What a difference a year makes. Last year I attended the conference and didn't find much I liked. I honestly thought it would be my last time. Now if I'm being perfectly honest, it could have been my emotional state that cast a pall on the occasion. I'd had recent knee surgery and was still in pain and I topped that discomfort by getting food poisoning. NOT a good time.
This year was the complete opposite. I had a fabulous time. Washington D.C. was lovely. I even pitched for the first time in two years. I've been writing steadily, two manuscripts in twelve months, but I've also been exploring new ideas. In addition, with the recent changes in the industry I had decided that if I never got published again it was okay. That understanding helped me to relax, to look closely at my work, to define it better, to be less needy, to pitch the concept to an agent or editor in a confident manner. I've finally accepted that I have no control over their decision anyway so why worry, right?
I had the pleasure of hooking up with an old friend from LARA, plus one of my chapter mates. We three buddied around and all had the same idea. This year we planned to attend as many workshops as possible. Honestly, I haven't done that since my first conference in 2002. Were my feet sore! It was lovely to see Gina again. After four years we picked up right where we left off, a true sign of a good friend. She's just as delightful and sweet as ever, only thinner and prettier. Darn her. But then again, she's only in her early thirties, so I have to remember that. : )
There were many great workshops, meetings in the bar, the Jenny Crusie Cherries dinner at an Italian restaurant. A lot of fun. Got to sit near Virginia Kantra and her husband. Lots of heated discussion on paranormals, shapeshifters, animals of all kinds, sex, and romance. It was like a mini workshop.
Had a roam through Georgetown with Trish and a lovely dinner by the water. Seafood. Yum! Our conversation was deep, emotional, and touched on the reasons for the dissolving of my marriage many moons ago. I have to admit she made me cry, but in a good way. Had another light dinner at a Mediterranean restaurant near the hotel and can still taste the Baba Ganouche. Now I'm hungry thinking about it.
The Awards ceremony was a ton of fun. Krissie, Anne Stuart, was a scream. She did a half dozen costume changes, my fave of course was when she wore the Nun's habit and rode around the stage in her motorized wheel chair. The movie clips were great and the background music had me dancing in my chair. She's a funny duck, that Krissie.
One of our past LARA members, Chi, won the Golden Heart in the Historical category. I was so thrilled for her. Plus, she sold a novella to Harlequin Mills and Boon on the Wednesday. All around a perfect conference for her. I did get two agent requests and one editor request. I'm excited about all three. Today I put a final polish on the first three chapters and got one submission out by email attachment. The other two go snail mail, so tomorrow I'll take care of that. Then I wait. Well, not really. I'll continue through the manuscript putting the polish on the rest of it and hope that someone will ask to see the entire thing. Wouldn't that be nice?
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Sunday, June 21, 2009
I'm late, I'm late...
I don't quite know where the month of June has gone, it seems like I just posted yet it was two and a half weeks ago. I've been up to L.A. for my RWA chapter meeting, and to celebrate my son's birthday. It was a nice weekend. Got to watch a couple of movies with my daughter as she tivo's everything. Me, if I miss it, it's my tough luck. : ) Anyway, one of the movies we watched was Kung Fu Panda and I have to admit that I loved it. What a great message.
Then on the following Wednesday we had our monthly bookclub where we discussed The Shack, by Wm. Paul Young. I don't quite know what to say about this book, I didn't dislike it but I didn't love it either. The premise is: Where is God in a world so filled with unspeakable pain?
The story deals with Mack Phillip's youngest daughter's abduction and brutal murder, during a family vacation. Evidence of her murder is found in an abandoned shack in the Oregon wilderness. Four years later, and still grieving, Mack receives a suspicious note, apparently from God, inviting him back to the shack for a weekend. He goes and meets up with the Trinity: God, Jesus, and the Holy Ghost, all in human form and not quite what he expected. Some of the conversations with the three were rather childlike, based on what I recall as Sunday school bible stories. However, as the author says, he wrote this story for his family and self-published it. Word of mouth created frenzied sales and a print publisher picked it up for reprinting. It's still way up there on the best-seller lists too, so make of that what you will.
I'm not religious in the sense of structured religion, rather believing in a spiritual sense within myself, an energy force greater than me, that somehow guides me and keeps me on the straight and narrow. I don't think of God as being in human form; however, I do believe Jesus existed and was a good man trying to encourage others down a good path. If your religion is strong Young's story will undoubtedly touch you in a deeper way than it did for me.
Anyway, our group was amazing. We had some interesting discussion on the book and on religion itself, and because we're such a diverse group, I found it gave me some deeper insights into my fellow book club members. Our next meeting won't be until September when we'll discuss an author's debut novel, Girls in Trucks, by Katie Crouch. October's pick is one of my favorite authors, Adriana Trigianni, we'll discuss Big Stone Gap.
I've got quite a TBR (to be read) pile. Four friends new releases, By Hook or By Crook, by Betty Hechtman. A Hint of Wicked, by Jennifer Haymore, Temporary Doctor, Surprise Father, by Lynne Marshall, Who Dares Wins, by Bob Mayer (non-fiction, which I'm reading slowly and taking some of the exercises to heart). Last but not least, one of my all time favorite author's books just arrived. I'd pre-ordered it, The Angel's Game, by Carlos Ruiz Zafon. I couldn't resist a little peek or two, but can't risk a full read as I have so much writing to do before RWA National conference.
I'm doing what I hope is my last rewrite on my mystery before submitting it. I'm entering it in a contest before National, then pitching the story to both an agent and an editor. If I get any bites I'll be ready to go with no gnashing of teeth after coming back home. Meanwhile, the second mystery, set in the same location and a spin off, must sit and gel for a bit. I'll probably not write any more on it until the fall but it has progressed nicely and I feel good about it, just sorry that I can't revisit those characters right now. But they'll wait. : )
Then on the following Wednesday we had our monthly bookclub where we discussed The Shack, by Wm. Paul Young. I don't quite know what to say about this book, I didn't dislike it but I didn't love it either. The premise is: Where is God in a world so filled with unspeakable pain?
The story deals with Mack Phillip's youngest daughter's abduction and brutal murder, during a family vacation. Evidence of her murder is found in an abandoned shack in the Oregon wilderness. Four years later, and still grieving, Mack receives a suspicious note, apparently from God, inviting him back to the shack for a weekend. He goes and meets up with the Trinity: God, Jesus, and the Holy Ghost, all in human form and not quite what he expected. Some of the conversations with the three were rather childlike, based on what I recall as Sunday school bible stories. However, as the author says, he wrote this story for his family and self-published it. Word of mouth created frenzied sales and a print publisher picked it up for reprinting. It's still way up there on the best-seller lists too, so make of that what you will.
I'm not religious in the sense of structured religion, rather believing in a spiritual sense within myself, an energy force greater than me, that somehow guides me and keeps me on the straight and narrow. I don't think of God as being in human form; however, I do believe Jesus existed and was a good man trying to encourage others down a good path. If your religion is strong Young's story will undoubtedly touch you in a deeper way than it did for me.
Anyway, our group was amazing. We had some interesting discussion on the book and on religion itself, and because we're such a diverse group, I found it gave me some deeper insights into my fellow book club members. Our next meeting won't be until September when we'll discuss an author's debut novel, Girls in Trucks, by Katie Crouch. October's pick is one of my favorite authors, Adriana Trigianni, we'll discuss Big Stone Gap.
I've got quite a TBR (to be read) pile. Four friends new releases, By Hook or By Crook, by Betty Hechtman. A Hint of Wicked, by Jennifer Haymore, Temporary Doctor, Surprise Father, by Lynne Marshall, Who Dares Wins, by Bob Mayer (non-fiction, which I'm reading slowly and taking some of the exercises to heart). Last but not least, one of my all time favorite author's books just arrived. I'd pre-ordered it, The Angel's Game, by Carlos Ruiz Zafon. I couldn't resist a little peek or two, but can't risk a full read as I have so much writing to do before RWA National conference.
I'm doing what I hope is my last rewrite on my mystery before submitting it. I'm entering it in a contest before National, then pitching the story to both an agent and an editor. If I get any bites I'll be ready to go with no gnashing of teeth after coming back home. Meanwhile, the second mystery, set in the same location and a spin off, must sit and gel for a bit. I'll probably not write any more on it until the fall but it has progressed nicely and I feel good about it, just sorry that I can't revisit those characters right now. But they'll wait. : )
Wednesday, June 03, 2009
Timing.
I've always believed in timing. Timing is everything. Doesn't matter if it's the meeting of a new amazing love interest, paying your bills, or just getting ahead of the traffic on the freeway. It's kind of like karma...really, really important.
Tonight I was mindlessly flipping through the remote control looking for something of television interest, and lo and behold (I know I love that expression) there on KCET was a special on Victor Borge, the man of timing. I poured another glass of chardonnay and made a plate of cheese and crackers, invited the dog in from outside and together we laughed our asses off, well, at least I did. The dog seemed mildly amused and more interested in the cheese than Victor.
Victor Borge, for those of you who don't know, had impeccable timing. He juggled playing classical music on piano, combining the voice of whichever artist he was accompanying, or the musicians of a full orchestra, plus giving humorous asides, and all with the timing of a great comedian who never missed a beat. The man was a genius. One of the reasons I don't write comedy, I suppose, is my timing is off. Well it stinks, it really does. I know and appreciate when it's right for other artists, but to do it myself, meh. I can't.
So, how about you? Do you have comedic tendencies? How's your timing? And, who do you think is one of our best comedians today?
Tonight I was mindlessly flipping through the remote control looking for something of television interest, and lo and behold (I know I love that expression) there on KCET was a special on Victor Borge, the man of timing. I poured another glass of chardonnay and made a plate of cheese and crackers, invited the dog in from outside and together we laughed our asses off, well, at least I did. The dog seemed mildly amused and more interested in the cheese than Victor.
