gary@waderouse.com

For more about the event, go to the following link:

http://www.bookcellarinc.com/calendar/index.php

Sorry for the short notice, but hope this works out! I love teaching these classes; I always promised myself -- after being dissed by so many writers in the past -- that I would try to give back as much as possible whenever I was asked. That's why I try and make the sessions so intensive and affordable.

xx,
Wade