Ahh, the day job. I'm not a morning person. I generally wear my giant pink bathroom as my armor against the cold, cruel world, and mean doctors who talk too fast.
This morning, CK gave me a kiss and headed for the door, saying "I'm gunna go get you something." I'm thinking, "Great. A mocha would be lovely." But after 45 minutes went by and he didn't reappear, I started to worry. A few more minutes, then I heard his engine. The door swings open and suddenly my friends, Megan & Paige, are standing in my living room. From Arizona!
And I'm in my Big Pink and glasses, hair akimbo. But YAY!!!! Double the weekend goodness. Here are my girls.
No, you don't get a picture of me in the Big Pink.
Who? Alexander McCall Smith, that's who!!! This Friday evening. Seattle downtown library. Microsoft Pavilion.
I'm so excited. But to see him, we have to stand in a "maybe, possibly" line. Although this is a free event, and neither the newspaper nor the library said we needed tickets, there WERE tickets. Curses! But you better believe, my hindparts will be in line well before the appointed hour, mocha in one hand, bag o books over my shoulder. If you haven't taken a look at his website, do! It's linked on the right sidebar.
I read a review somewhere that AMcS is the king of kindly satire. Exactly. I'm dying to ask him if he writes his own titles. If so, he's even more genius. My favorite is "Tea Time for the Traditionally Built."
Did you know... two of his series, "44 Scotland Street" and "Corduroy Mansions" were written as newspaper serials? In talking with a newspaper editor, he complained that serialized stories were of a bygone era. The editor told him to put his computer where his mouth was - or something like that.
And did you see the HBO series of the "No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency?" I'm sick that they cancelled it and am still trying to run down a few episodes. Please, HBO, get back to Botswana and make more!! We love it! If you haven't seen it, here's a clip. (sorry, do I sound like a fan? I promise a full report of the event. Film at 11:00.)
For me, a story idea really comes to life when my brain bubbles up with one of two things: The Title or the Character's name. Today, it was the character's name. YAY!
It seems silly that, in my world, a name comes complete with a personality and history. But it does.
A single girl considers her date's last name, I guarantee it. Would you consider spending the rest of your life as Mrs. Fudge and still feel like yourself? I doubt it. To my everlasting shame, I once met a nice guy whose last name was Balloon. It didn't last an afternoon. (I believe he is happily married and, clearly, she's a bigger person than I am.)
Some names can be delightful and quirky. I like to read the credits after a movie, scanning for interesting names. Could I have been Mrs. Pancake? I love it! But I guarantee I'd nickname my baby girl "Butter," at least while she was a roly-poly baby. And what if the nickname stuck?
Did you know that Katie Scarlett O'Hara nearly never was? Margaret Mitchell had named her "Pansy" and only changed it at the last minute. Isn't that crazy?! And now that pansy means something entirely opposite to Scarlett's fiery personality, it would have been plain criminal.
In summary:
I'm happy that my character is alive and well in my imagination.
I'm relieved that Mitchell came to her senses.
And I'm grateful to not be Aunt Jemima to my friends' kids. Shweew!
No sooner do I laugh it up over my patched-eye history, then I have a Rooster Cogburn eye day. Dang it!
It's the strangest thing. One day, no trouble at all. The next, I'd swear my head wished only to expel my eye by pushing it out.
And today, the sun decided to shine forth, warming the wee little crocus bulbs, creating cozy pools of light on the carpet for the snoozing kitties. OUCH. Pardon me while I flip the blinds closed and hide. I'll be moping over here, if you need me.
Discipline. Determination. The tough-as-nails, Clint Eastwood, kind of determination that doesn't get sidetracked by the MSN story on fashion faux pas. The square-jawed resolve that walks 70 miles of desert to the nearest town although my horse is lame, the canteen empty, and saloon closed for repairs. The grit to stay in my chair and actually WRITE rather than playing Words with Friends on my phone.
Or maybe a Costco-sized bottle of this would do the trick. And could someone take away my phone?
Reading blogs is part of my morning coffee ritual before I strap on yee ole headphones and get to work. My all-time favorite is Ree Drummond's at www.thepioneerwoman.com. See? Isn't that a cool website? Someday, when I grow up.... Her photos are beautiful and the recipes scrumptious. I've tried five of them and they were all mega hits at our house.
