She's At It Again

New Blog

2006-10-04T15:10:00.001-04:00

Check out my new blog The Wonderful World of a Facetious Redhead

I'll be posting there from now on.

Thank you

2006-10-04T12:32:00.000-04:00

To everyone who donated for the Light The Night walk. In the rain's mist walkers took their places at Penns Landing last weekend to show their support of friends and loved ones impacted by Lymphoma and Leukemia.

Want to know more? Light The Night

Are You Normal?

2006-09-26T17:59:00.000-04:00

I took the "Are You Normal?" test but my results aren't surprising. No one should question my "cute but psycho" shirt. Oh wait. No one questioned it.

Nevermind.

My Normalcy Quotient is: 39 out of 100.

My quiz results make me a Marvelous Maverick

Giddy-up partner. I'm a maverick and don't know what the definition of normal is. That's a-okay because I'm now part of a fascinating group of desperadoes. Wherever I ride, it's sure to be off the beaten path because it's way more fun to find the path least traveled. (For those who know me, I didn't write this text I swear. I just changed the "you" to "me" so I didn't sound like a complete sociopath by posting this on the blog. Okay, done with the disclaimer.)

What about you? Take the test and let us know your results.

Take this free personality test by Clicking Here>> or going to http://www.chatterbean.com/runormal/

Zadie Smith's Questions - Discussion.

2006-09-22T10:49:00.000-04:00

Thank you to Jade and Vikram for responding to this post. I enjoyed reading both perspectives on these topics.

My opinion? To the first question about multiculturalism I'd like to throw an additional bit to ponder. I recently attended the Tesoros (Treasures) traveling exhibit of art from Latin America currently at the Philadelphia Museum of Art. This exhibit contains artwork demonstrating that in the 1900s immigrants from China, Spain, and Africa all lived in Latin American countries. As an American I found this fascinating because I think, sometimes, we forget that the concept of a "melting pot" isn't unique to the United States but is a truth that exists for all countries.

The concept of borders conjures images of invisible walls that prevent us from moving to another location. The reality is that the moment a human became curious and decided to see what existed beyond the horizon or over a mountain, the possibility of cultures intermixing existed.

I don't say this to minimize the current challenges that exist in Europe or within any country but to add a different perspective on the topic.

In terms of the second question, I agree with Ms. Smith. Characters should be created to be full of life, not to stereotype a group, ethnicity, community, etc. All writers are tasked to create characters that live on the page and in the reader's mind. Hence why there are so many workshops on character development.

Thank you again to Vikram and Jade for responding. I'd still love to hear additional perspectives on these two topics.

Zadie Smith Reading and Topics for Discussion

2006-09-20T13:03:00.000-04:00

Last night I attended a reading by Zadie Smith at Bryn Mawr College. Ms. Smith is a wonderful reader. She adds accents to her characters’ dialogue, which enriched the time spent.

What I was most impressed with was the question and answer session. When asked her opinion of the spread of multiculturalism and where it’s going, she retorted (and I’m paraphrasing) that multiculturalism isn’t something that can be boxed or policied or compartmentalized. It is a natural progression of a global society. The moment humans were able to cross an ocean and climb into a plane the blending of cultures and ethnicities was destined. In other words, it just happens.

I also thought it was interesting when another audience member said that she thought Ms. Smith’s characters were vivid and truly represented entire groups. Ms. Smith’s retort (again paraphrasing) was that characters shouldn’t represent an entire group but stand on their own as representing the individual character and nothing more. If one character seemed to represent an entire ethnic or religious group then those are the sections of text in which the writer has failed.

What are your opinions regarding these topics? I’ll save mine until I receive some responses to this post.

Crime? What Crime?

2006-09-15T13:17:00.000-04:00

I'm attending a meeting in State College next weekend. In preparation, a friend and I were trying to find good places to eat in that area. My friend stumbled upon the latest link to the right, the Center Daily blog. If you want a good laugh then read the fruitful activities and interesting antics of the college town.

A great way to start the weekend.

Frank Wilson Interview

2006-09-07T07:25:00.000-04:00

Last night I interviewed Frank Wilson, the Book Review Editor for the Philadelphia Inquirer. Look for that interview on the Picolata Review in upcoming months.

Light The Night

2006-09-05T12:40:00.000-04:00

On September 30, I will be walking for the Light The Night Leukemia and Lymphoma Society fundraiser at Penns Landing. I'm sure many of us have known someone ill with Lymphoma or Leukemia. Recently a few friends of mine have been impacted by Lymphoma, so this walk holds something dear to me. I will be walking in memory of Ken Mullin, a good friend who passed away in June from complications related to Lymphoma.

If you would like to contribute to the fundraising campaign, please go to the link below and donate as little or as much as you choose.
http://www.active.com/donate/ltnPhilad/1780_lcoutant

Thanks,
Lisa

John Baker's Five Questions

2006-09-02T20:20:00.000-04:00

I received some inquiries saying that they had difficulty finding my answers to the Five Questions previously posted by John Baker, so I'm reposting my answers below. For the original post, click here.

1. Why do you blog?
I started blogging as a fun way to keep friends and family informed of my activities (the good ones). Then I was told that the url was being forwarded hither and thither I became inspired to broaden my scope. At that point, I decided to blog about literature and other activities surrounding the literary arts.

2. Which author and/or book has most influenced you?
The first book I clung to was The Count of Monte Cristo (in 4th grade). My reading tastes have always been eclectic, much like my taste in other areas. I love Salman Rushdie for his ability to weave environment, storyline, timeframe, social issues and all with a lyrical writing style. I love Charles Baxter’s writing because he is able to not just create a character but become the character (read Feast of Love and you’ll see what I mean). I enjoy Russell Banks for his ability to create worlds that would otherwise seem ordinary and breathe in the extraordinary. I love Amy Bloom for her ability to also take the ordinary and make it sing. When I was a pre-teen I read Dick Francis because I didn’t want to think too much and I liked horses. When I was a teen I read Anne Rice because who wouldn’t want to read about vampires while a teenager? In high school, I enjoyed almost all of the reading assignments (yes, I am an uber dork). Basically all stories that have left me with that “wow” feeling when I turned the final page and read the last sentence have influenced me. If I close the cover and in my mind I’m still in that world and all that it represents, then I’m a marked woman.

3. Which three blogs do you most visit?
I’ve been a bit out of touch lately but I usually visit:
Beatrice at http://beatrice.com/
MataxuCafe at http://metaxucafe.com/
and this one of course.

4. Why do you read fiction?
Because it gives me insight into anothers thoughts and dreams. Because I’m catapulted into other worlds that have been given a unique perception and taste by the author. Because it makes me think about topics I may not have thought about before.

5. What makes you laugh?
The Three Stooges, children’s laughter, a stupid joke, sarcastic comments, Bill the Cat, silliness.

Lisa D. K. Coutant blogs at She’s At It Again, which can be found here: www.lisacoutant.blogspot.com

Jus' Loafin' Around - Phew!

2006-09-02T10:20:00.000-04:00

I could blog about the food or the schedule or the parties or the town of Middlebury (consisting of two streets, maybe one) or the craft classes or the dances but I won’t. I’ve seen other bloggers and writers share those moments so let them tell the tales. I’m sure I have nothing earth shattering to add.

Someone asked me if I’d return to Bread Loaf and without question I said I would. If they’d let me.

I walked the halls of buildings that have the resonance of prior years and previous attendees. I broke bread with award winning authors and poets. I shared thoughts and dreams with other writers.

Thank you to everyone at the 2006 Bread Loaf Writers’ Conference for making it a memorable and humbling experience.

Jus' Loafin' Around - Oh Write, I Mean, Workshop

2006-09-01T07:58:00.000-04:00

Part of attending Bread Loaf is to have your writing workshopped. What does that mean? I’m glad you asked. (If you already know, then skip to the next paragraph.) Well, workshopping is when a writer submits a piece for the group (workshop leader, fellows, and attendees) to read prior to meeting and provide feedback to the writer. Most workshops include ten attendees, one Fellow (an assistant to the Workshop Leader) and a Workshop Leader.

Percival Everett lead our workshop. We had two Fellows, Robert Hill and Gonzalo Barr (this year’s winner of the Bakeless Award in fiction). All three gave invaluable feedback that really challenged each one of us to strive to be better writers, which in my opinion, is the reason to workshop.

The Fellows were so supportive that they met with workshop attendees individually to give additional comments and talk through ideas and concepts. This was in addition to the one-on-ones with Percival who generously gave us his time and feedback. Oh, and he’s dang funny.

During the workshop, I had the opportunity to read vivid prose by other workshop participants; truly talented writers.

Jus' Loafin' Around - The Readings

2006-08-31T06:32:00.000-04:00

Some readings mesmerized audiences. I must concur with Laila Lalami’s post on MoorishGirl.com that mentioned the staff readings are among the most anticipated and well-received. I’m proud to have been present to hear them and even more honored to say that I know a few of ‘em.

I was privileged to sit in on Fellow, Scholar, and Workshop Leader readings including those by Ursula Hagi, Ted Conover, William Kittredge, Toi Derricotte, Linda Gregerson, Robert Boswell, Percival Everett, Kevin McIlvoy, Antonya Nelson, Sigrid Nunez, Paul Lisicky, Linda Paston, Gonzalo Barr, Tim Bascom, Oni Buchanan, Thomas Sayers Ellis, Nicholas Montemarano, Glaydah Namukasa, Peter Orner (RSF), Erich Puchner, Jason Schneiderman, Richard Siken, Aryn Kyle, Anthony Lacavaro, Frances de Ponte Peebles, Bonnie Rough and Pulitzer Prize winning poet William Meredith.

Since I’m blogging about the readings, I must include the Blue Parlor Readings (BPRs). BPRs give an opportunity for regular ol' attendees to read from their works. I heard wonderful voices sharing original prose and look forward to seeing those same prose in print. Did I read? Yup, but I must admit the melodramatic ham in me took over and I went a bit over the top when reading dialogue. Uh vel.

Jus' Loafin' Around - Yo, Got a Posse?

2006-08-30T08:25:00.000-04:00

I am an introvert. There. I said it. I joined Introverts Anonymous and they put me through the ten-step program but I only made it through five of the steps.

1. Admit that I’m an introvert.
2. Affirm while standing in front of a mirror that it’s okay to be an introvert and that I’m a good person.
3. Say hello to random people on the street.
4. Don’t run away when they say hi back.

Oh wait. Nope. Only made it through 3.5 steps.

The reason this is relevant to my days as a Loafer is that by the end of the second day I had been befriended by not one, not two, but four others. (I’m not including someone I already knew in the list because I paid him to talk to me.) Now, these women may have befriended me because I had a car and they didn’t but I’d like to believe that the open and friendly atmosphere at Bread Loaf had already affected them. Our group ate together, hung out together, and caused general mischief together. I will not admit to any specific mischief, but if you email me privately and I’ve had a few drinks then I “may” provide more details.

I will remember these women as an integral part of my Bread Dough experience. Talented, intelligent, beautiful, and funny writers all, I’m proud to have been attached to them, if only for a limited time.

More Bread Loaf Bloggers (In No Specific Order)

2006-08-29T15:35:00.000-04:00

Katrina in New Orleans

Robert Steven Williams

Adam’s Blog

Perpetual Folly

Mary Akers

Poetry Crush

Original Content

Dr. Dolen’s Divinations

Miss Hag

The Connecticut Philadelphian

The Open Page – A Commonplace

Jus' Loafin' Around - Bread Loaf History

2006-08-29T08:55:00.000-04:00

The first day, I had lunch with Leo, the Bread Loaf grounds keeper (or grounds manager as some may call him). To meet Leo is a treat. A kind hearted man who, if I didn't know better (based on his knowledge of the mountain), I would have sworn he's been the grounds keeper since the days of Robert Frost. He gave me the history of the mountain, the Inn and its association with Middlebury College (for the official history, click here). The lunch marked the beginning of my love affair with the salad bar and coffee station. Two staples most Loafers cannot live without.

That evening Michael Collier, the program's director, gave a welcome speech. This is when I realized how tightly knit the community is and how much of an honor it is to be given an opening into it. During the speech he said that there will be times on this mountain when you'll want to run away and at the same time be inextricably attracted to Bread Loaf. If an attendee needs to feel grounded, all he needs to do is call home and have a friend or loved one ask, "So, how's that place? Ya know. Bread Dough?"

One More Loafer

2006-08-28T15:13:00.000-04:00

Robert Steven Williams blogs about his experience this year at the Loaf.

'Nother Loafin' Perspective

2006-08-28T13:55:00.000-04:00

Laila Lalami attended this year's Loaf as a Fiction Fellow. She's posted a few entries about her experiences.

Jus’ Loafin’ Around - On the way to Cape May

2006-08-28T13:50:00.000-04:00

No, not really but I was on the way to Bread Loaf. I’ll start my Loaf tale here, on the first day prior to the first hour. I live in Philadelphia. Rittenhouse Square to be a bit more precise. Most mornings I awaken to the heartwarming sounds of bums arguing or trash trucks performing their usual function – collecting garbage.

The morning, or rather late evening I left for the Loaf, the street lamps were illuminated and the morning air cool. I lugged (no exaggeration) my bags to my truck and began my journey. I hoped to stop at a Starbucks on the way but alas I was up too early even for the standard coffee drinker (4 AM).

The most interesting thing about the drive was the transformation. I left concrete slabs and buildings that touched the clouds. As I drove through Pennsylvania and then New York to reach Vermont, the cement turned to grass and the modernized buildings to Victorians, Colonials, and farms. Streets peppered with the rush of city living were replaced with lounging cows and tractors waiting to be used.

To get to the Inn, I drove a narrow curving road that seemed to follow a stream that webbed itself under and next to the man-made path giving me the feeling that I had left one point in time and somehow was transported to a unique world.

And so I was.

The Bread Loaf Writers’ Conference is annually held at the Bread Loaf Inn and its surrounding buildings to form a quaint town alive with a dining area, theatre, store, and library. When I checked in, I was given my room assignment, the name of my roommate and a mailbox number with combination. My room, on the second floor of the Inn, had a view of the street before it and part of the front porch. After I unpacked I wandered the campus a bit to get a sense of my new environment. For those of you who know me, you will understand this – before I could really get a feel for the campus, I got lost. No, no, not on a cross street (there isn’t one) or among the crowds (ditto) but rather walking through the Inn. That’s when I decided to be safe and wait for the guided walking tour, which lasted approximately 20 minutes.

“And over here is a really cool building,” said the tour guide.

“What’s its historical prominence?” a fellow attendee asked.

“I don’t know,” said the guide. “But it’s a really cool building.”

And so it was.

Tune in next time for another installment of Jus’ Loafin’ Around.

Jus' Loafin' Around

2006-08-27T19:30:00.000-04:00

After 11 days on the Bread Loaf mountain, I am home. Tired, but home.

When someone commented on this blog before I left that Bread Loaf is a unique experience, he wasn't kidding. Part creative outlet, part summer camp, part workshop - the writers' conference allows published and aspiring writers from across the globe to interact and exchange ideas, thoughts, and dreams.

I've been checking out other articles about Bread Loaf and I think I'll shy away from the standard content about my workshop and the late night parties, although both did occur.

Look for posts about my experiences at this year's Bread Loaf Writers' Conference in upcoming weeks.

As a teaser - I'd go back.

Reports from Bread Loaf

2006-08-26T08:15:00.000-04:00

Want to know about the 2006 Bread Loaf Writers' Conference? Then go to www.poetryfoundation.org and check out the Bread Loaf blog.

