Hearts

We sit and write. Compelled or obsessed? USA Today reviewed Joyce Carol Oates this week. I'd say she is an obsessive writer. The two page article featured her recent memoir, the death of her husband, her many life accomplishments. Interesting--she writes constantly. So much so her scribbles are archived. They're taken out in carloads from her Princeton office. What I found even more interesting is the fact she runs two miles each day. And she's in her 70's! Gotta give the ole gal credit for doing something most of us refuse to do. She's also very thin...running, genetics or the fact she writes so much and doesn't take time to eat? This blog is food for thought because in another USA Today report, the news on heart disease and women wasn't good. Heart disease is woman's number one killer but more of us shake with fear over breast cancer. Neither should be ignored. Can writers curb their fears with the Oates' plan...run two miles? The challenge is for writers to get off their arses, eat less and concentrate on how to best keep their hearts flowing. If nothing else, why not do it for love. Oates lost her husband of 48 years...her writing didn't slow down nor did her heart. She remarried within 13 months and published her memoirs...not bad for a 70 something gal who is obsessed with writing.

Safe Haven

Warm weather, the sun in your face...makes you think all is well with the world. After reading Nicholas Sparks book "Safe Haven" you might wonder, though, who is really safe. Someone who is supposed to be a great protector might turn out to be a hideous offender. Safe Haven is certainly a good read...what I call a beach read. It's set in the sunny south, Southport in the Carolinas. It is not for the weak at heart, though. It isn't a fun day at the beach. Abuse, neglect, arson, attempted murder. Perhaps this is Sparks most revealing book...a muse that is dark, frightening with an unforgiveable mean streak. The author, Sparks, stole our hearts with The Notebook, then came along a string of other contemporary love successes. The titles I forget (Sorry, Nicholas). Most were charming, enduring--all great beach reads. I particularly liked the settings for his stories because I'm an East Coast beach fan. If you've walked along the shore of Carolina Beach in September, the soft sand between your toes, the warm, warm surf splashing at your knees, the sun in your face, you'll feel like you've found your own Safe Haven. Something about the currents on a beach, the melody, the action...never quiet but always singing to your heart in one form or another. You don't know the words to the ocean's song, but you can't help but hum as you stroll along. Safe until the storm blows in...and that's what Nicholas Sparks' Safe Haven does to you. The pace, tension increases and strikes like a voilent storm. And after the storm.....back to the beach....Wil

Point of view....

Sometimes it takes a frosty morning to get a point of view to change. I was prepared for a sunny, warm day but a storm blew in and I took cover. Long jeans, jacket, that is: no beach walk. From this desk it's not a bad way to spend the day. I delved into my latest work...a story about a fragile woman who thought she had her act together until she ventured to Paris. Near the end of a grand week, she and her friend are kidnapped. Rogues want to bring a large American company to their knees by demanding a huge ransom for these two unsuspecting victims. The story actually is about her recovery...and that's where point of view becomes important. Do I move in a world where my eyes, heart, thoughts are focused on the here and now? I do. I react to a change in climate, the news of the day, a delay in traffic, an email rejection with frustration but no real personal stake on the line. I'm sheltered, secure, well-fed, determined and driven...my point of view. But what about my characters...those who explore, live in a different world? How do I move from my within to their place where their eyes, heart, thoughts need to come alive on a page for others to see, feel and respond to? Its more than saying 'she said'. I realize I must take my heart to another level and I must dig deep into the psyche of my character to understand why she suffers. I have to change my point of view---not sheltered, secure, well-fed, etc. She's a sick women living in a web of fear. If I can't make myself shake with this fear, my reader won't either. And so I work today on my point of view. It's a chilly day, with frost on the window. I take off my jacket, my warm jeans and return to Carolyn who is shivering on a cement floor and I write again. She said, "I close my eyes, my mind and you are gone. There is nothing more you can take from me."

End of Month...

It was the worst of times and the best of.....something like that. January was a bitch of a month. NY got hit the way Dems do when they whine life isn't fair: a shit load of publicity falls on them from the Hollywood crowd and the liberal press. So the Big Apple got buried, again and again. Blame it on the Mayor, because it could have been another Katrina and the perfect politco would have prevented it. Snow.. in January. Go figure.
I'm actually not complaining as I'm up to my knees in snow, too. From my view, it is the perfect time to write, reflect, write some more. I'm hoping a book gets picked up soon by an agent. It's not necessarily a 'happy' story but it does offer a satisfying ending. The protagonist is on a quest for 'self' and thinks a vacation with her best friend will ease the angst. Unexpectedly, she's thrown into a middle-age crisis via an international terrorist plot. Will an American corporation pay big ransom bucks to bring home a wife of one of their up-and-comings? Whether they will or not, won't solve her problem. The price she pays for the undaunting experience is a fractured psyche. On her return home, she'll either mend or remain in a very safe, a mental hospital, where no one can get to her. Another journey she has to take by herself.
So January ends with the hint of spring on the horizon, a sunny day. Counting the weeks ahead then might hit the streets of New York if the Mayor has all the snow removed. Heard the labor union is taking a winter break...gotta love those Dem's and their work ethics.

New Bridges...

What's new about today?....A look toward the future with a revamp of the great state of Michigan. We need jobs, we need a new image. We need jobs. While our new governor is mapping out a plan, I'm hoping people will decide to buy close to home. Cars, for sure. I'd buy more merchandise made in Michigan if products were available. It seems everything I wear is made in a country I barely can pronounce. When I look at the produce, most of it is tagged by foreign companies, too. Okay, I have to eat banannas from South American. But apples from Japan...in the fall we're flooded with these foreign varietals. It makes me crazy...
On the writing front, I've transferred all my records to a portable device. Like a Mission Impossible scene, the bad guys coming for my worldly secrets, I'll grab my stick and hightail it out the door. My door is open for a trek down south...sun, warm weather, sea food by the sea. Will I miss the snow? Yes...but I get to write when I'm on the road. And with my little stick...I'm to work on more than one project instead of worrying about what's left behind.
This perhaps is another boring blog...I think most blogs are boring...but I wanted to reflect on new bridges, new ideas, new ways to be productive in the writing world. I need everything to be portable...everything. What if our government was more portable, more flexible. Put what needs to be done on one memory stick...a little device that doesn't cost to much. Streamline everything they do. We need roads, we need defense, we need a few laws enforced. Carry a little memory stick, do a big job. We'll see where this new bridge takes us. Cheers...

Catching up....

Ok, you might see by the dates, there's been a big lull in posts. Great! I've had lots to do and my characters have been talking like crazy. And...life...bumps along the way. No details...too much, too common. We all have issues to deal with. Regarding that...when will decorum return and people put there troubles back in the pockets and get on with resolutions and improvements. It seems everyone has a rotten husband, a cheating wife, a boss that treats them poorly and a paycheck that is flat. And when their dog dies...the plea for sympathy never ends. Believe me, I know how hard it is when a dog dies. But like most tragedies, upsets, disappointments, healing begins with acceptance. Whining, complaining is like a mosquito bite on the listeners arm. Have we turned into a mush pot of emotions, streams of tears, fluttering nerves because we rag on about problems, disappointments and me, me, me? I think so often that is the case.
Okay, I'm out of here...too much to do and the sun is beginning to wane. I don't like saying this daily good bye but then I love curling up under a perfect down comforter with a good book and a gentle nudge of kindness from the one with the blanket tucked under a strong chin.
For now...Wil

Catching up----

Ok, you might see by the dates, there's been a big lull in posts. Great! I've had lots to do and