Abigail Phelps
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The Verge of All Things New

11/26/2013

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TO: Alec [alec_b_redmond@outlook.com]
FROM: Abby K. Phelps [abby@abbyphelps.com]
DATE: November 26, 2013 8:16a MST
SUBJECT: These are not the worst of times...

I think I've asked you this before, but do you know that Billy Joel song Summer Highland Falls? I know you do. We've talked about it. It's running on constant loop through my mind and in my house today. 

I was sure I was going to get through it all this year. The book is out there, and I thought, "Okay - I'm not hiding anymore. I can breathe." But I just wasn't prepared for the dreams to come back, Alec. When my mind just can't take anymore, it turns to dreams. Well, why am I telling you that? You were the one who told ME that's what I do.

Yesterday would have been John's 53rd birthday. I thought I was prepared, in the days leading up to it. I mean, his birthday comes around every year, and every year, I brace myself for the worst. But this year… It's been 50 years since President Kennedy was shot, and 50 years since little John Jr. saluted his father's casket. And this year, more than ever before, I can't escape that image. And in so many ways, I feel like that image shouldn't bother me - after all, that is part of John's legacy. It is a glimpse of something he didn't remember, and a tribute to a past he'd long ago made peace with. Usually, that's how I look at it. But this year…

I dreamt that he was here. In my dream, I awoke to the smell of coffee and eggs, and I smiled because I knew it was him. And it wasn't like he was suddenly back with me, and it wasn't like I got to go back in time - he was just there, like he'd been ever morning for the last 15 years. I got out of bed and walked into the kitchen - and there was John at 53. It's funny - I thought he would always be 39 in my mind. Or 30. Or 20. The past is so vivid, and the present is desolate, but to have access to the future? It felt like a painful, heartbreaking, life-altering gift. "About time you wake up," he said with a flirtatious smile as I walked over to him. "Sorry," I teased, "I was just contemplating whether or not it was time to leave you for a younger man." He laughed and then started to say something, but I don't know what it was because he got interrupted by kids - one boy I recognized, a couple I didn't. Were we grandparents? - and a dog. And when I saw the dog I knew we didn't live in the city. And suddenly I knew - we lived in Simsbury. Everything about my life screamed home, and I never wanted it to end, but I also had no reason to fear that it would.

But it did, of course. And I spent the day watching an image - 50 years that image has been a part of the collective heart of the world - of the love of my life, my soul mate, saying goodbye to the father he would go on to mostly forget. And all I could see was Sam. But Sam didn't even get the opportunity to forget John. That's not fair, Alec.

Yesterday was not a good day. And before yesterday, I probably would have coped by running away to "Abby World." Isn't that what Avery calls it? Everyone is happy, and I have Chris. That's Abby World, right? But yesterday Abby World ceased to exist. At least for now. It's time to shut this down for a while. These are not the best of times, but they're the only times I've ever known. Isn't that how the song goes? All I know now is reality. And I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing. But I do know that it's not something I know how to handle anymore.

Tell my story for me, Alec. You and Avery, tell the story. Tell the story of John and me. Avery set out to write a book - that's what it was going to all be eventually anyway, right? Now's the time. Tell my story - the real story. It's a good story, Alec, but I can't bear to tell it. I can't bear to remember.  Make Avery tell the story, Alec, and if she won't do it for me, make sure she does it for John. 

Love,
Abby
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Clooney

11/23/2013

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Post by Abby

It's been a rough few days. I don't know why everything is hitting me so hard this year, but everything is. Actually, I have an idea why. Everyone knows so much more of the story now, so I can't pretend everything is okay. They already know about the pain and the loss, so there's nothing to hide. And in reality, the hiding probably helped me avoid the sadness. I'm doing what I can to snap out of the funk, but not much is working. I've had a difficult time finding something to make me smile, or maybe even laugh. As you can imagine, that scenario is absolutely unacceptable to my best friend. We spent the day together today, and it was the first time in so long. And it was fun.

If you don't know who my best friend is, allow me to, first of all, say, "WHAT?! You haven't read my book?!?" And then, once you apologize and download it on your Kindle so that you can begin reading right away, I will introduce you.