When I return from Bread Loaf (I'm leaving for Philadelphia tomorrow) I'll blog about some of my experiences in Vermont.

We are still children

2006-08-14T20:45:00.000-04:00

Lately I've been in contact with many friends I haven't had the opportunity to speak to in a while. These are friends from every corner of my life. Some are from childhood, others from my teens, still others stem from the beginnings of my corporate career.

Yesterday, I chatted with a friend I've had since I was two. Neither of us remembers this. It's one of those fairy tales that parents tell. "You gals first met when you were two and she was six months old. You played like you were sisters."

We both remember the first time we saw each other six years later - in a MacDonalds in opposite lines. Our fathers just happened to treat us to a Happy Meal in the same restaurant, on the same day, exact same hour, different line. We were inseparable for 10 years.

As I talked on the cell phone, I admired the architecture around me, the people who walked by, the college students gathering in nearby pubs. Then I realized that my childhood friend and I were talking just as we did when we were little. Those girls who hid in the nooks of an old Victorian, who giggled at the dumbest jokes, who passed notes through the hallways even when it was forbidden by our parents. Those little girls who, no matter what, stood by each other and made sure that the other one was safe and sound and protected even when our own parents couldn't save us. Those girls were on the phone, their voices elevated in laughter, the tone flippant and valley.

For a second I wondered where those girls had gone. Were they hiding within us, waiting for the opportunity to come out and tickle each other's hearts once more? Had they been hiding underneath the exterior of a soulful singer and a corporate career woman? Even though our lives have branched into different worlds, ones that I'm not sure even we understand, those little girls still remain intact, waiting for the next chance to be released from their hiding places.

A Gift - Sorta

2006-08-14T20:13:00.000-04:00

Recently I moved into Center City Philadelphia and have been honored and privileged to become reacquainted with the practice of washing my clothing at a laundromat. Luckily, the closest one is literally a half block from my apartment.

I forgot about one of the joys of washing clothes in a community atmosphere. Unexpected guests.

Today, when I pulled my wash out of the dryer I was surprised to find a well-worn white t-shirt. No joke. I don't know how it got there or who it belongs to but I'm assuming the shirt liked my wash better and wanted to come home with me, so I'm keeping it.

Heck it's clean.

Can she make it through the door?

2006-08-04T07:52:00.000-04:00

I think her ear caught on the doorjam.

That's what the neighbors said after John Baker asked me to be a part of a five question series. Not that my ego needed any assistance, as demonstrated by me being stuck in my apartment until I realized that if I stuck myself with a pin it would reduce the swelling.

Check out my answers to the five questions at John's blog.

August Issue of Picolata

2006-08-02T10:32:00.000-04:00

The August Issue of the Picolata Review is now available.

Look for my interview with Charles Baxter.

Bread Loaf Writers' Conference

2006-07-11T13:27:00.000-04:00

Sorry for the lack of posts lately. As usual, life has taken itself over.

I will be attending this year's Bread Loaf Writers' Conference in Vermont from August 16 through August 27.

Look for posts about the experience when I return.

In the meantime, check out Picolata Review and look for the second edition, coming out soon.

Picolata Up and Preview

2006-06-23T09:57:00.000-04:00

I'm proud to say that we've received very positive feedback on the new Picolata Review. New submissions are pouring in for the second edition.

Thank you to everyone who has submitted to the Picolata and I look forward to reading more.

I'm honored to say that I've fulfilled, at least in a small way, one of my new year's resolutions. Look for my interview with Charles Baxter in an upcoming edition of Picolata.

If there are interviews you'd like to see at the Picolata, email us at submissions@picolatareview.org and tell us who you'd like to see interviewed, why and provide any specific questions you'd like to have asked.

Picolata To Issue First Edition on June 21

2006-06-19T07:49:00.000-04:00

The Picolata Review (www.PicolataReview.org ), a new online magazine, will publish its first issue on June 21. You're invited to our birthday celebration. Join us to witness the birth of a great new source for writing by the most talented new voices in the literary world.

Picolata was originally a Spanish fort located on the St. Johns River seven leagues west of St. Augustine. The fort is now underwater, but Picolata survives as a small village. St. Augustine is known around the world as America's oldest city, but only the locals know about Picolata. You might say it's located just a little west of famous.

The Picolata Review is dedicated to great writing by talented authors and poets who are also just a little west of famous. With our inaugural edition, we plan to become the new home for top quality short fiction, poetry, book reviews, and essays on subjects related to literature and culture.

We hope you'll join us on the summer solstice, June 21, as we celebrate our birthday. You dont' need to bring gifts. We'll be presenting excellent stories, articles, and poetry from some of the world's best and brightest emerging writers, including:

Lisa Coutant's interview with Puli tzer finalist Lee Martin

Fresh new poetry from Riki Rebel Garcia, Gol McAdams, Geoffrey Philp, and Santiago B. Villafania

Fiction from Jamie Ford, Hannah Pfeifel, and Jeff Neale

An excerpt from Janet Thorning's debut novel, The Resurrection of My Heart

Debra Hamel's review of Peter Pouncey's Rules for Old Men Waiting

An interview with Dan Wickett, founder of the Emerging Writers Network

and

A memoir of Rachmaninoff's favorite pianist, Princess Caterina
by her grandson Prince Louis Richard de la Pau.

We're excited by our inaugural issue, and we're sure you will be too. I hope you'll join us on June 21, as we int roduce the new home for great writing, The Picolata Review.

www.PicolataReview.org

Ken Mullin Passed Away, Wednesday, June 7

2006-06-08T08:36:00.000-04:00

Ken Mullin, the creator of A Flasher's Dozen, a flash fiction publication, passed away on Wednesday, June 7.

His support of fellow writers was evident in his willingness to work with those who submitted to his publication by providing detailed feedback and offering assistance.

Ken gave his readers the gifts of laughter and smiles. Ken was a good friend and will be missed by all who knew him.

Our thoughts are with his wife, Nina.

Pennwriters Conference

2006-05-23T16:29:00.000-04:00

I can honestly say that by the end of this year’s Pennwriters Conference in Grantville, PA, I was exhausted. Friday I conducted two workshops – one entitled, Breaking Into Business Writing, and the other was an off the cuff Blogger’s Workshop. Both enjoyed small but respectable attendance. The intimate groups gave me the opportunity to answer one-on-one questions.

In Breaking Into Business Writing, we discussed the various avenues available to start a career or gain freelance work in the realm of business writing. Attendees asked about technical writing, corporate writing, public relations, and policy writing. Attendees asked impressive and challenging questions.

The Blogger’s Workshop discussed blogging basics – how to build one, how to gain traffic, how to increase hit counts, and how a blog can be used (personally and professionally).

Friday evening I spent time with fellow Pennwriters at Fabio’s, an eclectic family owned restaurant. This Pennsylvania Dutch barn housed a restaurant that served Italian fare. The interior décor reminded me of the chic restaurants in the Philadelphia area.

Saturday I moderated a blogger’s panel in the morning. Discussions were lively and the answers detailed and varied. One gentleman asked, “What is a blog?” while other questions related to the future of blogging and if it will take over mainstream media. General consensus – no, blogs will not overtake mainstream media but will continue to act as a compliment and address niche areas.

Saturday evening, I enjoyed dinner with my fellow Pennwriter’s Board Members, Judith Evans Thomas, and Evan Fogelman, an agent and entertainment lawyer. We had a great evening as we discussed how authors are now approaching their careers as if they are brands. Similar to statements made by Madonna, Brittany Spears, and Pamela Anderson (all have acknowledged or referenced themselves as brands), upcoming writers are now creating platforms by identifying the core of who they are or what they are representing and building a strategy and plan surrounding that core. This actually maps back to a Marketing Workshop Ron Hogan conducted earlier in the day. Ron advocated a similar approach and specifically recommended the audience to read Purple Cow by Seth Godin (or anything by Seth Godin).

Overall an interesting and informative weekend, but I must admit it’s nice to be back to my usual routine.

What conferences have you attended recently? Any memories that you’ll carry with you for posterity?

Picolata Review - Accepting Submissions

2006-05-23T15:39:00.000-04:00

From the Picolata Review Website (Full disclosure, I was recently asked and accepted the role of Features Editor for this publication):

The Picolata Review is a new magazine dedicated to great writing by talented authors and poets who are just a little west of famous. We will soon publish our first edition, and become the new home for top quality short fiction, poetry, and non-fiction essays on subjects related to literature and culture.

We are accepting submissions, and invite serious and talented writers to send us their best work. Please cut and paste your submission into an email (send no attachments), and send it to submissions@picolatareview.org with the word query and the title of your submission in the subject line.

We are interested in short fiction of up to 4000 words, but might consider serializing stories longer than 4,000 words, if the work is truly extraordinary. We are also looking for great extremely-short (flash) fiction, and poems up to 40 lines.

Unlike many literary magazines, The Picolata Review does not automatically reject genre fiction. We welcome writing on diverse topics, and in diverse styles, including genre pieces and quality non-fiction. We do not welcome the substandard, the mundane, or the predictable. Good fiction should rise above its genre to elevate and excite the reader with fresh language and ideas. Non-fiction must offer fresh perspectives and insight not found elsewhere, in print or online. Poetry must move the heart and stir the soul. Previously published work may be considered, provided the author credits the original publisher, and owns the digital pubication rights (Please include this information with your submission). Most submissions will not be accepted, but we do encourage writers who aspire to publication here to continue to perfect their craft, and to submit again.

We will also publish interviews with interesting persons from the literary world, and some book reviews. If you are interested in writing a review or an interview, please query us first with details.

I'm back

2006-05-21T22:49:00.000-04:00

And boy am I tired. This was a long and hectic weekend at the Pennwriter's Annual Conference. I'll post about some of the specific events but let me thank Ron Hogan, Allison Gaylin, Karen Olson, and Mindy Wentzel for doing such fabulous jobs on the blogger's panel.

More to come ...

Calling All Yogis

2006-05-17T20:21:00.000-04:00

If you will be in the Philadelphia area this Sunday (May 20), then join hundreds of others on the steps of the Art Museum in a group Yoga session to raise breast cancer awareness. Sounds like a fun event and a great cause.

House Cleaning

2006-05-17T12:31:00.000-04:00

I'll be offline for a bit. I'm speaking at the Pennwriter's Conference in Grantville, PA (Full disclosure - I'm an Area Representative for Pennwriters and I'll be voted in as Vice President this weekend, barring any investigation into my private life. Did I mention my pen name is J.K. Rowling? Kidding, just kidding).

I plan on posting a few entries about the conference upon my return. If I'm realistic, then I probably won't post until late next week.

Calling All FirstOffenders, Beatrice, OldHag, Metaxucafe, Chekhov'sMistress ... Fans!

2006-05-12T06:36:00.000-04:00

I've prepared my questions for the bloggers mentioned above and below. Now it's your turn. What would you like to know? I'll post an entry about the blogger's panel after the Pennwriters conference the weekend of May 21.

Rushdie and Oates - What an evening

2006-05-07T16:20:00.000-04:00

OK, so the title isn't very clever but it does summarize the thoughts of Mary Louisa who attended the Oates and Rushdie talk in Wilmington, Delaware. Mary Louisa volunteered to answer a few questions about the evening. Before reading the Q & A, please know that we had a brief email exchange after the event, so I already had a glimpse into her thoughts about the evening. Thank you again Mary Louisa for providing your insights.

Format of the evening?
The theatre stage had three chairs. Moderator Colin McEnroe sat on the left, Oates in the middle, and Rushdie on the right. McEnroe asked his own set of questions for the first hour, and the last forty-five minutes to an hour (can’t exactly remember when it ended) was for written questions from the audience (very few of these were asked—maybe four?). Several video cameras taped the talk and projected the feed onto a huge screen behind the speakers.

Why was the talk fabulous?
I never imagined I’d sit in the same room with (three rows from, even) two of the most treasured writers of literature in English. For almost two hours, Oates and Rushdie spoke of writing and humanity with passion, wit, and humor; I didn’t want the evening to end.

Intriguing questions asked?
The very first question moderator Colin McEnroe posed was, “Do you feel you have an obligation to make the world a better place?” Both authors said no and went on to explain that novelists usually don’t write from such an imperative, although Oates ended up naming important books that did fulfill such a mission (Uncle Tom’s Cabin, Huckleberry Finn, The Jungle, Nicholas Nickelby).

Later, McEnroe asked the two to talk about the recent attention on writers who fabricate and plagiarize. I was surprised at Oates’s strong response in defense of Harvard student Kaavya Viswanathan. “Leave the girl alone. She’s a teenager,” she replied and took the New York Times to task for publishing twenty articles on her since the story broke, wondering, “Don’t they have more pressing things to write about?”

What notable things did each author say about writing?
So many gems, too many to recount. Here are a few:

Oates was asked by an audience member whether she considered herself an optimist or a pessimist, considering the darkness of her novels. Oates answered by describing the process of writing a novel as a masochistic endeavor, but one that proved that she—and, she figured, most other novelists as well—were optimists just for taking on the task. Rushdie agreed.

Oates compared writing a novel to a death-defying swim across a large body of water. You crawl up on shore, cold and exhausted, and then a critic walks up to you pointing to a piece of paper and says, “Here’s what you did wrong.” She said that anyone who succeeds in writing a novel in the first place should be applauded.

Discussion turned to criticism and reviews. Rushdie said there are two categories of reviewers, those who are good at writing about what they don’t like about a novel, and those in a much smaller group who can explain why a novel is good and why others should read it. He also cited novelist, poet, and critic Randall Jarrell as saying a novel is a long piece of writing with something wrong with it. Their insights into criticism versus the Herculean task of writing a novel helped me see the big picture a bit more clearly.

I was moved to hear Rushdie describe the sort of neglect ironically suffered by The Satanic Verses after the Ayatollah’s fatwa. The attention heaped on the book prevented it from being regarded in the usual way—readers deciding whether or not they liked the prose or the characters, whether they would recommend it to their friends, etc. He also noted that readers of TSV are almost always surprised to discover it is a very funny book.

What inspires them?
No one asked what inspired them, but on a related note, Oates said that she is very interested in writing about the generations of her parents and grandparents, and not so much about her own peer group. She denied, however, that there were any sordid or dark secrets in her own past that she consciously works out through her fiction. I got the idea that her home life with her “low-maintenance’ husband and her work life as a Princeton professor are fairly quiet.

Ever wondered if I really look like the picture on the right?

2006-05-05T09:01:00.000-04:00

You can find out for yourself at the 2006 Pennwriters Conference in Grantville, PA. I'll be presenting a workshop on transitioning into a business writing career. I'll give some examples of how this can be done as well as provide tools and handouts for those attending to help jump-start their efforts.

I'll also be moderating a blogger's panel with panelists such as Ron Hogan from Beatrice.com; Bud Parr from Metaxucafe; Alison and Karen from First Offenders ; and Lizzie Skurnick from the Old Hag. I have my fingers crossed that Ken Mullen from A Flasher's Dozen will join us as well.

Come out! Meet me! Find out if I ripped off some poor soul's photograph or if I'm truly as bizarre as I seem.

Calling All Joyce Carol Oates Fans

2006-05-02T13:06:00.000-04:00

If you are a fan of Joyce Carol Oates, she will be at the Free Public Library of Philadelphia tonight(Tuesday, May 2) at 7:00 PM.

If you plan on attending, email me. I'd love a write up of it for the blog.

Rushdie in Delaware - I've got a proposition for ya

2006-04-28T16:33:00.000-04:00

I will be out of town when Salman Rushdie and Joyce Carol Oates will be speaking in Delaware. If you will be attending, then I have a proposition for you. If you go to the gala event and are willing to write an article about the experience, I'd be willing to post it. Mind you, I have final editing rights.

