May 26, 2015 |
Back in March, I celebrated my birthday with week’s worth of events. My favorite was the actual weekend of my birthday.
On Friday, some friends took me out to a local hot spot called The Wine Seller. We listened to live music, drank a little, conversed a lot. One of my closest friends, Mary, is a fellow writer. She’s older than I am, a fellow empty-nester. I sometimes call her “Mom” and she sometimes introduces me as her adopted daughter.
She gave me this beautiful Frog Prince pin.
The Frog Prince Pin
We have much more in common than just writing, which makes her an even more invaluable friend. Her son stopped by the Wine Seller to say hey, at which point I reveled in telling him all the food “Mom” has been cooking for me in his absence. “No offense, guy, but you’ve been replaced.” I say that with all love, of course. [Note to quasi-brother: I promise not to eat your dessert. Unless you let me. And I can still kick your bum on Trivia Crack. . . maybe.]
On Saturday, she opened her home to a group of my friends for a “movie party”. I brought The Princess Bride, Scrabble Cheez-Its, and ten people. We of course had a blast reciting along with the movie. You know how it goes. “As you wish. . . ” “My name is Inigo Montoya . . .” “Princess Buttercup. . . ” Yes. We’re a fun bunch.
I also bought a bottle of wine, but it went untouched. No problem, I thought. I’d just learned two days earlier that I was actually going to Blue Ridge Mountains Christian Writers Conference, and decided I would keep the wine until my return.
Lucky Bamboo and a Bottle of Wine
See that great mini Mardi Gras mask? Mary gave me that, too. It’s a reminder to stay focused on writing NOLA. The bamboo, I bought. How could I not, it’s lined with frogs! That’s a reminder to bring life to my story. Let it grow, flow, expand.
These are all reminders to enjoy life, to be open to new avenues, to take the great adventures and the roads less traveled.
The bottle has sat on my counter for two months. Now that I’ve returned from Blue Ridge, I’m setting a new goal.
I’ve two agents interested in reading NOLA. One wants it when it’s finished, the other wants the first 25,000 words. Since I’ve written, and rewritten, and tightened, and edited, and rewritten, and oh by the way, rewritten, the first few chapters of NOLA, getting those first 25,000 words shouldn’t be a problem.
That’s what I’m saving this wine for. I should be able to pop it open by June 1.
Unless, of course, another deadline comes along. Like, waiting until the whole book is finished. Or entering another contest. Or landing an agent. Or getting published.
Time goes by fast, I’m told. I’m gonna celebrate the little victories, and save up for the big ones.
And Frankly, My Dear . . . that’s all she wrote!
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My Two-Inch Peacock
2105: HOPE
May 3, 2015 |
I have a two-inch peacock and he’s only visible through my story window. I’m not crazy. I’m a writer.
This month, I’m reading Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott. If you’re serious about being a writer, or just like a well-told narrative, this is that book. I’m nearly a quarter through, and loving every page, every paragraph, every sentence.
Now here’s something you may not know about me: I’m a perfectionist when it comes to my writing and media. I want it to always be right. I don’t want just the end result to be perfect, I want it all to be right. And that often gets in my way because I find myself editing as I go. Which sometimes makes for longer sit-downs at the computer than necessary.
I’ve been coached, often, on just moving forward. It’s not in my nature to run rampant over the keyboard and let typos, incomplete thoughts, and mismatched storylines flow like too much wine. Because then it reads as though I’ve had too much wine.
Writing with Wine
But the truth is, I’m starting to see the beauty in the #CrappyFirstDraft. There’s something freeing in just letting my fingers go at it without worrying about is this spelled right or did I get the vernacular correct?
Josie discovers New Orleans
So to my critique groups, my writing mentor, and Anne Lamott, I say
I hear you.
I’m moving forward. This week, I’m starting with Chapter Fifteen of NOLA as though all the changes in my head are already on paper. No more revisiting Chapter One. Just. Move. Forward.
It does help to have a plan. At last week’s Orange County Christian Writers Conference, my first session was with Sharon Elliott. It was a hands-on workshop titled ‘Breaking Your Book Into Manageable Bites’. And it was amazing. The very first step in creating a storyboard/outline is to know your topic.
The topic isn’t the same as the title or the outline. It’s strictly the topic. Until that moment, I’d not had a concise logline or description of my book. Sure, I know what it’s about. And if you give me half an hour I can tell you start to finish. But Sharon was asking us to write our topic on a three-by-three post-it note and I didn’t even have it in my head yet.
I grabbed my stickie stack and my pen and applied pressure. I prayed more quickly than I’ve prayed in quite a while. I didn’t want to be the only person in the room with a blank note. So I wrote the first descriptive word that came to my mind, and the rest followed.
NOLA topic
Boom. There is was. And there I was, standing next to Beckie, beginning to cry. Five minutes into my first conference, and I’m in tears because my writing life has forever changed.
I’m a writer. And I have a topic.
