THE LAST CHRISTMAS

It's Christmastime which makes me think of Daddy.

The other day one of my sisters called and told me that she and her kids had gone out and bought a real Christmas tree. Hallelujah and Amen!

You see, for years they had been using an artificial one. Now, if you have an artificial tree, please don't take offense, but me - I'm a real tree kind of a gal. She was so happy about it, and it smelled so good, and the kids had so much fun at the tree lot helping to pick it out - and all the things which I, too, cherish about a real Christmas tree.

Then we began to reminisce about Daddy and how he used to go with us to the tree lot. Daddy was very particular about picking out the tree. We would take it home and Daddy would make a fresh cut on the bottom and put it in the stand and make sure the water was done just right. Then we decorated that thing with lights and ornaments and tinsel - the works. It was a blast. It was a blast because it was a family activity. We were together.

Then I said "Remember that last Christmas we had? Remember that tree?" Which led to more reminisces and the two of us crying on the phone.

The three of us girls were all moved out of the house and living on our own. I had moved to Dallas and was working in The Big Law Firm. I used to drive home (Austin) from time to time and visit (it's 200 miles and it's The Most Boring Drive in Texas). I drove home every year for Thanksgiving, and then I would come home again for about 3 days at Christmas.

Mama got some hare brained idea that she didn't need to get a big tree and do Christmas with the same flourish anymore (because we girls weren't living at home anymore). Don't know how she came across this idea, but I never liked it. I rolled with it because I didn't live there and she was the one doing the decorating. She started buying these "table top" trees. They were real trees, but they were dinky. It just didn't have the wonder and majesty of our childhood trees.

Mostly, though, there was no family decorating going on. It was just this little tree where she hung some of those lifeless, meaningless, satin colored balls on it. That was it. No lights. The tree ceremony (family time) wasn't there.

One year, not too long after the "table top" tree era began, I had all I could stand and I insisted to my mother that we have a big tree, decorate it with all the lights and ornaments and put up all the other decorations, too. I said I would help with the putting up and the taking down. She wasn't too game for this suggestion. I pushed. My two sisters gave their second and third to the motion, and at last, it carried.

So at Thanksgiving time, we went to the tree lot, Daddy helped us pick it out and put it up. Three of our cousins popped in that night because they were in town, and their mother (my Dad's sister) wanted to drop something by the house. So, there we all were, Mom, Dad, me and my two sisters, my aunt and three cousins. We were all decorating the tree, drinking apple cider and hot chocolate, laughing and talking. It was awesome!

I came back at Christmas and it was so great to see that tree there, and all the other decorations. We were having one of the best Christmases we had in a long time. It wasn't just the tree, of course, it was what putting up that tree had represented for us - our Christmas spirit and the joy of all that wonderful Family Time.

On Christmas day, we opened presents, and later in the day I drove us all down to San Antonio and we went to this cool old historic place in Castroville, and then drove around some more and back to Austin. Daddy loved that driving tour. My grandfather had lived in San Antonio at the end of his life (there were more Greeks down there), and so the driving tour was filled with Daddy's memories of things Granpa said and did.

The day after Christmas I stood in the driveway getting ready to drive back to Big D. I had to be back at work in the sweat shop (that's just law firm life). Daddy asked when I would be back next. I told him maybe in January, but definitely for his birthday (mid-February). He said okay.

He said, with a big smile "Well, it sure was fun!" He'd had a great Christmas, and so had we all. I gave him a big hug and said "It was fun, Daddy." Then I said, "I'll see you next time."

We waved at each other, and I drove away.

Three weeks later my father got out of the shower, had a massive heart attack and died.

That great Christmas was my last Christmas with him.

More importantly, it was his last Christmas - ever.

Thank God we had made it so special. Thank God I was there. Thank God I had that time with him.

Thank God I have no regrets - because you can never unring those bells.

My Grandfather was a Greek from the old country and he said "Family is number one."

My friends, family is everything.

For me, the day after Christmas is always the last day I ever saw my Dad in person. I remember it in a special way every year. I remember what I said to him before I drove away.

"I'll see you next time."

And I will - someday.
                                               
Have a great Family Christmas like it's the last one you'll ever have. Make Christmas like that every year. Hug every single member of your family, because we only have now. We only have today. You don't know when "next time" will be.

Merry Christmas!!!

Polla filia,
J.F.

SYSIPHUS, ENERGY AND THE DREAM

You can have anything you want if you want it badly enough. You can be anything you want to be, do anything you set out to accomplish, if you hold to that desire with singleness of purpose.
 -- President Abraham Lincoln


I have written many times on this blog how damn hard it is for most writers to make a living and write. Most of us are making a living with a "day job" and writing in our "free time" (yeah, what the hell is free time?). **grumble**

The goal (of course) is to eventually, FINALLY make enough money to jettison the day job and live in the bliss of this writing gig forever and ever, Amen.

That's the Dream.

My day job is intense. It's a high-responsibility job, dealing with serious matters that require all my brain cells to be on it! The hours are not cookie cutter either. If the work isn't finished in 8 - too bad. There are deadlines that must be met and you meet them - period.

So, at nights after I've met all the deadlines for that day, I write. On the weekends, I write. In my sleep I'm probably writing in my subconscious.

When I wake up in the morning it takes everything I have within myself to fire myself up again.

One. More. Time.

Feet swing out of the bed and meet the floor. I take a good deep breath. I say a prayer. Then I will myself to stand and MOVE!

I squeeze in a workout early and then I get the day job done and do it well (after all, it is *my* reputation on the line, irrespective of the fact that it's a "day job").

Then, there's a brief - very brief - break for dinner and I dig in to the writing for whatever evening I have left. At the end of that evening I have to somehow shut all that off and find some sleep - maybe.

Gearing up for that again and again, day after day can be challenging.

No breaks. An occasional dinner with a friend and then back home to write. Run an errand and come home to write. Vacations? Writing time without interference. Holidays? More writing time without interference.

I'm pushing this Dream up a hill as if it were a giant rock and I am Sysiphus; but, unlike Sysiphus I am not letting go of the damn ball so it'll roll back down again. I'm holding onto it for dear life, pushing with all I'm worth until I'm exhausted.

Then I push a little more.

My goal is to get it to the top and plant that sucker.

I stoke up prayers to my Creator on a daily basis. I like to keep that line as open as possible, so He will keep sending all those good vibes my way. Today I was drag-ass tired (as if that were a new occurrence with this sked).

I prayed for one thing this morning, and one thing only. I said "Lord, just give me the energy I need to attack this day and I'll do all the rest. Just jump start me, please. That's all I ask."

I'm back to pushing the rock. I have enough juice now for what's left of this day. I'll keep pushing until I see The Dream in all of its dimensions, proportions, lines, angles, textures, light and colors.

Then I'll pray for just a bit of energy and I'll push a little more. :)

I am relentless in my pursuit of this Dream. Sysiphus ain't got nothin' on me.

Polla filia,
J.F.

A STORY OF PIES

This is a story of pies - Thanksgiving pies. For the love of  Gluten, who doesn't like pie?

I love pies, and I committed to baking two of them for the family Thanksgiving feast.

I am a Queen of Pie Crust, but this time I decided to try out a "new" pie crust recipe that involved two things I had never used on pie crust before:  my food processor (always made pie dough by hand with a pastry cutter); and vodka.

Yes, friends, I said "vodka"!

Apparently, water binds the floury bits and the fatty bits, but it can cause the crust to be tough when that gluten stuff forms. I had always solved this problem by making certain I didn't "work" the dough too much.

According to this new recipe I found, you can also solve this problem by making half the moisture (2 tblsps) vodka. The vodka is 60% water which will help bind the ingredients, but it's also 40% ethanol which burns off during cooking - and of course, it's virtually flavorless and colorless. The ethanol part is the part that keeps all that gluten-ey stuff from toughening up.

Hey, I was game, so I tried it.