If you are interested, then email me or reply to this post.

Again?

2006-04-28T10:13:00.000-04:00

I don’t understand. With the latest news about Kaavya Viswanathan’s plagiarism, I continue to wonder what happened to make so many writers choose to steal other writer’s work?
What happened to working hard on your own writing? What’s wrong with that? Why does it seem that so many writers out there are more interested in getting published than in savoring the writing. The act of writing. The moments when the writer is drawn into her own page, her own scene and discovers a world that’s new and exciting. And the writer hopes it will then translate into something new and exciting to readers. What happened to writing for the purpose of creating a new voice or making a statement or building worlds and images and generating new thoughts and ideas that will stimulate and excite those who read it? What happened to the joy of writing?

It can’t be for the money. We all know that most writers are lucky to get a small amount for their first book. Many authors have day jobs for years before they can ever feel comfortable writing on a full time basis. Many professional writers supplement their writing career with teaching. From what I hear, most authors never do reach the status of “full time writer.”

Is it the status? Look Ma! I wrote a book! Ain’t I the bomb? (Yes, it hurt to write the word “ain’t”.)

It cannot be the challenge. I’d think there’s more challenge in writing an excellent novel than in conning the industry into purchasing a half written/mostly ripped off book.

Whatever it is, I wish these plagiarizers would return to their corners and start focusing on what they should be focusing on – the writing.

OK, I’m off my soapbox now. Back to your regularly scheduled program.

Why I’ll never be a vampire – at least not on Broadway

2006-04-26T11:59:00.000-04:00

My friend Shelli and I took a trip to Manhattan. We stayed at the Paramount hotel, the where Beetlejuice would feel right at home. Did you ever sit in a lounge chair made of wood? I have.

Our minimalist room (the bed sat on the floor with the equivalent of a picture frame for a head board) was across the street from the Broadway shows, Tarzan and Dirty Rotten Scoundrels. We sat in the window, deciding what to do when we looked across the way and realized we could see into the dressing rooms. The reason this realization hit us was that one of the cast members from Dirty Rotten Scoundrels waved at us from the window. Of course our mischievous minds came up with many new ways of entertaining ourselves, such as throwing water balloons or gummy bears out of the window and onto the theatergoers below, but we thought better of it. Well, and the fact that the window would only open a smidge.

After wandering the streets, we took our spots for the Broadway show Lestat, based on the book The Vampire Lestat by Anne Rice. We took our places and admired the variety of theatergoers who surrounded us. Like the guy who looked like a cross between a punker and a wannabe vamp. Or the woman dressed like Elvira if she gained 200 pounds. And then there were the more typical audience members, dressed rather casually, ready for an evening of music. I won’t tell you what category my friend and I fell into.

As the lights fell and darkness covered the room, the sound of howling wolves hit our ears. Gotta tell you, I realized this was intended to be eerie but it wasn’t. Myself and a few others broke into giggle fits because it seemed so ridiculous. Then the curtain opened to find the actor playing awith his head hung over a “dead wolf” with “blood” trailing down the stage. UH. No. There were a few good songs and one or two scenes were engaging. Overall, there was much over-dramatization and melodrama for my taste.

After the show we resumed our trek through the streets of Manhattan, weaving through the crowds, admiring the views and ended or evening lounging with wine, cheese, and crackers.

My dreams of becoming a Broadway vampire have been shattered but I think I have a future as a heckler.

Oy

2006-04-14T12:56:00.000-04:00

Sorry I haven't posted in a bit. Right now everything's a bit hectic. Until I have a chance to come up with something incredibly clever and downright brilliant, check out the blogs listed under my favorites. And look for future posts about the Breaking into Business Writing workshop I'll conduct at the 2006 Pennwriters Conference in Grantville, PA as well as a bloggers panel.

Looking for a good read?
May I suggest
- The Little Black Book of Short Stories by A.S. Byatt
- The Angel on the Roof by Russell Banks
- The Irreversible Decline of Eddie Socket by John Weir
- and my favorite book from my childhood - The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas

What books are you reading? What ones did you like and what ones didn't you like? And why? What books inspired you? Made you think? If you are a writer or in the publishing industry, what books were catalysts for you selecting your chosen profession?

Literary Map of Manhattan

2006-03-31T17:30:00.000-05:00

What a great idea. The New York Times Map of Literary Authors (and Stephen King is included.)

Interesting to graphically see how Manhattan, New York influenced or was referenced by different authors. Nod to Frank Wilson at Books INQ.

New Year’s Resolutions Update

2006-03-29T16:37:00.000-05:00

Now we’re at the end of the first quarter for 2006, I thought I’d recap on my resolutions for the New Year.

* Finish revising current novel – Well, I’m now on my fifth or sixth revision of the complete novel. Who knows when I’ll feel comfortable. Maybe by the time I’m 70? Just kidding, sort of.
* Start draft of next novel – I’m actively researching settings for the next novel. Interestingly enough the research involves going out for drinks at local eateries with friends. Man, writing is a tough business.
* Meet and conduct intelligible conversations with Salman Rushdie, Charles Baxter, Ian McEwan and Russell Banks – I thought I’d have a chance to attend a Charles Baxter reading but realized I had the dates mixed up so that didn’t happen. If anyone knows of readings or appearances for any of the authors mentioned above, let me know. The only way to talk to them is to meet them and I’m open to suggestions.
* Increase hit count on the blog – I hate to admit this but my hit count has decreased. Probably because I haven’t been sending updates to folks to generate interest. Guess I should work on this one.
* Attend wine tasting classes – I have been quite good at this. So far I’ve attended three wine classes and I’m signed up for at least two more. Anyone want to join me? I’m taking them at Harry’s Savoy Grill in Wilmington, DE. They serve food too!
* Lose 10 to 15 pounds – uh. Yea. Let’s not go there.
* Workout more – Worked out a lot and I’m getting ready to join a gym.
* Finish reading stack of 32 books on my nightstand.
* Part 1 – remove stack from nightstand and put in actual bookcase.
* Part 2 – select five books to put in drawer of nightstand and read those first.
* Part 3 – forget how many books I haven’t read so far and begin purchasing more.
* Part 4 – continue to read books in nightstand while forgetting how many dang books are waiting to be read.
* Step 5 – purchase more books and hope that maybe one day I’ll actually read them all.
* Step 6 – you get the idea.
* Revise short stories, submit them, and have them in print – I have revised three short stories but I haven’t submitted them anywhere. I want to revise them again before sending them out. That little voice in the back of my head keeps saying, “What if these are lousy? Don’t send them out until they are absolutely pristine.”
* Island vacation (Galapagos or St. Thomas)– well, this may not happen in 2006 but I’m probably going to a conference in Florida. That’s a warm state and I’m sure I can get a margarita or two there.

What about your resolutions? Have you stuck to them? Added to them? Thrown them out to begin again?

The Gumby Chronicles Part Tres

2006-03-24T09:13:00.000-05:00

After a rather enlightening (literally, I sweat away at least five pounds every time) hot yoga workout, I sat in the changing room, guzzling water and chatting with a newbie.

“My last trainer told me to breathe through the pain,” said the ever so exhausted newbie. “I just about quit.”

“Ohmygod. I had the same experience. I had a yoga instructor who yelled at me for not doing the posture correctly,” said another yogi.

This of course, reminded me of the time I took a yoga class near my home at a local fitness center. You know, one of those centers where everyone is wearing ever so tight clothing and the girls (yes I intended to use the word girls not women) have their hair done and makeup “just so.” The guys wander around flexing their arms and sucking in their stomachs to ensure we all get a good look at their abs. Only for them to go home and slug down beers while releasing their guts to bloat to triple their sucked in size.

What was I doing there? It’s within walking distance from my house and I got a good monthly deal. Believe me, I asked myself the same question.

Anyway.

I decide to mix up my standard weight training and elliptical trainer/treadmill workout with a bit of interactive classes, like yoga.

The instructor floated into the room, tall, thin, lithe. Her blonde hair emitted the glow of a halo, her blue eyes liquid. She was the Japanese animation version of a yoga instructor. She wore a headset tied to a sound system allowing everyone in the room to hear her clearly.

The beginning of the class wasn’t bad. Earlier, I had problems with my hip muscles and figured this class would help me work out the kinks. We stretched and pulled. Yanked our legs in one direction and our arms in another. Our faces contorted with the words “breathe.” The instructor glided among us, speaking into the headset, her voice soft.

Then came the series of postures for the lower body. I sat on the floor, trying to get my legs into the general position of a braid. “If you have any discomfort, breathe through the pain.”

As I tried to get my legs to obey what my mind told them to do, my hip screeched with bolts of pain that shot down my leg. My face must have looked like a Chinese demon mask as I tried to get into the posture.

“Breathe through the pain.” The instructor’s voice had become louder and seemed to multiply. I looked up to find her standing over me. The calm ethereal face much more ominous with the words, “Breathe through the pain.”

I wanted to say, “but I can’t breathe. There’s too much pain.” But instead, I forced a smile and hissed in and out small puffs of air, my leg searing. Can you say, “duh?”

She walked away, continuing onto the next pose. When I got out of the posture, I sat there, my legs felt like numbed rubber bands.

The next morning, my hip muscles had revolted and decide to go on a trip to Tahiti but they forgot to take the rest of my body with them.

Now I’m sure you’re wondering why I’d go back to yoga. For that one bad experience, I can think of numerous good experiences and I’ve been very lucky at the current yoga place, in that the instructors are very focused on ensuring that no one is injured. I like that.

So, what’s your workout story? Did a weight fall on your big toe? Take one too many steps on the stepper? Found out your sacroiliac did do THAT?

What do I like? Really????

2006-03-17T18:03:00.000-05:00

An ever so interesting question was recently asked of me, "What do you like to read on other people's blogs?" Nod to Mark, look at my butt, Pettus

Here's a short(ish) list:
- I enjoy deep thought (let's not take that to the X rated extreme - all you free association specialists). I like reading blogs that challenge common thoughts or ideas. Blog entries that make me think about society and human interactions.
- I like to read about other's everyday funny experiences. The best fodder for a blog entry can be the most minute and subtle moment but when reflected upon, the realization comes that either it was dang funny or could be broadened and be demonstrative of much more.
- I enjoy reading about successful writer's experiences and I don't mean the candy coated "Oh I had a wonderful book signing and everyone loved me, now read my book." No. Nuh-uh. Give me a break. I'm a card carrying member of Generation X, which by default means that I am cynical. Tell me what's really going on in that writer's head. What's it really like to set up a book signing only to have four or five people show up and they're looking for the bathroom?
- What I love even more than reading successful writer's experiences is reading blog entries of successful writers who are humble, hard working and appreciate all that they have. Not that I'm asking for a lot or anything.
- I actually like to visit the blogs that post interesting pictures and one of my favorites is PostSecret.com. I am constantly amazed at the emotion a simple postcard can evoke.
- I like intelligent insider information. One of my favorite bloggers for a while was Agent 007 on Publishing. I loved her blogging voice, the structure of her blog entries and dang it that chickie is smart! No cut on Ms. Snark - two very different bloggers with very different voices and unique approaches to the publishing industry.

Now - what are your favorite blogs and blog topics? And do you feel there is a void that could be met by a blogger?

The void for me is that I wish there was a blogger out there - whether it be written by a writer, publisher, editor, agent, professor, whatever - that delved into the different approaches of writing. And I don't mean the story arc or how to technically break down a scene or even the action/reaction dynamic. I mean a blogger who talks about how a writer really needs to search her soul to find true meaning in the writing - not just for herself but for her readers - and how others can do the same. Or I'm full of crap again.

Gotta run - I'm off to the theater (Imagine a snooty, Masterpiece Theater kind of voice.)

Addendum: I just checked Agent 007's blog and it looks like she's back.

Bueller? Come in Bueller

2006-03-10T14:05:00.000-05:00

I must admit, life has been, uhm. interesting of late. Not the kind of interesting I'd post on this blog. This said, I want to know what types of posts you'd like to see.

Interested in book reviews? The latest on the home construction? Want to know more about writing in the Philly area? Or how about book signings? Want interviews with authors? More of the Gumby Chronicles? My well is down to a few drops so suggestions are much appreciated.

And the classic hedge statement: Let's keep it clean folks. Maybe not squeaky but at least rated PG-13.

Critique Group Tonight

2006-03-01T13:32:00.000-05:00

Are you in the Springfield, Delaware County, PA area and have a short story/poem/excerpt from a novel or some other bit of writing you'd like to have others look at?

Then join us tonight in the Borders bookstore, 1001 Baltimore Pike, Springfield, PA at 7 PM. Look for the table in the back of the music section. I'll be there with some of the critique group regulars.

Hope you can join us.

Exploratory Eating Habits of Dogs

2006-03-01T12:26:00.000-05:00

Throughout the years, I have accumulated much useless knowledge. The majority of this knowledge is a result of direct observation. If you are a regular reader of this blog, then you have read about our dog, Indigo, and our cat, Minka. You have already experienced the cat/addict that is Minka and the wonderful pooping habits of Indigo, the super golden.

Now we must combine the eating and pooping addictions into one.

Yup, I’m going there.

For two years, we’ve had a children’s gate that enables Minka to get to her private heaven and Indigo to stay out of it. This little space she calls utopia contains her automatic cat box (Did I mention we were lazy?) and her automatic food dispenser. Those of you with both a cat and a dog know why we have the children’s gate. Those who don’t are about to find out.

Indigo, like all dogs, has a tendency to experiment with his food choices, such as feline delicacies. He began his journey with cat food. As a pup, he ate the ENTIRE bag of cat food. At the time, we didn’t think anything of it. He was naughty so we kenneled him for an hour or so. Long enough so he knew we weren’t happy about it but short enough so he could go to the backyard/lavatory.

He started whining while in the kennel so we opened it and watched him race to the backyard and then stand there with a confused look on his face as he involuntarily began vomiting. Who knew cat food expanded when it hit the stomach? Don’t worry he’s fine and that experience did stop him, for a bit, from trying the delicacy we call cat food.

Instead he started going for the other delight. At least that’s what he must think it is. The other evening I sat in my standard chair, typing away on my laptop keys when this overwhelming stench of fecal matter came upon me. I looked at Indigo, who had just sat beside me and began searching the room for the source. After getting up and looking behind each door, every piece of furniture and even looking in the toilets, I didn’t find a thing.

So, I sat back down to finish what I was typing.

It’s baaacccckkkkk.

Somehow the stink had followed me back. Was it me? I sniffed my clothes. Nope.

Indigo looked up at me and licked his chops.

Ohnoyoudidn’t.

I leaned in and sniffed.

OH YES HE DID!

INDIGO!

I ran upstairs to find the child’s gate open and the cat box void of feces.

I looked at our dog. He wagged his tail and followed me out of the room as I latched the gate.

“Scott! The dog’s at it again.”

“Which one – cat food or poop?”

“The second one.”

“Greeeaatttttt.”

Knowing that he was probably going to have some rather interesting digestion challenges in the upcoming hours, I returned to my chair and waited for the fun to begin. Indigo put his head in my lap and licked his lips.

“Oh no. Don’t kiss me.”

Does your pet have exploratory eating habits? If so, what's the oddest meal your pet has devoured?

The Gumby Chronicles - Part Dos

2006-02-22T14:48:00.000-05:00

If you read this blog semi-frequently you may recall that one of my resolutions for 2006 was to work out regularly and my workout method of choice has been ... Bikram (HOT!) Yoga.

