Finished the final project for my memoir class; damn it’s good. Am I being cocky, hell ya. It feels right.
Like Lawrence Block said, “make every word count”. I did.
It’s a wonderful feeling when I write something I am truly proud of. That is not to say I’m not proud of everything, I am, but truly, deeply, (using every ly word I can think of) satisfied, elevates it in my mind and heart.
It’s one of those pieces…even if no one likes it…I do…even if no one wants to publish it…so what…even if I were never able to write again…it would be a piece-perfect as a last.
A project of love; a near flawless child.
Friday, October 14, 2011
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
Before and After
I am tackling another full draft rewrite, twelve or thirteen I think, I’ve lost count. After over a month away from my novel I am able to read best, as a reader, rather than a writer.
That I thought it was READY is kind of embarrassing because I am making it better.
I am finding, changing, adding and subtracting but, Gee, I still really like it. The characters are like family members…ah…better than some family members, more interesting anyway. It’s like visiting an old friend who like me, loves a before and after make-over.
Now the dress fits better, the hair is perfect and the shoes are comfortable.
I’m waiting for the limo. Actually, I’ll call for it when I’m done.
I am hoping, getting ready for the big dance, isn’t all my date gets to do.
That I thought it was READY is kind of embarrassing because I am making it better.
I am finding, changing, adding and subtracting but, Gee, I still really like it. The characters are like family members…ah…better than some family members, more interesting anyway. It’s like visiting an old friend who like me, loves a before and after make-over.
Now the dress fits better, the hair is perfect and the shoes are comfortable.
I’m waiting for the limo. Actually, I’ll call for it when I’m done.
I am hoping, getting ready for the big dance, isn’t all my date gets to do.
Sunday, October 9, 2011
Life in a Year
Tomorrow my first born is twenty-seven years old. How the hell did this happen so fast?
It seems like a year ago she graduated from college and six months ago she graduated high school.
Only a few months back she got her driver’s license and a month ago she rode the big yellow bus for the first time.
Last week she mastered riding a two wheeler and few days ago she had just learned to walk.
Yesterday she was spitting up on my shoulder.
Minutes ago I told my husband, with fear and trepidation, “Honey, I’m pregnant, again. This one we will not lose. This one will make it…and she did. This one brought us out of darkness and continues to, each and every day of her life.
Our first born will be married soon and it is within me to know, because it is her dream, a life in a year will begin for her in a wink.
Happy birthday sweetheart…you were born seconds ago.
It seems like a year ago she graduated from college and six months ago she graduated high school.
Only a few months back she got her driver’s license and a month ago she rode the big yellow bus for the first time.
Last week she mastered riding a two wheeler and few days ago she had just learned to walk.
Yesterday she was spitting up on my shoulder.
Minutes ago I told my husband, with fear and trepidation, “Honey, I’m pregnant, again. This one we will not lose. This one will make it…and she did. This one brought us out of darkness and continues to, each and every day of her life.
Our first born will be married soon and it is within me to know, because it is her dream, a life in a year will begin for her in a wink.
Happy birthday sweetheart…you were born seconds ago.
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
Another October Birthday
I am married to an old man.
Today is a monumental birthday for my husband, one which should be celebrated as:
“Wow, you old bastard, you made it over another hill.”
He’s lived two years beyond the’ age of tragedy’ of his own father. Though he has more than two decades to actually outlive what his dad became, it is my prayer that these years will be filled with the cognition of a wonderful life.
How old is my husband? I can’t say because to state the number reveals how old I am.
Poor guy he’s married to an older woman.
Today is a monumental birthday for my husband, one which should be celebrated as:
“Wow, you old bastard, you made it over another hill.”
He’s lived two years beyond the’ age of tragedy’ of his own father. Though he has more than two decades to actually outlive what his dad became, it is my prayer that these years will be filled with the cognition of a wonderful life.
How old is my husband? I can’t say because to state the number reveals how old I am.
Poor guy he’s married to an older woman.
Monday, October 3, 2011
How Old Am I ?
Went to a funeral yesterday; the old guy who passed away was eighty-nine or ninety, not sure. Does it matter what your actual age is when the numbers get that high?
As a baby…oh sonny is 8 days old.
The baby 18 months.
Guess what, little man is 3 years old.
Our teenager is sweet 16.
Hey the kid is twenty-something.
Then its:
I’m over 30, or approaching 40 and Jesus Christ when did 50 hit?
OMG I’m going to be 60.
Wait a minute, am I 64 or 65, and when does Social Security kick in?
My ass hurts so I must be …what the hell am I 71, 72 does it matter?
Hey, she’s in her 80’s, he’s 90 I think.
Wow …can you imagine what he has seen in his 100 years. He looks like crap, can’t see, can’t hear, can’t shit, but WOW he’s over a hundred.
After living as long as I have, I have come to the conclusion that it’s not long enough, yet. I am not ready for a dirt nap.
If I die today this post will go viral and I will be a famous ‘dead’ blogger.
