A New Hope

            Last night I did something I'd never done before -- I watched a video on Facebook.  And I got quite an eyeful!

            In case you haven't seen it, it's a guy - early to mid forties; an ordinary guy, in jeans and a cowboy hat.  He's calm and well-spoken, and is sitting on a chair in the middle of a large yard holding a paper.  He then says that this is his response to his fifteen-year-old daughter, Hannah's tirade of her parents and how they treat her.  Apparently, she'd already been grounded for three months for a similar incident.   So this time she'd post this 'secretly' (or whatever the term is - I think it's clear I am not a Face book aficionado), under the foolish belief that she was slicker than her father - the IT specialist.      

            He reads her letter and responds to her accusations and then pulls out a forty-five automatic and empties the clip into the laptop, lying on the ground near him.  He ends by telling her that she'll have another laptop when she buys herself one. 

            Now, I admit it - I was pleasantly shocked.  Finally, a parent taking some control back.   At last, an adult drew his imaginary line in the sand.  After this video ended, there were video comments made by viewers.  However, here's what got me - the four or five I watched were all teenagers; and every one of them was behind the dad's actions.   They applauded his showing this ungrateful child the facts of life.

            Perhaps there is hope for the up-and-coming generation after all.

Hurry Up And Wait...

            Well, although it doesn't seem possible, it's the last day of January already.  I've finished the pages of questions about the cover art, my bio and even taken a picture that didn't make me wince.  I've finished reformatting the manuscript; managing to weed out some passive voice in the process.  And so now, I am to sit and wait for my editor to contact me. 

            Have I mentioned I'm not a good waiter?  Don't get me wrong.  I try. I do my best to be patient.  I just don't succeed very well.  I get anxious and antsy.  Then, I'm afraid, I get cranky.  It's probably a good thing that a writer leads a lonely life, or I'd have alienated the elite few friends I have.

            I suppose I could start reformatting the second book in the series.  Or, I could work on finishing the fifth (and, I believe, the final) book in the series. Of course, I'm not sure if I want to work on that one, until I know there won't be many significant changes to my on-going plot line.

            I could work on a new idea I had last November; or work on polishing and revising Lizzie Borden novel. The thing is they both require research.  

            Now, I have all the Lizzie Borden research done.  However, the dogs have been entertaining themselves all winter by running through the pile of books and the basket of printed information.  This means, I'll have to allocate the dining room table for the research; after I've spent at least a day re-organizing the papers.

            The alternative would be researching Ante-Bellum and Creole plantation life.  I don't mind research and I've already starting pulling information together.  I spent several days 'blending' a number of actual plantation houses to create my 'Camellia Plantation' house. Then I sketched out the front view and the first floor.  I was working on the second-story floor plan of my mythical plantation home; and was already thinking about doing furniture plans, as well, when I got the reformatting info and cover art questionnaire.  

            I'd also started reading some of the vintage fashion magazines for clothing ideas. Yeah, I know.  I can get a bit obsessive.  However, in my own defense, I did stop myself from making paper dolls of the female characters and their wardrobes.

            And, I had the colored pencils out and everything…

           

Are You Missing Something, Or Am I?

            When Windows '95 and home computers came out, I was right there. I embraced the computer, the internet and email. It was great to be able to research all sorts of things - to see all kinds of things - all over the world. But there's too much 'social networking' going on now.

            I had a cell phone early on. And, I think that might be part of the problem.  I saw the cell phone as a convenience - for emergency situations. It was for calling, AAA or the police. It was to keep someone from worrying if I'm running really late. Not to chatter away with anyone willing to listen.

            Okay, I admit it, there were a few times when I threw caution to the wind and ordered Chinese food when I left the bank or hair dressers or vets, so I could just pick it up on the fly. But that was it!

            There was a time when I was going through the divorce and traveling a lot. The cell phone kept me in touch with people I wanted to talk to - and I loved that. However, it also kept me within reach of people (read my 'not-soon-enough-to-be-ex' husband here) I didn't particularly want to talk to.

            Now people 'Instant Message' and update their status on 'facebook' the entire time they're suppose to be working on the computer. And, they're phoning, texting and tweet people the rest of the time. When do they think, create and dream?

            There are times (many times) when we need to retreat into that personal bathysphere of ourselves: to contemplate an idea, expand a dream or just regroup. Never forget that.

            The bottom line is if you have to always be communicating with other people, checking on how they feel about things and what they think, you've got a problem. If you can't stand to be alone, there's something fundamentally wrong with you - with how YOU see yourself.

            Spend some time communicating with yourself. Learn how to like yourself - just as you are. And the great thing is you don't need high-speed internet or a good cellular plan - all you  need is a quiet place and you!

Letting Go of the Past

            Another year has almost run its course, and a new year fast approaches.  It seems that each year we look back and remember both the bad and good; and think about the opportunities yet to present themselves.