As I stood in the center of the last class, I pondered the diversity of the practitioners and began comparing them to persons who frequent other group activities. OK, maybe I wasn’t IN the yoga class at the time, but the pondering definitely occurred within a day or two of the class.

Anyway.

I thought I’d share some of my thoughts and observations about the various methods of self-mutilation I have attempted:
- Cycling class: Lots of thin folks with long legs. Generally in the mid to late thirties and up age range. Men and women. Definitely look like cyclists or runners. Most wear cyclist clothes like those little spandex shorts that reach the knees and some even bring helmets. I questioned why someone would need a helmet for an indoor stationery cycling class. I don’t know. Don’t ask me. Maybe they knew something I didn’t. These are the kinds of folks who drink power shakes filled with wheat germ after the class and talk about their last cycling adventure in the mountains of killayabutt during the torrential rainforest downpour.
o Number of classes I attended: One. I wasn’t into the whole stand while biking now bike backwards, forwards, flip. Definitely an acquired taste.
- Aerobic class: Early twenties to early thirties. All women, except for the occasional man trying to win a bet that he can “take that wussy girlie class and leave with chicks on both arms.” Of course the guy usually leaves within the first fifteen minutes, red faced, gasping for air and gobbling water. The women who attend are interested in a workout that will make them feel powerful, look cute in spandex, and allow them to invade the Fuddruckers next door to the gym and eat a huge cheeseburger, onion rings and a large chocolate shake. Not that I’m judging. Or that I did it. Or something.
o Number of classes I attended: Off and on for six months. I enjoyed telling the naturally thin women about how their metabolisms would fail around the age of 30 and they wouldn’t be able to scarf down two cheeseburgers anymore. Now that I’ve gone beyond the 3 – 0 number, I too cannot devour two cheeseburgers. Come to think of it, I’ve never done that.
o Actually, I find aerobic classes, for me, to be most effective when I buy the home tapes. I can workout whenever I want to and I don’t compare myself to the women next to me who are smaller, cuter, in better shape.
- Yoga class: Wide range of ages for the practitioners. Both men and women but predominantly women. I must confess that I always wondered the true motives of attendees. I mean the whole purpose of yoga is to become more, uhm, flexible. Right. ‘Nuf said.
o Number of classes I attended: off and on for 4 to 6 months. Loved it, but I need the right instructor and this instructor only taught at a company I was working for. When I left the company, I didn’t have access to the class.
- Kickboxing: Mostly women usually in their early twenties to early thirties. A few attendees were in their forties but that wasn’t often. High intensity, kick your butt and any other muscle you can think of, class. Lots o’ sweat and no guilt when scarfing down that second cheeseburger. Oh wait. That wasn’t me. That was my evil twin.
o Number of classes attended: I went faithfully for 9 to 12 months. I stopped when I got into a fight with a boxing bag and the bag won.
- Weight training: Interesting mix of men and women. All ages, all sizes, all shapes. Can be high impact or low, totally depends on what the person chooses to do.
o Number of times I have weight trained: I’ve done weight training off and on since I was 17. Admittedly, there may be a few years between each period of training.
- Bikram (HOT!) Yoga: The greatest diversity of attendees in terms of age, size but not necessarily shape. Most of the practitioners around me are already in pretty good shape. Most use this as a supplementary exercise to running, weight training, lacrosse, and such. I, of course, use it as my primary since my hip muscles still think they are in a fight with the boxing bag. I’m waiting for them to figure out the boxing bag won, loosen up and then I can supplement with another form of self-torture. Like Judo.
o Frequency of workouts: Goal is twice a week and I’ve been doing this since the beginning of the year.

How do you workout? Are you an armchair warrior? A gumby enthusiast? A powerhouse with the punching bag?

The crack cocaine of cat food

2006-02-15T13:09:00.000-05:00

Because we are incredibly lazy, my husband and I switched our cat's food from dry to a well-known canned brand. We’re lazy because we ran out of dry food and happened to have a few cans of the well-known brand in the house.

At first, all was well. Our calico cat enjoyed being served a can of cat food every morning. She did her normal sniff, "What's this? No, no. It is not up to my standards." And then she walked away - always returning moments later with the implied, "Well, I guess this will do" and then devour the treat.

She enjoyed the food so much, that we bought a case of it at BJs so she could enjoy this newly found food treasure.

And then it began.

The terror started with her meowing every morning and then placing herself in my path as I tried to, groggily, make my way to the kitchen at the hour of way-too-early-for-anyone-with-sense. Then, she shoved her face into the half poured can, to ensure that no morsels missed the bowl or her awaiting mouth.

In the evening, she followed me around and stood next to her bowl and told me, "Hey. You can feed me TWO cans a day."

Of course, I knew that giving a small cat two cans per day was not a good idea. So, I gave her a small treat, which seemed to appease her.

This continued for a week or so, until the wee hours of Saturday morning – translation - 2 AM.

I awoke to the distinct feeling of being watched and the sensation of breathing on my cheek. When I opened one eye, there was our cat, Minka, standing over me.

"Meow."

I closed my eye, hoping she did not notice that her attempts of awakening me were successful.

"Meow."

Damn.

She shoved her tail in my face and twitched. Not quite conducive to good sleeping.

I picked her up and put her on the floor.

Moments later, Minka returned. This time, she shoved her face into my hand, "You need to wake up and pet me and give me my crack cocaine of cat food!"

After a half-dozen instances of me pushing her off the bed and her returning, she finally got the idea and waited until 5 AM to begin her efforts anew.

This time I was smart. I picked her up and put her outside the bedroom door and closed it.

"Meow," came the muffled voice.

No problem, I'll just go right back to sleep.

Unfortunately, her morning alarm terrorist attack was successful. I tried for an hour to go back to sleep and finally gave in.

She followed me down the stairs and beat me to her standard eating spot. I couldn't get the cat food out of the can because she was too busy shoving her face into it.

In seconds, the food was gone.

I found my way back to our bedroom, hoping that I had appeased the feline gods.

"Everything OK?" my hubby mumbled as I returned to bed.

"We need to go back to dry cat food."

"Oh" (insert snoring noise here).

If I had the cat food analyzed I wonder what addictive properties would be discovered?

I'll do it after I get some sleep. Good night.

Read ALOUD

2006-02-07T21:09:00.000-05:00

If you've read my bio, then you may have noticed that I dabble in journalism. Check out my article on InterAct Theatre's Writing Aloud series on Philadelphia Theatre Review. A great opportunity for local writers to have their work presented in a theater setting.

The adventures of Jill and Lisa: Part 11 – Last day in Madrid

2006-02-01T09:30:00.000-05:00

A fun-loving bus ride back to Madrid gave Lisa the opportunity to harass one of her fellow English speakers:

“So your name is ONLY Randy.”

“Yes.”

“Not Randolph.”

“No.”

“How about Ronaldo?”

“No, my name isn’t Ronaldo.”

“So your birth certificate only says Randy?"

“Yes.”

“What about a middle name?”

“What? Look I’m trying to sleep.”

“Oh sorry.”

After a few minutes of the bus traveling through miles of vacant hills, “Are you sure your name isn’t Randolfino?”

“Listen. I’m snoring. Hear it?” (Simulated snoring)

“Oh right.”

Once the bus reached Madrid and our heroines said their goodbyes, they began their journey home. Our American dilatants lugged their bags, three times the size of standard carry-ons, back to their rooms in the Hotel Atlantico. Determined to get some shopping into their stay and after exhaustive interviews of Spaniards to discover the best place to purchase shoes, clothes, and souvenirs, our heroines quickly freshened up and confidently strode out of the hotel and to the shops that were surely anticipating their entrance.

Yeah, that’s it.

As they approached one of the larger malls, only two blocks from their hotel, they note that many people walked the streets, but no one seemed to be going into the shops. Jill and Lisa stood at a mall entrance, only to find locked doors.

“Let’s check out the next entrance.”

“Are you sure they’re open?”

“Uh. Dunno...”

Our heroines searched for and found the mall hours.

“According to this, the mall’s open for another two hours.”

“Maybe only that store is closed?”

So they walk around and around ...

And around the outside of the mall, only to find that every entrance was locked and the primary lights seemed to be dimmed.

The women remained at an entrance and watched as entire families strolled through the streets, greeting other wanderers along the way. Pedestrians stopped and hugged each other like they were discovering old friends. Then the families disappeared into a restaurant or bar to chat. Jill and Lisa looked across the street and in a small family owned shop a sign had been posted – closed for holiday.

“You have to be kidding.”

“Now what?”

“There’s nothing wrong with the good old stand by.”

And what might that stand by be? Why the Hard Rock Café in Madrid of course. Not only did it have food but it also offered souvenirs and clothes. OK, no shoes but two out of three ain’t bad.

With their final evening in Madrid before them, Jill and Lisa joined the strolling families and wandered to the Hard Rock Café. All the while admiring the beautiful and eclectic architecture of Madrid; people watching; and admiring the openness of the Spanish culture.

And this makes our final entry for The adventures of Jill and Lisa. Tune in next week, when Lisa will come up with something that will be incredibly clever, breathtaking or at least palatable.

In the Freying pan or not?

2006-01-26T21:56:00.000-05:00

I originalled called this post Fry Frey - time for penance, honestly because I thought the title was funny. But, in retrospect, it was a bit harsh - sort of. Anyway, the point of this isn't about Frey, it's about how people who victimize an entire group (or anyone for that matter) should have to give back to the community they treated wrongly. And since most of these folks seem to have done so out of greed, then the best way for them to pay penance is to give all of the proceeds from their books to a charity.

Although I would like to comment that based on the article about Nasdijj, he may be mentally ill (no pun or sarcasm intended). The details of his life seem to reflect that of a certain type of schizophrenia. I'm not stating this as an excuse for him but rather something that those close to him should take seriously, in the hopes that he can receive treatment. If I'm wrong, then he's just another con man. Either way, the situation is sad.

+++

So now that Oprah has told Frey where to stick it, I think it's time for penance. No, I don't mean saying Hail Mary five zillion times or until his tongue falls from his mouth. Although that could be interesting.

Has anyone noticed that his books continue to be on the best seller lists? Even if he does lose his book deals, so what? He'll rake in the cash for the books that are out.

So how can Mr. Frey fry? Actually feel the pain of his errors. I know. He should donate all profits from his books to rehabilitation clinics. That would be fair. Quite fair.

OK Mr. Frey. Instead of hiding in your cubby of a world, sitting on top of your profits while crying, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be such a stinker." Stand before those you conned and give it up. All of it.

By the way, the same treatment is only fair for LeRoy and Nasdijj. If their subjects are good enough to be ripped off and imitated then they should be good enough to receive the profits.

The adventures of Jill and Lisa: Part 10 - A night of debauchery by Jill

2006-01-25T21:20:00.000-05:00

It was a night to remember, that last night in Valdelavilla ... I only wish I could remember it.

Oh, I’m just teasin’. It wasn’t that bad. But allow me to say that my last night in the lovely mountains of Spain ended a bit differently than Lisa’s ...

It was all fine while we were in the little make-shift bar area. We were listening to the tales of GoodSport, dancing in the limited space between tables (the Spaniards will indeed dance anywhere!), taking pictures, and just enjoying these wonderful people we had come to love over the past week. Yes, there were many vodka y limons and rum and cokes, but it was all good.

Until the bartender/cook/in-house medic/groundskeeper guy said that the party was over. Yeah right. Let me tell you a little secret about my good friends the Spaniards – the party is never over!!

While Lisa made a hasty, albeit less than graceful exit off Stage Left, I instead exited with the masses out the main door. That was the First Mistake. Then, after some more laughs outside while the buzz began to wear off a bit, I made my way back to our little apartment.

Then I heard it ... the quietest little whisper in the sweetest little voice. "Yil, Yil fiesta aqui!" Ok, by this time the Spaniards had learned that I could speak and understand passable Spanish, a fact that both Lisa and I had kept guarded upon arriving in Valdelavilla. Plus, I had found that the later in the evening it was, the more Spanish I would hear around me. Given that the Spaniards were strictly forbidden from conversing in anything but English with each other or the Anglos during the course of the week, I wasn’t surprised that they gave in once it was late and their guards were down. Now the dear little lady who was enticing me to join the party in her apartment was the most harmless person who had attended Valdelavilla. She was a sweet, quiet, hard-working mother of a beautiful little girl, but boy, could she shake her booty on the dance floor ... or wherever!

"What could possibly happen?" My mantra of the entire experience whispered back ... “I’ll just stop by for a minute, besides, Lisa’s probably there already.”

Wrong. Lisa was munching on crackers and/or passed out in her bed. Please note this was my Second Mistake.

I stooped down to enter the little apartment hosting the after-fiesta of the fiesta to find that the bartender/cook/in-house medic/groundskeeper was still bartending after all, with all of the same booze that was in the bar! There were 4 Anglos total in attendance at this after-party, and allow me to reiterate that Lisa was NOT one of them. I found the other three, and we sat on the floor in the corner of the room and watched in amazement as our dear friends, surely the original inspiration for the Energizer Bunny, danced and danced and danced.

At some point I managed to make an escape, crawling for the door only to be found by, oh, I think we’re calling him Pepe from a previous blog entry.

"Yil, Yil, you cannot leave."

I was beginning to think this was indeed true.

"I have to, Pepe. I’m tired."

"No, no, you must stay ... you are my favorite girl."

Ha! Hahahahahahahaha!

Yes, I’m sure at that moment I was indeed Pepe’s favorite girl, as Lisa would have been if she were there, or any other female would have been in that exact situation.

I gave Pepe a great big smile and a hug, and said "thank you, and you’re my favorite guy" and proceeded to waltz back to Lisa’s and my apartment, despite the protests.

I wasn’t terribly quiet about entering the room. I mean, after all, Lisa had ditched me!

But, good soul that she is, she was awake and waiting to hear my Tale of the Fiesta after the Fiesta.

Our overall rating of this experience, crazy adventures and all? I wouldn’t have traded it for anything. The people were wonderful, the country and the culture are so warm and inviting, and the bond forged between old friends and new is something to be treasured for always.

Tune in next week to find out what happened AFTER Jill and Lisa left Valdelavilla. That's right folks, there's more.

Giants in the valley? Yup

2006-01-24T21:24:00.000-05:00

Meet fellow Pennwriter and author of "There Are Giants In This Valley" on the following dates. This is Jack's first novel so go out there and support him.

Signings for Jack Hillman's "There Are Giants In This Valley":

January 29- 3:00 P.M. Lost River Caverns, Hellertown, PA
February 23- 7:00 P.M. Barnes & Nobles, Bethlehem, PA
March 15- 7:00 Barnes & Nobles, Camp Hill, PA

Appearances:
LunaCon, March 17-19, Hasbrouck Heights, NJ
RavenCon, April 21-23, Richmond, VA
Pennwriters, May 19-21, Grantville, PA

Reminder: Meet the authors

2006-01-24T09:07:00.000-05:00

Check out Ron Hogan (GalleyCat/Beatrice) and John Scalzi enjoy a bit of banter at Germ Books in Philadelphia on January 26 at 7 PM. Even if you are not a Sci-Fi or 70's movie fan, this should be a fun evening listening to the two of them "debate."

Are you from the Philadelphia/New Jersey/Delaware area and know of book signings/readings/discussions? Let me know. I'd love to publicize them on this blog.

How can you get into the Fishbowl?

2006-01-19T13:54:00.000-05:00

Amazon announced a new program called, Fishbowl with Bill Maher. Read the press release.