Victor Borge, for those of you who don't know, had impeccable timing. He juggled playing classical music on piano, combining the voice of whichever artist he was accompanying, or the musicians of a full orchestra, plus giving humorous asides, and all with the timing of a great comedian who never missed a beat. The man was a genius. One of the reasons I don't write comedy, I suppose, is my timing is off. Well it stinks, it really does. I know and appreciate when it's right for other artists, but to do it myself, meh. I can't.
So, how about you? Do you have comedic tendencies? How's your timing? And, who do you think is one of our best comedians today?
Thursday, May 21, 2009
May Bookclub.
Our Laguna de la Paz bookclub held its second meeting yesterday and it was such an enjoyable experience. Due to La Quinta being one of those "seasonal" towns we weren't sure how many would turn up during the summer months. Most of our Canadian and northern states visitors have returned home until October when the season resumes, yet we had seven attendees yesterday. It was a great group with everyone participating and bringing a different perspective to the table, and one member emailed her comments even though on vacation. :=) Way to go, Marge.
The book being discussed was The Lost Recipe For Happiness, by Barbara O'Neal. This was her first book under the new pseudonym, although she has many books written under the name Barbara Samuel and also many Harlequin romances written under the pseudonym Ruth Wind. I've always enjoyed Barbara's works for their sensual detail, whether a story about making perfume (where you swear you can smell the scents) or the restaurant business (where you get hunger pains reading about the wonderful foods) or her lovemaking scenes that have such great sensual detail they don't read as mere sex scenes.
As it was my turn to host I'd thought about making the pomegrante baklava from Barbara's recipe in the book. Time ran away from me though as I'd had a trip up to L.A. and only returned home on Monday evening. I was in Wal-Mart picking up a few things and saw a covered tray of various types of baklava and thought I'd give it a try. They were amazing! Yikes, and I'm supposed to be on the second phase of the South Beach diet. No baklava on that. I froze the leftovers, but somehow they seem to call my name every time I pass the fridge.
Back to discussing the book, here is the author's blurb:
Haunted by an accident of which she was the lone survivor, Elena Alvarez knows how to defy the odds. And when she is suddenly offered the opportunity she's been waiting for--the challenge of running her own kitchen in a world-class restaurant--she knows it is a chance she has to take, even if it does mean relocating to Aspen, where she doesn't know a soul, and usurping the job of a notably volatile chef. So with her faithful dog and her grandmother's recipes, she arrives in Colorado to find a restaurant in as desperate need of a fresh start as she is--and a man whose passionate approach to food and life rivals her own. For Elena, old ghosts don't die quietly, but some remain with her for a reason. And, through all the ups and downs, she knows the chance for happiness is worth every risk.
It was nice that our one male member did not balk at having to read a romance and although he said he's never read one before, he rated it at least a seven. His only negative comment was it was predictible in that it didn't have a surprise, or twist, in the ending. I explained that a requirement for writing romance is a happily ever after, so in that sense romances are predictible. We all agreed this was a story about learning to let go so you can move forward. Everyone found it enjoyable and felt they had a greater understanding of how a restaurant is run and the relationships that have to come together to make a truly successful business. They also felt the heroine was well drawn and strong yet totally believable. Then we digressed a bit and ended up talking about the pros and cons of women in business and that was a lively discussion.
With a rating from 1-10, The Lost Recipe For Happiness scored six seven's and two nines.
June's meeting will be held in the clubhouse at 1PM. The June book-of-the-month choice is The Shack, by William P. Young.
The book being discussed was The Lost Recipe For Happiness, by Barbara O'Neal. This was her first book under the new pseudonym, although she has many books written under the name Barbara Samuel and also many Harlequin romances written under the pseudonym Ruth Wind. I've always enjoyed Barbara's works for their sensual detail, whether a story about making perfume (where you swear you can smell the scents) or the restaurant business (where you get hunger pains reading about the wonderful foods) or her lovemaking scenes that have such great sensual detail they don't read as mere sex scenes.
As it was my turn to host I'd thought about making the pomegrante baklava from Barbara's recipe in the book. Time ran away from me though as I'd had a trip up to L.A. and only returned home on Monday evening. I was in Wal-Mart picking up a few things and saw a covered tray of various types of baklava and thought I'd give it a try. They were amazing! Yikes, and I'm supposed to be on the second phase of the South Beach diet. No baklava on that. I froze the leftovers, but somehow they seem to call my name every time I pass the fridge.
Back to discussing the book, here is the author's blurb:
Haunted by an accident of which she was the lone survivor, Elena Alvarez knows how to defy the odds. And when she is suddenly offered the opportunity she's been waiting for--the challenge of running her own kitchen in a world-class restaurant--she knows it is a chance she has to take, even if it does mean relocating to Aspen, where she doesn't know a soul, and usurping the job of a notably volatile chef. So with her faithful dog and her grandmother's recipes, she arrives in Colorado to find a restaurant in as desperate need of a fresh start as she is--and a man whose passionate approach to food and life rivals her own. For Elena, old ghosts don't die quietly, but some remain with her for a reason. And, through all the ups and downs, she knows the chance for happiness is worth every risk.
It was nice that our one male member did not balk at having to read a romance and although he said he's never read one before, he rated it at least a seven. His only negative comment was it was predictible in that it didn't have a surprise, or twist, in the ending. I explained that a requirement for writing romance is a happily ever after, so in that sense romances are predictible. We all agreed this was a story about learning to let go so you can move forward. Everyone found it enjoyable and felt they had a greater understanding of how a restaurant is run and the relationships that have to come together to make a truly successful business. They also felt the heroine was well drawn and strong yet totally believable. Then we digressed a bit and ended up talking about the pros and cons of women in business and that was a lively discussion.
With a rating from 1-10, The Lost Recipe For Happiness scored six seven's and two nines.
June's meeting will be held in the clubhouse at 1PM. The June book-of-the-month choice is The Shack, by William P. Young.
Saturday, May 09, 2009
Three historical book reviews. One movie.
I'm not sure why, but of late I've taken to reading historicals from different time periods. I've even looked for classic movies without realizing I was doing that. So, what's the deal with these stories?
Maybe it's the return to harder times, looking to gain insight into how others survived with less of everything? Not that I suffer anywhere near what the heroines in these stories do. But, it is good and heart warming to read about strong heroines willing to fight for their (or their family's) survival. We all stare down the threat of losing everything we've worked so hard to gain, yet hold out a promise that the situation will improve. Hopefully, like the heroines in these stories we're also making adjustments to our lifestyles, cutting back, doing without, appreciating the simpler things, enjoying the love of family and friends, and being strong in our belief that the hardships we deal with today are nothing like those of the past.
When His Kiss is Wicked, by Kaitlin O'Riley:
Colette Hamilton cares for four sisters and an ailing mother, after her father dies. With little money, and a bookshop to run, she makes inroads into improving the shop she loves and making more sales. All of this in a time when a female shopkeeper was frowned upon. Her uncle sets about getting Collette and her sister married off. But both sisters are resistant.
Then Lucien Sinclair(son of an earl with a desire to marry a plain, simple woman, who will do his bidding) enters the picture. He wants nothing to do with a woman of beauty because they bring their own problems, but when he meets and becomes intrigued by beautiful Collette and her delightful family, he must fight the attraction. He however, finds himself like a moth attracted to the flame.
This was a delightful book about overcoming hardship, and I enjoyed the author's narrative voice. The story left me with a smile on my face.
Siren's Song, by Trish Albright:
Olivia Yates is a scholar in times when women were not. With an archaeologist father, and no mother, she learned from him about Egyptian artifacts and taught herself to decipher hieroglyphics. With her father at an archaeology site and possibly in trouble, Olivia knows she holds the key to deciphering a code and must go to him. Someone is trying to murder her. Samuel Stafford is a sea captain, not a treasure hunter, yet he soon finds himself on a whirlwind journey on the high seas, headed for Egypt and its untold treasures, and reponsible for one very fiesty young woman.
This story of family loyalty and protecting loved ones at the risk of ones own life, is an exciting adventure filled with action, humor, and romance. It left me breathless.
The Promise, by TJ Bennett:
Alonsa Garcia de Arunjuez is a Spanish beauty, haunted by a Gypsy curse that threatens death to any man she loves. Thinking she is betrothed to a "safe" man, he is killed in battle. But not before begging a promise from his friend and fellow soldier, Gunter Behaim, to marry his betrothed. Betrayed by love, Gunter has sworn off making promises, but the man saved his life. He relents. Alonsa and Gunter have met before and there was an initial attraction but both quashed it. Now with the promise made, the sparks ignite and against the backdrop of the dark cruelties of war, these two who seem like total opposites must risk everything they've believed in to cast off the curse and unite their souls. A wonderful romance with an excellent grip on the historical time period. It left me sated and satisfied.
And the movie:
Sense and Sensibility.
What a wonderful cast. I know I saw this one years ago but couldn't resist watching it again. It's the 1995 version, starring Emma Thompson, Alan Rickman, Kate Winslet, Hugh Grant, and so many more wonderful actors and actresses. Based on Jane Austen's classic novel, it tells the story of the Dashwood sisters whose chances at marriage seem doomed when their father dies and the family fortune reverts to the son. The suitors are trapped by the strict rules of society and the conflicting laws of desire, and the two older sisters, Elinor and Marianne, must face many losses before finding their happily ever after while adjusting to their altered economic situation and standing. It left me sobbing, but in a good way. : )
Maybe it's the return to harder times, looking to gain insight into how others survived with less of everything? Not that I suffer anywhere near what the heroines in these stories do. But, it is good and heart warming to read about strong heroines willing to fight for their (or their family's) survival. We all stare down the threat of losing everything we've worked so hard to gain, yet hold out a promise that the situation will improve. Hopefully, like the heroines in these stories we're also making adjustments to our lifestyles, cutting back, doing without, appreciating the simpler things, enjoying the love of family and friends, and being strong in our belief that the hardships we deal with today are nothing like those of the past.