I'm here to report that the dough was tasty and tender. I'll let you know tomorrow (after we cut and eat the pie) if it was also flaky and good after cooking.

If they taste as good as they look, I think we're in for a treat. :9

Here's what we have:  1) apple pie filing, then with the top crust on, then the finished product; and 2) cherry pie filling, then with the top crust on, then the finished product. That stuff on top is cinnamon/sugar sprinkled on when they came out of the oven all piping hot. Yum!

Now on this happy note, I wish you all a very Happy Thanksgiving!!

Polla Filia,
J.F.

THE QUINTUPLE WHAMMY OF ALCOHOL

Yeah, there are the calories:  worse for mixed drinks than for beer, or whisky, or wine. So, from a straight calorie perspective choosing from one of those three categories with no mixers is the best choice.

Unfortunately, no matter the choice, here is what one drink can do for you for 48 hours:

•    Increases your output of cortisol (this is the infamous "stress" hormone), which, among other things, encourages belly fat and decreases your body's production of testosterone. This is bad for both men and women, because, while the male gender requires more testosterone, both genders require it for libido and lean muscle tissue growth. Bummer on the low sex drive combined with flab.

•    Increases your body's fat storage rate.

•    Decreases your body's overall metabolic rate - the Resting Metabolic Rate, or RMR.

•    Decreases your body's fat burn rate.

•    Increases your appetite - because when you're taking in more calories, burning fewer calories, burning less fat and storing more fat, this is what you want - more food.

Does this mean you shouldn't drink? NO.

I drink, and I enjoy it, thank you very much. I am a huge fan of beer and ale (none of the "lite" crap for me, thank you), great wine and neat scotch. So, no, the above is not here to lecture anyone or tell you not to drink.

I write the above because you and I should know these things if we are in weight loss mode, so we make informed decisions about our alcohol consumption, and we can avoid alcohol when we want to accelerate our ability to carve off the pounds.

It also means that armed with knowledge, we can select a better alternative off the drinks menu, and drink in moderation at times so we can better maintain our fitness goals.

Yes, wine is supposed to have some benefit for our hearts, and beer has some nutritional benefits, too; but, all of this information needs to be taken together to achieve whatever goals we each have for our fitness and nutrition. No one thing is an absolute to be applied without balance.

Knowledge is power, people!!

Polla filia,
J.F.

ROUTE 66 AND THE EPIC GRAND CANYON ROAD TRIP OR HOW I CAME TO SPEND THE NIGHT AT THE SOUTH RIM WITH SAFEWAY GROCERY BAGS FOR LUGGAGE

Route 66
Lyrics by Bobby Troup

If you ever plan to motor west,
Travel my way, take the highway that is best.
Get your kicks on Route 66.

It winds from Chicago to LA,
More than two thousand miles all the way.
Get your kicks on Route 66.

Now you go through Saint Looey
Joplin, Missouri,
And Oklahoma City is mighty pretty.
You see Amarillo,
Gallup, New Mexico,
Flagstaff, Arizona.
Don't forget Winona,
Kingman, Barstow, San Bernandino.

Won't you get hip to this timely tip:
When you make that California trip
Get your kicks on Route 66.

Won't you get hip to this timely tip:
When you make that California trip
Get your kicks on Route 66.
Get your kicks on Route 66.
Get your kicks on Route 66.

Daddy always played and liked that song and I didn't get it. That's because when I was a kid and he was playing it, I didn't know about Route 66 - now I do. I not only know of its history because I read about it - now I know part of it first hand.

Somewhere today I saw someone mention driving a Mustang down the epic Route 66, and I thought "I've done that." Not the entirety of Route 66, but a portion of its heart. In fact, it was only a few years ago when I did that.

I began to think about that trip. It was a crazy, spur-of-the-moment, Maverick kinda thing I would do. :) I could blame my Texan-ness on those "Maverick" tendencies I have, but I come by them honestly from my Dad, Louie.

Either one of my two sisters would have been game for this hare-brained last-minute idea (as they share that "Louie" DNA), but, as it was, my sister Carol was the one who was with me.

We were in the middle of freaking nowhere for a good deal of the trip, and some would think two girls alone in the desert driving bat-out-of-Hell style from Vegas to the Grand Canyon is risky - a little too much "Thelma and Louise". Maybe it was, but I don't think so. We had a blast.

In this case, The Middle of Freaking Nowhere began in what is officially referred to as the "Mt. Wilson Wilderness Area". Aptly named, if you ask me. It's a "wilderness" alright.

I'm getting ahead of myself, though. This story actually begins with Las Vegas.

I had just sold my first book for publication and I had a little extra money - very little. :) Anyway, I was supposed to go to a writing conference in Vegas, and I was also going to have a meeting with my agent there. I asked my sister, Carol, to go with me because she had never been to Vegas.

So off we went via American Airlines to Las Vegas where we found ourselves driving up the strip in my rented red Mustang hard top. It had some forward motion to it - just a little bit. The sound of an engine like that makes my foot suddenly become heavier. :)

On Friday, things with the conference were not yet in full swing, so we had decided to take a little trip down to Hoover Dam just to see the historic monolith. Off we went. It was very interesting and imposing. Wow! If you ever get a chance, check it out.

During the tour, etc., I got a burr under my saddle (as we say in Texas) and started thinking how fun it would be to see the Grand Canyon. I had a map, and I was familiar enough with the territory to get there (so I thought). I had a rental car that moved and an itchy "trigger" foot. :) It seemed a shame not to exercise both.

It was 2:00 in the afternoon. I was thinking this trip was about 175 miles and with all the lead out of it, about 2-1/2 hours. We could watch the sunset over the Canyon, grab a bite to eat on the way back and be back in Vegas in the nighttime. So I thought.

Well friends, from Hoover Dam it is 241 miles to the South Rim of the Grand Canyon, and no matter my speed, it's still about a 4 hour trip. This was October and I was driving against the setting sun. So, my calculations on distance and time were wrong and I had not taken into consideration the fact that I would be driving east.

Of course my sister totally agreed to the trip. We hopped in my rented car, crossed the Hoover Dam (very narrow two-lane road, usually loaded with tourist traffic and it takes a bit to get all the way across). Once across we were officially in Arizona. We plowed down US Highway 93. That bad boy opens up into the aforementioned Mt. Wilson Wilderness Area a/k/a "The Middle of Freaking Nowhere".

You see nothing for miles and miles, and when I say "nothing" I really mean NOTHING. There are no gas stations, no roadside stops, no other merging highways. You look to the right of the highway and there are miles of flat, brown, dusty landscape and a big row of mountains. You look to the left of the highway and there are miles of flat, brown, dusty landscape and a big row of mountains. You look straight ahead and there are miles of flat, brown, dusty landscape and an open road.

Maybe, if you're lucky, off to the side, you'll see some lone, random mobile home waaaayyyyyy in the distance at the end of a narrow, rutted, dirt road.

Maybe.

If you're lucky.

You lose cell service out there shortly after you leave the Hoover Dam area. You pick it up again about 30minutes later. How many miles were we without cell service? Well, I don't know. I only know the minutes, not the miles.

You see that whole "open road" thing makes my foot start feeling that extreme heaviness again, and then there's the Mustang hard top... let's just say this girl was pedal to the metal. Did I mention that the middle of nowhere also has nearly zero traffic and no cops?
                           
Juice under the hood. Gas in the tank. No traffic. No cops. Get it?

So 30 minutes were (cough) quite a few miles. I was putting a lot of asphalt under the wheels in short order. :)

Then we arrived in Kingman (check those song lyrics, folks). We continued along Interstate 40 for a while - that's one wide open divided highway. Then on down the way, about halfway to Williams, Arizona is where you can hop off onto The Legendary Highway, Route 66 and continue eastward until you get to Williams (Williams is where you change roads to get to the Grand Canyon).