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Are we on the same page now? Now, of course, people seem to consider my best friend to be a somewhat attractive guy. They don't see what I see - the hours he spends dying his toupee that "sexy" salt-and-pepper color so that he can make people think he's aging gracefully; the number of stand-ins he's hired to act out the "difficult" acting scenes for him, though he never even thanks them in his acceptance speeches; the layers of makeup he puts on before going out, to cover up the botched facelift. But I love him regardless. And he seems to think I'm okay too. And though many people (who haven't read the book...Hint, Hint...) think that I didn't meet George until we were both cast in ER, and he looked like this:

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The truth is he had been my best friend since we met in the late 1970's, when he looked a little bit closer to this:
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That photo was actually from a few years before we met, and I have to pay George $200 each time I show it to anyone, but it's totally worth it. 

The fact is, we were George and Abby long before we were Sexiest Man Alive/Oscar winner/boyfriend-to-supermodels-everywhere George Clooney and Olympic gold medalist/Oscar winner/bestselling author Abigail Phelps. We went to prom together. He slept on my couch and I slept on his before either of us could afford homes with more than one bedroom. He was my (horrible!) Lamaze coach. I was with him when he received divorce papers and he was with me when I found out John was gone. I love him despite the fact that I have many pictures of him in which he looks much worse than in the one above, and he loves me despite the fact that I continually use those pictures of him as blackmail to get anything and everything that I want.

He's just George. And with him, I can just be Abby. And even when I don't like being Abby, he wouldn't want me to be anyone else.
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November 22, 1998

11/22/2013

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Post by Avery

"Avery, I'm going to need for you to transcribe a great deal for me in the coming days," my boss and mentor Arthur Schlesinger said to me, somewhat tentatively, 15 years ago today. "It is of the utmost importance that these conversations remain confidential."


That was nothing new. I had transcribed conversations in which former world leaders had admitted extramarital affairs, and questioned their decisions to enter into war. Presidents had confessed to less-than-legal campaign tactics, and First Ladies had admitted drug use. I'd heard it all, and I kept it to myself. I always did, and I always would. I always will. Arthur knew that. What was new and unexpected was the unflappable Professor Schlesinger's hesitation to broach the subject with me, whatever the subject was.


What the subject was, as you know if you have read Abby's story, was the shared history of John Kennedy Jr. and Abigail Phelps. But none of that's really true, say those of you who haven't read the story, or who choose not to believe it. I know that Abby blogs as if it were all true - George Clooney, Bolero, and Mr. Darcy. Well, no - of course none of that is true. And she blogs as if the entire world has read Abigail Phelps, Scenes From Highland Falls, and Two Thousand Years. To hear her tell it, she has sold more copies and caused more of a riot than E L James on her sauciest day. I know that's not the case. I know that quite a few of you have read her story, but not to the extent she believes. And that's probably for the best. Her history, as she wrote it, is confusing. Alec and I tried to clear things up a bit, but that was difficult, since we didn't really know the whole story ourselves for quite some time. 


On November 22, 1998, I was allowed into a secret world. It was a world in which I had no desire to be. At least not with her. I was in love with John from day one, and I hated her just as quickly. (To read about my first encounters with each of them, click HERE.) When they decided to go on the record with their true history, and I heard, for the very first time, about a day in Hyannis Port in 1982, and an Italian restaurant in Manhattan, I was as skeptical as most of you. It couldn't be true. If it were true, we would have heard about it. They couldn't have possibly kept those things a secret. Of course, what I couldn't begin to fathom then was the fact that those monstrous secrets were just the tip of the iceberg.


None of this is really what I intended to write about today. I intended to honor my good friend John's father, President Kennedy, on this, the 50th anniversary of his assassination. I worked for Arthur Schlesinger, who had worked in the Kennedy White House. It probably goes without saying that I have a great respect for JFK and his legacy. And I feel somewhat cheated that now, rather than honor that legacy, on this day I can't disassociate from Abby Phelps. That's not how it's supposed to be.


None of it is how it's supposed to be.

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November 20, 1995

11/20/2013

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POST BY ABBY
In 1993, as Sergei and I were preparing for our return to competitive pairs skating, and Chris and I were doing the same in ice dancing, I was probably happier than I had ever been. Life was good - plain and simple. Yes, I was still very much in the midst of hiding Enna's paternity from the world, but right then, that didn't matter. We had Enna, and that was what mattered. Yes, Ted Kennedy hated me, but right then, that didn't matter. We were still about a year out from that dark day in May of 1994, when Ted would go from being just the person I hated most in the world and become, additionally, the person I feared the most. John was with Daryl Hannah, and he was one of my best friends. And then there was Chris. Our feelings for each other hadn't gone away, but they somehow no longer stood in the way of our friendship. We were as close as we had ever been, and a lot of that was attributable to Jill. Chris's divorce from Isabelle Duchesnay was final, and he had fallen in love with Jill Trenary. Truthfully, we had all fallen in love with Jill. With Jill, our circle was complete. Chris had Jill, and I had Sergei. And Sergei was the one who had made the formation of the circle possible in the first place.