Two more take-aways from Bird by Bird is how the book got its name, and how to not be overwhelmed. Write just this piece. Write just this much. She illustrates this concept as a one-inch photo frame on her desk. Her task, when she sits to write, is to write only what is visible through that one-inch frame. No more. No less.
Who cares about the world at large? Write about that one corner your character is in. Who cares about the voices calling the shots from outside the border? Write only what your character hears.
I love this. I love this like the day is long and sugar is sweet. It gives me freedom to fail. And that’s what we really all need, don’t we? The freedom to find out what doesn’t work, the freedom to change this when they need to be changed. The freedom to discover what we don’t like, and then the freedom to expand it.
Start small. Focus. Then shift. Then embellish. But start.
To remind myself of this, I created my own one-inch frame. Okay, it’s more like a two-by-three because the craft store didn’t have anything smaller. And it’s not empty, because I want to be reminded that right now, my focus is on finishing NOLA. So it’s not perfect. But isn’t that the point?
Supplies for the Two Inch Story
After picking out my supplies, I came home and assembled my own story window.
Two Inch Peacock
There were too many stickers and embellishments to choose from, even in the stock I bought. With the limited room allowed, I chose the peacock and fleur-de-lis. And there’s that lesson, again: you can’t do everything at once, and sometimes you can’t do everything at all. Just piece by piece. Bite by manageable bite. Bird by bird.
My reminder now sits on my side table. It’s a symbol of everything I need to be reminded of. And the best part? It’s small enough to fit in my suitcase so I can take it with me to Blue Ridge next week.
My goal is to have my own Crappy First Draft finished by the end of June and then start the editing because, as they say, that’s when the real writing happens.
And Frankly, My Dear . . . that’s all she wrote.
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Why I Write. Every Day.
Five Things Friday: Peacocks
Orange County Christian Writers Conference, 2015
May 29, 2013 |
A few posts ago, I wrote about watching Under the Tuscan Sun and how I desperately want the white dress.
Well. I bought myself a dress. It’s not white. There’s no black belt. Am I’m a few sizes bigger than Diane Lane. But I bought a dress.
I Wore a Dress. And I Wore a Hat.
And I love it.
I wore it for the first time today.
I’ve struggled with my hair since getting it cut last week. Melanie always does such an amazing job. But I couldn’t duplicate the salon style in my own home. Then we caught The Great Gatsby at the theater this weekend, and I became enamored with the abundance of short hair styles.
Today I love my hair. Even wispy after a long day and getting windswept just before this photo, I love my hair.
It’s not always magazine-beautiful. But I like my short hair. Today, I love it. Tucked under a matching blue headband, I felt the part. I felt coordinated. I felt…
Confident.
I’m not a Size 0 or even a Size 6. I have an eczema flare up on my face that rivals any teenaged pizza delivery kid in town.
And today I wore a dress.
Dreaming.
I felt strange. As though I’d been waiting for this moment. It was so much more than a dress. It was, as I thought it would be, an embracing of who I already am and letting what’s inside shine out.
A few months ago I wouldn’t have shared these photos. I wouldn’t have been confident enough. But today I am.
Today, I’m okay with being bigger than a Size 6. I’m okay with a less than perfect complexion. And I’m even okay with showing a yard that still needs some clean-up.
Because this is Who I Am.
And let’s face it: nobody’s perfect. Nobody’s even what you see. So much of us is hidden or ignored. That’s not to say I’m not going to strive for something better. But I’m not upset with the way things are.
How can I tell my daughter, “You’re Worth It!” if I example to her a lack of confidence or self-control? How I be a good role model for Dot if I’m constantly struggling with how I present myself or have a lack of willingness to participate in life?
Granted, you’ll (hopefully) never see a photo of me crawling out of bed in the morning… there are just some things y’all don’t need. Like a spider in the shoe or fingers on the chalkboard. I don’t want to leave you with that kind of experience. And me before coffee is exactly that. You’re just gonna hafta trust me on this.
There’s Nothing in My Cup!
Today was also about having fun and letting Dot take the lead. I simply handed her my iPhone and said, “Do your thing.” Inherently amazing behind any camera, she allowed me to be goofy and dramatic. I made a few suggestions of what types of photos I was hoping for, and she did the rest. Have I told you how amazing she is?
We had a time of fresh air, laughter, togetherness. And it was all free. And in my own backyard.
The legacies I leave my family are more than just my duties and responsibilities. As I’m putting energy into action to accomplish goals and dreams, I don’t want to lose sight of the “little” things. I don’t want to be so focused on writing that I forget to look. I mustn’t be so burdened with a drive to get to Italy that I neglect my own town. I can’t concentrate so hard on working that I forget how to play.
Going Places
Maybe someday I’ll have a slimmer body, whiter teeth, and a stamp or two in my Passport [Note to Self: get a passport]. Until then, I’m more than comfortable with who I am.
I’m confident enough to wear a dress. And a hat.
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
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She Wore a White Dress. And She Wore a Hat.