I have to wonder how authors who aren't as famous as Stephen King can be a part of this new venture. Even though Amazon states that "'Amazon Fishbowl with Bill Maher' has a simple, yet powerful mission -- to help our customers discover new books, films, and music, and to help the creators of these works find new audiences" ..., I question how many "new" authors will be featured. I mean, Stephen King isn't exactly green.

Let's see who'll fill the other 11 slots.

The adventures of Jill and Lisa – Yup, there’s more ...

2006-01-19T11:03:00.000-05:00

Reading/Lively kvetching

2006-01-16T15:19:00.000-05:00

On the Frey

2006-01-12T08:35:00.000-05:00

I’ve remained silent about the whole Frey scandal. I was more interested in finding out the details. Yes, I read the Smoking Gun research. Every page. I skimmed the Larry King interview. And yes, I am disappointed in the industry as a whole and especially in Frey for not having enough ethics or morals to stand up and be honest about what genre it truly is.

I am most disappointed in Oprah. When I heard that Oprah continues to endorse Frey I was a bit surprised but maybe not why some may think.

Oprah is one of the biggest names in the industry. Her influence is felt across media. When she speaks, people don’t just listen, they act. Which has been demonstrated in her book club as well as whenever she endorses anything including chewing gum.

So for Oprah to make the clear choice (and believe me, she doesn’t do anything without thoroughly considering the options) to send a message to viewers that it’s OK to lie, exaggerate and then try to cover it up really aggravates me. I understand the overall intent of her choice – that the book can be an inspiration to those who have battled addiction but aren’t there many other books that are honest and can do the same? Why stand behind this one? Because he fought his demons without AA? I’m not sure I buy that. If he greatly exaggerated the details of his life then what else did he exaggerated? I understand that the overall message of the book is important and I agree with this in theory but I don’t think the end justifies the means. Why not call the book what it really is: pop-culture historical fiction. I don’t understand why it wouldn’t be inspirational if we took the “non” off of “non-fiction.”

I think it will be interesting to see how this impacts American society in general because believe me, it will. And I’m not just referencing the fact that as of this morning both of Frey’s books are in the top five on Amazon.

I have mine ...

2006-01-08T18:14:00.000-05:00

Did you place your order? Well now, here's your chance.
Emerging Writer's Network has a special offer for members to order literary journals at a discount. Definitely worth it.

Not a member? You should be.

Talking about blogging

2006-01-08T12:09:00.000-05:00

I realize I'm posting this late (my life's been a bit hectic lately) but I'll be speaking about blogging and how it has been leveraged by those in and related to the publishing industry, today in Reading, PA at GoggleWorks beginning at 3:00 PM.

Congratulations to Elizabeth Kann for starting this new Pennwriters critique group and a thank you for inviting me.

Come out and join us!

Lessons from Lost

2006-01-07T11:43:00.000-05:00

The Chicago Tribune ran an article on January 5 about the various marketing strategies used by the TV show Lost.

Interesting to note that the writers for Lost blog as the characters they created.

What if an author wrote a novel and then as a part of the author's promotional campaign, she blogged as one or more of her characters?

Let's look at the benefits:
- The material already exists. Think of all the pages that were edited out. The ones the author loved but didn't flow with the primary story. Now they can be used.
- Remember that back story that sits on the writer's laptop? The one referenced whenever the question was asked, "Would he really do that?" That back story can be leveraged as a part of a book's launch.
- If this book is a part of a series and a secondary character will have a more prominent role in the future, then why not blog in that character's voice? Give readers a taste of what they will experience with the follow up book.

Why would this work?
1. Most people are naturally nosey, so a blog that gives more background for a character could be fab.
2. The author can mention the fact that the blog exists in promotional materials, including when the entries will be posted.
3. The author can get a better sense of what readers really think of the character. I'm not saying that readers are shy but that in this venue, it's almost like the reader can interact with the character. Not the author. The CHARACTER. Not only can the reader learn a lot about the character but maybe there are aspects of the person on the page that suddenly emerges as the author types away as the character? Frighteningly close to a writing exercise I'm sure we've all used.
4. The blog could be changed to reflect different viewpoints. So week 1 is the antagonist blogging. Week 2 is the protagonist. Week 3 is the antagonist's mother and so on.
5. Additional promotion can be leveraged on the blog. Is the author available for speaking engagements?
6. What about those lovely hit/statistic counters we bloggers love so much? The ones that can provide additional demographic information to flesh out additional promotions/speaking engagements/lectures/etc.

I could go on and on but I just see many opportunities with this tactic being used as a part of a greater campaign.

What do you think?

Benefits of Book Clubs to Authors

2006-01-05T15:50:00.000-05:00

Galleycat posted an article about authors leveraging book clubs to assist in increasing sales. I think that this is a great idea but there are even greater benefits to be gained by using this means of connecting to readership.

Sales, of course, is the primary benefit for an author to call into a book club meeting but additionally, speaking with dedicated readers can assist in the author's longevity. Calling into book clubs can be the equivalent of an instant focus group. Not only does the author have an opportunity to answer questions presented by the readers but the author can ask questions of the readers. This can provide authors a better understanding of his/her reading population.

Some of the potential benefits include:
- Better means of identifying target audiences (Where else do the book club members frequent and how can that information be leveraged? What other authors were favorites of the book club members and how can that information be translated into new marketing/public relations opportunities?)
- New thoughts/ideas on future novels.
- Better understanding of what characters/plot lines/etc worked for the readers and were desirable by the targeted population.
- What other ways do book club members receive information (newspaper? magazine? blog? local library? third cousin five times removed?)

Getting their opinions doesn't mean the author needs to do everything suggested by the readers but invaluable ideas and future opportunities can be provided that the author may not have been able to leverage otherwise.

What other advantages do you think an author gains by using this medium?

I must be insane

2006-01-03T08:58:00.000-05:00

I can prove it this time. I have an actual example, in case anyone questions my sanity or lack there of.
And here it is:

Bikram.

Yoga.

I know what you are thinking. You are wondering what the blankity does Bikram yoga have to do with the level in which I relate my inner world with the world that surrounds me?

I’ll tell you.

This past week, I and a very good friend, AJ, decided we would delve into the high intensity, reenergizing, calming, and ever so uhm, high temperature world of Bikram yoga.

For those of you not familiar with Bikram, it is a form of yoga in which the yoga practitioners remain in a room that reaches 110 degrees Fahrenheit. While in this dry heat, the practitioners stretch, bend, strain, and generally move like an enormous Gumby doll. And this lasts for 90 minutes.

90 whole friggin’ minutes!

Now sit back and envision this scene. Women and men in a partially lit room all scantily clad in breathable clothing, trying to remember not to breathe in through their mouths and out through their noses, otherwise their lungs may get scorched (Please note the bit of exaggeration here but you get the idea.) For an hour and a half, these individuals move in unison and perform, to the best of their abilities, 26 poses.

Of course this brings forth a vision of grace, dexterity, wonder.

Yeah, let me add a bit of flavor to that soup.

Now picture me, in black cotton shorts and a cute white t-shirt trying to do this. Me, the one who hasn’t worked out in a year due to an accident with a kickboxing bag – I swear it came after me first. Me, the one with posture so poor that the Hunchback of Notre Dame has called me in sympathy. Yes, me, the woman who, due to said kickboxing accident, sometimes has difficulty walking for more than an hour without pain in my right hip and surrounding muscles.

I thought this would be a great way to get back into working out and a fabulous means of stretching my muscles back into shape so I can continue my disagreement with the big black kicking bag.

Now imagine me in the center of a room full of runners, weight lifters, aerobic instructors, and rowing crew folks as I try to keep one foot in the air while balancing on the other foot.

The first time wasn’t so bad. My foot only rolled, oh, 20 times. Never a quitter, I got right back into pose, trying my darnedest to keep my back straight, chin up, arms wide, legs solid like a tree trunk, and focus, focus, focus.
I only considered running for the exit, whipping open the door and screaming “Air! Glorious Air! So scrumptious and luscious!” (Sing to the tune of Food Glorious Food from Oliver!) Gulping every bit of cool, delectable air I could find while dousing my head in the nearest sink and drenching myself. Of course, tepid water would feel like manna at this point. No, no. Never one to give up, I fought my basic instinct for survival and continued to perform the poses. OK, I tried to do them. Well, I tried not to look really bad and cry as I watched those around me easily slip from one pose into another, ever graceful.

The second visit I contemplated running for the door only once. I consider this a vast improvement.

Here’s where the proof of insanity comes in.

I want to go back. Change that – I’m going back. After the first class I enjoyed a high like I experienced only once before. For all you smarties out there, no it did not involve any illegal substances or aerosol cans of whipped cream. When yoga is done correctly, the practitioner can experience a calming, overall high that can last for hours after the class.

What more can I ask for? Stretching, sweating, and a high like no other.

Yeah baby, give me some more.

Now as my husband prepares the padded room for me, I leave you with this: Is standing the middle of a desert while doing your best Gumby impersonation worth the after affects? Only you can answer this question.

Recently rejected? So has a Nobel Prize winner

2006-01-01T21:10:00.000-05:00

If you are a writer, then this article in the Times Online provides an interesting glimpse into the publishing industry. I know submitting manuscripts that have already won awards has been done before but I always find it intriguing that people in the industry don't recognize well known author's work.

A nod to Frank Wilson at BOOKS, INQ for finding this gem.

Nuggets from Literary Life

2005-12-31T08:09:00.000-05:00

Interesting reflections on various aspects of the Literary Life. A nod to BOOKINQ for discovering it.

Who knew that the launch party for Shalimar the Clown was lousy and one of the best opening sentences of the year didn't seem to follow through?

New Year's Resolutions/Goals

2005-12-30T20:26:00.000-05:00

Read some of my New Year's resolutions/goals on Galleycat. Thanks to Ron for publishing them. A few I'd like to add that may not be writing related are:
- take wine tasting classes
- spend more time with hubby
- lose 10 to 15 pounds
- get back into working out (the workout of choice is Bikram yoga)
- finish reading the stack of 32 books on my night stand
- revise a few of my short stories, submit them, and have them in print
- go on an island vacation. I'm thinking about the Galapagos Islands or St Martin or St Thomas or uhm OK any place warm with lots of refreshing alcohol infused drinks.

Happy New Year to everyone!

Writing Workshops

2005-12-28T15:33:00.000-05:00

I mentioned in an earlier post that the University of Pennsylvania (U of P) has a great Fiction Writing Workshop. Information on this and many other writing workshops are now available. Another great resource is the Writer's Conference at U of P, usually held in the beginning of October.

A fellow Pennwriter, Susan Meier also offers an online workshop called This Is The Year You Write That Book! to begin in January 2006. According to the description, this eight-lesson workshop combines sessions on both the mental and crafting aspects of writing a novel that give you the tools you need to make This the Year You Finish That Book!

Assumptions about readers

2005-12-28T12:33:00.000-05:00

I have been reading opinion columns about what constitutes literature and what is not. There seems to be an underlying assumption that a well defined line exists amongst readers. Romance readers only read romances, mystery readers only read mysteries and literature readers only read, well, literature. This assumption has always amazed me. It's like saying "I only listen to Classical music" or "I only eat American food." Really? You do? How boring.

Readers look for something specific in the titles they select. Some desire novels with multiple layers. Books with a greater meaning. Books that make a statement.

Others simply want to escape into a world created by the writer. Neither reader is wrong and neither reader is right, but as writers our job is to provide well written materials that meet the audience's needs. We seem to forget why we are here - because there are people out there who want to (hopefully) read what we write.

Don't get me wrong. The author writes for herself as well. If the author doesn't like what she's written then why would a reader? But an author is a reader too. How else does she learn her craft?

I think opinion columnists make a huge mistake in assuming there are two kinds of readers - genre and literary. I believe this to be false. Absolutely false. Most readers are attracted to a certain style and at different points in their lives they will crave a type of title/kind of author and gravitate to it. To imply that a mystery reader would never pick up James Joyce or Toni Morrison is a false assumption.

For the record, I listen to Classical, Rock, Pop, Alternative, Blues and Jazz. I have favorite foods in almost all cuisines. Admittedly, I haven't tried them all but I have a lifetime ahead of me to try.

Remember

2005-12-24T16:51:00.000-05:00

During this holiday season I'd like to share some memories that resound with me. These are the moments that, for me, epitomize the spirit of the holidays.

* Growing up, my father often worked on the holidays. Come to think of it, I often did too. We made our own holiday feast a day or two before the official holiday, enjoying a savory dinner at a restaurant like Ponzio's in Cherry Hill, New Jersey. What mattered was that we set the time aside to sit down and talk to each other while acknowledging the importance of the upcoming day.
* In our house we rarely had a big Christmas dinner. But we had amazing friends who would share their holiday feasts and traditions with us. Of course we brought something to share but the treat came in experiencing another family's holiday traditions and feeling as though we had been welcomed into someone else's world.
* The Christmas after our house burned down (another story but not something for this blog), my best friend Marie, Poppie (My dad), and I feasted on cheeseburger specials from the local Jewish deli. We sat on the carpeted floor of a two bedroom apartment (our furniture consisted of a cot, a bed, a chair and a folding card table) and laughed. We shared stories from the previous week and since we all had to work later that day, we took advantage of the time we had to revel in each other's company.
* Waking up next to my husband the morning of our first Christmas together and being in each other's arms.
* Hearing my father's voice on the radio, wishing everyone happy holidays and knowing that there were some folks out there who needed to have him make that wish. And proud that he gave it to them.
* The Christmas Poppie didn't have any money so he gave me an antique doll that I had inherited years before. Yes, I had seen the doll. Yes, I had played with it. The present wasn't what made this a special Christmas - it was the fact that he went to the trouble of wrapping it and placing it under the tree. He had spent a lot of time thinking about what he should do and the look on his face when he gave me the gift - a combination of honesty, caring, and hope all intermingled with a bit of sadness is what made this a memorable one. And knowing that the tinge of sadness was lifted once I opened the gift and hugged him.

I hope that you and yours have moments that make the holidays unique and special for you.

Wishing you and yours the best this holiday season.

P.S.: I promise not to get this mushy every year.

Rerun: Witnessing magic boobs in action

2005-12-23T05:53:00.000-05:00

We'll return to The adventures of Jill and Lisa as soon as Lisa can find Jill, who has been hiding behind stacks of Christmas packages saying, "I swear I'll get that blog entry to you ..." her voice trailing off, letting Lisa know that yet again, she has ditched her ever present blogging responsibilities.

Sorry. Had to rat her out.

Now back to the best (cough) of this blog (Yes, I can have a best of even though I've only been blogging for 8 months or so. If I wanted to, I could say the whole dang blog is a best of, but I won't. My ego's not quite that big. Husband - stop laughing.)

Witnessing magic boobs in action
Oh yes. This week I witnessed a bonafide Magic Boobs moment. And it did not involve me.

As some may know, we will be renovating our home beginning this month (yes I am sure you will see posts related to this endeavor). We needed a township variance because our plan includes a back patio and the designed patio would go over the set back line (Email me if you are not familiar with set back lines. I can explain.)

To obtain the variance we had to attend a township meeting - the local version of the People's Court but instead of one judge there is a panel of judges all eagerly waiting to hear why we feel we should be more privileged than our neighbors and obtain a grand thumbs-up to break township rules.

Our moment before the Township Board was Thursday evening. This is where I witnessed the Magic Boobs in action.