My memories of Sergei Grinkov are classified in phases. First, he was the gangly teenage boy who didn't speak a word of English and called me Ms. Phelps, and called Chris Mr. Dean. And even that was through an interpreter. We couldn't talk to each other without assistance for the longest time, but my goodness we could laugh. Before long, he became my partner, and not just because we skated together. I knew, just as I knew with Chris and had for years, that Sergei was my other half on the ice. He wouldn't hurt me, and he wouldn't allow anything else to hurt me. Seamlessly, he became my friend. For the longest time, I still considered him a kid, and that kept me from discussing some of the more scandalous aspects of my life with him. But suddenly, there was a day in Paris. And on that day, Chris married another woman, and George was married to a woman who couldn't stand me, and John and I hadn't spoken in so long...and Sergei was there. And that day we entered a new phase, and I let him in to all of the things I never thought I would share with him. And we couldn't have known, on that day, just how quickly everything was going to change. We couldn't have known that within a couple of months Sergei would be my husband. But even that wasn't the last phase. He married me to help me out, to keep the media (and Isabelle) off the scent. They couldn't know who Enna's father was, so Sergei was willing to let them think she was his. But then I fell in love.

I didn't see it coming, but I think he did. And though I know there are people who won't believe it, I am 100% certain that I would have been married to Sergei Grinkov forever. Only death could tear us apart. But neither of us ever would have imagined death would come so soon.

I've had 18 years of life since I lost Sergei. Life moved on. I moved on. I loved again, I married again, I became a mother again. I was even happy again. But I was never complete again, and I know that I never will be.

So much has changed. The world knows who Enna's father is, Chris and Jill are no longer together, Ted is gone, John is gone. Without Sergei, all who loved him are left with the remains of a circle which he made possible. But the circle has become a hole. And it will never be filled.

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Fictional Character Takeover!!

11/19/2013

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I've been informed that beginning tomorrow, the Abby Blog will not be mine for a week or so. Abby, Alec, and Avery are taking over. This may very well be my last chance to impart even one tiny bit of sanity on this blog, and yes, I realize that it's pretty bad when I am the sanity. I just don't know what you all are in for - but here's a crash course to hopefully prepare you for whatever comes along...


Abigail Phelps - Abby tells her life story as one of fame, fortune, love, figure skating and Kennedys. Always Kennedys. To ask her, she won Olympic gold three times (and bronze once, but she doesn't like to talk about that as much), starred with Robert Redford in Out of Africa, Colin Firth in everything in which his character's last name was Darcy, and every other gorgeous actor in Hollywood in something or other. George Clooney has been her best friend since high school, she has two kids (she may or may not tell you the truth regarding their paternity), and spent many years fearing for her life at the hands of Ted Kennedy. That's her story. Alec and Avery present a different life story for Abby, but of course there is more truth to it all than meets the eye...


Dr. Alec B. Redmond - Alec is a staff psychiatrist at Cedar Springs Hospital in Colorado Springs, Colorado. He first met Abigail Phelps in 2002 when she was admitted and diagnosed with mixed type delusional disorder. He treated her for years before realizing his diagnosis was completely incorrect. Like, completely. (Yes, I know that delusional disorder seems to be the clear diagnosis. You aren't NEARLY as surprised as Alec was to discover that is wrong.)


J. Avery Brennan, PhD - Avery, affectionately called Javery by John Kennedy Jr., was once the protege of famed White House historian Arthur Schlesinger Jr., and it was while working with Schlesinger that she first met John. It wasn't long after that John introduced Avery to Abby, and the rest is history. Avery hated Abby from the very beginning, but circumstances drew their lives irreversibly together. Today, Avery divides her time between Manhattan and Colorado Springs.


Yes - they are all fictional. But Shhhh! They don't know that.


So, apparently this is goodbye for me for a while. The next few days promise to be interesting...


Good luck.
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Hold on a minute... Are you saying your book has depth?