When His Kiss is Wicked, by Kaitlin O'Riley:
Colette Hamilton cares for four sisters and an ailing mother, after her father dies. With little money, and a bookshop to run, she makes inroads into improving the shop she loves and making more sales. All of this in a time when a female shopkeeper was frowned upon. Her uncle sets about getting Collette and her sister married off. But both sisters are resistant.
Then Lucien Sinclair(son of an earl with a desire to marry a plain, simple woman, who will do his bidding) enters the picture. He wants nothing to do with a woman of beauty because they bring their own problems, but when he meets and becomes intrigued by beautiful Collette and her delightful family, he must fight the attraction. He however, finds himself like a moth attracted to the flame.
This was a delightful book about overcoming hardship, and I enjoyed the author's narrative voice. The story left me with a smile on my face.
Siren's Song, by Trish Albright:
Olivia Yates is a scholar in times when women were not. With an archaeologist father, and no mother, she learned from him about Egyptian artifacts and taught herself to decipher hieroglyphics. With her father at an archaeology site and possibly in trouble, Olivia knows she holds the key to deciphering a code and must go to him. Someone is trying to murder her. Samuel Stafford is a sea captain, not a treasure hunter, yet he soon finds himself on a whirlwind journey on the high seas, headed for Egypt and its untold treasures, and reponsible for one very fiesty young woman.
This story of family loyalty and protecting loved ones at the risk of ones own life, is an exciting adventure filled with action, humor, and romance. It left me breathless.
The Promise, by TJ Bennett:
Alonsa Garcia de Arunjuez is a Spanish beauty, haunted by a Gypsy curse that threatens death to any man she loves. Thinking she is betrothed to a "safe" man, he is killed in battle. But not before begging a promise from his friend and fellow soldier, Gunter Behaim, to marry his betrothed. Betrayed by love, Gunter has sworn off making promises, but the man saved his life. He relents. Alonsa and Gunter have met before and there was an initial attraction but both quashed it. Now with the promise made, the sparks ignite and against the backdrop of the dark cruelties of war, these two who seem like total opposites must risk everything they've believed in to cast off the curse and unite their souls. A wonderful romance with an excellent grip on the historical time period. It left me sated and satisfied.
And the movie:
Sense and Sensibility.
What a wonderful cast. I know I saw this one years ago but couldn't resist watching it again. It's the 1995 version, starring Emma Thompson, Alan Rickman, Kate Winslet, Hugh Grant, and so many more wonderful actors and actresses. Based on Jane Austen's classic novel, it tells the story of the Dashwood sisters whose chances at marriage seem doomed when their father dies and the family fortune reverts to the son. The suitors are trapped by the strict rules of society and the conflicting laws of desire, and the two older sisters, Elinor and Marianne, must face many losses before finding their happily ever after while adjusting to their altered economic situation and standing. It left me sobbing, but in a good way. : )
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
New Bookclub.
The new bookclub met for the first time last week. What a lovely diverse group. We even have a token male, : ) but he was out of town so did a conference call on one lady's blackberry. The book under discussion was The Story of Edgar Sawtelle, by David Wroblewski.
The majority of participants found the story slow. It was a long book, topping out at 566 pages. When I pointed out the differences in literary vs. commercial fiction they were interested and opened themselves up to embrace a different type of read. Going into a literary work I know what to expect. Beautiful prose (an element of music beneath the words, space to explore deeper philosophies, time to enter into a richer more magical world, a willingness to allow the author to warm up his engines. Commercial fiction on the other hand, (at least for me) is where the expectation is one of immediate action. There's no time to waste. Don't stop to smell the roses. Get the first clues out, present a dead body, have the protagonist in the midst of a dilemma, introduce the hunky hero right up front so we know what we're dealing with. And the list goes on.
I read and enjoy both style of book, but my reading enjoyment varies. Like my choice in ice cream. I have my favorite but sometimes I want vanilla, othertimes chocolate, and in a plain cone. Hey, sometimes I'll even get daring and go for pistachio, or get out a bowl add some chocolate fudge and make a sundae. ;)
Back to Edgar.
I found the book initially appealing. Although I don't normally like prologues I do think this one was necessary, and it stayed with me throughout the entire story. About a third of the way in I grew tired of the description of landscape etc., because it was already set in my mind. I knew where we were although I've never visited Wisconsin. There were a few too many sunbeams on bales of straw for me. I lusted after some action.
That said, the characters were well drawn, the dogs wonderful, and the prose kept me going. I knew I wouldn't not finish the story, although it did take me two weeks where I'd normally read four commercial novels in that time period. Then things heated up a bit by mid-book. I'd read Mark Doty's comment on this perhaps being a modern day Hamlet. Then I started thinking about Shakespeare's works and realized it incorporated many other themes as well. I visited the author's website and found someone else had commented in the same vein. My interest was sparked.
Don't want to give away any spoilers here but if you start this book, stick with it. At the end I was angry because of the ending, but the story wouldn't go away and continued to simmer and stew in my thoughts. About a week later I decided it was indeed the best ending for this story. I was finally satisfied and deeply in awe of the author. He pulled off something very difficult. He left the reader without a happily ever after, a ton of questions that demanded answers, and for me, a desire to read the whole damn thing all over again.
The majority of participants found the story slow. It was a long book, topping out at 566 pages. When I pointed out the differences in literary vs. commercial fiction they were interested and opened themselves up to embrace a different type of read. Going into a literary work I know what to expect. Beautiful prose (an element of music beneath the words, space to explore deeper philosophies, time to enter into a richer more magical world, a willingness to allow the author to warm up his engines. Commercial fiction on the other hand, (at least for me) is where the expectation is one of immediate action. There's no time to waste. Don't stop to smell the roses. Get the first clues out, present a dead body, have the protagonist in the midst of a dilemma, introduce the hunky hero right up front so we know what we're dealing with. And the list goes on.
I read and enjoy both style of book, but my reading enjoyment varies. Like my choice in ice cream. I have my favorite but sometimes I want vanilla, othertimes chocolate, and in a plain cone. Hey, sometimes I'll even get daring and go for pistachio, or get out a bowl add some chocolate fudge and make a sundae. ;)
Back to Edgar.
I found the book initially appealing. Although I don't normally like prologues I do think this one was necessary, and it stayed with me throughout the entire story. About a third of the way in I grew tired of the description of landscape etc., because it was already set in my mind. I knew where we were although I've never visited Wisconsin. There were a few too many sunbeams on bales of straw for me. I lusted after some action.
That said, the characters were well drawn, the dogs wonderful, and the prose kept me going. I knew I wouldn't not finish the story, although it did take me two weeks where I'd normally read four commercial novels in that time period. Then things heated up a bit by mid-book. I'd read Mark Doty's comment on this perhaps being a modern day Hamlet. Then I started thinking about Shakespeare's works and realized it incorporated many other themes as well. I visited the author's website and found someone else had commented in the same vein. My interest was sparked.
Don't want to give away any spoilers here but if you start this book, stick with it. At the end I was angry because of the ending, but the story wouldn't go away and continued to simmer and stew in my thoughts. About a week later I decided it was indeed the best ending for this story. I was finally satisfied and deeply in awe of the author. He pulled off something very difficult. He left the reader without a happily ever after, a ton of questions that demanded answers, and for me, a desire to read the whole damn thing all over again.
Saturday, April 04, 2009
Storms.
There have been some storms in the past weeks that have upset my treat of reading several literary agents blogs before beginning my daily writing. A treat that would normally stimulate my brain and get my fingers tapping on those letter keys. But these verbal storms--I'm not talking freaks of nature here, hmmm? well, maybe I am--they threw me into a dark place like an impending snowstorm.
Why is this happening? Why are people throwing rotten tomatoes at each other? Frustration with life in general, the publishing industry itself, broken dreams, I'm not sure. But name calling, that's toxic behavior, come on, we're supposed to be adults. Professional adults.
Yesterday, I'd arranged to meet a writer friend for lunch at our usual halfway point, me driving an hour from the desert, she driving the same distance from her home in L.A. We'd had a huge wind storm the night before and the noise had provided little sleep. I awoke groggy and much later than usual, so rushed around and did errands, walked the dog, showered and put on "real" clothes, dashed to the office and glanced at the phone and email to make sure my friend hadn't had a last minute emergency, and then took off for the freeway a CD blasting out C&W.
Five miles up the road the ambient temperature gauge in my car kept dropping. It went quickly from seventy degrees to sixty and was still falling as I noticed an increasing sandstorm up ahead. How was I to know there were sixty-five mile per hour winds today? I hadn't listened to the news or checked online news. Sigh.
I don't have a blue-tooth or any other device to use a cell while driving, so couldn't call my friend and say I was returning home, and to get off the freeway in that part of the desert would have meant driving into the eye of the sandstorm. I switched on my headlights, lowered my speed, gripped the steering wheel with both hands and placed my concentration on staying alert to what other cars were doing. By the time I was navigating the pass we were in a whiteout, visibility was poor and light weight cars were being buffeted sideways. I took an inside lane and travelled alongside a huge truck using it as a buffer against the wind. Sand blew across the freeway, often times small pebbles would ping the car but I chose not to fret about paint damage and concentrated on getting to my appointment in one piece.
At my destination, a huge black cloud had replaced the sand storm and I opened the car door, which was almost ripped out of my hands, my hair blew straight up off my face, I hunkered down wrapped my arms around the bodice of my thin cotton shirt and ran inside to the warmth of the restaurant. My friend said her car had registered fifty degrees as she'd driven into the parking lot. And here we were, both dressed for a nice spring day of eighty or so degrees, usual at this time of the year in the California desert.