I cruised down Route 66 in my rented Mustang thinking about the road's great history. I thought of Daddy. He would have loved it.

By the time we got to Williams we were running out of daylight in a big way. We were not going to be watching that autumn sunset from the South Rim. So, we pulled into a Safeway in Williams and got a few things we needed:  toothbrushes, tooth paste, deodorant, some soap - you get the picture. Everything we needed for the night was in our Safeway Plastic Grocery Bags. Uh-huh, our "luggage".

Remember our original plan was to see the sunset at the Grand Canyon and then drive back to Vegas. With no daylight we weren't going to see the Grand Canyon until morning, and we didn't drive all that way not to see it. So, we were staying the night somewhere until sunrise. We had no idea if we could even find a room when we got to our destination. We might have been sleeping in the car for all we knew.

Hopped back in the 'Stang and blasted up Highway 64 out of Williams headed for the South Rim and a little town called Tusayan, Arizona. It's nice. I recommend it.

Along the way you increase elevation and you travel through a very dense, piney forest - Kaibab National Forest, which blends seamlessly into Grand Canyon National Park. I did not know this until the next morning (when I could see it), but that forest extends all the way up to the South Rim of that yawning, mile-deep abyss. Meanwhile, it was already utter blackness and we couldn't see much of anything except what was in our headlights.

Arriving in Tusayan we drove up to the South Rim and checked on availability in the lodge there in the Grand Canyon park proper - none. We drove back into Tusayan on the road that went right past the South Rim lookout. We couldn't see a thing, but I swear I could feel the immensity of the gaping hole to our left as we drove by in the pitch darkness - eerie.

Back into Tusayan proper and we proceeded to try to find a room. First place we checked had none, zero, zippo. I was getting worried. There aren't a lot of options up there.

It may have been early October, but keep in mind we were dressed for Vegas and the Hoover Dam. Not cold there in October. South Rim of the Grand Canyon - COLD in early October. Sleeping in the car was looking far less attractive at this point.

The next place we tried was this quaint little lodge on the main street. It had one room left. We parked the Mustang and checked in, with our "luggage". We laughed about that "luggage" all evening. Hell, we still laugh about that.

We had dinner at a little diner and then back to our room. We slept and arose at 4:00 a.m. Checked out and drove on up to the lookout over the South Rim. We waited about an hour in the car, in the dark. The temp was right at freezing - not kidding. We were freezing our butts off with no coats. Then finally as the sun began to shed some of its light from the east, we got out and walked to the rim lookout. The below is only some of what we saw that very early morning.

 

 

Then it was back to reality. I had a 1:00 p.m. lunch meeting with my agent on the schedule. I was 5 hours from Vegas in the same clothes I wore the day before and I looked like crap. It was time to get high behind.

We were driving through the Kaibab forest at a pretty fair rate of speed when we spied a bull Elk on the side of the road - and he was facing the road, as if he was thinking about crossing it. This thing was immense! I had to take my foot off the gas, because if you hit one of those you're dead. He would walk away, but we and our car would be the road kill! That's an animal about 5 feet at the shoulder with a weight from 700-1,000 lbs! It's like running your car into a brick wall. So, light on the gas until we passed him. He looked at us like he was bored and then turned and walked back into the forest.

Magnificent beast.

Disaster averted. Back to pedal to the metal.

A brief stop for breakfast in Williams and then hell bent for leather back through Kingman, The MOFN Wilderness, over the Hoover Dam, and then blew through Boulder City, Henderson and Viva Las Vegas!!

I had slightly more than 1 hour to get ready for the meeting with my agent. Back to the hotel, speed shower/makeup/hair/nice clothes and Voila! There I was at a table in Olive at the Bellagio  having lunch with my agent, just as planned.

In the past 24 hours I had driven 536 miles, seen the Hoover Dam and the Mt. Wilson Wilderness Area, driven on the Legendary Highway/Route 66, seen the Kaibab National Forest (complete with intimidating bull Elk) and watched sunrise over the South Rim of the Grand Canyon. Oh, and I had seen the Safeway in Williams, Arizona and invested in some of their "luggage". ;)

It's one of the best drives I've ever made in my life. :) Wooo-hooo!!

So, there you are - that's how I came to spend the night at the South Rim of the Grand Canyon with Safeway grocery bags for luggage. :)

Freaking Epic.

Polla filia,
J.F.

THE LINE OF WORDS

"The line of words is a miner's pick, a wood-carver's gouge, a surgeon's probe. You wield it, and it digs a path you follow. Soon you find yourself deep in new territory. Is it a dead end, or have you located the real subject? You will know tomorrow, or this time next year...The writing has changed, in your hands, and in a twinkling, from an expression of your notions to an epistemological tool."

    - Annie Dillard

"There's no writing, there's only rewriting."

   - Lisa Cron

I wrote in my last post how challenging this writing life can be (challenging is a euphemism, in case you wondered).

Today I printed out the first 90 pages of this current manuscript.

For reasons too complicated to go into here, I wrote a new part onto the beginning of it, then bridged that to what was already there, and now I need to go through the "already there" part and bring it into line with this new beginning. For this I decided I needed to print it out and just work it with a red pen.

There is an author named Gerard Houarner who once wrote a post about the "Span of Control" a writer tries to have over the whole of the work. An artist can look at her painting or sculpture and see it whole in one glance. Not so much for a writer. We hold the story in our brains, and in my case I run it back and forth like a film - fast forward, stop, rewind, play again. To hold it in its entirety within one glance is not possible.

Keep that in mind - it's important for this ramble.

I couldn't work without a computer. In fact, I'm a bit of a techno junkie (but not completely addicted).  It's so easy to type all the stuff that's in my head and then revise it and save it and there it is. I could never do that with paper and a typewriter. I thought about that the other day. Lord! They used to type all this stuff! No wonder Steinbeck had his wife type everything! (Check the dedication on "Grapes of Wrath" - "To Carol, who willed this book" - he should have also mentioned she typed it, again, and again, and again...). Still, even the computer can be a challenge.
   
All of that being said, between the rewinding of the "Span of Control" in my mind like film, and the sitting for hours at the computer writing that new beginning.... well, I was feeling so down about the work.

I was pushing hard to get this new beginning finished up, and then to connect it to the prior beginning. Last night I got there, but then I was tired - in the emotional sense. We writers and artists are emotional beings (or else we couldn't write or create art - that takes some pretty intense sensory faculties, which breed strong emotional reactions).

So, to bed I went last night, fatigued and telling myself the book was crap, and praying to God I could capture what I'm trying to say in all those rewrites I know I will do. I woke up feeling the same way. It's a rotten way to wake up.

I hate to tell you this, but, that feeling is a common occurrence in this writer's world. It is juxtaposed against those moments when I feel I have just written something so brilliant it cannot possibly be mine - when I look back at it and say "Did I write that? I know no one else has been in my manuscript typing. Huh, well I guess I did write it. Hell, that's good! I'm good!"

I will also go on record as saying I think those awful moments of thinking I've just written the worst thing known to mankind - they are necessary moments. These moments are the ones that light the proverbial fire under my feet. It is analogous to the sentiment expressed by this old axiom:  "Debt is to a man as spurs are to a horse." Well, those down moments are spurs to me, people - dig 'em in and watch me run!

Now add this equation:  Span of Control not being felt by looking at the computer screen (irrespective of my love of technology) + gloom and doom over the latest efforts at writing = my conclusion:  print this bad boy out on real paper - all 90 freaking pages of it!!

Get it in front of me in 3D!!

Me to myself:  "Just do the work, you idiot! Nothing great will be written while you piss and moan about how bad it is."

Occasionally, and only occasionally my alter ego makes some pretty good sense. :)

Low and behold, I picked up those 90 pages off of my wonderful little laser jet, and as soon as I had it in my hands my whole aspect changed. BOOM!

This is going to be a real book! I can do this, I've done it before.

