Blog Trek

Life And Art On Parallel Courses

I seem to be spending a lot of time in the card shops or at least the card sections of local stores lately.  Birthdays aren't the only reason I'm there--condolence cards have been bought and paid for by me more in the last few weeks than I ever remember.

I guess that old adage about everything coming in sets of 3 is true, or maybe it's just that these people were all elderly and summer, with its heat, seems to take more than energy out of us.  I was relieved to buy birthday cards, three of them fun and one sentimental, and an engagement card on my last trip to Target.  Then I heard about another death on my mother's side of the family over the weekend.  The cycle evidently wasn't over after all.

We all have to deal with the Grim Reaper, but I think I've had enough of him in real life.  This is at a time in my second draft of "Indelible" where I have to revise the chapters where the two protagonists have to deal with sudden death and then the chapter about the funeral.  While I realize that in this case, fiction and reality are not related, they do seem to be on somewhat of a parallel path. 

I'll need to make sure I get out and socialize, so I don't fall into a Real Funk.  While a bonefide R F will do wonders for my bonding with my characters and getting into their heads, it can also result in me becoming quite blue and introverted, thereby isolating myself.  Then life will really imitate art, and I could spend the rest of the summer under a cloud that follows me wherever I go.  The uplifting part of "Indelible" will happen after all these events that really do bring the protagonists to their darkest hour and their moment of revelation, or at least on Kaylen's part.  Brian is still a bit dense where his feelings are concerned, and he will have to confront them more frequently, and painfully, as the second and third books come together.

In the meantime, I make sure I let plenty of light into the apartment and get out in the fresh air and sun more frequently.  It's good to remember life and the living at times like this.

The Weather, the Book and the Framework. Or is it The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe?

It's that time of year when I dream of being in a colder climate.  The temps are hitting the 100 degree mark and beyond in So Cal and it's like being in an oven.  Incredibly, people here are in denial, talking about how hot it is in other places, and I wonder if they have developed heat stroke.

I'm looking forward to a long weekend.  The fax has been reasonably quiet this week, and I'm hoping to get a 3-day weekend.  Traffic has been down for the last 2 weeks, probably because the gasoline prices here are through the roof and this is a short work-week.  I'll take it, whatever the cause.  I've gotten home a lot faster, and I haven't had to deal with as many bad drivers.  I swear, since I started driving around all day for a living, I have discovered that 90% of driving infractions go unnoticed.  And they are the most incredibly blatant things, too.  I will say that today, I only saw one woman with a cell phone up to her ear, and of course, it was in Highland Park.  Folk there just do whatever they want, because the cops are mostly interested in who is running the 4 way stop halfway down the big hill that runs past Occidental College.  Other than that, I have rarely seen anyone pulled over, unless they are dead behind the wheel.

Tonight I pulled critiques for "Indelible."  Looks like I have more revisions to do on the pages I have been working on over the last few days.  Once I fix the easy stuff, I have to think about the deeper plot points, questions and layering.  I don't want to make this a completely different book.  The framework has been established, the emotional aspects have been blocked in, but now I have to make a choice--will my characters remain true to my vision, or should I change some aspects of their reactions to certain plot points and/or twists? 

I guess I could go on forever, revising ad nauseum, but ultimately the buck stops at my keyboard, so I will have to make those life choices for Kaylen and Brian.  Then they will have to live with them for at least 2 more books.

Wildlife and Domesticated Unusuals in Monrovia

Monrovia is a pet-friendly place, which is a good thing.  Walking my dog on Main Street, I join several other "regulars," including at least one woman with a cat.  Whether there are at least 2 women is debatable, but there is one who pushes a cat in a stroller (the cat appears to really like this method of transport and stands tall in the saddle, so to speak, watching everything around it intently,) and another with a cat on a leash or standing on her shoulders, tail lashing.  Then there is the man who takes his pet bird with him when he eats breakfast in a sidewalk cafe on weekends. 