On the way home, the winds had died down and the temperature elevated to within normal range. I thought about the storm. And the storm in my writing world. I'd taken care not to get caught up in the emotional aspects, ignored the negative, the what ifs and possibilities, kept my eyes on the road ahead and successfully navigated to safety. I had chosen not to comment, not because I didn't have opinions but because I didn't want to be dragged into the middle of the mess. Those outbursts or little storms are not healthy, they don't make you feel better for having cursed and hurled insults, or spoken positively and been accused of being a suck-up, there is no win in these situations. Even if comments are left anonymously, they leave questions. Who wrote it? Why? You end up feeling as tainted as the crazy ass person who left the comment.
Last night I went to a friend's blog, www.bobmayer.org. He has a new book coming out in June, Who Dares Wins. It's based on the programs of the Green Berets and how to be the best you can be while facing down difficult situations. His most recent blog was about the differences in social and market norms. You should read it, and put his book on your must order or pre-order list. His comments touched on, I think, the reasons behind the difficulties agents and writers have in understanding each other. One works to create and from an emotional or social stance, the other is excited by the aspect of selling, and works from a marketing aspect. We're talking chalk and cheese here, folks. Once each side understands and can respect the differences in the other's worldview, we might have a better working environment.
Oh, stop it, put those tomatoes down.
Why is this happening? Why are people throwing rotten tomatoes at each other? Frustration with life in general, the publishing industry itself, broken dreams, I'm not sure. But name calling, that's toxic behavior, come on, we're supposed to be adults. Professional adults.
Yesterday, I'd arranged to meet a writer friend for lunch at our usual halfway point, me driving an hour from the desert, she driving the same distance from her home in L.A. We'd had a huge wind storm the night before and the noise had provided little sleep. I awoke groggy and much later than usual, so rushed around and did errands, walked the dog, showered and put on "real" clothes, dashed to the office and glanced at the phone and email to make sure my friend hadn't had a last minute emergency, and then took off for the freeway a CD blasting out C&W.
Five miles up the road the ambient temperature gauge in my car kept dropping. It went quickly from seventy degrees to sixty and was still falling as I noticed an increasing sandstorm up ahead. How was I to know there were sixty-five mile per hour winds today? I hadn't listened to the news or checked online news. Sigh.
I don't have a blue-tooth or any other device to use a cell while driving, so couldn't call my friend and say I was returning home, and to get off the freeway in that part of the desert would have meant driving into the eye of the sandstorm. I switched on my headlights, lowered my speed, gripped the steering wheel with both hands and placed my concentration on staying alert to what other cars were doing. By the time I was navigating the pass we were in a whiteout, visibility was poor and light weight cars were being buffeted sideways. I took an inside lane and travelled alongside a huge truck using it as a buffer against the wind. Sand blew across the freeway, often times small pebbles would ping the car but I chose not to fret about paint damage and concentrated on getting to my appointment in one piece.
At my destination, a huge black cloud had replaced the sand storm and I opened the car door, which was almost ripped out of my hands, my hair blew straight up off my face, I hunkered down wrapped my arms around the bodice of my thin cotton shirt and ran inside to the warmth of the restaurant. My friend said her car had registered fifty degrees as she'd driven into the parking lot. And here we were, both dressed for a nice spring day of eighty or so degrees, usual at this time of the year in the California desert.
On the way home, the winds had died down and the temperature elevated to within normal range. I thought about the storm. And the storm in my writing world. I'd taken care not to get caught up in the emotional aspects, ignored the negative, the what ifs and possibilities, kept my eyes on the road ahead and successfully navigated to safety. I had chosen not to comment, not because I didn't have opinions but because I didn't want to be dragged into the middle of the mess. Those outbursts or little storms are not healthy, they don't make you feel better for having cursed and hurled insults, or spoken positively and been accused of being a suck-up, there is no win in these situations. Even if comments are left anonymously, they leave questions. Who wrote it? Why? You end up feeling as tainted as the crazy ass person who left the comment.
Last night I went to a friend's blog, www.bobmayer.org. He has a new book coming out in June, Who Dares Wins. It's based on the programs of the Green Berets and how to be the best you can be while facing down difficult situations. His most recent blog was about the differences in social and market norms. You should read it, and put his book on your must order or pre-order list. His comments touched on, I think, the reasons behind the difficulties agents and writers have in understanding each other. One works to create and from an emotional or social stance, the other is excited by the aspect of selling, and works from a marketing aspect. We're talking chalk and cheese here, folks. Once each side understands and can respect the differences in the other's worldview, we might have a better working environment.
Oh, stop it, put those tomatoes down.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
New book club...new books.
I've been busy lately. Went up to L.A. for a long weekend. Met up with my writing group at LARA and lunched with a couple of pals. Not a lot of writing being done, although I have found the twist, the crunchy, yummy part of the story that I'd been searching for. Now I just have to put it into some semblance of order and go back a little in the story to foreshadow.
The rest of my weekend in the city was spent hunting for foreclosed houses in the San Fernando Valley with my daughter. Not for me, I'm staying put for a change, this was for her. Of course she doesn't have a lot to spend so we visited some rather dicey neighborhoods. Scared the living beejeezuz out of me to tell you the truth. I have difficulty imagining my firstborn living in some of those places. I've been trying to push her toward a condominium but not sure if she'll go for that.
One of the homes had a neighbor who walked by with a chicken on a leash. I kid you not! Another house was owned by a sad little man who had seven dogs and a penchant for cigarettes. There was a recessed garage that he claimed could be a sound studio. It was crammed to the ceiling with junk. His place smelled so badly of dogs and urine and smoke that we couldn't get the smell out of our nostrils. I sat in the car refusing to touch anything, not my face, my hair, my arms and thought I was going to throw up. We pulled into the first 7-11 store we could find, looking for antibacterial soap but none was available so we purchased baby wipes and cleansed our skin, then ate creme Easter eggs to get the smell from the back of our throats. Well, that was the excuse. : ) Love those things.
The next place was another foreclosure and we called the listing agent. She revealed the prior owner had died in the house of self-inflicted wounds. We moved on quickly. By mid-afternoon we found a nice area with an affordable home that was really cute. Good bones in that house but I'm not sure if my daughter will pursue it. It's up to her, her decision and I try not to interfere too much. But it was a sad experience for me to walk around those places and think of someone not being able to make their payments and having to walk away from their home. So sad to think of someone taking their life. We read about this in the papers all the time, but to actually go out and see it first hand, walk around the homes with notices in the windows and know the circumstances behind what might be a "good buy" is, well...it's kind of creepy. By evening I was so depressed I broke my "no alcohol" diet and had a glass of wine.
On to cheerier subjects, a friend of mine started a bookclub in the development where I live. She thought she might get five or six women interested and twelve showed up. It seems everyone knows someone else who they think might be interested. We're going to look into using the clubhouse for the gatherings as nobody has a house big enough for a really large group. We met at 3:30 and left at 6:30pm. It's going to be a lot of fun. Our first book will be The Story of Edgar Sawtelle, by David Wrobleski. In May we'll discuss The Book of Negroes which has been retitled for the US market as Someone Knows My Name. It's authored by Lawrence Hill. I'm looking forward to both books although they are a little on the long side for me. I'm used to romance of about 350-400 pages and a very fast pace. So, for my hosting event, I chose Barbara Samuel/O'Neal's book The Lost Recipe For Happiness. It was a January release and I couldn't wait to get my hands on it. I love her voice and hope the other women in the group do as well. In fact, I'm going to make one of the recipes from the book. I'm thinking the pomegranate baklava. That would go great with coffee or chardonnay. Yum.
I'm really excited about the bookclub because it will encourage me to read outside of romance. I used to read everything but romance, before I started writing. Between writing and staying up on the reading of friend's books and the occasional advanced reader copy from Harper Collins, there isn't much time for reading other genres. (Not that I'm complaining, I love romance.) Once in a while I'll read a Harlan Coban, a John Grisham, or a murder mystery but that's about it. I rarely read biographies anymore, so this club will, I'm sure, help me to broaden my horizons.
The rest of my weekend in the city was spent hunting for foreclosed houses in the San Fernando Valley with my daughter. Not for me, I'm staying put for a change, this was for her. Of course she doesn't have a lot to spend so we visited some rather dicey neighborhoods. Scared the living beejeezuz out of me to tell you the truth. I have difficulty imagining my firstborn living in some of those places. I've been trying to push her toward a condominium but not sure if she'll go for that.
One of the homes had a neighbor who walked by with a chicken on a leash. I kid you not! Another house was owned by a sad little man who had seven dogs and a penchant for cigarettes. There was a recessed garage that he claimed could be a sound studio. It was crammed to the ceiling with junk. His place smelled so badly of dogs and urine and smoke that we couldn't get the smell out of our nostrils. I sat in the car refusing to touch anything, not my face, my hair, my arms and thought I was going to throw up. We pulled into the first 7-11 store we could find, looking for antibacterial soap but none was available so we purchased baby wipes and cleansed our skin, then ate creme Easter eggs to get the smell from the back of our throats. Well, that was the excuse. : ) Love those things.
The next place was another foreclosure and we called the listing agent. She revealed the prior owner had died in the house of self-inflicted wounds. We moved on quickly. By mid-afternoon we found a nice area with an affordable home that was really cute. Good bones in that house but I'm not sure if my daughter will pursue it. It's up to her, her decision and I try not to interfere too much. But it was a sad experience for me to walk around those places and think of someone not being able to make their payments and having to walk away from their home. So sad to think of someone taking their life. We read about this in the papers all the time, but to actually go out and see it first hand, walk around the homes with notices in the windows and know the circumstances behind what might be a "good buy" is, well...it's kind of creepy. By evening I was so depressed I broke my "no alcohol" diet and had a glass of wine.