11/16/2013

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No one has asked me that exact question, but that's the idea. And I get it. From the time I wrote my first query to send to literary agents, I've known that the story of Abigail Phelps is a difficult one to categorize. Is it a romance? Well, yeah...it really is. Is it a psychologically complex story of love and loss? Umm...yep. Women's Fiction? Sure, you could say that - if only because there is a strong female character at the center of the story. Heck, in a way it's even Historical Fiction, isn't it? It's not an easy one to pin down. 

But here is the thing I need for you to know...
The fact that it is not easy to classify is not unintentional. It's not the result of an inexperienced author not knowing what she wanted to do with her story. Quite the contrary. What's the mantra around here? Reality is in the eye of the beholder.  That's not the tagline just because it sounds good. 
EVERYTHING REVOLVES AROUND IT!
You can read Abigail Phelps and get lost in the romance, and let it go at that. You really can. And to you, it is a romance. You love Chris and Abby together and you're just SURE those two crazy kids are going to make it. #TeamCuteBlondeBoy Forever!
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INSERT GRATUITOUS CHRISTOPHER DEAN PHOTO HERE
Or maybe you see an ode to pop culture. Go for it! It is certainly that as well. But all it takes is a little bit of research to see that there is more than meets the eye in that regard.

Every single thing in these books (yes, everything) was thought out. And if something doesn't match up to the historical facts, there is a reason for that. (Example: In Scenes From Highland Falls, after so much meticulous fact-checking, I seem to disregard the fact that in real life Colin Firth was already married during a time that he is very importantly NOT MARRIED in AbbyWorld. Oops! No. Not oops. Intentional. And not just in a "Oh well! No one will notice!" sort of way. Actually in a "People who are paying attention will recognize that Abby is slipping with her fact-checking, and they will know why" sort of way.)
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INSERT GRATUITOUS COLIN FIRTH PHOTO HERE
Conversely, some things are SO accurate and analyzed, most people will never even realize. Unless I tell you. And not because you aren't intelligent people - I'm certain that you are! - but because it wouldn't occur to most sane people that I would take the Delusion/Reality angle to such an extreme. 
(Example: Abby writes a letter to Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis shortly before her death - Jackie's, not Abby's - and in that letter there is a line which is almost a direct quote from the announcement JFK Jr. made when Jackie died IN REAL LIFE. Now, IF you even realized that - which you wouldn't without doing your research or being a complete nerd like me who actually just remembers things like that - hopefully you would realize that in AbbyWorld, John stole that line from the letter. Which meant he read the letter. Which meant he knew other things which were written in the letter as well. Which Abby NEVER intended for John to read. But John knew Abby would be watching that announcement, so not only did he read the letter, he wanted to make sure she knew he read the letter. Everything changed that day. And yet, none of that is stated in the book. WHAT?!? That's crazy! And this is what I'm saying, people!)
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INSERT GRATUITOUS JFK JR. PHOTO HERE
But here's what I'm really saying...you don't have to think that hard if you don't want to. It really can be a fun story about a lady and her famous friends. Or it really can be a story about Alec and Avery and their quest for the truth. Or it really can be a romance. It's not that it doesn't know what it is - it's that it really is all of those things.

And if your brain works like mine, and you are a glutton for punishment, go on the Abby Scavenger Hunt. Find the clues. Dig deeper. And let me know what you find.

Abigail Phelps, Book One in the series, is currently a Countdown Deal on Amazon. At this very moment, the price is 99 cents, but it will be going up over the next week. Dive in. Behold your own reality. What type of book are you looking for? Because this may just be the book for you.

CLICK HERE TO VISIT ABIGAIL PHELPS AT AMAZON.COM!

CLICK HERE TO VISIT ABIGAIL PHELPS AT AMAZON.CO.UK!
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INSERT GRATUITOUS GERARD BUTLER PHOTO HERE. (No, he's not in this book. Why do you ask?)
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Abby's Guest Post on Dangled Carat

11/12/2013

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I realize that mine is not perceived as a typical life. My friends are famous, as are my husbands, and I can’t go on a date, or through a break-up, without the press tracking my every move. I remember the first time I realized too many people in the world cared about my love life. Christopher Dean and I had just performed publicly for the first time – I think it was 1979, five years before Bolero – and we were just steamy enough on the ice that everyone was convinced we were steamy off the ice as well.

And suddenly, the general public thought they knew who I loved and who loved me, and they were just certain that everything about my real life was, well…steamy.

Then there was John Kennedy Jr. Now, a girl can’t date a Kennedy, particularly that Kennedy, and expect to hold onto any sort of privacy. We did pretty well, really. By the time he and I were romantically involved, I was a little savvier, and of course he was the master. Each “scoop” the press landed was actually planted by John or myself (or in a few isolated situations, by his Uncle Ted who was out to destroy us). 