The first to go before the Board was Ken, Barbie, Ken, and Lawyer-looking-type-mousy-guy. Ken, Barbie, and Ken are tall, 80s versions of the famous dolls. All three obviously workout a minimum of once a day and have glowing tans. If I had a black light they would have illuminated the room. Ken and Ken were wearing t-shirts, just tight enough to enhance their pecks and pants that enhance, ahem, other areas. Barbie was wearing the perfect Magic Boobs shirt - a t-shirt cut so low that the area between her boobs was enhanced and visible. She was also wearing capris that brought out the best in her lower torso. Barbie had blonde hair that aggravated the glowing tanned skin effect, giving the illusion that her hair was actually the top of a well-lit light bulb.

Of the four, can you guess who was sent to speak on their behalf? Let's just say that the Board consists of six men and one woman.

So Barbie stood before the defendant podium (not a joke) and spoke so softly into the microphone that the Board could barely hear her. Of course, Board members asked her to speak up. BANG! The power of the Magic Boobs began.

She shifted her shirt (to get more comfortable); moved the microphone, in an effort to bring it closer to her; arched her back to ensure the ultimate in Magic Boobs effect. Then she leaned into the microphone.

"Ms. Barbie, why would an all male gym be of benefit to the township?" a male Board member asked.

She shifted and began, "Because it's our dream and we researched and researched and researched and this is the perfect location and it's our dream and we researched."

The single female Board member asked, "Do you really think there is a demand for this?"

"Oh yes, I have asked many men if they would enjoy a 20 minute workout and they have all said that they would love it." Note - at the "20 minute workout" statement, she ever so slightly arched her back and reshifted. This is an advanced Magic Boob technique. Only those greatly experienced in the use of Magic Boobs should ever try this.

Can you guess if they got the variance? Let's just say that our township will soon have a new all male gym.

Ah, the power of being a woman.

*Names and locations have been changed to protect those involved.

Responding the old fashioned way

2005-12-22T06:03:00.000-05:00

Galleycat posed a question to the general readership yesterday regarding if a book reviewer should critique a book if the reviewer has already stated opinions that are a bit, oh, negative.

Of course, I had an opinion and it's a part of today's Galleycat article, Your Thoughts on Author/Critic Spats.

AMEN! A must read for aspiring writers

2005-12-21T07:04:00.000-05:00

You wanna be a writer? Read this - Susan McBride's take on writing "rules."

Just another reason why Susan and I must have Hypnotq martinis together. I'll treat.

Assumptions about readers

2005-12-20T20:18:00.000-05:00

I have been reading authors opinions of what is literature and what is not. There seems to be an underlying assumption that a well defined line exists amongst readers. Romance readers only read romances, mystery readers only read mysteries and literature readers only read, well, literature. This assumption has always amazed me. It's like saying "I only listen to Classical music" or "I only eat American food." Really? You do? How boring.

Readers look for something specific in the titles they select. Some desire novels with multiple layers. Books with a greater meaning. Books that make a statement.

Others simply want to escape into a world created by the writer. Neither reader is wrong and neither reader is right, but as writers our job is to provide well written materials that meet the audience's needs. We seem to forget why we are here - because there are people out there who want to (hopefully) read what we write.

Don't get me wrong. The author writes for herself as well. If the author doesn't like what she's written then why would a reader? But an author is a reader too. How else does she learn her craft?

I think authors make a huge mistake by assuming there are two kinds of readers - genre and literary. I believe this to be false. Absolutely false. Most readers are attracted to a certain style and at different points in their lives they will crave a type of title/kind of author and gravitate to it. To imply that a mystery reader would never pick up James Joyce or Toni Morrison is a false assumption.

For the record, I listen to Classical, Rock, Pop, Alternative, Blues and Jazz. I have favorite foods in almost all cuisines. Admittedly, I haven't tried them all but I have a lifetime ahead of me to try.

Revisiting of Magic Boobs

2005-12-16T21:06:00.000-05:00

This post, from earlier this year, received a lot of attention. In the spirit of the holiday season and all that kind of muck, here it is again.

Enjoy - Lisa

An interesting phenomenon. The power of boobs. On a Friday night, friends and I went to a local establishment to imbibe and enjoy unhealthy but tasty nourishment. As we stood at the bar, I attempted to gain the bartenders attention with the standard, "Excuse me."

This tactic was wholly unsuccessful so I used the classic method of the magic boobs. Instead of standing in my typical partially slouched manner, I stood up straight and pushed my boobs out ever so slightly toward the bar. As if they were beacons bringing a ship in, the bartender appeared, "What can I get for you?"

Now this method should only be used if and only if the said magic boob owner has been completely unsuccessful in obtaining the assistance for at least three times. Otherwise, using the magic boob method is simply an abuse of a power that females have by default.

I must reveal a secret regarding the magic boobs. I have female friends who claim that the magic boob method will not work for them. Oh contraire! As long as a woman looks like she is under the age of 45** and can purchase shirts that are ever so slightly hugging in the chest area, then this method can work for her. Here's the trick: a good bra. No fooling, no kidding, not a joke. The real secret to the magic boob method is purchasing a good bra and wearing a slightly hugging shirt. Women with boobs down to their knees, women whose boobs are practically inverted, women who have spent their lives with one boob slightly bigger than the other ... this method can work for them.

My secret weapon? What is the two cupped, double strapped contraption that to date no scientist can explain the value of women tying, snapping, buttoning on each morning? It is (drum role)

Victoria Secret's underwire Body bra. The bra has a thin layer of padding but it is not a padded bra. This bra will lift, shift, and enhance all cleavage. I have friends so dedicated to this bra that they will not buy any other. Combined with the above mentioned magic boob method, no woman should ever be ignored in a bar, restaurant or other establishment ever again.

Just think of the benefits that can be gained if this method is used at a car dealership or while trying to lift heavy objects at a grocery store. How about at the Home Depot?

Think of the possibilities - again - don't use the secret too often because if it is used too frequently, men will become immune to it and the power of the magic boobs will be destroyed.

** I have recently been informed that the magic boob formula works well past the age of 45. I happily stand corrected.

The Art of Revising

2005-12-13T16:16:00.000-05:00

On Bookninja.com is a snapshot of an author's desires to revise even after a book has been published. Ever Revise, by Catherine Bush

Now I don't feel so out of sorts for constantly wanting to improve my manuscripts. Seems as though this is a disease shared by many writers.

A quick acknowledgement to Books, Inq Blog for highlighting this piece.

Salman Rushdie Interview

2005-12-13T14:01:00.000-05:00

Interesting six-part interview with Salman Rushdie on Philly.com. Rushdie talks about his inspirations, experiences, motivations and much more. Rushdie interview on Philly.com

I'd recommend you listen to all of them. I did.

Tagged! I'm It!

2005-12-13T05:59:00.000-05:00

I have been tagged by Mr. Robert Gregory Browne. Let the listing begin!

Seven Things to Do Before I Die:
1. Travel the world, preferably in style or at least 4 out of 5 stars.
2. Write a novel that makes the readers need to catch their breaths at the end (I love that feeling). Hopefully I'll do that a few dozen times. Or at least a dozen.
3. Read all the books on my bed stand and all the ones that will be recommended to me, hereafter.
4. Tell and show my husband that I love him.
5. Understand why my dog hates crusted over snow so much that he'll try to sneak to the front lawn (long story but also explains why I was standing outside in 18 degree weather at 5:30 AM wearing a robe, long coat and slippers saying, "Go potty, Indigo. Go potty. NO. Go potty.")
6. Learn how to fly.
7. Actually listen to the 500 (and ever growing) CDs in my collection.
7b. Play tambourine with Susan McBride during a Def Leppard/ Maroon 5/ Audioslave/ U2 concert.

Seven Things I Cannot Do:
1. Watch an execution.
2. Listen to obnoxious people without walking away.
3. Watch someone being given a needle.
4. Understand hate.
5. Math (and I have an MBA. Scary huh.)
6. Blow smoke up someone's *ss. I've tried. The smoke is barely a puff, let alone enough to reach the posterior of said person.
7. Act like an extrovert and not feel exhausted at the end of the day.

Seven Things that Attract Me to My Spouse [romantic interest, best friend, whomever](not necessarily in this order!):
1. His smile.
2. His laughter.
3. His goofiness.
4. His intelligence.
5. His never-ending support of my crazy ideas.
6. He looks like home.
7. His caring.

Seven Things I Say (or write!) Most Often:
1. just
2. toward
3. I
4. the
5. a
6. and
7. OK

Seven Books (or series) I Love:
1. Song of Solomon
2. The Bluest Eye
3. The Feast of Love
4. The Moor's Last Sigh
5. The Count of Monte Cristo
6. Sweet Hereafter
7. Disgrace

Seven Movies I Would Watch Over and Over Again:
1. The Princess Bride
2. City of Angels
3. The Sixth Sense
4. The Terminal
5. Secondhand Lions
6. Amadeus
7. Sabrina

Seven People I Want to Join in: (be tagged)
1. Harley Jane Kozak
2. Psycho Sahm
3. MG Tarquini
4. Mark Pettus
5. Jennifer Weiner (No one said I had to know the person)
6. Mary Louisa
7. Ron Hogan

OK people, have at it!

Sigh, my home town

2005-12-06T10:50:00.000-05:00

For those of you wondering what the heck made me what I am today, here's a clue:
Camden Most Dangerous US City

Fiction Writing Workshop

2005-12-03T12:05:00.000-05:00

If you are a fiction writer in the Philadelphia area and you are looking for feedback, I encourage you to attend the Fiction Workshop held at the University of Pennsylvania.

I just attended a five week session and I learned a lot about my own writing but I also learned by reviewing other writers' techniques and styles (both well known published writers as well as classmates). Attendees submit work to be critiqued (workshopped) and in the following class feedback is provided by the professor as well as fellow students.

To improve, writers need to get honest feedback that points out the positive as well as what can be worked on and this workshop is a great way to do so.

Don't worry, the Adventures of Jill and Lisa will continue - we're just taking a bit of a break for the holiday.

The adventures of Jill and Lisa: Part 9 – Does your butt stick out?

2005-11-24T13:36:00.000-05:00

I’m sure you realized our heroines returned to Englishtown from the hike without any major trauma. Well barring the overwhelming feeling that their lungs weren’t quite able to expand enough to take in the air they needed to trek through mountains that in some instances were at a 90 degree angle. Please note that both of our heroines are city folk who usually spend their time drinking martinis or other concoctions on Jill’s deck; the closest they get to experiencing nature or allowing nature to experience them.

This was to be the final evening in Englishtown. And since Jill and Lisa missed on the all night super party/fiesta madhouse, our heroines felt that it was their duty to stay up late and discuss the benefits of Anglos and Spaniards joining together in a remote location and truly explore the benefits of cross cultural communications.

Yeah, who am I kidding? We were gonna drink, dang it! Don’t worry, both women had time to recover from the hike and their collective illnesses – at least a little – that afternoon after traversing the mountain trail. So, they found themselves in the midst of the bar at some incredibly late hour (OK, late for Americans, not so late for Spaniards) downing vodka y limons, rum and cokes, while enjoying animated conversations.

One such conversation was regarding the bathing areas in our beautifully renovated village. I’m sure you remember us mentioning how persons were petite back in the 1500s? Now envision a man, 6’ 6” tall spending 7 days trying to bathe in a room built for people who maxed out at 5’ 7”.

Our 6’6” friend, we’ll call him GoodSport, while sucking down vodka y limons gave Jill and Lisa an account of this challenging situation.

The showers in Englishtown consisted of a small shower pan that was barely arms length in diameter for a woman 5’7” tall. The shower was placed in a corner of the bathroom with ceiling beams boring down from above. Even Lisa was afraid of hitting her head on the wooden supports. The pan was enclosed with a plastic shower curtain – no walls, no sides, only a curtain that encircled the pan.

Hence the entertaining story.

“You see, I cannot wash my hair without doing this …” GoodSport demonstrates by shoving his derriere in an almost sitting position while miming a curtain that didn’t quite cover the imagined au natural state of GoodSport.

“So, my butt is really cold and my eyes are covered in soap and I’m trying to get the showerhead pointing so I can get the water on my hair. Then, to wash the rest of me, I have to crouch down and try to get under the water but I have to move my body so that I do this.”

GoodSport then mimes moving half of his au natural-ness out of the shower and trying to rinse off suds while avoiding falling into the accompanying sink or onto the floor, taking the curtain with him.

“OK, time to close up,” calls the bartender.

Lisa decides that this is her opportunity to exit – stage right. She didn’t want to stay up too much later and she was definitely feeling the high alcohol content, low cola or lemon fizz drinks.

“Good night, see you tomorrow,” she says and waves to everyone in the bar, exiting through a side door. At that point, she is trying to make sure she doesn’t fall or do something else that would be embarrassing on her way back to the room. After finding the keyhole to unlock the door to their room, Lisa plops onto the bed and looks around the room.

“Jill?”

Lisa suddenly realizes that Jill is not behind her, as she had assumed. But instead, was somewhere

Else.

She stumbles to the window and searches the grounds below to find her friend.

“Jill?”

Lisa goes to the stash of remaining crackers and eats a few, trying to regain some modicum of soberness. The next thing she knew, Jill was walking up the stairs to their room, as Lisa was passed out on the bed, covered in remnants of crackers and a trickle of drunkard’s drool reaching the bed sheet.

“Where’d you go?”

We’ll save the rest of the story for next week, when Jill will share the exciting and thrilling experience of a post-bar closing adventure.

The adventures of Jill and Lisa : Part 8 - Playing with vultures by Jill

2005-11-16T02:02:00.000-05:00

Being the good friend that she is, Jill felt it only right to share her black market drugs with Lisa, in lieu of attending the true-to-form Spanish fiesta combined with a real American dance-off. Truth be told, Lisa was still sniffling and could have really used a good night’s sleep too, since the combination of Jill’s wheezing, sneezing, and snoring was forcing her to count the spiders on the ceiling at night.

After a half-hearted attempt at doing laundry, our girls cracked the seal on the bottle.

"How many should we take?”

“I don’t know. Do you think it’s like American cold medicine?”

“I don’t know. What’s the equivalent of this in American anyway?”

“I dunno.”

So we each took one.

And then the giggles hit. And suddenly, it was like we had taken some sort of European form of truth serum.

“So-and-so* (*I’m pretty sure we weren’t even referencing a real person here, but rather an imaginary one that was very real to us at the moment) is a bitch.”

“Yeah, you said it.”

“My tongue feels weird.”

“My toenails are sparkly.”

“Let’s slide across the floor in our socks.”

“OK!”

And so went the conversation for the next few hours. Bloody stuff didn’t even make us sleepy.

Fast forward to the next morning at Valdelavilla (Englishtown), which dawned cool and rainy. Suffice it to say that our co-horts, both Anglos and Spaniards were looking like they’d been rode hard and put away wet (OK, not an original, but I absolutely love that expression!) after the previous evening’s/early morning’s activities. Lisa and Jill on the other hand had definitely done the right thing the night before and were feeling much better.

The experts at Englishtown have a well-devised, follow-up plan for the morning after the fiesta. A hike! Yes, a hike over the mountains and through the woods to a small town that looks much like Valdelavilla looked before its complete and total restoration. The hike follows a pre-historic road of sorts to arrive at the village, and the walking wasn’t too terribly taxing. After some exploring and minor accidental excavation, we were ready to head back. The damp, cool air was actually working wonders for our heroines and they were starting to really feel like themselves again. There were options for the hike back, either to go the way they had come, find a ride (the equivalent of hitchhiking in the Sahara) or climb a mountain and shave about 15 minutes off the total hiking time.

“Ohhhh, I wanna climb the mountain!” (Note: I really think this was a lingering after-effect of the codeine talking here)

“Ohhhh, me too!”

Did I mention that the mountains surrounding Valdelavilla are swarming with government-fed vultures?

