Showing posts from February, 2010

Radiate Me

Spring is just around the corner, I can feel it. Although, I'm guessing we have a few more snowstorms, ice, down-to-freezing weather to get through before any of that sweet Chinook comes sauntering in. I was born in the spring, and so have always felt akin to the flowers poking through the hard, frozen shavings of clay. There's something in us that must, despite. Just to feel the sun, that beautiful platinum orb, radiating over our skin.
It's been too long.
I still have that cold, and a bit of laryngitis, which isn't that great as a friend asked me to go audition for Theater in the Park today. I'd love to be in Jesus Christ Superstar—we'll see what happens. I hope I break a leg or knock someone dead, or something like that. Theater is so violent.

Beautiful Ferona

I was wondering lately if The Muse—that beautiful magical woman who fills our heads with flowey stuff—is really just pent up sexual tension? It comes, it goes. It's fantastic, it's heartbreaking.
Or maybe—maybe, she's a lost gypsy walking door to door, and once in a while one of us answers, pen in hand.
Maybe she's the sun coming out through the clouds, reaching in through our eyelids into the synaptic pulses of desire. Maybe she's the planets, circling in furious patterns; almost crashing, almost melding. Sparkling, distant phantom ideals.
I call mine Ferona, and feed her chocolate.


Ewwwww, I'm sick. I hate being sick. Just your average cold, but still . . . I hate it. Yesterday, upon feeling it coming on, I took a few too many chewable vitamin Cs, and my stomach hurt like heck last night. Apparently, you can take too many of those things. Wish I'd known.
But anyway, I'm still up early and ready to write. I hope everyone has a good writing day, with tons of blessings thrown in. Let the sun shine!

Make 'Em Cry

Again, while doing rewrites, I've been struck by all the revelations coming my way. The most important being the following: I didn't reach deep enough the first time. I'd written on a surface level, setting scenes, relaying information that I thought had meaning, but it just hadn't sunk in past that outer layer. I know this, because last week when I was writing the new chapters, there were several stop and cry moments for something my character was going through. It wasn't about information or careful stringing of words anymore, it was deep.
So, I started to think about how as writers we really need to remember to give everything we have to our work. We need to figure out what our characters are most afraid to risk in their life, and then create that risk. We also need to remember that our characters have bodies—bodies which react in certain ways to every event they face. This tip came to me from a friend, and it has been quite effective in relating real fe…

Music, life, words and chocolate

I've been busy working on my WIP this week, which is a good thing, but I always feel so bad when I neglect writing a blog, or reading someone else's blog. Can't help the whole guilt thing, I'm a mom.
There's been a lot of revelations revisiting my first book. Having written half of the second, and part of the third, I can tell you the characters are becoming so much more real to me. I understand them completely now; their desires, their quirks. I feel blessed, and stressed but most of all, excited! This rocks! I never want to do things the easy way—ever. The deeper, more difficult road please, so I can learn and grow.
In the background plays Ventura Highway, by America. His words spur my words, his thoughts my thoughts. Then I move to Joni Mitchell and let her play with my brain.
I'm taking a little break today to clean and make cookies, my real-life addiction. Chocolate, chocolate, gooey chocolate.


Well, by now everyone knows how much I love old cars, especially anything from the 1970's. There's just something cool about that long front-end that has me in love. There's a lot of character in those old muscle cars, and I would do just about anything to get myself a ride in one. Okay, not anything. I have a little dignity left inside that I've been saving for important stuff. Never know when you're gonna need that last bit.
But, I started thinking how it is I could love these old cars with their obtuse shapes, and yet every time I look in the mirror I hate what's looking back at me. My face is too long, nose too big, etc, etc. But I'm just a vehicle, just like any of these cars I love. My soul is right behind the wheel of an unusually shaped, sometimes beautiful, sometimes not-so-beautiful human. I'm tall, have long hair, funky, probably too skinny—though it never feels that way. Why shouldn't I allow myself to love this vehicle, just …


While doing research for my second book, I called and asked my mom what it was like to live in the 1950's. She said it was a happy time, people were kind to each other, money had started to flow again after the ration days of WWII. She mentioned that everyone went out and bought a new car and TV set, repeating again that it was the prefect time to be alive. I commented how it wasn't exactly a perfect time—segregation was still around. She replied, "Yes, but we were working on that."
After our talk, I looked up some old magazine ads—which I spoke of in the last blog. What I enjoy most about these things are that they're like little time-capsules: our wants, dislikes, greed, and variety of greed. A simple ad about hotdogs can be about something else completely, just by how someone is holding the product and where and what clothes they're wearing. We're always looking in a mirror, but it's very distorted. We become what we see, and then the mirror changes…