On to cheerier subjects, a friend of mine started a bookclub in the development where I live. She thought she might get five or six women interested and twelve showed up. It seems everyone knows someone else who they think might be interested. We're going to look into using the clubhouse for the gatherings as nobody has a house big enough for a really large group. We met at 3:30 and left at 6:30pm. It's going to be a lot of fun. Our first book will be The Story of Edgar Sawtelle, by David Wrobleski. In May we'll discuss The Book of Negroes which has been retitled for the US market as Someone Knows My Name. It's authored by Lawrence Hill. I'm looking forward to both books although they are a little on the long side for me. I'm used to romance of about 350-400 pages and a very fast pace. So, for my hosting event, I chose Barbara Samuel/O'Neal's book The Lost Recipe For Happiness. It was a January release and I couldn't wait to get my hands on it. I love her voice and hope the other women in the group do as well. In fact, I'm going to make one of the recipes from the book. I'm thinking the pomegranate baklava. That would go great with coffee or chardonnay. Yum.
I'm really excited about the bookclub because it will encourage me to read outside of romance. I used to read everything but romance, before I started writing. Between writing and staying up on the reading of friend's books and the occasional advanced reader copy from Harper Collins, there isn't much time for reading other genres. (Not that I'm complaining, I love romance.) Once in a while I'll read a Harlan Coban, a John Grisham, or a murder mystery but that's about it. I rarely read biographies anymore, so this club will, I'm sure, help me to broaden my horizons.
Sunday, March 08, 2009
The times they are a changing...
Well, actually daylight saving time has changed again and this time we've jumped ahead an hour. I hate it. Why do we do this? Is it really about farming? I mean how many more eggs can get layed, and do the cows really care if they're ambling home in the dark in the winter months? Which brings me to the question, should man mess with mother nature? I don't think so. I truly believe there are reasons for everything in life and we shouldn't mess with what is a pretty perfect plan.
Anyway, enough grumbling. I'm on to my second cup of coffee so I'll be fine in another half hour. The problem for me is I know getting into bed the night before that it is going to be different the next day, so I spend half of it tossing and turning and checking the clock. It's the night before quality of sleep that gets me confused not the missing hour. : )
What else has been happening in my life? Not much. I've been reading a lot. Almost a book a day. Am I hiding from the world, you ask? Well, I'm kind of stuck on my last third of the book (remember I'm not writing this one with an outline, I've gone back to my seat of the pants writing). The last act is usually the most intense, exciting part to write, because everything is coming together. Except for now. I'm going to have to backtrack and change a few things because some step has obviously been missed. Last night I watched two back to back movies and I got a flash of recognition of what that missing element is. Today I'm excited to get started. But first I'm taking the dog for a long walk to think it through. I think it's right, I think it's right, I think...
Anyway, enough grumbling. I'm on to my second cup of coffee so I'll be fine in another half hour. The problem for me is I know getting into bed the night before that it is going to be different the next day, so I spend half of it tossing and turning and checking the clock. It's the night before quality of sleep that gets me confused not the missing hour. : )
What else has been happening in my life? Not much. I've been reading a lot. Almost a book a day. Am I hiding from the world, you ask? Well, I'm kind of stuck on my last third of the book (remember I'm not writing this one with an outline, I've gone back to my seat of the pants writing). The last act is usually the most intense, exciting part to write, because everything is coming together. Except for now. I'm going to have to backtrack and change a few things because some step has obviously been missed. Last night I watched two back to back movies and I got a flash of recognition of what that missing element is. Today I'm excited to get started. But first I'm taking the dog for a long walk to think it through. I think it's right, I think it's right, I think...
Friday, February 20, 2009
More good books!
I've been on a reading binge lately, maybe because of our unusually rainy, snowy, cold weather. Normally I read a lot in the summer months. Most of my friends read more in the winter because of bad weather, but for those of us living in the desert it seems to be the opposite. In the summer we stay inside in the air-conditioning. At least that's when I read and write like a demon. So what possesed me to start reading every day? Shrugs. I'm writing well, too, so it can't be writing avoidance raising its ugly head. I'm not sure, but here are three books that were really well written, lots of fun, and that I highly recommend to my romance reading buddies:
Susan Wiggs, Fireside. This was fabulous. I'd read all of the others in her Lakeshore Chronicles. Not that you have to read them in order, they're all stand alones, but I do recall the hero being mentioned in an earlier book and thought at the time he was an excellent minor character. So Bo Crutcher, baseball player, finally gets his story and it's a great one too. Bo has to be the best hero I've read in quite a while. To say I adored him is an understatement. I totally got him. I wanted to know him. How much better for a writer to achieve that with one of their characters, eh?
Barbara O'Neal, The Lost Recipe for Happiness. Loved this book. There was a richness, a sensual feel to this story, and it came from not only the recipes and the restaurant background, but from the beautifully written characters. I just wanted to reach out and touch them. Wonderful people and a great story on friendships and family.
Jennifer Crusie, Anne Stuart, Lani Diane Rich, Dogs and Goddesses. Wow! What can I say? This is yet another collaboration of Jenny Crusie's and I'm a big time fan of anything she writes. In fact on her forums we have a joke that even her shopping lists are interesting. She just has a way with words. So, to combine Jenny's writing skills with those of Anne (I loved her Ice series) and Lani (the last one I read of Lani's was, Wish You Were Here, set in Idaho, another terrific book) was for me a complete feast. It was more than a three course dinner. On the surface this story is light and fun, a celebration of three women. They become friends, discover they are ancient goddesses with dogs who can talk, and end up finding their soul mates and having lots of sex. : ) The thing that resonated with me was the amount of research these authors did, yet it didn't show. They kept their story contemporary and fun, yet created the history and made it believable. That's world building folks, and they did it with a deft hand.
Susan Wiggs, Fireside. This was fabulous. I'd read all of the others in her Lakeshore Chronicles. Not that you have to read them in order, they're all stand alones, but I do recall the hero being mentioned in an earlier book and thought at the time he was an excellent minor character. So Bo Crutcher, baseball player, finally gets his story and it's a great one too. Bo has to be the best hero I've read in quite a while. To say I adored him is an understatement. I totally got him. I wanted to know him. How much better for a writer to achieve that with one of their characters, eh?
Barbara O'Neal, The Lost Recipe for Happiness. Loved this book. There was a richness, a sensual feel to this story, and it came from not only the recipes and the restaurant background, but from the beautifully written characters. I just wanted to reach out and touch them. Wonderful people and a great story on friendships and family.
Jennifer Crusie, Anne Stuart, Lani Diane Rich, Dogs and Goddesses. Wow! What can I say? This is yet another collaboration of Jenny Crusie's and I'm a big time fan of anything she writes. In fact on her forums we have a joke that even her shopping lists are interesting. She just has a way with words. So, to combine Jenny's writing skills with those of Anne (I loved her Ice series) and Lani (the last one I read of Lani's was, Wish You Were Here, set in Idaho, another terrific book) was for me a complete feast. It was more than a three course dinner. On the surface this story is light and fun, a celebration of three women. They become friends, discover they are ancient goddesses with dogs who can talk, and end up finding their soul mates and having lots of sex. : ) The thing that resonated with me was the amount of research these authors did, yet it didn't show. They kept their story contemporary and fun, yet created the history and made it believable. That's world building folks, and they did it with a deft hand.
Monday, February 02, 2009
What are you reading?
I've been doing a lot of reading in the past month. Some for research and some for pure pleasure. I recieve ARC's from a large publishing house, those are advanced reader copies and are bound books with the cover artwork but get another pass before final printing.
The story I just finished, Very Valentine, by Adriana Trigiani, was absolutely fabulous. The cover artwork alone made me feel good. So rich, so colorful. If I'd seen this in a bookstore it would have called to me, just like the little red high heels with the black bow that waved to me from a store window in Rome a few years ago. And yes, I bought them. : )
I found Very Valentine, which by the way comes out this month, to be as strong in character and description and content, as its beautiful cover. The characters, mostly Italian, are vibrant and colorful and very real. I knew them, and I'm not Italian. There was the right mix of humor, crazy family dynamics, romance, and armchair travel. Sigh. Now I want a trip to both NYC and Tuscany.
Ms. Trigiani does a great job with setting, incorporating it as a sensual character. She does the same with the cooking scenes, bringing in food aromas and mouthwatering tastes, and the texture of leathers and materials used in the making of shoes. Her love scenes are deftly written without explicit sex scenes, romance is always at the core. One of the things that resounded with me though, were her characters, so big, so full of life they almost leaped off the page. The heroine's story revolved around her grandmother's custom shoe shop in NYC. Ms. Trigiani's grandfather had owned a shoe shop in Minnesota in the 1930's. The things I learned about making shoes will stay with me for a long time. I thoroughly enjoyed learning something that is obviously dear to the author's heart. And that's what makes this story so wonderful, it has heart at its center.
So, what are you reading?
The story I just finished, Very Valentine, by Adriana Trigiani, was absolutely fabulous. The cover artwork alone made me feel good. So rich, so colorful. If I'd seen this in a bookstore it would have called to me, just like the little red high heels with the black bow that waved to me from a store window in Rome a few years ago. And yes, I bought them. : )
I found Very Valentine, which by the way comes out this month, to be as strong in character and description and content, as its beautiful cover. The characters, mostly Italian, are vibrant and colorful and very real. I knew them, and I'm not Italian. There was the right mix of humor, crazy family dynamics, romance, and armchair travel. Sigh. Now I want a trip to both NYC and Tuscany.
Ms. Trigiani does a great job with setting, incorporating it as a sensual character. She does the same with the cooking scenes, bringing in food aromas and mouthwatering tastes, and the texture of leathers and materials used in the making of shoes. Her love scenes are deftly written without explicit sex scenes, romance is always at the core. One of the things that resounded with me though, were her characters, so big, so full of life they almost leaped off the page. The heroine's story revolved around her grandmother's custom shoe shop in NYC. Ms. Trigiani's grandfather had owned a shoe shop in Minnesota in the 1930's. The things I learned about making shoes will stay with me for a long time. I thoroughly enjoyed learning something that is obviously dear to the author's heart. And that's what makes this story so wonderful, it has heart at its center.
So, what are you reading?
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Change is in the air...
So half of January has slipped by but not entirely unnoticed, at least by yours truly.