So, with their spirits and bodies on the mend, although with conspicuously absent mental faculties, our heroines took to the hills, thinning air and all, to cavort with the vultures and balance on slippery, rocky ledges that looked down onto treacherous gullies hundreds and hundreds of feet below.

Did they survive the trek? What happens next? Stay tuned for more tales from Valdelavilla...

The adventures of Jill and Lisa: Part 7 - Candy from strangers by Jill

2005-11-09T08:13:00.000-05:00

The last time we saw our struggling heroines, Jill was awakening from the depths of a cold and flu after attempting to kill the germs with the famed Spanish flaming cocktail, quemada, and Lisa was getting over her cold and jetlag and culture shock.

Shortly after the arrival of the flu, we were told that we would be having another special evening, a very special meal of paella to be followed by an all night fiesta.

Nothing could have sounded worse to Jill and Lisa at this point, than more odd food and all hours reveling.

A few dapper and chivalrous Spaniards, seeing the plight of our lovely heroines, did their best to come to the rescue. Let’s call them, oh, I don’t know, Juan* and Pepe*. (*Names have been changed to protect the guilty, innocent, and non-compliant).

Juan and Pepe appeared to have cart blanche, or whatever the Spanish term is for that French phrase used so widely in English, when it comes to Englishtown. The rest of us were not allowed to even think about leaving the property, but Juan and Pepe were enjoyed the freedom of being able to jump into their little BMWs and zip off to find civilization any damn time they pleased. Plus, they usually returned with some form of champagne or alcohol. Trust me, they were good friends to make.

Juan, Pepe, Lisa, and Jill and Nadine, another well-meaning “Anglo” ended up together in a group activity, which they decided would best be done in the living quarters of Juan and Pepe. The assignment (to come up with a new product that would change the world) was completed, but let’s just say it didn’t win any awards. I believe it was at this point that Jill began the difficult task of teaching Juan how to swear properly and appropriately in English. This tutelage lasted for 4 more days.

Now, the gallant Spaniards were fully aware of Jill’s health concerns, what with the constant coughing, blowing, sneezing, and general moaning and whimpering.

“Yil, Yil, you stay in your room tonight. You and Lisa. We bring you supper to your room.”

Hmmmm. As tempting as that sounded, I gotta tell you, red flags all over the place.

“No, no, I’ll be fine. We’ll be there for the paella. Wouldn’t miss it.”

“Here, you take some of this, it will make you feel better.”

Do you remember when your parents taught you not to take candy from strangers? Yes, so do I. Apparently I missed the part where they told me not to take unidentified pills from strangers in a remote location of a European country…you really do have to spell things out for me.

Stay tuned for more riveting tales…

Writing Update

2005-11-05T20:49:00.000-05:00

I promised some who frequent this blog that I would provide an update on my writing activities. I just received a very nice rejection letter from one agent but he recommended that I continue to query.

In the meantime, I have some changes to the manuscript based on feedback I received in a workshop, that I think will enrich it.

As Elphaba from Wicked says, "everyone deserves a chance to fly."

Construction + Halloween = Many Trick or Treaters

2005-11-02T08:03:00.000-05:00

We interrupt our regularly scheduled The Adventures of Jill and Lisa to bring you this special Halloween edition of Oy, She's At It Again. The Adventures of Jill and Lisa will continue next week with Part 7 - Candy from strangers.

On Halloween, Scott and I began our evening by removing parts of a compost pile from our backyard. Turns out we’re not supposed to have one. Oops.

As was mentioned before, we are in the midst of construction; A LOT of construction. Right now we have no front porch for the trick or treaters to scamper up to and knock on our soon to be replaced door. So, Scott set up two lawn chairs in our driveway and a double halogen work light that illuminated myself, the tree I sat next to, and everything in my immediate vicinity. He did this to ensure I was comfortable reading in the dark as we waited for the sugar glutton to begin.

Yes, I’m that big of a literature dork.

Scott was sure to purchase the best candies – Reese’s peanut butter cups, Kit Kats, Crunch bars filled with caramel and so on. Only the best for those who dared to approach the home with a backhoe in the yard and a construction trailer and dumpster in the front.

Did I type “dare to approach”? Oops.

The first group of trick or treaters came forward with an adorable white-blonde haired boy dressed as The Thing from Fantastick Four.

“Daddy, I wanna go there. Is Bob the Builder home?”

“I don’t think that they … OH. Yes they are.”

I put my book down (yes, I do have some willpower) and smiled as they came forward.

The little boy looked in awe at the construction. Interestingly, his father had a similar expression.

“So. Doin’ some construction huh. Looks good.”

“Yeah. You could say that. We’re adding …” and so the games began.

Group after group of trick or treaters were lead by fathers eager to talk “Construction Shop” with Scott. I don’t remember there being so many fathers accompanying youngsters in previous years. Hmmm …

We have lived in this neighborhood for four years now and there were people I have never seen before coming by to chaperone their young ones/check out the house.

Scott loved every minute of it. I exited the scene after an hour. I was cold and wanted to hang out with our dog in the kitchen. Plus there was a book to read.

Now I know how to meet our neighbors. I think next year we’ll install a Koi pond on our front lawn. That’s sure to attract mass crowds.

Men Vs. Women – Halloween Candy Purchases

2005-10-31T09:00:00.000-05:00

For Halloween, Scott bought us two tickets to see Glenn Beck (radio personality). Scott is a huge fan. I honestly don’t listen to the show but I’m always up for new experiences that aren’t illegal, immoral or involve my butt (inside joke).

While in line for the bathroom I overheard two women talking about buying Halloween candy.

“Last year I sat in our kitchen and ate all the leftovers.”

“I do the same thing. I can’t help myself.”

“Well, this year,” stated the black haired woman, “I only bought candy I don’t like. This way I won’t eat it.”

“I’d eat it anyway.”

I found this exchange very interesting since I have dieted the majority of my life and was trained like a good little dieter to only buy candy I don’t like or to abstain from the sugar distribution ritual.

“Children don’t need candy,” one weight loss leader said to the mass of want to be losers. “If anything, give them apples.”

I’m sorry but I’m not going to ruin a holiday that was a treat for me as a child – and a contributor to my accumulated weight - by handing out apples.

This brings me to the general consensus that I’ve overheard men speak of and that Glenn Beck summarized in his stand up routine. The biggest joy of Halloween is getting awesome candy (In my opinion this is anything drenched in chocolate and involving peanut butter, but I'm digressing.)

Scott’s strategy to Halloween trick or treat purchases is to buy what he loves.

“Then I get to eat my favorite candy. Because you know we’ll have a bag of candy left over at the end of the night.”

So who buys the Halloween candy for us? My husband of course. And he eats the spoils at the end of the night.

OK, maybe I have a bite or two.

Happy Halloween!

The adventures of Jill and Lisa: Part 6 - Just light it on fire! – Guest bloggin’ by Yill

2005-10-27T02:49:00.000-04:00

You know that feeling when you first wake up and your throat feels kind of full and scratchy and your head feels like it could possibly weigh about 6 times its normal size? Yes, that feeling. This is how Jill woke up on Monday morning, a full three days into the Valdelavilla experience.

Not that she didn’t try with all her might to keep it from happening. And not that she didn’t follow a carefully sort of prescribed regimen of medicinal procedures to keep it from getting any worse…

Let’s flashback to the night before waking up with the aforementioned sore throat and fever. It’s a night of mystery and intrigue. A night that was promised to change the entire course of our experience. A night will that will ensure that everything is made right and all the proverbial pieces of language learning will fall into place.

You guessed it, we were going to get sloppy-ass drunk.

But not just drunk, no, no, no. That would not be the Spanish way. Achieving a cheap buzz on some bad cerveza and inexpensive liquor. No.

We knew things were going to be different that night when we noticed the notorious wine drinking Spaniards were abstaining from the fine rioja that was at every table for lunch and dinner. “What’s this?” our heroines, Lisa and Jill asked themselves. “No wine with dinner?” “No, no, no,” our Spanish friends said. “Tonight is….quemada.”

Quemada. Let me give you the short version of this tradition, they take 9 different kinds of 1000% proof alcohol and mix it in a big silver bowl with some dried fruit and coffee beans and then they light it on fire while they recite Celtic incantations that ask for blessing and the gift of enlightenment and something about cursing you with a smelly rear-end if you don’t believe in the ritual (the irony of which was not lost in translation, given the hoots of laughter as they read this in English and Spanish).

Seriously, you can’t make this stuff up.

So, my good Spaniards say, “Yil, Yil (the pronunciation of Jill), you must drink quemada to not get sick…”

Let me tell you, I’m pretty sure that the alcohol content alone in this concoction could have easily wiped out the bubonic plague, given the added bonus of a Celtic blessing, this Irish lass was game. “Bring it on!”

Lisa was so much more cautious. She took the cup offered her, gave it one sniff, and upon pronouncing it the odoriferous equivalent of gasoline, passed it up.

Jill on the other hand was not to be outdone by these fun-loving Spaniards. She took a gulp soon to be followed by that face two year olds make when you give them a slice of lemon or cough medicine or something they find to be equally distasteful.

“Wow!” (splutter, splutter, cough, gag) “Well, that’s some stuff!” After a few more half-hearted attempts to actually swallow the flaming kerosene, Jill decided she would just take her chances, and her more civilized glass of Bailey’s, and go to bed to wait for the worst.

Flash forward to Monday morning…wicked sore throat, raging fever, vile headache…so, apparently Jill was immune to the medicinal and magical powers of quemada…ok, let’s just say she may have even been allergic it.

Stay tuned to learn more about Lisa and Jill’s Spanish adventures regarding further attempts at self-medication and physical torture…

The crack cocaine of cat food

2005-10-23T10:23:00.000-04:00

The adventures of Jill and Lisa: Part 5 - Can you say "yous"?

2005-10-20T08:15:00.000-04:00

At this point in the saga, you are wondering what possessed two obviously brain-damaged women to travel to a foreign country and try to act “normal.”

I’m glad you asked.

We discovered a program in which native English speakers sit with native Spanish speakers for one week and converse in English. Talk and walk and chat and laugh and hang out and drink and drink and eat. Did I mention drink?

For seven days we were hidden in the hills of Spain (Soria to be precise) and lodged at a renovated village, originally built in the 1500s. We thought this would be a fabulous and unique vacation.

The day after we figured out how to turn on the lights, we met our group for a three-hour bus tour (not kidding) to our new mountain view home. Our checkout from the Hotel Atlantico was the same as our check in, but in reverse.

We flagged a cab to the meeting place with relatively no problems. We admired the architecture of Madrid and observed the lay-person rushing to his/her destination. After the standard pleasantries we boarded the bus and I fell asleep. I wish I could say it was from jetlag but somewhere along the way I caught a cold. Therefore I took advantage of the “free time” to try and sleep off the stuffy nose.

We arrived to Valdelavilla (Englishtown) and dragged our luggage along cobblestone steps. I thought the cement paths at the airport were hard on our wheeled luggage, I had no idea what cobblestones could do.

After a wonderful lunch, we were escorted to the main desk to check in.

“Passports please,” a dark haired woman requested from behind the main desk.

She looked at my passport and then looked at Jill’s and started rambling in Spanish.
The only words I caught were “one bed” and “married.”

“One minute please,” she said in her best English.

Moments passed and after hearing the same words over and over again, I finally stepped in.

“We’re not married,” I pointed to Jill and myself. “I like her, but not that much.”

Everyone laughed, a bit nervously.

“Sometimes we cannot tell from the names the person’s gender,” she explained.

“I bet Jill isn’t a common name in Spain,” Jill whispered to me.

The woman looked up, “Oh no. We have plenty of Yills. We don’t have Lisa’s.”

I must admit, I was surprised. I grew up in a primarily African American and Spanish neighborhood. I knew at least four Lisa’s all of Spanish origins. I assumed that Lisa was a common name in Spanish speaking countries. Guess not.

After assigning us a new room with separate beds, we put our clothes away and freshened up for the introductory meeting with – Mr. Englishtown.

Yes, there is a Mr. Englishtown. He is the founder, the creator … in two words – The Man.

But The Man had some preconceived ideas about how English speakers talk.

He introduced himself to the room full of English speakers (from Canada, Australia and the US) and Spanish speakers, then asked each of us for introductions. After demonstrating the importance of enunciation “If I say, how is your dog, then you understand me. But if I say howsyurdawg then you may not,” he pulled some common slang from Australia (goodday), Canada (eh) and various ones from the US. OH yes, he did try to address the Philadelphian’s speech pattern.

“Lisa, what is it that all Philadelphians say?” he asked.

“I dunno. Dawg and caat?”

He smiled, “No. Don’t you people say “yous”?”

“Only if you’re watching a Rocky movie,” I mumbled.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“Uh sure …”

“See every area has a bastardization of the basic English language,” The Man declared.

Let’s be honest folks. The only time I have ever heard “yous” is either while watching Rocky or if I hang out on the docks. And I DON’T hang out on the docks.

Next was Jill’s introduction.

“Do you hear the silkiness of her voice? Spaniards. Listen,” he leaned closer to Jill. Of course the rest of the room followed suit, while Jill quickly turned the color of a rutabaga.

“Uh. What do you want me to say?”

“Spaniards. This is the woman you want to talk to, if you want to learn how to speak a smooootthhh, silky English.”

Jill and I looked at each other – Who is this guy and what’s with the silky stuff?

After ensuring that Jill would be embarrassed even if she asked for a glass of agua, we finished our introductions and exited to our first set of meetings.

Come back next week for special guest blogging from Yill and discover some of the more colorful aspects of our trip to Englishtown.

Danger Will Robinson Danger!

2005-10-18T14:56:00.000-04:00

I promised myself I wouldn't do this BUT ...

Hello, my name is Lisa and I am a recurring fiction writer. I won't bore you with why but I want to warn anyone who reads this blog, that on occasion I may break out into a blog entry that is totally, completely, absolutely about writing fiction.

The warning sounds should become louder as time passes.

Consider yourself on alert.

And you thought only newscasters did it

2005-10-17T17:17:00.000-04:00

As was mentioned in an earlier entry, my husband and I are renovating our home. We are not actually doing the work, but rather we hired a general contractor (GC) to take the architect’s drawings and have at it. We are adding a second story master bedroom and bathroom, back room with hot tub room and shower, as well as a front porch that could probably house a small family in the warmer months. Of course the part I am really looking forward to is the front porch. Don’t worry, I realize I have issues.

The general contractor and his subs have done a great job. The other day, a sub worked in the rain to make sure that we weren’t getting too far off schedule due to lousy weather. Also, they have been very respectful – meaning that they clean up when they are done for the day and they don’t come too early. May seem like little things but those are the types of issues that neighbors complain about to the township.

Here’s the interesting part. I get up between 5 and 6 every morning. My husband awakens between 7 and 8 AM every morning. The GC arrives between 7 and 8 AM every morning. One morning, my husband woke up and decided that he would smoke in the new addition (it doesn’t have drywall and plumbing yet, so he figures it doesn’t break the “no smoking in the house” rule.) So he throws on a flannel shirt and a pair of undies, then heads to the addition.

"Scott,” comes a male voice.

My husband looks around the addition, in a slight panic due to his outfit status. He stands there, cigarette partially dangling from his lips, searching the room for the voice’s owner.

“Scott,” he hears again.

Scott turns and looks out the front window frame (windows aren’t in yet) to find our GC standing below.

“I had a couple of questions for you … “

At this point, my husband realizes, he can’t see what I have on below my waist.