This ain't my first rodeo! (I know, spurs, horses, rodeos - I'm Texan, deal with it. Also, I literally have ridden in a rodeo when I was 11 - in the opening parade and the junior barrel races, so the rodeo thing fits); but, I digress. :)

Looking at it in print brought back all that familiarity with the process, I guess. I've been published before. I know this drill.

Tonight with those 90 pages in hand I will not wield a miner's pick, a wood carver's gouge, or a surgeon's probe as Annie Dillard would suggest.

This artist will wield the red pen like the sculptor's chisel. I will make that block of writing "rock" breathe life!

I will sculpt the line of words into that true vision I have in my mind, and heart and soul.

Polla Filia,
J.F.

SOLITARY

In case you’ve ever wondered, this whole writing novels thing isn’t for sissies. It’s hours of time in solitary, scratching away on a notepad with a pencil or pen, banging away on the keyboard of a computer, agonizing over some damn scene that will not cooperate, pacing around the house trying to get your blood flowing again, only to sit down and go back to the same agony in hopes that you have a breakthrough, and the thing begins to move better (which it does - eventually).

Then there are the dreams (as in the ones you have while sleeping) - the ones that solve some writing problem, and the ones that replay your agony in your sleep. I like the first kind - surprise, surprise.

I am, as if you couldn’t tell, in the depths of writing agony right now. It won’t last and I know that. I’m an old hand at this. I just wish to hell it would shorten its run. I’m ready for the light at the end of this particular tunnel.

I was published once before and it worked out okay (from a sales perspective), but then some bad things happened in my personal life (involving the death of my mother) and some other bad things happened with my then agent (which actually only came about because of the break I took because of my mother’s illness and death).

So, here I am, in the desert once again, agent-less.

Make no mistake, the agent-less status is my doing - I let my old agent go.

No, you don’t do that because you had a bad day. You don’t even do that because you think you got a slightly bad deal on the last book. Not even.

You only do that, ever, as the absolute, last resort of all last resorts. You only do that after you have thought everything through rationally, reasonably, patiently, weighing all your options - while you’re sober. You only do that when you’ve tried everything and nothing else works. You only do that when not having an agent will be no worse than having your current one. That’s the *only* time you ever do that. So, don’t do that unless *all* of the above has occurred to you.

Why?

Because agents are too hard to get.

No, it is not easier to get an agent once you’ve been published. It just isn’t.

Is.

Not.

So, for all the aspiring writers out there, don’t delude yourselves into thinking that the previously published have some easier deal than you. Unless your name is something like John Grisham, Nora Roberts or Janet Evanovich (or others in the same galaxy of stars). If you live in that galaxy, then and only then can you call your own shots; but, it isn’t easier for the rest of us.

So, I must finish this manuscript first and foremost, and it must be wonderful (and it will be, by God). Then I will go out and query and do my best to find that agent who loves my work.

Before you Google the name on this blog - no, I was not published under this name before, and I’m not telling you what that name was. I’m not telling because I left that behind me. I’m writing something different now and it doesn’t need to be associated with the life I had before tragic circumstances re-routed my universe.

Being a person who believes in her dreams, I wasn’t about to give up on mine just because the world temporarily got the better of me. It was temporary after all. As Vincent Gardenia says in “Moonstruck” (playing the role of Cosmo Castorini) - “Everything is temporary!” [Writer credit: John Patrick Shanley].

The writing dream lives, and I work through all the solitary, crap days of sitting on my bum and pounding this keyboard and honing those passages until I just can’t stand it anymore.

And sometimes on nights like these, I take a break, put on a little Joni Mitchell “Night Ride Home” and pour myself a glass of Glenmorangie Quinta Ruban (neat), and wait for the edge to wear off.

Maybe I’ll write some more tonight, or maybe I’ll just *be* for a while, let my mind drift and unwind.

Then tomorrow I can start fresh. Maybe find that breakthrough. See the light at the end of this particular tunnel.

Take me home, Joni.

Bottoms up!

Polla filia,
J.F.

I HAVE ONLY MY DREAMS

"But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams."
 - W.B. Yeats "He Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven"

Of late, I have noticed (again) how many people have no idea what most writers go through along the path to their dreams.

First of all, most of us never make a living with this work. Most of us have day jobs to pay the mortgage and put food on the table. The lucky ones reach a day where they can quit the day job and live off of their words. They are in an elite minority. More elite still are those who make it big. Yet, so many people think only of the ones who make it big.

In spite of not making our primary living off of our work, those of us who are published at least once (in my case) and who do make some money from it - we are professional writers. Some of us are card-carrying voting members of the Author's Guild (like me).

Those of us who do it sacrifice a lot for it. We work insanely hard to do what we love.

It is not a hobby. Please do not insult a working writer by treating them as if their work is some hobby.

It is about the love not the money. It is about living our dream.

Make no mistake, my goal is to make enough money to do this full-time - and to be paid very well for it. I will work my touchie off to get there, because to be able to write full-time would be the ultimate. Again, the main thrust of the dream is about the creative work itself. The money is a means to that end. To that end, I will never give up. I will never quit. For now, though, it does not support me financially.

My Dream began as far back as I can remember - at least when I was the age of five - maybe before that. I always deeply desired to write books. When it burns in you at that young age - before thoughts of guile, or before ego has you in its grip, it's a calling as true as any.

When I was 15 I worked in the Austin Public Library shelving books at night after school and on weekends - for FREE. The City could not pay someone under the age of 16 for that work. So I volunteered. I did it because as soon as I turned 16, I wanted to be first in line for a paying job as a page. The job was so important to me that I did it for free for a year. It was a good investment - I got the paying job when I turned 16. I worked in that job all through high school at nights and on weekends for part-time minimum wage.

In case you're wondering, it's mind numbing to shelve books. What isn't mind numbing is keeping up with all the authors, being exposed to all those books, knowing what they are all about, seeing which ones are being read most often, and all the other things I learned working in the library. Better still, I was making money I desperately needed and I was doing it in a world of BOOKS!! It was a writer's heaven!

It was also difficult with all my school work I had to do and keep up with - especially when my friends were out doing "fun" things because they did their school work and then didn't have a job. Still, I made good grades and worked in the Austin Public Library because it was part of the road to My Dream.

I have for the last several years sacrificed relaxing "vacations" for research trips, outings with friends and family for blocks of writing time at home, and innumerable other "fun" things in order to find the blocks of time I need to write while holding down a full-time job. There is my day job, my writing, my workouts and sleep. There is time for little else. I covet the "extra" hours I get to write - all those nights, weekends and all the vacation time which I parlay into time to "work" on writing. Admittedly, I cheat sleep for more writing time far too much.

It is what you do to reach your goals - to attain The Dream. It is a sacrifice, and there are so many days when I want a break from the demands of it all, and from the fatigue; but, I never want to jettison the writing. My frustration always manifests itself in wanting to be rid of the day job! HA! It is both the thing which allows me to write (by keeping me in food with a roof over my head), and the biggest obstacle to the fullness of My Dream.

Paradox.

In spite of it all, my writing time is always joy to me, no matter how compressed it must be, no matter how dog tired I am. To me it is to live within My Dream even if I can only live there for a few hours.

Polla Filia,
J.F.

FITNESS AND STRENGTH

This is a slight deviation from my usual, but nevertheless a subject close to my heart.

There was a period in my life when I only worked out sporadically, I gained weight and got out of shape. I didn't feel terrible, but I didn't feel good either. This period of my life was an anomaly in the overall scope of my life. It was basically the period between the day my father dropped dead from a massive heart attack (he was a smoker) and the day my mother died from a terminal illness. The process of orphanhood is a bitch.

So, I took care of my Dad's post mortem issues and I took care of my Mom's issues. I made a lot of hard decisions, but I did the right thing for both of them all the way down the line.

What I didn't do was the right thing for ME. I was overwhelmed by a time I didn't expect, and one which hit me hard. I let myself go downhill, and I never will again.