To read the rest of Abby's blog, visit author Hilary Grossman's Dangled Carat blog by clicking
HERE!
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What It's All About

11/3/2013

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I try to be somewhat entertaining on this blog and this site, and keep it relatively light and fun. Today I'm going to lay it all out there, and while I hope it will still be somewhat entertaining, I know there is a chance it won't be. 

Now, having said that, I bet you are so excited to get to reading! Ha ha!


Authors pour their hearts and souls (and energy and free time and nerves and everything else) into their work. I haven't always known that, but I do now. It's not easy to create another world and then not only write it all down but follow through even when you receive criticism, and when no one seems to understand, and when your book doesn't instantly (or ever) become a bestseller.

And yet, my recent experiences with writing and publishing...I wouldn't trade them for the world. I have discovered things about myself I never knew, and I am immensely proud of the characters I have created and the literary world I have shaped. I know there is a chance you will think what I am about to say sounds smug, but it's not really. 


The fact is - I love Abigail Phelps, Scenes From Highland Falls, and Two Thousand Years. I do. Especially Scenes From Highland Falls if I am being truthful. They are not only books I wrote, they are books I love to read. I love Abby, and I am Team Cute Blonde Boy all the way. But I also love Sergei and the way he keeps Abby grounded. I love John and the bond that he and Abby share, which goes deeper than circumstance and deeper than what anyone else can see. I love Alec and Avery and the way they have to cast aside their brilliance in order to understand Abby. And yes, I love Chris. I love the way that Chris and Abby drive each other insane, and yet they both kind of love that they drive each other insane. And I love the way that they each know they have ruined the other person, and themselves, over their irrational love for each other, and yet the wouldn't have it any other way. I LOVE THAT. 

But see, it's not smug for me to say that because I should love what I write. I'm not one of those authors who writes something for the money, or the fame, or just to see how much they can get published. And don't get me wrong - many of them are good enough writers that they can get away with that, and even the stuff they don't care much about is better than anything I could ever write. But that's not who I am. Abigail Phelps has been a labor of love, start to finish. And now, I just want people to read it.

Scenes From Highland Falls and Two Thousand Years are Amazon Kindle Countdown Deals this week only. Right now, the price is rock bottom but it will go up a little bit all week, and next Sunday November 10, the price will be back to normal. I will not make a ton of money off of these sales. That's not what it's about. 

I wrote a series of books which I believe should be read.

Will you please help me spread the word? I feel like this is my chance to bring these books to the attention of people who will enjoy them. 

That's what it's about.
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Walter and the Gold Pencil

11/2/2013

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PictureAny resemblance between my idea and actual creative genius is purely coincidental.
A blog post from the agent-seeking days, originally featured on "Me Want Agent...NOW!"

I am not a writer. I mean, I am, but not officially. Until about fourteen months ago, my attempts at writing something significant included a Barry Manilow musical (Aww, crap! Now you're going to steal my idea aren't you?), a children's book which I won't even tell you about, because I learned my lesson after you all stole my Manilow idea, and various fan fiction, written purely to entertain J and me. Additionally, there was a period of true creative genius during which I knew my idea about a boy who draws things and they come to life was going be a bestseller






But then I had this idea...and it was a good idea. And then I developed the good idea, and it became a great idea. I tried to find something else out there like it, but the fact is there wasn't anything. So I started developing this great idea, and then it started developing itself. The idea became a series of books, with numerous marketing tie-in ideas already fully developed in my mind. 

And I saw the potential that exists, and I knew that the potential would be obvious to everyone. So I finished the books, and then I sent out my first query...and I got a rejection. And I was ready to let it go. I'm not a writer! I'm an executive. I'm a wife and a mother who had an idea, and wrote a couple of books. I thought that was probably as far as I would ever get, and hey...that's pretty good! But then I sent two more queries, and the third agent I contacted - a big NYC, impressive agent - asked for the complete manuscript. 

And then I got the rejection.

There have been some partials requested since, and many queries have been sent. I still believe in the idea, and the writing, and I intend to keep plugging along until someone sees what I see, but it's getting old. 

I wish that I could be like Walter (yes, Walter) and use my magical gold (yes, gold) pencil (yes, pencil) and draw myself a book deal, and a world in which I'm a writer. Officially.


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Any resemblance between my idea and actual creative genius is purely coincidental.
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