As a baby…oh sonny is 8 days old.
The baby 18 months.
Guess what, little man is 3 years old.
Our teenager is sweet 16.
Hey the kid is twenty-something.
Then its:
I’m over 30, or approaching 40 and Jesus Christ when did 50 hit?
OMG I’m going to be 60.
Wait a minute, am I 64 or 65, and when does Social Security kick in?
My ass hurts so I must be …what the hell am I 71, 72 does it matter?
Hey, she’s in her 80’s, he’s 90 I think.
Wow …can you imagine what he has seen in his 100 years. He looks like crap, can’t see, can’t hear, can’t shit, but WOW he’s over a hundred.
After living as long as I have, I have come to the conclusion that it’s not long enough, yet. I am not ready for a dirt nap.
If I die today this post will go viral and I will be a famous ‘dead’ blogger.
Sunday, September 25, 2011
The negative aspects of Negativity
Bookends did a blog Friday about negativity; got me thinking.
I once worked with a guy who was the most negative human being I have ever met, besides my heartbroken self years ago, when I had to buy food with rolls of pennies, anyway, every time this guy spouted even the slightest negative remark it was as if he had sprayed all of us with a contagion.
It was easy to understand why he was so down on everything…I mean the guy was miserable, overweight, unhealthy, not particularly attractive, and he was rotting from loneliness. BUT this man’s childhood was one of great opportunity. His family owned a huge sailboat and he and his siblings spent their entire childhoods traveling around the world on that boat. He had stories to tell about Africa, the Panama Canal and almost every continent and shoreline there is.From that childhood he emerged, not as a well-traveled and world educated young man, but as a miserable whiner who sought to take all who were around him into the depths of his own despair.
After a particularly difficult day at work, which he colored as unbearable, I explained to him that…
WE LIVE THE LIVES WE WANT TO LIVE.
If we are miserable it is because we want to be miserable. Lonely, we are choosing it. Happy, friendly, positive people are happy, friendly and positive because that’s how they want to live their lives. He said if he was choosing the life he was leading, than he must have been crazy…duh…but actually, not crazy just stuck.
After a couple of years he left. Is he happy now, no not really, am I and my co-workers, yes, most of the time? What I learned by observing negativity is to not get caught up in its whirlpool of dragging observers under.
I am living the life I want to live, it’s not bad. Could it be better, sure, could it be worse, hell yes.
Well, with a smile on my face I will go back to rolling coins again, quarters this time. I need to put gas in my twelve year old minivan. I got wheels, I got gas money. Life is pretty damn good.
I once worked with a guy who was the most negative human being I have ever met, besides my heartbroken self years ago, when I had to buy food with rolls of pennies, anyway, every time this guy spouted even the slightest negative remark it was as if he had sprayed all of us with a contagion.
It was easy to understand why he was so down on everything…I mean the guy was miserable, overweight, unhealthy, not particularly attractive, and he was rotting from loneliness. BUT this man’s childhood was one of great opportunity. His family owned a huge sailboat and he and his siblings spent their entire childhoods traveling around the world on that boat. He had stories to tell about Africa, the Panama Canal and almost every continent and shoreline there is.From that childhood he emerged, not as a well-traveled and world educated young man, but as a miserable whiner who sought to take all who were around him into the depths of his own despair.
After a particularly difficult day at work, which he colored as unbearable, I explained to him that…
WE LIVE THE LIVES WE WANT TO LIVE.
If we are miserable it is because we want to be miserable. Lonely, we are choosing it. Happy, friendly, positive people are happy, friendly and positive because that’s how they want to live their lives. He said if he was choosing the life he was leading, than he must have been crazy…duh…but actually, not crazy just stuck.
After a couple of years he left. Is he happy now, no not really, am I and my co-workers, yes, most of the time? What I learned by observing negativity is to not get caught up in its whirlpool of dragging observers under.
I am living the life I want to live, it’s not bad. Could it be better, sure, could it be worse, hell yes.
Well, with a smile on my face I will go back to rolling coins again, quarters this time. I need to put gas in my twelve year old minivan. I got wheels, I got gas money. Life is pretty damn good.
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
The Memoir
Am in the midst of a class on memoir writing.
Revisiting GIFTS IN WHITE PAPER, my memoir about the one hundred and twenty-five love letters I found that my parents wrote to each other while separated by WWII.
My pitch: I met my parents for the first time after they died. I'm dipping my heart back in. What a wonderful story theirs is to tell.
I'm about half way there, not ready to exhale yet, and I'm getting help from two of the best writers and editors that exist. Feels good to back to first person.
Revisiting GIFTS IN WHITE PAPER, my memoir about the one hundred and twenty-five love letters I found that my parents wrote to each other while separated by WWII.
My pitch: I met my parents for the first time after they died. I'm dipping my heart back in. What a wonderful story theirs is to tell.
I'm about half way there, not ready to exhale yet, and I'm getting help from two of the best writers and editors that exist. Feels good to back to first person.
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