As a child growing up in Austin, Texas I was a tomboy and super athletic. I ran, roller skated, cycled, swung on a trapeze in our backyard, climbed trees - you get the picture. As a teen, I ran track and was a super fast sprinter, and I played two-below tag football in the street with the boys. I was a tomboy, but I loved guys then and now, and I knew the best places to be with boys were in the street playing ball, and working on cars in my Dad's garage. :)

As a sprinter in track, power is all important (not endurance so much). This means strength (read:  "muscle"). You have to come off the line at full throttle and keep pedal to the metal all the way across the finish line; or, in a relay, pace yourself in the box until the baton slaps into your palm and then take off like a jet rocket. So, I was powerful for a girl, because that brought me success on the track.

Then the day came when I won an all-important relay race in a meet. My foot caught on a grass runner in my lane (dirt track) and I started to fall right *after* I crossed the finish line in first.

If the baton goes down in a relay race you DQ (disqualify). Would it be a DQ if I dropped it right after crossing the finish?

No, but you and I just had time to think about it, and at that time, I didn't. I was falling at a very high speed, and I was competitive as hell. So, I did the only thing a real competitor would do:  I protected the baton to protect the win. Winning that race was going to win the meet for us - and there were socio-economic politics at play as well (we were blue collar kids, and the other girls weren't).

I pulled my right arm up into the air as I fell and the left one instinctively went with it - totally counter-intuitive to what you do when falling. I hit the dirt with both knee caps at speed, and then dragged both elbows through the hard dirt. I still have a scar on my right elbow from that fall.

The baton remained in the air the entire time, and when two of the other contending teams tried to claim I DQ'd, the ref just shook her head and smiled, and told them that not only had I already crossed the finish line before I began to fall, but the baton was still in the air as I lay on the ground.

It was a hard belly flop to take, and I paid with battered knees and an ultimate loss of a half second off my times afterward (that's a death sentence to a sprinter - a half second might as well be an hour). So, my track "career" in high school was effectively dead; but my love of fitness and athletics wasn't.

I was still a physically active teen, and into my early twenties I got even more into cycling and weight lifting. I was lean and fit, and very healthy.

Then my Dad died, my Mom began to give up, and it all went quickly to Hell in the proverbial hand basket.

I was the same person I had always been on the inside, but I was trapped in a physique I never thought I would have - an unhealthy one. Oh, I wasn't sick and dying, but I couldn't continue that way, or I would have been.

Then after my Mom died, I snapped out of it - big time. I wasn't going to drop dead like my Dad did, or give up and get sick and die like my Mom. I'm an athlete in my heart, and I was going to be an athlete in my actions again.

Forget about will power, diets, quick fixes or anything else. If you want to be fit and healthy you have to decide to be - deep down, in your heart of all hearts. It's a decision you have to make every day - and it's not hard to do that. In fact, you can revel in it and it will elevate you day in and day out. It is a decision that will make you proud of yourself over and over again.

It means making changes to your habits:  eating habits and exercise habits. Not eating like a truck driver (in terms of portions) and most of all - not lying to yourself about your food or your exercise. The best way to be honest with you is to journal what you eat (and how much) and journal your exercise.  This is the most effective way to make and keep lifestyle changes, and it isn't hard or time consuming. There are inexpensive websites to help you do that journaling. I use calorieking.com. Again, it can make you proud of you every day. What a feeling that is!!

This doesn't mean you have to "give up" things. It does mean eating healthily overall and maybe relegating the chocolate cake to a special occasion (or eating a small piece of it very slowly for maximum enjoyment).

To paraphrase someone else (and mine is a much better quote, I think):  *Nothing* tastes or feels as good as being fit feels. Everything else that is great about life is so much better when you are FIT.

Notice I said "fit" - because if you have fitness, you'll have health, and you'll be trim and you'll look your best. Period. This is why I hate "diets" and "programs" where the goal is to lose weight or have a "bikini body". Pfff. Too many of those people are skinny, shapeless and FLABBY (and not healthy). No thanks!

Finally, I have this to say:  strength training is essential to health. This can be weight lifting like I do, or it can be Pilates, or resistance band training, or yoga - BUT, you must do something to build muscle. Cardio is essential, too; but, too many people do that ONLY. Not good. Cardio conditions your heart and lungs, but strength training does also, and it does so much more. I do both, and you should, too.

You can do sufficient cardio in 20 minutes a day of interval sprints on a bike (or something similar) and be done. Strength training can be done in a compact full-body workout only 3 times a week and you're golden. What both of those things will do for you can save your life - both in terms of length and QUALITY.

Here are the benefits of strength training:

•    Boosts production of human growth hormone by 3-4 times to SLOW THE AGING PROCESS.

•    Training your largest muscles (butt and legs) in particular (squats, lunges or equivalent exercises) stimulates your body to release hormones that build muscle strength everywhere else. This gives you tremendous stamina and very strong bones to stand on.

•    Every pound of muscle you gain BURNS AN EXTRA 50 CALORIES PER DAY. By the way, a pound of muscle is about 1/3 the size of a pound of fat - this means you might weigh more on the scale, but actually be trimmer (think skinny jeans, girls). Don't just look at the scale, get out your tape measure!

•    The loss of lean muscle as we age can be HALTED AND REVERSED with strength training. This muscle loss begins at age 30!! You can stop it and turn it around.

•    Strength training REDUCES ABDOMINAL FAT, and you don't even have to train your abs to do that - all strength training accomplishes this.

•    Strength training elevates your Resting Metabolic Rate (RMR) - the amount of calories your metabolism burns off while you do nothing, including sleeping - elevates it PERMANENTLY as long as you continue to make strength training part of your weekly schedule. The RMR accounts for 60-70% OF DAILY CALORIE BURN. Burn fat 24 hours a day!

•    Muscle burns up to 25 times more energy than fat does (AND it takes up less space - what a deal!)

•    Strength training reduces blood pressure. This is in part due to the fact that all the muscles in our body assist our heart in pumping blood back from our extremities to our heart. You can think of all your muscles as "little hearts" working away to pump that blood. Stronger muscles do more work, which means your heart can do less, and your blood pressure will ease off. Your resting pulse rate will also slow to something much more healthy.

•    Strength training strengthens bones, tendons and ligaments. Strong muscle, tendons and ligaments means fewer injuries, and better agility and stability. Strong bones means you can kiss osteoporosis in old age GOODBYE!

•    Strength training boosts the immune system.

Yes, folks, all of the above is true.

I restored my health, and am still in the process of restoring it. I made a decision to do that. It isn't about will power, or pills, or programs, or diets.

It is about:  i) the proper type and amount of fuel you put into your body (along with treats from time to time for the enjoyment of things); ii) challenging your body to do the work it was built to do - both in terms of cardio and strength; and, iii) making the decision for all these things because you really do want it.

I decided I wanted it. I hope you decide that, too.

Here's to your health!!

Polla Filia,
J.F.

BIG WATER

I have been remiss on this blog these last few days. It's been busy. I had a lot of research to get done while I was here, and a lot to think about writer-wise.

So, first of all I've been all over town looking at this and that, taking photos and making notes. I got a lot accomplished, and I thoroughly broke in some new walking shoes (thank you, Nike)!

On Saturday, I went back out on a boat and took a little cruise to Angel Island. It was cold and crazy windy! Choppy waters and the boat was bouncing all over the place - I had a moment of almost panic. I don't know how, but somehow I pushed it down (methodical breathing helps). Finally we arrived in Ayala Cove on Angel Island, which is sheltered from much of said wind. We had a nice little tram tour of the island. It is really beautiful, and if you come to San Francisco I highly recommend you go to Angel Island with your family and a picnic basket. The kids can play and the spot is really beautiful. It is one huge California State Park, with picnic tables, trails, and a little café. It's nice.

Then we got back on the boat and made another trip to Alcatraz. I took a few more photos and then we headed back to San Francisco.