It's Your Lucky Smoke-Filled Blog Day

I love to read through old magazines, probably because I always wanted to time travel, and finding real artifacts of people's daily life helps me in that quest. I can tell you one thing: people liked to drink hard liquor. Every other page is a whiskey ad! Coming up second are cigarettes, with Lucky Strike or Tarleton appearing every other page. "I'd rather fight than switch!" shouts the advert, showing a man with black greased eye and cigarette dangling between sly grinning lips.
I think we an all agree that drinking and smoking aren't the best choices for good health, but I wonder how far society has been dragged away from its natural tendencies. Aren't we supposed to have a couple of vices to keep life going smooth? The fact is, people are still smoking and drinking, but now we try to act as if there aren't liquor stores every five feet and cigarette butts in our gutters. It's still happening, but we no longer embrace it—we shun it and thos…


I was just listening to an old interview with John Lennon, and was struck by how ahead of the times he was. He talked of spirituality and positive thinking, voicing a dislike for the way people put down all the hard work of the sixties—even going on to mock them in a pathetic voice, "It didn't work! Nobody listened to us and now we're just going to give up and get high!" He was really looking ahead to the eighties: how we were going to change many of the social ills and break down the walls of Communism and Racism, and he didn't have time to listen to the naysayers.
Of course, he was robbed of that chance. I think people took his death in two ways, much as they did back when Martin Luther King Jr. was murdered. Some of the population saw it as a strike from unseen forces: that the days of the poet were over, time to go back to work and stop dreaming, or in some cases, time to strike back. Another sect of people saw it as a time to celebrate what can never be…

Gentle Man

Someone told me a while back that it's naive to think any man can be a gentleman, to which I stood and stared in wide-eyed disbelief. It was news to me! Perhaps I've read too many romance novels, but I actually hold onto the belief that there are still some men out there who are good at heart and not always after a roll in the hay-hay-hay-ooh-baby.
Men used to do nice things for us, but then we told them to stop. What in the hell were we thinking?????!!!!!! Why was it such a bad thing to let men show affection and care in those sweet and simple ways? Did it really objectify us? I mean, we also burned the bra in revolt, but it came back in a few years due to gravitational necessity. Oh I see . . . we don't NEED men. That's right. The fact is, they were doing all those nice things just to get sex anyway. I get it now.
But . . . there has to be a few men out there who want to be kind, who like to protect us because they love us, not because of any end result. Perh…

Beta to the Max

It was probably about 1983 when Mom came home with a great bargain: a brand new Betamax video player! The sweet deal came complete with free membership to Popingo's Video Shop, fifty discounted rentals and a complimentary bag of microwave popcorn. The only problem? Apparently Betas were being phased out for VCRs, and all the videos on the shelf were made to play in that type of machine exclusively. Bummer.
Every weekend Mom sent us through the store with a mission of finding tapes. We'd look high, we'd look low, we'd lift boxes to see if anything was hidden behind. Our feet made a noticeable path to the rental counter--it was like a game. "Do you have this in Beta?" "Nope." "Do you have this in Beta?" "Nope." "Do you have this in Beta?" Pause. Clerk looks on old MS-DOS computer. "Nope."
That's when we learned the art of enjoying secondhand film. Why see the hit movies when you can watch a str…

The Game of Life

I want to speak about Christopher Reeve again, as I've thought a lot about his life and the parallels of his injury to the role he played. He scoffed the idea that he was a real-life Superman, but we would all agree he truly was, in every way a person could be. Of course, every advance he made was earned with immense pain and minute to minute struggle, so to him it wasn't a great, magical thing. It was work. It's all how you look at it: most of us saw the overall result--the end result, but he experienced it as it unfolded.
In life, we often get caught up in what might be rewarded in the long run, forgetting it's what we do now that creates the end result. We're reaching with outstretched hands, skipping over the path. I think of someone playing Monopoly without stopping at any spaces. That person reaches the end faster, but without having played the game, they arrive empty. It is the little things we do every day that makes us winners.
When Christopher Ree…