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As Long As You Love Me
May 13, 2013 |
I’m always surprised (although it’s obvious that I shouldn’t be) that the storylines I’m most attracted to are those with writers as the protagonist. Whether it’s a book, television show or movie… if there’s a writer involved, it holds a certain magic that I can’t find anywhere else.
John-Boy Walton was my first love. The episode “The Achievement” is still an all-time favorite. Richard Thomas, the actor, later portrayed another writer in one of my guilty pleasure films, Stephen King’s IT.
Jo March of Little Women lives my life. An awkward tomboy, dreaming of something beyond her home, she left… only to return to the family she loves and write about them.
Julie Powell wrote about Julia Child who wrote a cookbook. And not just any cookbook. Mastering the Art of French Cooking is still on my Wishlist. For those of you new to Frankly, My Dear… the movie Julie & Julia inspired me to start blogging.
Eat, Pray, Love is another wonderful story about a writer trying to find herself.
But it’s Under the Tuscan Sun that grabbed my attention this weekend.
Although I’ve had the DVD for several years, it’s been quite a while since I last watched it. For Mother’s Day, I did just that. Dot treated me to a Starbuck’s Apple Pie Frappuccino [Note to Self: Get more of this. Often. It’s the coffee-law!] and I settled into my Writer’s Corner (chair. It’s a chair.) and was instantly romanticized by the story of Katherine. Oh, you thought the movie was about Frances, the writer? It is. But my story is about Frances and Katherine, her new Italian friend.
During her season of finding herself, Frances confides in Katherine. Katherine takes her under her wing and encourages Frances to lose her fear of, well, everything. Katherine enthralled me, and the characters around her, with her zest for life. She drew Frances out of her shell. She commanded attention wherever she went. And she almost always wore hats. The big brimmed, feminine kind of hats that Audrey Hepburn would have adorned. If Katherine were real and you were lost in a crowd, you’d need only to look above the heads for her hat, and you’d be lost no more.
I don’t want to ruin the movie for you if you’ve not yet seen it. So I’ll skip any spoilers. But I must mention the dress. The white dress. It’s not a wedding dress. It’s simple yet elegant. Cinched with a simple yet elegant black belt. And Frances, after consulting with Katherine, wears it confidently.
I saw that dress. I saw a writer, who on a whim moved to Italy, and bought a white dress. I saw confidence and adventure and romance and life and courage…
I want that dress!
Not because I want the characteristics it portrays. But because I am finding myself already full of those characteristics and I can think of no better way to show it than to wear such a dress.
A year ago I wouldn’t have thought to wear a dress. Unemployed and feeling less than accomplished, a leg riddled with eczema patches… a dress most certainly wasn’t in the cards.
Oh, but it’s so much more than just about wearing a dress. It’s about grasping life with both hands and yet letting go. It’s eating the ice cream cones in the hot sun. Drinking wine in the backyard. It’s celebrating the failures and acknowledging the successes that come with every day of just waking up and being alive.
That dress is about being alive.
I. Want. That. Dress.
It is definitely worth saving my pennies for. If I have any extras, I’ll just toss them into the Fountain when I finally get to Italy.
And believe me. I’m getting there.
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
You may also enjoy reading:
Mojo Movie Review of the Week: “Eat, Pray, Love”
Mojo Movie Review of the Week: “Julie & Julia”
Building a Better Me: Making (Better) Memories
Where are you, Paul Varjak?
Mojo Movie Review of the Week: “Breakfast at Tiffany’s”
When I Get To New York
If I Could, I Would…
My Personal History of Coffee (and a Keurig Review)
Jan 19, 2012 |
I want to be a Wine Snob. I want to be able to tell from the color and aroma in my glass that it’s going to be good or bad. I want to know right away which bottle to serve with my chicken, my fish, or my aperitifs.
But wine is expensive. Usually. So I’ve learned a few tricks to develop a taste for good wines. This won’t do if you’re in a hurry to learn about wine. And by no means is this the only, or even the best way, to learn. But for myself, I’ve enjoyed taking this route.
First, I allow myself a small wine budget. Originally it started out at about $10 or $15/month. It’s not much, but remember: you’re not a Wine Snob yet. Find a flavor you are interested in, and give it a try. Once you find a flavor you like, then buy a more expensive label.
Second, find a store in the area that caters to wine drinkers. They have informative cards that detail information about the kind of information you’re looking for: where and when it’s made, what foods it pairs with, what to expect from its taste and aroma. Some regular stores are starting to do this; but you can also find local wine tasting shops that offer the information.
Third, it’s always fun to schedule a wine tasting at a local wine shop or even a winery if you live close enough. For a very nominal fee, they offer information and a great afternoon experience.
I’d like to get a book like “Wine Tasting for Dummies” or something similar. There are plenty of books that assume you already know the language. Find something easy and introductory. It’s not only informative, it’s fun!
Ask your friends what they like. Ask your waiter what he recommends. Don’t be afraid to experiment. You’ll come across some flavors you don’t care for. I recently discovered that I prefer a lighter wine than the full bodied Syrah. You’ll find ones that will always be your favorite.
What tips do you have for becoming a wine snob?
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