I've been working hard. I committed on the Cherry Forums, over at Jenny Crusie's blog, to do at least one submission per month (for those of you who REALLY know me, you know my weakness is not submitting enough) and I set my monthly goal as one chapter per week on the WIP. So far I'm on target, or maybe a tad ahead. I'm up to chapter six of the new manuscript.
I've re-written my query (of an already completed manuscript) based on some feedback from Jessica Faust over at Bookends Literary Agency. She ran a contest in December and we were allowed to submit our first paragraph as a pitch. I was lucky enough to be critiqued and what Jessica had to say really resonated. So, I have a new query letter but am holding off submitting until Mercury gets through its retrograde. I mean, why risk it, right? Communications can go awry under Mercury's craziness. Seriously, I'm not procrastinating, the minute that planet changes course my query letter goes out. And this time it's going to five agents at a time. No more of this send to one and be loyal and wait forever for an answer. Nope. This time I'm getting serious.
Tonight I watched Dateline and cried bucketloads regarding Barack Obama's rise to
becoming the 44th President of the United States of America. The review of our history, that step back in time, made me cry. So sad. So shameful. All I can say is what a journey and thank God it's behind us and we can move forward and hopefully repair a lot of that damage. May we never again lose sight of the fact that all humans are created equal. I love this man, and his gorgeous wife and his family. His beautiful smile makes me happy. I can be having the crappiest day and then I listen to him and somehow he makes it all seem okay.
I know we can! I know I can! I have hope.
My eyes are tearing up again just writing this. Good heavens, can you imagine what a cry baby I'm going to be on Tuesday? All I know is I'll be glued to the television, 'cause I'm not planning to miss a thing.
How about you?
I've been working hard. I committed on the Cherry Forums, over at Jenny Crusie's blog, to do at least one submission per month (for those of you who REALLY know me, you know my weakness is not submitting enough) and I set my monthly goal as one chapter per week on the WIP. So far I'm on target, or maybe a tad ahead. I'm up to chapter six of the new manuscript.
I've re-written my query (of an already completed manuscript) based on some feedback from Jessica Faust over at Bookends Literary Agency. She ran a contest in December and we were allowed to submit our first paragraph as a pitch. I was lucky enough to be critiqued and what Jessica had to say really resonated. So, I have a new query letter but am holding off submitting until Mercury gets through its retrograde. I mean, why risk it, right? Communications can go awry under Mercury's craziness. Seriously, I'm not procrastinating, the minute that planet changes course my query letter goes out. And this time it's going to five agents at a time. No more of this send to one and be loyal and wait forever for an answer. Nope. This time I'm getting serious.
Tonight I watched Dateline and cried bucketloads regarding Barack Obama's rise to
becoming the 44th President of the United States of America. The review of our history, that step back in time, made me cry. So sad. So shameful. All I can say is what a journey and thank God it's behind us and we can move forward and hopefully repair a lot of that damage. May we never again lose sight of the fact that all humans are created equal. I love this man, and his gorgeous wife and his family. His beautiful smile makes me happy. I can be having the crappiest day and then I listen to him and somehow he makes it all seem okay.
I know we can! I know I can! I have hope.
My eyes are tearing up again just writing this. Good heavens, can you imagine what a cry baby I'm going to be on Tuesday? All I know is I'll be glued to the television, 'cause I'm not planning to miss a thing.
How about you?
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Happy New Year!
Happy New Year, a day or so early, but that's to catch the people down under who will celebrate tonight. Also, in case I imbibe tomorrow night and forget to post. Just kidding.
I went to a "between the holidays" party last night and it was a fabulous gathering of friends and neighbors. About twenty or so of us, and I was the youngest and once again, the only single. I've got to do something about that. All of the couples talked about how they share the household duties now that the hubbies have retired. I never knew how many men do the vacuuming and don't mind the chore. One guy, Vic, not only vacuums, he cooks. So my challenge in 2009? Find myself a Vic.
The party hosts made a lovely spread, there were a variety of cheeses and dips and drinks on the patio (two lovely gas warmers kept us toasty) then we went inside where four tables were set, four big crockpots of what they call stoup, bubbled pleasantly and filled the house with an amazing aroma. I thought it was a cross between chili, stew, and minestrone soup. Anyway, whatever, it was delicious. First you put a few nachos on the bottom of the bowl then added the soupy mixture of meat, kidney beans, corn, tomato, etc. on top, then added a dollop of sour cream, grated cheese and finely chopped spring onion. Delish. Add in a nice hefty merlot, crisp field greens salad, warm bread rolls, and you have a little slice of heaven.
The conversation was fabulous and rowdy. I think I was talked into joining the once a month Bocce game. Bocce, red wine, camaraderie. Maybe I'll go. Dessert was mini chocolate eclairs and profiterole, along with coffee and a dessert wine if desired. I left at that point, one of each dessert in hand, and ate those on my short walk home. It's probably the only celebration I'll do for New Year's Eve. Knowing me, I'll snuggle down in front of the fire, hug the dog, have a glass of wine, and watch an old movie.
So, whatever you choose to do, may your New Year celebration be warm, fun, and shared with those you care most about. And may we all find 2009 to be a brighter spot in our lives than it's predecessor. Here's to hope and change!
I went to a "between the holidays" party last night and it was a fabulous gathering of friends and neighbors. About twenty or so of us, and I was the youngest and once again, the only single. I've got to do something about that. All of the couples talked about how they share the household duties now that the hubbies have retired. I never knew how many men do the vacuuming and don't mind the chore. One guy, Vic, not only vacuums, he cooks. So my challenge in 2009? Find myself a Vic.
The party hosts made a lovely spread, there were a variety of cheeses and dips and drinks on the patio (two lovely gas warmers kept us toasty) then we went inside where four tables were set, four big crockpots of what they call stoup, bubbled pleasantly and filled the house with an amazing aroma. I thought it was a cross between chili, stew, and minestrone soup. Anyway, whatever, it was delicious. First you put a few nachos on the bottom of the bowl then added the soupy mixture of meat, kidney beans, corn, tomato, etc. on top, then added a dollop of sour cream, grated cheese and finely chopped spring onion. Delish. Add in a nice hefty merlot, crisp field greens salad, warm bread rolls, and you have a little slice of heaven.
The conversation was fabulous and rowdy. I think I was talked into joining the once a month Bocce game. Bocce, red wine, camaraderie. Maybe I'll go. Dessert was mini chocolate eclairs and profiterole, along with coffee and a dessert wine if desired. I left at that point, one of each dessert in hand, and ate those on my short walk home. It's probably the only celebration I'll do for New Year's Eve. Knowing me, I'll snuggle down in front of the fire, hug the dog, have a glass of wine, and watch an old movie.
So, whatever you choose to do, may your New Year celebration be warm, fun, and shared with those you care most about. And may we all find 2009 to be a brighter spot in our lives than it's predecessor. Here's to hope and change!
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Seasons Greetings!
Whatever you personally celebrate, Hannukah, Christmas, Feliz Navidad, Kwanzaa, or the Seinfeld holiday of Festivus, I truly hope your special time is warm and wonderful and shared with those you love. And if that isn't possible this year, at least celebrate with cherished memories of loved ones far away.
We have another storm coming into Southern California today. Here in the desert, we still have snow on the mountain tops from the two storms last week. Brrrr. Strange weather everywhere, and I'm wondering if this storm will give us a truly white Christmas. The kids are coming down at some point during the Christmas to New Year period. Not sure exactly when. We've become pretty relaxed with our plans in the last few years. That seems to suit all of us. No pressure. No commitments broken. No having to drive in awful weather conditions. And while I wait, I write. So it's all good.
Because it has turned so cold here, I've decided to re-enact an old family tradition. Years ago, we had a little place up in Park City, Utah. We got to use the place for two vacations a year and the kids and I always looked forward to our ski trip, or summer hiking trip, the rest of the time it was rented out. We always provided a few videos of favorite movies, music tapes, and video games, for our guests to use. One of the movies was Dirty Rotten Scoundrels, with Steve Martin and Michael Caine. Every time we'd go up there we'd watch that movie. Every single time, without fail. It still makes me smile.
An old writing buddy gave me a CD of the movie five years ago when I told her that story. It was a favorite of hers. So thank you Gina, I'm lighting a fire, pouring a nice glass of Aussie Shiraz and watching the movie tonight. I'll be thinking of you my friend, my kids, days when I could still ski, winters in Park City ... ah, the memories.
This morning I went marketing for all kinds of non-perishable young people treats. Things I never keep in the house because I'd eat them and regret it later ... so, hope the kids arrive soon.
Munch, munch.
We have another storm coming into Southern California today. Here in the desert, we still have snow on the mountain tops from the two storms last week. Brrrr. Strange weather everywhere, and I'm wondering if this storm will give us a truly white Christmas. The kids are coming down at some point during the Christmas to New Year period. Not sure exactly when. We've become pretty relaxed with our plans in the last few years. That seems to suit all of us. No pressure. No commitments broken. No having to drive in awful weather conditions. And while I wait, I write. So it's all good.
Because it has turned so cold here, I've decided to re-enact an old family tradition. Years ago, we had a little place up in Park City, Utah. We got to use the place for two vacations a year and the kids and I always looked forward to our ski trip, or summer hiking trip, the rest of the time it was rented out. We always provided a few videos of favorite movies, music tapes, and video games, for our guests to use. One of the movies was Dirty Rotten Scoundrels, with Steve Martin and Michael Caine. Every time we'd go up there we'd watch that movie. Every single time, without fail. It still makes me smile.
An old writing buddy gave me a CD of the movie five years ago when I told her that story. It was a favorite of hers. So thank you Gina, I'm lighting a fire, pouring a nice glass of Aussie Shiraz and watching the movie tonight. I'll be thinking of you my friend, my kids, days when I could still ski, winters in Park City ... ah, the memories.