Now, here's the thing:  we were back out on that choppy water from Angel Island to Alcatraz and I shot some photos that it now scares me to look at. I was standing - STANDING, people - on the stern deck in that damn choppy water shooting the photos. Don't ask how I did that, but needless to say I have done well in telling my phobia where it can go!

The phobia is not gone, but I exerted a lot of energy last weekend in suppressing it. I'm proud of myself, but I am also tired and done with Big Water for quite a while now. Enough already.

Now, for some pics.

This is Ayala Cove on Angel Island. When the Spanish "discovered" San Francisco Bay (technically Native Americans discovered it, but the Spanish were the first outsiders to discover it), they made it through the strait (Golden Gate) and put down anchor in what is now Sausalito. The next morning they found the sheltered cove across the way and anchored there for over a month while they surveyed the entire bay. That cove is now called Ayala cove after the captain of the Spanish ship.

BTW, you can click on this photo and see all the photos bigger and clearer.

 

Next are some views from Angel Island, and this is not even the highest point on the island. You can imagine how spectacular the views from the top would be!

This is a view back toward the city, with Alcatraz in between.

 

The Golden Gate in fog.

The view of Sausalito.

This is Raccoon Strait between Angel Island and Belvedere/Tiburon.

These are called the Pride of Madeira and only bloom for a couple of weeks NOW, which means I would not have seen them otherwise. Really pretty!

The following is:  the view of San Fran from the Alcatraz dock, the view of the Golden Gate bridge from all that choppy water, and a photo I like to call "what in the hell was I thinking?" - because I have no idea how I stood on the stern deck and shot that bad boy. Clearly, I was so focused on the photography I forgot my senses. :) Seriously, I look at these photos of choppy water now, and I'm scared.

 

Well, here endeth the pictorial. Tomorrow I head back to Texas (thank you, God). It's always nice to get away, but going home is even nicer. ;)

Polla Filia,
J.F.

TRIUMPH, PEACE AND BEAUTY

Triumph

Last night I faced a long-time fear, and something amazing happened - something I still don't understand. I succeeded!

I went on the night tour to Alcatraz, which involved me being on a ferry going from San Francisco to Alcatraz Island. To-recap from my prior post - I'm terrified of deep water. Well, I became so absorbed in the onboard narration of the history of the island, etc., AND the views of the city as we left the pier and the views of Alcatraz as we got closer, and taking pictures of all those views - well, I forgot about listening to the iPod and singing and I almost forgot all my fear!

I had one moment as we made our way around a particular buoy where I got a bit nervous and felt a small wave of panic rising, but I put it down and got back to picture taking, and I made it just fine! Then on the way back at the end of evening, I met some nice people from Texas and we got to talking and I was so comfortable and happy to be talking to Texans that I had no fear at all on the way back. Yay!

Now, the man who has been helping me with this phobia of mine told me that the more you face it and succeed, the more you overcome it. So, chalk up last night as a rip-roaring success. Now, mind you this doesn't wipe out my fear, but I took a big, BIG chunk out of it! :)

Here are some photos from the trip:

 

 

Peace and Beauty

Then this morning I did a drive around the East Bay, across the San Rafael bridge (past San Quentin *shudder*) and on to Muir Beach, Sausalito and Tiburon. Beautiful, beautiful, BEAUTIFUL!! Especially Muir Beach.

The photos below are not going to do it justice. There was the sound of the waves coming in, which was such a soothing sound, and the birds, and then that low, mournful fog horn I could hear in the distance. It was a beautiful morning, in a beautiful spot on the planet, gazing out on the Pacific ocean, surrounded by an incredible landscape. I wish I could bottle it all up and send it to you. I did not want to leave - for real.  **sigh**

This is not like a tourist beach, or a tanning beach, or a party beach. This is so much better than any of that, it's in a league of its own. This was a place that whispers in your ear and compels you to stay just a while longer.

The beauty that is Muir Beach:

 

 

 

 

 

Tonight I'm off to enjoy some Greek food (Opa!), and tomorrow I have another "face my fear" trip - a ferry ride to Angel Island. Longer trip and I'm planning on succeeding again! Woo-hoo!

Polla Filia,
J.F.

AN UPDATE - AND FEAR AND THE INTERIOR JOURNEY

"Be fearless. Have the courage to take risks. Go where there are no guarantees."
-  Katie Couric

"Security is mostly a superstition. It does not exist in nature, nor do the children of men as a whole experience it. Avoiding danger is no safer in the long run than outright exposure. Life is either a daring adventure, or nothing."
 -- Helen Keller

First an update, and then some comments on my plans for tonight.

Yesterday was a long day of travel, and I have the blisters on my feet to show for it (from hoofing it through DFW and SFO airports with a heavy bag on my shoulder). OOF!

The payoff was when I got here and, once again, saw this great and beautiful city of San Francisco. Perfect blue skies and man, oh man, is the weather here awesome right now. :)

I was operating on 3 hours of sleep (with the blisters), so of course I walked halfway down Market Street to the Ferry Building and back, because when you're beat and your feet hurt, you really should torture yourself some more. :)

It was a great walk nevertheless, and the calories I burned paved the way for my fab-o meal at Alioto's. Mmmmmm... polished off with espresso and tiramisu... Mmmmm.

This a.m. I was up bright and early (not my usual, but this thing is still on Central Daylight Time folks). After an awesome breakfast in my room, I went out into the day and made a stop at a certain Federal building here in the area. I had a nice visit with a U.S. Deputy Marshal. He gave me some great info for the Big New Crime Novel I'm writing. No, I'm not going to tell you which Marshal or anything about it, because that would give things away too soon. It's going to be good, though. His info helped me tremendously.

That's the update.

Tonight I am going to see more of this great San Francisco Bay because I am going to be out ON IT! I'm taking the night cruise to Alcatraz. Woo-hoo!

Now, here's the hiccup. I am terrified of deep water - TERRIFIED. I'm not talking about a fear, people. I'm talking about a phobia - an epic one imprinted in my brain when I almost drowned as a kid - TWICE!

How do you get over something like this? You face it. I am lately in a mode to face a lot of things. This builds character and I don't believe there are any of us who can't use more of that - no matter how much of it we already have.

So, tonight I get on a boat and I go out into the Bay and I get to tour Alcatraz. They tell me it is more comprehensive than the day tour, and that an actual National Park Ranger will conduct said tour. I will also get some breathtaking shots of the Bay, San Francisco and the sun setting behind the Golden Gate Bridge. I'm focusing on all the positives. I'm not thinking about all the water - well, I'm trying not to think about all the water. I'll have my iPod and I'll hum to myself a lot and do some breathing until we get to the island. Once there, I'll be good. Of course, then I have to get back on the boat to get back to San Fran, but I'll have my iPod - have I mentioned the humming?

The humming/singing is a thought-switching technique someone taught me. It's preferable to hyperventilating, panicking and screaming. I'm sure the ferry captain would rather I hum/sing. :)

Tomorrow I have another insanely busy day, but I will try to upload some photos then - or maybe tonight after I get back. We'll see. Meanwhile, I continue to push my personal limits, because a big part of the adventure is the journey we take inside ourselves. Tonight's journey should be interesting.                   

Polla Filia,
J.F.

BLOG REDUX - SAN FRANCISO MAGIC

T-minus 2 very, very short days to the San Francisco research trip. I have so much to do and...

I. Am. Freaking. Out!!! EEEEKKK!

**It's okay. I'm breathing now.**

Since I am busy doing 42 other things, I am putting up another Blog Redux for you. From 2009 (the last time I went to San Francisco), here are some thoughts on the shared experience.

Check back into the blog, because I will be sharing thoughts and photos from the glorious City By the Bay.

Enjoy, y'all!

MYTHS AND LONELINESS

“In utter loneliness a writer tries to explain the inexplicable.”