            But this year is different.  My new opportunity came as a Christmas email – after a decade of work and years of sending out submissions – my book series is going to be published.

Friends I tell are happy for me.  My mother is proud of me.  And me – I'm scared stiff!

Since I was a child, I've been teased about my planning and perpetual list making.  I am not a 'spur of the moment' person.  For me, half of the vacation is the preplanning. 

And now I have pages of questions to answer: about me, my characters, the first book and how I think the cover should look.  Now, while I'm perfectly able to answer questions about me; and I my characters and stories are a part of me – I am ashamed to admit that I never thought about what my book cover(s) should look like.

I wouldn't say I didn't believe in myself – of the quality of my work, or that a publisher would see merit in it.  However, I will admit that after four or five years of sending out queries and receiving the same, short rejection – sometimes after months of waiting – I hadn't spent much time imaging a book cover.  And now I do not have the luxury of mapping out the future.

So, as the year passes, my one New Year's resolution shall be to try to not spend so much time and effort in the planning of life's adventures and more in the living them.

Let's Do The Time Warp Again . . .

Time is a funny thing.  Remember when you were a kid?  New Year’s to Christmas seemed like an eternity.  Yet, somehow summer vacation, smack in the middle of that desert of time, skipped by in a flash.  Ah, the conundrums of life.

I had found how quickly college whizzed by disturbing, but then I graduated and ‘life’ happened.  Planning a wedding, finding a job and setting up an apartment rushed, tsunami-like, over me, gave me little time to think.  And so it went.

Somewhere in my thirties, I think I did have a fleeting notion that time had somehow ‘sped up’.  But, back then, we didn’t even listen to ourselves.

My forties brought about an interesting paradigm – sickness, death and unhappiness.  Now time slowed to a crawl.  Sitting with my dying mother-in-law for half an hour – listening to her struggle to breath – was torture.  And the nights spent lying awake, crying because the love of your life doesn’t love you any more, was even more terribly slow.  Time had stopped.

As I approached fifty, I’d made some changes in my life.  I’d moved on and carved a new, happy life for myself.  And even though life – well, really death – invaded once again.  But it was all right.  Time had returned to normal.

But now, as I’m sliding towards sixty, time has sped up again.  I don’t feel ‘old’ – until I see some ‘60s rocker doing a commercial for reverse mortgages or funeral insurance.  Even then it’s more of a ‘How the hell did that happened ?’ thing.  Nevertheless, I felt the world speeding up beneath me. 

However, the fact is that it’s only our perception of passing time that’s quickened.  Time is a constant.  It is we who change.

Switching Gears

            It’s been about three weeks of insecurity, uncertainty and non-productiveness.  Well, that’s not altogether true.  I have been reorganizing my drawers and closet.  And, even bigger – I had the family for Thanksgiving; and we had a good day. 

            I’ve tried to work on the next book in the series, but only spent a lot of time playing a game of mahjong or FreeCell and then checking email every ten minutes.  Even I saw that couldn’t go on, so I began playing ‘real’ computer games that meant I couldn’t check without saving the game and closing out the program.  That worked for several days.  Okay, a week. 

            This morning I knew that I had to move on.  So, since working on the next book wasn’t working, I decided that I’d try expanding a short story into a new romance.  And, I’m getting some writing done.

            But I’m still checking the email too often.

Always Do The Right Thing - And Cry About It Later

            I’d never really thought of what it would be like to get an offer of a contract from a publisher.  Well, I had, but not like I thought about what my wedding would be like.  You know – the kind of thinking you do as you lie in bed at night. 

            So, when it arrived I felt as though I’d just entered ‘The Twilight Zone’.  To begin with, for some perverse reason known only to my server, it was relegated to ‘Junk Mail’.  I opened it expecting to see another ad to delete, and found instead – paradise.

            Or was it?

            The publisher – the one I’d described as my ‘last, best hope’ – said that she liked the series concept, I wrote well and was prepared to offer me a contract for the series, if . . .

            Come on, you knew there was an ‘if’, didn’t you? 

            The little ‘if’ concerned a plot element.  Now, I’m not an unyielding person.  I’m willing to work with editors, agents and publishers.  I'm a team player, or at least I want to be.  I'll do just about anything short of selling my soul to get my writing ‘published’.  

            The trouble is I pitched the book as the first in a series of four completed, with more planned.  The publisher was offering me a contract for that series.  And after all, she was only asking me to remove a seemingly non-essential plot point in the first novel.  However, it’s a plot point that affects Book Two considerably, and Books Three and Four are non-existent without it.

            I could have lied to her.  I could have told her that I’d do whatever she wants and signed her contract.  But then I wouldn’t have the series I pitched.

            Why is it that I keep trying to do the ‘right thing’ and it keeps coming back to haunt me?