Ree is also crazy generous. Today, she is giving away a Nikon D90 camera. To enter, you just answer the question in a comment. My entry is #15627. Sigh....
This weekend, CK and I took a bold and scary step. We walked into a camera store at the mall. For me, it was not unlike the day I told him, "Hey, let's go look at the Harley Davidson Shop." I know my face exactly mirrored his as he sat on the Rocker-something-or-other. Prolonged grinning can actually be painful!
A nice man handed over the Canon T2i and the Canon T60 and explained lens focal lengths. For me, everything became kinda hazy and warbly. I nodded a lot and concentrated on not dropping anything. The song that goes "All I have to do is Dreeeeaaam, Dream, Dream, Dream, Dream...." has a permanent download in my head now.
If you have a favorite camera, I wanna hear about it. What's your flavor?
For three years, I've had Wegener's. The first year sported the hospitalization of the ages, dating while on oxygen, and makeovers between IV changes. The second year featured a three-week relapse of the frozen joint pain that drops entire elephant herds. This year, the relapse circled back to where it all began. Scleritis. AKA, why does my eye hurt so much? Why is sunshine the enemy? Are you sure it's okay to drive with only one eye? (don't panic mom, I didn't) This dumb eye pain recurs every couple of weeks.
Before I knew that autoimmune chiggers had taken hold, we just thought I had somehow scratched my eye. An ophthalmologist gave me drops. And a patch. I hate pirates. But I like the Old West. (see photography post of March 16)
"Where's La Boeuf?"
Hey, why am I picturing Matt Damon, Texas Ranger, and the old lady from the Wendy's commercial at the same time? So many applications!! HAAAA
So here's me in my patch the first time around. The first time, my roommate in New Orleans, Karina, gave me a lovely makeover before we found a suitable, saddle up my pony, version.
So I wrote the title and immediately pictured myself starring in True Grit. Hmmm... No way would Jeff Bridges and I have ever made it. "Sir, brush those teeth and swish with Listerine, or Lil Blacky will kick your hind-quarters. And I'm taking your gun and the $50." But can I get Matt Damon's autograph?
Tangent. Sorry.
When in Italy circa 2003, I snuck a picture of Eden that really surprised me. It turned out great, with just the right amount of background blur (bokeh). We were in the charming opera town of Lucca and had paused to listen to a couple of sidewalk musicians. I was shocked because I focused the lens and snapped the shot one-handed, all without dropping my chocolate gelato cone in my other hand. Pretty good, huh?
Okay, I got gelato all over the shoulder strap, but it was worth it.
Doctors hate doing dictation. If you don't believe me, try telling one that they must redo a report because it was erased, lost, or a crazy rabid patient who eats only keyboards and paper.... It will be bad. You will be threatened, if not in word, then definitely by look. A fruit basket will not help you.
These reports stick to facts alone. And hey, they should. I don't want my doc getting creative with, say, how chubby I'm getting. But how boring to be so buried in reality! Yick. Perhaps that's why they hate doing dictations. Okay, I know it's just time. But a writer would feel "boxed in or blocked." (Name that movie quote!)
Anyhoo, since many a non-reality bound person is on the other end of the recording, we look for things to amuse us. This was a cartoon we posted on our bulletin board at work, half Snoopy/half cardiologist quote.
"Whatever happened to the ole Master Plan?" (see first post under writing) Sigh... I have no reason to repost the Dance of Joy. Did I post once each day this past week? You know the answer is no. I still have the same three story ideas, with nothing on paper. In the plus column, I learned a new writing exercise that I love. In attending the latest meeting at SCBWI, a published author took us through a simple diagram.
Divide your paper into two columns. List two main characters, preferably the protagonist and antagonist, one in each column. Write a main characteristic under one name. Then look to the other name. Do they share that feature? Or is it different? If they are the same, then that can be part of the glue that draws these two together. But if they are opposite, it could be possible plot point, part of why they push each other.
Of course, I was skeptical. But I tried it and, whoa! I discovered a key point. Yay!