“We are lonesome animals. We spend all our life trying to be less lonesome. One of our ancient methods is to tell a story begging the listener to say — and to feel — ‘Yes, that's the way it is, or at least that's the way I feel it. You're not as alone as you thought.’”

-- John Steinbeck

It is now t-minus 15 days and counting until The Big San Francisco Vacation.

This vacation of mine, re-scheduled twice, then canceled, now finally back on again, has taken on a mythical nature in my mind - and yet, here I am 15 days out and so far it looks as if it will happen.

Good grief! What will I do when the plane lands at SFO, when I step out into that cool San Franciscan air and breathe it in, when I arrive at my hotel and discover “Yes, I do have a room? Will the moment come when I say “I am here”? I may have to pinch myself a time or two.

I think I’ll trot myself over to the Top of the Mark and get a good stiff beverage and watch the fog roll in “on little cat feet” (to borrow from Mr. Sandburg). It has been too many years since I have been in that fine establishment, listened to jazz, sipped a cocktail, and enjoyed the breathtaking view of that Great City.

Is it real? Will I get there this time?

*Myth.*

The “day job” is damn near killing me lately. I’m exhausted - long overdue for this break. Its tedium sucks the life out of my writing brain, and then when I have a weekend, and maybe throw in one measly extra day off, the writing brain springs back into action - slips back into its blissful groove. Then the writing dream comes back to real life. Lately those writing moments have been short-lived. In San Francisco I will have two whole weeks of them.

*Myth.*

I will be alone on this trip - for the sake of much-needed solitude and the re-acquisition of some peace (I hope) - but, mostly for the sake of the writing work I will do there.

I imagine now standing in Monterey, looking out to sea, feeling the ocean breeze. I imagine standing on the wharf in San Francisco, looking out at the bay. I imagine scanning that great skyline. I imagine Coit Tower, the Transamerica Tower, the Bay Bridge and that architectural wonder, the Golden Gate Bridge. I imagine walking through North Beach, visiting Enrico’s, listening to jazz, walking past Kerouac Alley, City Lights Bookstore, going into Vesuvio. I imagine great meals and fine wine. I imagine the sounds, the smells, the tastes, the experiences - with all their color and texture. I see myself writing notes and taking photos all along the way in an almost vain attempt to capture those places, my feelings - those moments - to capture them so that I might re-conjure them later for you - and for me.

Now they are only lonely thoughts.

*Myth.*

When I experience it, and then write it in this blog, and you read it, is it still a lonely thought? Or will you feel it with me then? Am I able to take my solitary work and turn it into something shared?

When I write it for you, will you say “Yes, that’s the way it is,” or “Yes, I feel it, too. I see how it is to be there. I enjoy the moment with you. You’re not as alone as you thought.”

*Myth.* Maybe not...

Polla Filia,
J.F.

INSPIRATION

In every artist's and writer's life there are moments when the inspiration fails, and it fails absolutely. For me, this is abject misery.
                                   
Creativity is made up of four main parts in my opinion:  i) talent (it's there or it is not, and that is all), ii) craft and skill (taught), iii) experience (learned over time);  and iv) inspiration. Talent is the foundation - you build your creative efforts on this. Craft and skill is the part you put on the foundation first - you go out and pursue this yourself, and it includes *practice*. Experience comes to the open mind and heart as it travels along its way. That last bit - inspiration - is pure mystery. What is it? From whence does it come?

Inspired moments are not the largest part of my (or anyone's) creative efforts, but for me they are the transformational part of it. This is the part of your efforts that take your solid craft up to another level (or two).

For me, it is also the exhilarating part of creativity. It's connecting with something outside of yourself that is completely mystical. See "Riding the Dream World Wave" in the Redux below.

It comes when it will, but there are also things I can do to jump start it a bit.

One of those things is reading Steinbeck's journals and letters - especially the letters. On display there are all of his doubts and fears and difficulties. To read his thoughts about his great works and see his uncertainty helps me to understand that even the great ones go through these feelings and struggles.

One of the other things I do is read and re-read parts of certain books I have on the writing life, or on writing technique. One of my favorites in that regard is a book called "Fiction Writer's Workshop" by Josip Novakovich. I do not even remember how I found out about this book, but I have had it a long time. You can still get this book on Barnes & Noble dot com and Amazon.

Here are two of my fave quotes from the Introduction of this book:

"To be a good writer, you must have the paradoxical trait of being a gregarious loner."

Ahhhh...

"As a writer you need a strong sense of independence, of being and thinking on your own...I will give you a lot of advice, but you need not take it."

Yes...

That first line struck me from the moment I read it. It describes my particular personality so well, I couldn't believe it. A gregarious loner.

First of all, I am a people watcher, an observer of situations and behavior, which I catalogue into my brain and utilize when I write. I do this alone - sitting in a bar in a restaurant while making notes for a novel, or in the coffee house while working I look up and watch the interactions of people around me. I often have conversations with total strangers while I am doing this. It is nothing for me to strike up conversations like this. It's fun - and then I put my head down and go back to note taking.

Second, I love to be with people - family and friends - for limited periods of time. Yes, "limited periods of time", because one cannot write a book when one is surrounded by friends and family all the time. I do love to be with people, though, and I am fully in that moment while the moment is there. I drink in all of it - every drop - sight, sound, smell, feeling - and at full intensity.

Then I go into my solitude and write. I make stuff up, and I insert into that all the observations I have from my people-watching and my social life. It is all there, mixed together, melded into scenes and people who have never existed except in my mind.

That second quote of Novakovich leap-frogs off of the first one, and I do have a strong sense of independence. It comes at a price often, but it is worth the price for me.

Then there is his advice about advice. I could not say it better. It is good to be inspired by books on writing life and technique, but a writer must learn when to take advice and when to ignore it. Just because someone has written a thing does not mean that thing is good for you. You must go with your gut and trust that. In fact, I think that is a good idea in life in general. You need a "strong sense of independence and thinking on your own". You must have that to write.

Then you let all of it flow in, inspire you as it will, release the parts that are of no consequence to you, and move on with your writing, your dream, the world you will create.

If you are lucky, the inspiration will come and envelop all your craft, and skill, and experience, and talent, and transport you to that new place you needed to go to give your dream life on the page.

It is the way of writing. It is the way of this writer.

Polla filia,
J.F.

BLOG REDUX: HANGING A WRITER'S TEN

Holy cow! I woke up this a.m. and realized that tomorrow morning is MAY! I leave for another trip (book research) to San Francisco next week. I still have so much to dooooooo.... EEEEK!

**Hyperventilating** **Breathing slowly again**

It is going to be GREAT, though. :)

Here's one out of the archives from my last trip to San Fran. This time I am working on what I call MS4. It is one of the three novels I referenced in the below.

So, from 2009 - here's a little San Fran prep. :)

RIDING THE DREAM WORLD WAVE

"There are some people who live in a dream world, and there are some who face reality. Then there are those who turn one into the other."

-- Douglas Everett

It is now t-minus 19 days and counting until The Big San Francisco Vacation.

Been in full writer mode lately. It’s hard to explain what that is and how that differs from my regular writer mode. Stories play in my head all the time; but, there is a level at which they begin to really take shape - where I’m on a roll - where I *crave* writing more than usual. It’s a writing euphoria. I like to hit the crest of that wave and ride it as far as it will take me. I’m hangin’ a writer’s ten.

My next book in the “Art of Crime” series is in my head for sure; but, I also have another series in my brain, and a standalone novel (or novella) that has nothing to do with my crime writing. So, I’m juggling three great story ideas, and they are all *active*!

I get caught up in my characters, and their stories. They live for real in my head. Later when I re-read my stuff, I’ll go “where did that come from?” I use my brain to hone all the writing and make it as good as I can, as readable, as interesting, without losing that magical part that just makes itself happen.