This morning I went marketing for all kinds of non-perishable young people treats. Things I never keep in the house because I'd eat them and regret it later ... so, hope the kids arrive soon.
Munch, munch.
Friday, December 12, 2008
Twinkle lights and twinkle toes!
Everyone in my neighborhood is doing their bit to increase the holiday fun. In years past I've decorated a little, never really going all out tacky. But twinkle lights were appearing everywhere around the lake in great numbers through this week and I grew increasingly envious for some of the good cheer. While my house isn't on the water and it only has a small frontage to decorate I figured I should not be such a grumpy-puss and get out the lights.
Just stringing the lights was fun and put me in a more joyful mood. I left the front door open, played Christmas Carols from a CD that Bank of America gave me years ago as a thank you gift (back in the day when I had some money saved and banks had money to give away on free gifts) and I had orange cranberry scones cooking in the kitchen. It was all warm and inviting. All I needed was a fire in the fireplace to set the scene, but it was a gorgeous day in the high seventies with blue skies and bright sunshine. A typical winter's day in the California desert.
I'd started to wonder when our seasons would change out here. We only have a short winter but so look forward to it after a long, hot, dry summer. Extra long and crispy this year. Anyway, this morning I woke up at six a.m. and it was freezing. Had to put the heat on before breakfast. That has put a huge smile on my face and my toes are tapping out a rythm to the music playing in the background.
Suddenly it feels like the holidays! Yay! I could go dancing. Or maybe I could go buy some more lights.
Hope your holiday season is warming up!
Just stringing the lights was fun and put me in a more joyful mood. I left the front door open, played Christmas Carols from a CD that Bank of America gave me years ago as a thank you gift (back in the day when I had some money saved and banks had money to give away on free gifts) and I had orange cranberry scones cooking in the kitchen. It was all warm and inviting. All I needed was a fire in the fireplace to set the scene, but it was a gorgeous day in the high seventies with blue skies and bright sunshine. A typical winter's day in the California desert.
I'd started to wonder when our seasons would change out here. We only have a short winter but so look forward to it after a long, hot, dry summer. Extra long and crispy this year. Anyway, this morning I woke up at six a.m. and it was freezing. Had to put the heat on before breakfast. That has put a huge smile on my face and my toes are tapping out a rythm to the music playing in the background.
Suddenly it feels like the holidays! Yay! I could go dancing. Or maybe I could go buy some more lights.
Hope your holiday season is warming up!
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Counting my blessings!
Just got back from a weekend in Los Angeles, my old stomping ground. The drive up was quite an experience with huge mushroom clouds of multi-colored smoke to the left of me, trees swaying in the extremely high winds, the car being buffeted about like it was a weightless toy, and on the horizon a layer of smog over the city that looked like gray meringue. The day prior, the winds had reached 76 mph and it seemed they'd whip up and switch paths on a whim. So many fires, so much tragedy. I couldn't watch the evening news without tearing up. Today, when I returned to the desert I had to keep the headlights on as the smoke was so thick in places and the visibility was poor. There were at least four fires raging in Southern California.
I've no idea what it would be like to lose everything but came close after the Northridge earthquake when my house was damaged. The aftershocks continued for months, recreating the terror of yet another hideous event. It really was the most frightening thing I'd ever experienced. Such a loss of control. Such fear. It's been years, but I still recall those feelings as if it was yesterday.
So all of this makes me ask, "Why do I live here?" It can't really be just for the weather. In fact I'm sitting on top of the San Andreas fault and we are long overdue for a big earthquake in Southern California. You'd think I'd be smart enough to get my ass out of town. But no. I stay. Sometimes I think I'm no more mature than a teenager. I'm invincible. Hah! I'm not invincible, I'm trapped. I retired to the desert communities with the idea of going small. A modest house, small yard, less expenses, live out my old age in the heat. Then the bottom fell out of the market and left me with an overpriced house. I'd have to put money into it to sell it. How can that be possible? Where did I go wrong in my planning?
Then I pause and quit my moaning and groaning. I still have my home, my treasures, my family. I still have a roof over my head and my heart breaks for those who have lost theirs. I promise to give thanks for my blessings every day. To be grateful for what I have and to give back to those who are suffering in these hard times, times made even harder by Mother Nature.
I've no idea what it would be like to lose everything but came close after the Northridge earthquake when my house was damaged. The aftershocks continued for months, recreating the terror of yet another hideous event. It really was the most frightening thing I'd ever experienced. Such a loss of control. Such fear. It's been years, but I still recall those feelings as if it was yesterday.
So all of this makes me ask, "Why do I live here?" It can't really be just for the weather. In fact I'm sitting on top of the San Andreas fault and we are long overdue for a big earthquake in Southern California. You'd think I'd be smart enough to get my ass out of town. But no. I stay. Sometimes I think I'm no more mature than a teenager. I'm invincible. Hah! I'm not invincible, I'm trapped. I retired to the desert communities with the idea of going small. A modest house, small yard, less expenses, live out my old age in the heat. Then the bottom fell out of the market and left me with an overpriced house. I'd have to put money into it to sell it. How can that be possible? Where did I go wrong in my planning?
Then I pause and quit my moaning and groaning. I still have my home, my treasures, my family. I still have a roof over my head and my heart breaks for those who have lost theirs. I promise to give thanks for my blessings every day. To be grateful for what I have and to give back to those who are suffering in these hard times, times made even harder by Mother Nature.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
The itchies!
I'm not sure if this is seasonal but I've had the itchies to take a writing course, go back to school, or learn something. Anything. Perhaps it's because I'm between stories, putting the polish on a couple of projects but haven't started anything new in a while. Hmmm?
Anyway I've been trolling college and writing websites looking at classes available. I missed the fall sign up for most but I found two that start in November. One is right here in the Coachella Valley, the other is online. One is with someone I've never heard of, the other is taught by a romance writer of fifty novels. One is super expensive, one not too bad. So, I've continued to procrastinate. Do I really NEED another course? Do I really NEED to spend the money? By the time I make up my mind registration will be closed. Ha ha.
In years past I've treated myself to a fall conference, or writer's retreat, and it has always jump-started my next book, or improved on the one I was currently writing. With the economy unstable I'm hesitant to commit to anything too expensive. Last week I had a brainwave, figured I could just take out all of the self help writing books that line my bookshelves and give myself a refresher course. There are many books I haven't re-read in four or five years.
I started writing in 2000 and gradually added books to my library, starting out with simple material and moving up to tougher subjects like those in Robert McKee's, Story. It's amazing what this refresher has done for me. I started out with Deb Dixon's, Goals, Motivation and Conflict, then, Writing the Fiction Synopsis, by Pam McCutcheon, then What Would Your Character Do? by Eric and Ann Maisel. Finally I read Self-Editing for Fiction Writers, by Renni Browne and Dave King. Today I tinkered with my current story and it is enlightening how much my little at-home schooling has helped. Soon, very soon, I'll start a new project and think I'll be far better equipped for having taken this time out to refresh and refill the well.
Anyway I've been trolling college and writing websites looking at classes available. I missed the fall sign up for most but I found two that start in November. One is right here in the Coachella Valley, the other is online. One is with someone I've never heard of, the other is taught by a romance writer of fifty novels. One is super expensive, one not too bad. So, I've continued to procrastinate. Do I really NEED another course? Do I really NEED to spend the money? By the time I make up my mind registration will be closed. Ha ha.
In years past I've treated myself to a fall conference, or writer's retreat, and it has always jump-started my next book, or improved on the one I was currently writing. With the economy unstable I'm hesitant to commit to anything too expensive. Last week I had a brainwave, figured I could just take out all of the self help writing books that line my bookshelves and give myself a refresher course. There are many books I haven't re-read in four or five years.
I started writing in 2000 and gradually added books to my library, starting out with simple material and moving up to tougher subjects like those in Robert McKee's, Story. It's amazing what this refresher has done for me. I started out with Deb Dixon's, Goals, Motivation and Conflict, then, Writing the Fiction Synopsis, by Pam McCutcheon, then What Would Your Character Do? by Eric and Ann Maisel. Finally I read Self-Editing for Fiction Writers, by Renni Browne and Dave King. Today I tinkered with my current story and it is enlightening how much my little at-home schooling has helped. Soon, very soon, I'll start a new project and think I'll be far better equipped for having taken this time out to refresh and refill the well.
Sunday, October 12, 2008
My birthday weeks!
This year it seems my birthday celebrations lasted for two weeks. Many friends who knew my children were visiting this weekend, celebrated with me last week. And as we are all into being conservative and watching our budgets, we chose simple ways in which to celebrate. I had a wonderful time and it was, I think, more meaningful this year than in earlier years where I celebrated without a care in the world.
My Aussie family began their calls and emails a few days in advance of my special day. This was one of those big "O" birthdays (or is that big OH birthday?) so everyone but me thought of it as super special. I figure at my age it doesn't matter anymore. It's only a number. I have my health and energy, I have my kids, my family, my dog ... what else does a gal need? Well, maybe a healthy economy for starters, but that's another whole story.
The kids took me to lunch at The Mission Inn, in Riverside, yesterday and surprised me with a gorgeous necklace. It was tasteful and something I'll treasure for years to come. The meal was wonderful, the company worth more than anything, and the waiter took a photo of the three of us and presented it to me in a little folder. What a great thought. I have it on my computer desk and although I look like I've been spooked the kids are gorgeous. The Inn is fabulous, it reminds me of Europe. I love the sound of the mission bells pealing on the hour. Love the decorative black wrought iron balconies that open out to the patio dining. Love the stained glass windows, the beautiful antiques throughout the hotel.
My daughter had called me a few weeks ago and we had a conversation about surprise parties. I told her firmly how much I hate them. It was quite a discussion. Anyway she confessed yesterday, they'd thought of giving me one, and she'd started to look into how to connect me and my friends when many of us are separated by great distance. Whew! Thank heavens we'd had that discussion. I sure dodged a bullet. So for those of you who live far afield, thanks for your help in this matter. Grin. It is very much appreciated.