They continue the conversation, the entire time Scott prays that our GC will not decide to join him in the addition nor climb a ladder that is lying against the house's exterior.

“I’m done my cigarette. I’ll be down in a second.” Scott rushes to the bedroom, throws on a pair of shorts, and joins our GC in front of the house.

And you thought only newscasters were clothed from the waist up.

The adventures of Jill and Lisa: Part 4 – Does this room come with electricity or is it extra?

2005-10-12T07:27:00.000-04:00

We return to our heroines after a lovely not-really-Spanish lunch and an inviting trek through Grand Via and some not so enticing side streets. The time came to unpack.

We must flashback to when Jill and I first entered the hotel room. You see, the hotel itself is probably a few hundred years old, which means the elevator was a retrofit and originally installed for the little people of the hills who own child-size luggage. That’s right, the elevator could only fit one American at a time with one overstuffed piece of baggage. Of course we approached this challenge with ease, or rather the elevator decided for us. You see, I entered the elevator and by the time I was able to pull, grab, yank and generally cajole my bag into it, the doors swooped closed and I saw wide-eyed Jill standing in the hallway with a look of “what’d ya do that for?”

Luckily, the elevator was so small and the walls were so thin that when I said, “I’m sorry. It just closed. Besides, I don’t think all four of us would fit.” I could hear her laughter follow me up the elevator shaft. As any good friend would do, I waited in the hallway to our hotel room and listened to the familiar sounds and curses of an American trying to convince an oversized claustrophobic piece of luggage that it must get onto the elevator or else.

We got to our dark and stuffy room with windows covered by electric metal shutters that can only be moved via a switch on the wall. And, the lights were out.

All of them.

We tried to turn on the air conditioning unit, sticking out of the wall and close to the ceiling (Did I mention that Jill and I are 5’6” and 5’7” respectively?) We reached for the controls on the air conditioning unit. After moments of futility, I grabbed a chair and started playing with the knobs to get some air circulating. Meanwhile, Jill was turning the switches on every light in the rooms; to no avail.

“Is electricity extra?”
“I don’t know. Can they do that?”
“Do what?”
“Charge extra for electricity.”
“Maybe that’s why the room was so cheap on hotels.com.”
“Maybe”

I am electing not to divulge who said what in the above exchange to protect the guilty and pathetic.

After forcing the air conditioner to spew some air and a little bit of coolness, we plopped on our beds to relax.

“What’s that?” Jill pointed to a slot next to the door.
“Dunno.”

Jill got up and examined the above mentioned slot then pulled out her hotel room key and inserted it.

BLING

And Jill said let there be light, and there was!

Maybe it wasn’t quite this dramatic but the room was well lit when she was done.

“That’s it. I’m taking a nap,” I mumbled into my pillow.

Return next week to see our heroines find their way around a 1500 year old village in the mountains of Spain and find out why they went there in the first place.

The adventures of Jill and Lisa: Part 3 – What not to do when you want to eat in Madrid

2005-10-07T09:00:00.000-04:00

After a speedy drive to the Hotel Atlantico, we stood – sort of – before the hotel, hungry and wishing for a shower, food, and a nap.

“Hola, welcome to the Hotel Atlantico. Do you have a reservation?”

The first time the man at the desk said this, he said it in Spanish. Due to my limited vocabulary I understood “hola” and “Hotel Atlantico” and “reservation.” See, four years of high school Spanish does come in handy.

He noted that I was attempting to translate what he said and mistook it for utter perplexity. So, he repeated it in English.

“Oh yes, we have a reservation under Coutant,” I replied.

He immediately began his quest in the computer for our reservation.

Don’t worry, we had one and he found it. That’s not the funny part. Here’s the funny part.

“Where's a good place to go for lunch?” I asked. We were obviously salivating as I could hear Jill's stomach growling and I could feel the saliva running down my face.

“I’m sorry but no place will be open until 1:30 PM.”

1:30! It’s only noon now!

“Remember, this is Madrid. We don’t have lunch until at least 1:30 but you can go to a bar and get tapas,” he said.

Gotta tell you – tapas (appetizers eaten in between meals and often eaten as the primary dinner when going out socially) was not going to cut it. So, I smiled and responded, “We’ll learn to adjust to the Spanish culture. Thank you.”

We proceeded to get our room keys, flopped into our room and dug through Jill’s bags for the peanut butter and cheese crackers she brought for this type of emergency. After devouring at least one package each, unpacked, and freshened up; it was lunch time.

We wandered the streets and turned off the main road, Grand Via, to a cozy side road. Before us were many pedestrians, ladies clad in rather revealing clothing.

“Lisa. I think we should go back to the main road,” Jill pulled on my shirt.

“Why? Maybe there’s a good restaurant here,” I said, perplexed. Wasn’t she still hungry? I mean come on, peanut butter crackers just doesn’t cut it.

“Don’t you see the sign that says, Sex Shop?”

“What’s the word for sex in Spanish? I don’t know what sign I should be looking at,” I responded.

“It’s NOT in SPANISH. Let’s go.”

I followed Jill back to the main road, still missing the sign but now noting why the women were so scantily clad.

After a bit more wandering, we decide on a restaurant that displayed two menus, one in English and one in Spanish. This seemed like a good choice for us. I really wanted to try the three-course siesta meal (since lunch is the primary meal in Spain). We entered the restaurant and walked around and around and around in circles, trying to figure out where we should sit or who we should talk to so we could sit.

Finally a waiter looked at us with “Oh those poor stupid tourists” eyes and said, “Ingles?”

Jill and I looked at each other, “Yes.”

“Sit anywhere,” he said.

Of course this meant we needed to walk around and around and around until we found the perfect spot.

Once seated, the patient waiter brought us two menus in English.

“What’s that?” I asked Jill as we perused the menu selection. You see, although the menu was in English, many of the menu items that were unique to Spain were in Spanish and there was no explanation of what the food item really was.

“I don’t know. Look it up in our dictionary,” she said. We had a pocket dictionary to help us in times of pure desperation and this seemed to be the perfect opportunity to use it.

I thumbed through the pages – once, twice, three times …

“Nope,” I said.

“Nope what?” she asked.

“It’s not in here.”

“It must be in there.”

“I can’t find it.”

“Ask the waiter,” she said.

“Great idea …” After gaining the waiters attention – not necessarily an easy task – I asked my question.

“What’s this?” I pointed to the menu item.

“It’s …” He repeated what was already on the menu.

“Uh yes. I know what it’s called but I don’t know what’s in it.”

He rolled his eyes, “It’s an ENGLISH menu.”

“Yes. I know and thank you for pointing that out. Uhm. But I don’t know what’s in it.”

“It’s …” again with the name.

“Never mind,” I said – realizing that he probably didn’t know how to tell me what was in it.

“You ready to order?” he asked.

Jill and I glanced at each other.

“Sure,” Jill said. “I’ll have the grilled ham and cheese with French fries.”

“I’ll have this …” I pointed to a sandwich on the menu, thinking that I had made a fine native Spanish choice in food. Yes, I would truly experience the culinary delights of Spain if I had to experiment along the way.

After a brief wait, the server arrived with our food.

We thanked the waiter and I enjoyed my wonderful native Spanish meal – a ham omelet on toast; so much for experiencing native Spanish food.

Tune in next time for another installment of The adventures of Jill and Lisa – or how to make sure everyone knows you are a tourist.

The adventures of Jill and Lisa: Part 2 – International relations

2005-09-29T08:06:00.000-04:00

Now any logical person would assume that getting out of the airport and to a well-known chain hotel is not a problem, right?

HA!

Let’s recap – when we last saw our heroines, Jill and Lisa, they were sitting in a cab outside the Madrid international airport, watching a lunatic taxi driver steal a woman’s luggage and toss it in the middle of the street, blocking any hope they had of expediently getting to their first destination – Hotel Atlantico in Madrid.

Our taxi driver jumped out of the car and waved his arms while barking something in Spanish to the crazy taxi driver. Meanwhile, the woman whose luggage had been held hostage yelled at the crazy man, “No. This is not for you. This is my luggage. I’m not getting in your cab!” Note: I am paraphrasing since I understand very little Spanish but I swear her arms flailing and facial expressions really did reflect this quote.) Then she yanked out her cell phone and began to call God-knows-who; possibly the international luggage hostage police.

Meanwhile, Jill – a bit annoyed – grabbed her handbag, ready to exit the taxi and said, “This Irish woman’s getting pissed.”

Now at this point, I am torn between jumping out of the cab and somehow getting our luggage back or hiding my head in my hands and curling into the fetal position and mumbling, “There’s no place like home, there’s no place like home, there’s no place like home,” while clicking imaginary ruby slippers.

Luckily, I didn’t have to turn to the ruby slippers for support. Instead, our taxi driver got back in the car and a police officer arrived and, rather slickly, lead the insane man away from the middle of the road so we could scoot past him and the luggage.

I guess the woman’s call to the international luggage hostage police worked.

Tune in next week (or sooner) for Part Three – What not to do when you want to eat in Madrid

The adventures of Jill and Lisa: Part 1 - And then there were two

2005-09-23T07:03:00.000-04:00

Two American female tourists wandering the Madrid airport to be exact. We were both dragging wheeled luggage behind us, stacked with carry-on bags and praying that the next bump in the concrete would not break the wheels off the convenient, pull-along baggage.

Of course, we immediately needed a lavatory after an eight-hour flight from Philadelphia to Madrid that was relaxing for one (sitting next to a woman flying to Madrid for a wedding) and stressful for the other (sitting in the midst of Spanish teenagers returning home from a month in the United States). Luckily the universal sign for ladies room beaconed from across the baggage claim area.

After our brief affair with the bathroom, where we figured out the universal words for "oh that's disgusting" and "you want me to use what?"; we plunged into our next adventure - how to get out of the airport. Normally for two worldly, city women, this would not be a problem. But this was Madrid. And Madrid is not the friendliest location in terms of easily understood directions and signs.

Our options? After wading through the crowds and encircling the baggage claim area, we realized we could leave via one of two exits - the first was specifically for buses and the second was for everything else. I don't mean that the buses left the baggage claim area from that exit, but rather, that buses were awaiting passengers just outside that door.

Here's the conundrum - what kind of buses? You see, our hotel offered a shuttle and in some regions a shuttle and a bus are equivalent. After peering through the bus friendly door we concluded that this was specifically intended for tour buses, not hotel shuttles.

So we picked Exit B - everything else. Do you remember the black and white video clips of the Beatles first arrival in the U.S.? Take that image, put it in color, add some dogs and children, and update the clothing. This gives you a good idea of the mob waiting on the other side of Exit B. This was the last greeting I was expecting, so I stood with my mouth agape, staring back at them. With the gentle nudging (and slight cursing) of my cohort in European travels, Jill, I closed my jaw and continued to trek my belongings out of the reach of the screaming and crying and toward the taxi area.

After we debated about where we should hail a taxi, a generous and friendly taxi driver took our oversized and under wheeled, overstuffed luggage and jammed them into his trunk.

As we tried to speed off to our hotel (since the shuttle wouldn't arrive for another two hours and the last thing we wanted to do was hang out in an airport) an infuriated taxi driver "borrowed" another woman's bags and laid them before our taxi, blocking our path.

What happened next? You'll have to check out the blog in a few days to find out. I love a good cliffhanger.

Let the games begin!

2005-09-21T11:15:00.000-04:00

Just to get everyone up to speed, Scott (my hubby) and I are having a few tiny renovations done to our house. Specifically we are adding a second story addition with master bedroom and master bathroom; a backroom with hot tub area and 3/4 bath; and a huge front porch that will span the front of the house.

Monday morning our contractor called Scott to let us know that he was going to start construction that day.

WOO HOO!

We arrived home to find our back deck obliterated (needed to be done, since the backroom will replace the deck) and a few bricks missing from the side of the house. Don't worry, he was supposed to remove the bricks - he needs them to find bricks for the additions and we want ones that match.

Tonight?

Tonight we meet with our contractor about some of the specifics. We have the architectural plans, we have the contractor, we even have the permits (See the post from July entitled, Magic Boobs strike again, for details on the Council Meeting regarding our permits) - now we just need to take care of some dirty details.

I wonder what I'll find when I get home today? A cement patio? A huge hole in the backyard?

This should be interesting.

Anyone willing to have me visit for a few weeks? Or months?

I promise not to make a mess.

I'm Back

2005-09-13T12:32:00.000-04:00

Yes, I have returned from the mountains of Spain. Based on our misadventures in the European continent, I will be posting a series of blog entries about our experiences in Madrid and Soria. Look for The adventures of Jill and Lisa - Or how to ensure everyone knows you're a tourist.

Getting Kicked Out O’ the Country

2005-08-30T09:38:00.000-04:00

OK, not really. But, I am leaving for Spain on Wednesday, August 31 and I’ll return on September 10.

I’m sure I’ll have some interesting stories to share.

Lisa

Ode to Fuzzybunnyslippers

2005-08-23T08:47:00.000-04:00

What are a gal and guy to do during an August Monday evening? Visit a pet store of course! Friends recently adopted (possibly temporarily, but you never know) a beautiful Chow named Ginger. As a house-warming gift for said red-haired dog, we decided to visit a pet store and find the ultimate in puppy pleasure.

We began our trek with the intent of visiting Pets R Us, but on the way, Scott suggested, "What about that pet store in the shopping plaza over there?"

"Sure," I innocently replied as I turned on the signal that notifies other drivers that we are going "over there" (dink dink dink dink).

Of course, my little brain did not immediately recognize that this same store has puppies in it and that my husband had recently visited the store.

Oy.

Needless to say, we walk in and he points out a beautiful Cocker Spaniel puppy dog with snow-white hair and a tan splotch that partially covers one floppy ear. Can we say AWWWWWWWWWW?

Background - When I was a teenager I had a Cocker Spaniel named Misty. She was a beautiful, loving, sweet, and adorable dog and I miss her. So when we talked about the possibility of getting another dog in the distant future (we already have a dog and cat that barely tolerate each others existence) I repeatedly stated that I wanted a Cocker Spaniel.

Can you say tease? Can you say meany? Can you say, "Would you like to pick him up and play with him?"

Remember the whine/moan I described earlier that somehow comes forward when I see food I cannot/should not have, I should not have it Sam I am? Yea, similar sound but this time with a touch of "awwwww."

"Well, OK," I said as the sales woman handed me the little ball of cuteness. He looked me in the eye and lightly licked my cheek.

That's it! I'm in love. I've already decided on a name and where he will sleep and what kind of kibble we'll buy him and what toys we'll buy and the cute collar that he MUST have ...

You get the idea.

I cuddled with my new friend and we played in a backroom (Yes, pet stores now sneakily have backrooms where a potential parent/sucker can play with the puppy to his/her hearts delight.)

After Scott and I spent joyous moments playing with the cuddly, bouncy, big footed ball of fur, we returned him to his little glass enclosure.

"So, what do you think? Do you want to adopt him?" said the sales woman.

"No. We already have a dog and a cat and we don't have enough time to spend with a new puppy. I'm sure he'll find a good home," Scott replied.

My whimper doesn't quite make it to my throat, but I definitely had the "puppy dog eyes/please, please, please can we get him?" look.

After selecting a squeaky toy for Ginger (Don't worry, we didn't forget about Ginger), we leave the pet store.

"We'll name him 'fuzzybunnyslippers," I announced to Scott. "But his name is pronounced 'Charles."

"What?" Scott said.

"The puppy. We'll name him Charles."

"I'd love to adopt him but we just don't have time to take care of him."

I know Scott's absolutely right, but shoot - I already named him.

I'll just have to visit Charles again tonight.

Here's to cute animals.