Hell, I’ve been makin’ stuff up since as early as I can remember - and writing it down into little stories when I was a kid. I used to lie out in the front yard in the early evening and scribble those little stories into a notebook. As it got dark, all I had was the light of the street lamp overhead. I had that euphoric feeling about writing even then.

I couldn’t stop then, and I still can’t. Someone asked me recently “What made you decide to start writing?” I thought, “Decide?!!” There was a decision in there somewhere? Hah! Like I had a choice - well, I had a choice, but not writing would not be a pretty choice for me.

I can feel something good coming in my writing world. Something is about to break open in my next story for the “Art of Crime” series - we’ll call it AOC Book 2. I think there will be a big “aha” writing moment for me on this San Francisco trip.

I chose San Francisco for my next vacation trip (in lieu of my beloved New York City), in part because I do love San Fran, but also I had this idea that would not let me go, and it was all set in San Francisco.

I call it a “vacation”, but to this writer there is No. Such. Thing. My writing brain is on and working damn near 24/7. There are nights when I have a hard time turning off the stuff so I can sleep! The only way in which this trip *is* a vacation, is that I’ll be away from my damn day job, so I can do what I *really* love for two whole, beautiful weeks. I can write whenever and wherever I want. Yeah!!

I’ll be prowling around San Francisco and thereabouts in daylight and dark. There will be some of the next AOC story in the North Beach area, and something I’ll be putting in there that’s set in Berkley/Oakland, and there might even be a little this and that from Monterey/Salinas and San Jose. I’m sure there will be parts of the place I haven’t even thought of yet that wind up in the story. That’s just the way the process goes for me - it’s part very strategic planning and hard work, and part unbelievable surprise.

The surprise - the discovery - the *adventure* - will be how that whole beautiful, mystical landscape of the San Francisco area will play out in AOC Book 2. That’s a big piece of the euphoria for me - the way the stuff I think up blends in with the stuff that just brings itself to me. It’s a fantastic journey between reality and the way reality influences the fiction in my head. When that dream world wave hits its crest, I hop on and see where it takes me.

There are 19 more days before I get to San Fran. I’ll ride this small wave until I get there, and then I’ll be paddling out again looking for a Big Dream Wave to bring me some *new* surprise!

Polla Filia,

J.F.

TWENTY-TWO THINGS I LEARNED THE HARD WAY

These are things I've learned the hard way; and I have lots of personal experience with hard times  - either those that came upon me beyond my control, or those I thrust upon myself. Some of these are things I learned to avoid the latter situation. The rest of them help me cope with the former.

I write these as a reminder to MYSELF! Here we go.

1.    You cannot change people. You can give advice when asked, and/or lend a hand; but, only they can change themselves or their circumstances - OR, as my grandmother used to say "You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make him drink."

2.    Who cares what other people think? This includes relatives and friends (who may or may not be actual friends). What matters is that you are real, true to yourself, that you respect others, and that you have ethics, honor and integrity. Everything else is strictly your own business and not subject to the transitory and subjective opinions of others. Be your own person. March to the beat of your own drummer. Believe in yourself.

3.    Labels are BS - and damaging. This is nothing more than laziness in place of getting to know people, and/or working to truly understand them. Don't label people, or allow them to label you. We are all far more complex than *any* label. This includes name-calling - see #'s 2, 7, 9 and 17 in this list.

4.    Age is a label - get over it. Saying "I'm old" is a useless, negative, self-limiting, complete waste of the time you have here (this includes people in their twenties who I hear saying this). Stop it, already! How many times you've ridden this water-logged rock around the homestar is irrelevant, since everyone's ride is different. Some people make the most of their ride, while others just piss and moan about how many orbits they've made and how "old" they are. In other words, your mileage may vary - and it may vary according to your ATTITUDE!

5.    You were sent here to do something in particular. Whatever it is, it's important - *whatever it is*! Do it. Don't waste the gifts the Big Guy gave you and don't let others judge how you use them; just make yourself useful.

6.    Find the positive perspective in everything. It's there - find it! Sometimes this is difficult; but, it is always beneficial - and the benefit inures mostly to YOU.

7.    Be courteous - especially in dicey situations where you want to tell someone off; or as Mama used to say "never sink to the level of your adversary", or "don't dignify an insult or bad behavior with a response"; or "consider the source." This doesn't mean you have to suck up to someone nasty. It means keep your dignity. Take the high road. Obviously, courtesy in other situations is easy - do that, too.

8.    When dealing with a negative, difficult, unpleasant, or just downright bad person, remember this:  they were an innocent, defenseless baby once. Somebody screwed that up for them. Try to keep that in mind. It doesn't mean they aren't responsible for themselves or their actions. They are. Keep it in mind anyway - for YOUR sake.

9.    Harsh words galvanize others against you, and your objectives. You will not convince others of the error of their ways with haranguing and criticism. I don't care how great the cause, being obnoxious is not the way to champion it. Intelligent, carefully chosen words make it easier for them to change their course as you wish; or, as Grandma used to say: "you can draw more flies with honey than you can with vinegar."

10.    Trends are BS. Instead do what works best for you and if it happens to coincide with a trend, then so be it. Be classy, tasteful, and courteous. First impressions *do* count no matter what trends may dictate. Be a trend setter, not a follower.

11.    All publicity is *not* good publicity, unless you care nothing for your dignity, honor and integrity - in which case you are a prostitute of some kind or another (yes, it's harsh - but, if you are selling your honor cheaply, then I rest my case). The means to an end *does* matter as much as the end itself. There will come a day when your dignity, honor and integrity will matter absolutely. Make sure you still have all of them when that day arrives. It may be they are the only things that will save you in that moment.

12.    Some people are not your friends. Period. Each of us probably has only a small set of people who are true friends. All the others are mere friendly acquaintances. Your true friends will show their mettle by being with you in your struggles and adversity, and not just in your successes. That is the crucible. Heed it!

13.    If you want to keep a confidence, then don't tell *anyone* - not even someone you trust. They also trust someone else, who trusts someone else. Before you know it, 42 people know the confidence you promised to keep. Your word is your bond. Learn to keep your lips ZIPPED. Anything else is ego and foolishness - an attempt to show off what you know. Honor and integrity show better.

14.    Be the friend you want to have, the person you would admire, the hero to whom you would look. Be that person, and you will find yourself in the company of like people.

15.    Life isn't fair and no one owes you a living. Get over it and get busy.

16.    The past is done. Get over that, too. Use what you learned from it, but don't drag it around behind you like worn out luggage. It's heavy and it looks bad.

17.    If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all (Grandma hammered this one home!). When you do open your mouth, be honest - not cruel, rude, or tactless - just honest. Sometimes saying nothing is the only way to be honest without cruelty or rudeness - take heed of that. BTW, this means no lies and/or gossip. Got it?

18.    Don't procrastinate. Get off your rear parts and do it now! Here's Grandma again: "make hay while the sun shines." In other words, later might be too late. It could be raining - you can't make hay then. Do it NOW!
                       
19.    Life is short - remember that in dealing with family, friends - everybody and everything.

20.    Life is long - remember that in dealing with family friends - everybody and everything.

21.    Smile whether you feel like it or not. After a few seconds, you begin to feel it more, and then you ARE smiling - and other people will be, too. You have now started a chain reaction of epic positive proportions; and you have turned your OWN day around.

22.    Everyone has crap days. It will pass. Gut up. Get through it. See #21 above. The only difference between winners and losers is that winners get up when they fall down - and they keep getting up. Every time. Without fail. So, get up already!

I need to tattoo most of these on my forehead, except I don't think I have room. :) So, I'll just read it here and keep reminding myself.

It isn't easy (on the front end) to live this way. It's easier to lie down, wallow in things, give into base behavior, and go nowhere and achieve nothing. Unfortunately, the back end of that is - well, it's the back end of *something*!

It's also lonely, miserable and ultimately the most difficult path a person can choose.

So, I plan to do my best to remember these things, because hard work on the front end brings great rewards down the road.

Polla filia,
J.F.