I've done no real writing since the beginning of October. I'll open a manuscript folder and do a little polish here and there, but that's all. I'm about to write a new story though, and had put off starting until after the birthday. Once I begin, I know I'll slip off the radar for a bit. I always do. It's cooler now in the desert, thank goodness as our summer was long this year. Within a week I'll take the laptop outside and do several hours of writing in the cool morning air, I can feel the itch. It's a good feeling.
My Aussie family began their calls and emails a few days in advance of my special day. This was one of those big "O" birthdays (or is that big OH birthday?) so everyone but me thought of it as super special. I figure at my age it doesn't matter anymore. It's only a number. I have my health and energy, I have my kids, my family, my dog ... what else does a gal need? Well, maybe a healthy economy for starters, but that's another whole story.
The kids took me to lunch at The Mission Inn, in Riverside, yesterday and surprised me with a gorgeous necklace. It was tasteful and something I'll treasure for years to come. The meal was wonderful, the company worth more than anything, and the waiter took a photo of the three of us and presented it to me in a little folder. What a great thought. I have it on my computer desk and although I look like I've been spooked the kids are gorgeous. The Inn is fabulous, it reminds me of Europe. I love the sound of the mission bells pealing on the hour. Love the decorative black wrought iron balconies that open out to the patio dining. Love the stained glass windows, the beautiful antiques throughout the hotel.
My daughter had called me a few weeks ago and we had a conversation about surprise parties. I told her firmly how much I hate them. It was quite a discussion. Anyway she confessed yesterday, they'd thought of giving me one, and she'd started to look into how to connect me and my friends when many of us are separated by great distance. Whew! Thank heavens we'd had that discussion. I sure dodged a bullet. So for those of you who live far afield, thanks for your help in this matter. Grin. It is very much appreciated.
I've done no real writing since the beginning of October. I'll open a manuscript folder and do a little polish here and there, but that's all. I'm about to write a new story though, and had put off starting until after the birthday. Once I begin, I know I'll slip off the radar for a bit. I always do. It's cooler now in the desert, thank goodness as our summer was long this year. Within a week I'll take the laptop outside and do several hours of writing in the cool morning air, I can feel the itch. It's a good feeling.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
This Crazy World in Which We Live
Times are hard for all of us right now. With trouble on Wall Street, unhappiness on Main Street, confusion everywhere, I've decided to stay home, do yoga, write, and watch my new goldfish swim in their aquarium. I'm all for maintaining sanity.
I'm not advocating being an ostrich and sticking one's head in the sand, we all have to do our bit for the economy and the state of the world. But let's not go crazy and worry ourselves sick, okay? I figure if Bush, Obama, and McCain can keep their heads while all about them are losing theirs ... all I can say is, I'm glad that I'm me and not one of them. Yikes!
I figure stay home and use less gas in my car, read more, learn more about what is happening in the world, make wise choices. I don't have a lot of investments but what I do have are diversified. They'll rebound ... eventually. My house is worth less than what I paid for it three years ago. If I sit tight it will gradually rise in value. Meanwhile I'm paying down the mortgage and increasing my equity.
I've become a smarter shopper. Gone are the times of buying whatever I wanted whenever I wanted it. Now I weigh the pros and cons. The same goes for travel. The same goes for dining out and entertainment. Europe isn't going anywhere. I can wait five years. I'm enjoying trimming my budget of expenses that are not necessary to my overall happiness. It makes me proud whenever I cut something. And, I'm feeding the pig. A percentage of my money is saved every month. It's not huge but it's something.
On the plus side of our crazy world, I'm reading more. Every afternoon I finish my writing, grab a diet coke, and sit in the recliner. Two hours of reading takes me to a place I knew growing up in a big noisy family. Hey, living with six siblings is no picnic, and it fills the need for adventure, romance, excitement, suspense, whatever it is I'm craving. I've always been a reader, just haven't given it the dedication I now do. Just finished John Grisham's novel, Playing for Pizza. It transported me to a small town in Italy, walking those streets, eating those foods, hearing the local language. And, in addition, I learned more about American football than I'd ever known.
Check it out. It's highly entertaining.
I'm not advocating being an ostrich and sticking one's head in the sand, we all have to do our bit for the economy and the state of the world. But let's not go crazy and worry ourselves sick, okay? I figure if Bush, Obama, and McCain can keep their heads while all about them are losing theirs ... all I can say is, I'm glad that I'm me and not one of them. Yikes!
I figure stay home and use less gas in my car, read more, learn more about what is happening in the world, make wise choices. I don't have a lot of investments but what I do have are diversified. They'll rebound ... eventually. My house is worth less than what I paid for it three years ago. If I sit tight it will gradually rise in value. Meanwhile I'm paying down the mortgage and increasing my equity.
I've become a smarter shopper. Gone are the times of buying whatever I wanted whenever I wanted it. Now I weigh the pros and cons. The same goes for travel. The same goes for dining out and entertainment. Europe isn't going anywhere. I can wait five years. I'm enjoying trimming my budget of expenses that are not necessary to my overall happiness. It makes me proud whenever I cut something. And, I'm feeding the pig. A percentage of my money is saved every month. It's not huge but it's something.
On the plus side of our crazy world, I'm reading more. Every afternoon I finish my writing, grab a diet coke, and sit in the recliner. Two hours of reading takes me to a place I knew growing up in a big noisy family. Hey, living with six siblings is no picnic,
Check it out. It's highly entertaining.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
My Pool Buddy
Since my knee surgery I've been doing the exercises suggested by the physiotherapist every day, in the pool. Part of that is because it's still so awfully hot here, and part is because I'm convincing myself that I'm getting twice the workout for my effort.
Anyway, I walk the dog, come home, take a quick shower and put on my bathing suit and by eight thirty I'm in the pool. I usually swim a few laps to warm up first. Several of the exercises require different water levels. Like when I stretch out my hamstrings I need to be at about the four feet level. I grip the edge of the coping and stretch for fifteen seconds then alternate legs and repeat several times (who wants one toned skinny leg and one chubby one, eh?) By the time I'm doing this stretch it's close to nine.
In the last week I've noticed that I'm not alone. A little beige-colored spider with long golden legs comes to join me. The first day I met my pool buddy he/she was floating in the water but I could see the spider was still alive. I scooped it up and threw the handful of water (and spider) onto the deck. Spidey, as I've come to name it, got up on those lovely long legs and ran away toward the shrubs that surround the outside of the wrought iron fence. I felt quite good about that. I'd saved a life.
I decided Spidey was a girl because of the legs. Yesterday she came down the deck at almost nine o'clock and scooted over the coping and ran up and down the tile. I wondered if she was trying to get a drink of water, but before I could decide, and because I was making small waves, she was washed off the side and into the pool. I scooped her up and we went throught the same procedure as the day before. I did lecture her a bit about being more careful, however, today, at exactly the same time, she returned and again fell into the pool. I tossed her back out. She ran home in the same direction.
Only thing is, I'm not so sure anymore that Spidey is a girl. The actions are very masculine. Keep risking one's life to ride the waves? Yeah, gotta be a dude. I can't decide if I should leave Spidey to his adventures or keep on saving him from drowning, I figure if Spidey is indeed a guy, he goes back to the Spider Bar and tells his buddies:
"Yeah, so there I am riding the waves, and some human gets in and splashes around, nearly kills me. Then there's a tidal wave and I get washed onto the deck. It was thrilling I tell ya'. Same thing happened yesterday, and again today. I'm going to try it again tomorrow. Maybe I'll even go to the deep end."
If Spidey's a girl she goes to the nest and says, "Darn another day without a bath. That human has got to go. She keeps scooping me up and throwing me onto the deck. I'm going back tomorrow and if she tries it again, I swear, I'll bite her."
Anyway, I walk the dog, come home, take a quick shower and put on my bathing suit and by eight thirty I'm in the pool. I usually swim a few laps to warm up first. Several of the exercises require different water levels. Like when I stretch out my hamstrings I need to be at about the four feet level. I grip the edge of the coping and stretch for fifteen seconds then alternate legs and repeat several times (who wants one toned skinny leg and one chubby one, eh?) By the time I'm doing this stretch it's close to nine.
In the last week I've noticed that I'm not alone. A little beige-colored spider with long golden legs comes to join me. The first day I met my pool buddy he/she was floating in the water but I could see the spider was still alive. I scooped it up and threw the handful of water (and spider) onto the deck. Spidey, as I've come to name it, got up on those lovely long legs and ran away toward the shrubs that surround the outside of the wrought iron fence. I felt quite good about that. I'd saved a life.
I decided Spidey was a girl because of the legs. Yesterday she came down the deck at almost nine o'clock and scooted over the coping and ran up and down the tile. I wondered if she was trying to get a drink of water, but before I could decide, and because I was making small waves, she was washed off the side and into the pool. I scooped her up and we went throught the same procedure as the day before. I did lecture her a bit about being more careful, however, today, at exactly the same time, she returned and again fell into the pool. I tossed her back out. She ran home in the same direction.
Only thing is, I'm not so sure anymore that Spidey is a girl. The actions are very masculine. Keep risking one's life to ride the waves? Yeah, gotta be a dude. I can't decide if I should leave Spidey to his adventures or keep on saving him from drowning, I figure if Spidey is indeed a guy, he goes back to the Spider Bar and tells his buddies:
"Yeah, so there I am riding the waves, and some human gets in and splashes around, nearly kills me. Then there's a tidal wave and I get washed onto the deck. It was thrilling I tell ya'. Same thing happened yesterday, and again today. I'm going to try it again tomorrow. Maybe I'll even go to the deep end."
If Spidey's a girl she goes to the nest and says, "Darn another day without a bath. That human has got to go. She keeps scooping me up and throwing me onto the deck. I'm going back tomorrow and if she tries it again, I swear, I'll bite her."
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