My grandchildren came to visit with my daughter a couple of Saturdays ago.  We returned to find a Macaw sitting on the back of a chair in the courtyard of the apartment complex.  He looked very much at home, no owner in sight.  My daughter decided that he should remain where he was and my grandchildren shouldn't be told where to find him, since neither of us was sure he was a friendly bird or one prone to use his beak for more than giving himself an occasional manicure or cracking nuts.  I since found he has a permanent home on the second floor of the apartments, where he has a cage and a swing.  I guess he decided to broaden his aspects the day we saw him hanging out on the other side of the building.

I really wonder what I'm going to see next around here.  Hopefully not anything more exotic than the Macaw, but if I saw a tiger under a cafe table on Main Street on a weekend, I wouldn't be at all surprised.  Terrified, maybe.  Intrigued, most definitely.  But not surprised.

Changing Social Etiquette?

Since moving to Monrovia, I have been out walking the dog in town more than I ever did before.  And I've noticed an interesting phenomena in the process.  Why do people greet my dog, then sometimes, as an afterthought apparently, greet me?  Or sometimes, they just ignore me completely, like the dog is walking alone and there's not an owner attached to her leash at all, which to me seems absolutely rude.

Yes, Taffy is adorable.  Yes, she's friendly and her tail wags all the time.  Yes, she's old and her white muzzle perhaps leads people to single her out for attention, because after all, not all dogs reach the stage where their faces turn white.  But the very fact she has reached this venerable time of her life is because I take good care of her, and I should at least be acknowledged for that. 

The one place I go where my existence is definitely noted is the pet store, or rather, pet stores (Petsmart and Petco.)  People there always make eye contact and chat with me as well as Taffy if they want to stop and pet her, which happens fairly frequently.

It's a strange reflection on either Monrovia, the social structure of Monrovia, or a changing sign of the times.  Perhaps it's all three.

A Long Moving Tale

I've been gone from Blog Trek for too long.  Life interferes sometimes (more frequently for me than I would wish.) The move involved more than packing, which was a heavy enough burden while working full-time.  I had to find somewhere that would take my dog, was within my budget range and within a reasonable distance of the territory I cover for home health visits.  It also had to be large enough to accommodate my furniture, which isn't apartment-friendly and it had to be in a safe enough area to allow me to walk my dog in the evening before bed.

All of the above aren't easy to accommodate, but I finally found that 550 square foot apartment in Monrovia, within my budget, would take Taffy, was within a block of Old Town and only 3.5 miles further than my current drive to the center of Pasadena.  Everything was okay except the 550 square feet.  So much smaller than anything I had lived in since leaving Arizona in my rearview mirror.  Challenging, to say the least.  I purged.  I packed.  I purged again.  I spent more time at Goodwill than I did on my packing. 

And all the time, I worked and continued editing my friend's workbook while struggling on with the revisions of "Indelible."  Finally, I got done with that draft of the workbook, I admitted I had no concentration left for "Indelible," which demands a lot of my brain to keep the plot straight, the characterizations evolving, the timelines correct, etc., etc.  I also had a full caseload for my day job, and the deadline to move out loomed on the horizon.  I committed myself to moving on May 10 and tried not to feel overwhelmed.  My friend came from Spokane the Thursday evening before I moved.  As expected, she said "whatever" and went to bed.   The following morning, we talked and she helped me with some packing before we had lunch in Monrovia and I went to sign my lease and she drove to OC.

I drove the worst U-Haul truck in the nationwide fleet May 10.  I had wanted 3 young guys to move me, but my neighbor's son brought himself and one friend.  My son came and had to be the 3rd person instead of mainly supervising what was going into the truck and where.  I was still packing, because no matter how many boxes I had bought or been given, they never seemed to be enough.  I had to buy 6 more at the U-Haul the day I picked up the truck, and I still had not cleared out the shelves in the laundry room.

When everything arrived at the apartment, the kids brought the stuff in backwards and we were all so busy trying to meet the deadline to get the truck back while waiting for the slowest elevator on the face of this earth to go between the 1st and 3rd floors that I didn't register the fact that all the boxes were occupying every inch of the living room and dining room floorspace until in came the furniture.  I ended up with boxes to within 2 feet of the ceiling, my bed was put up backwards, with the metal headboard supports sticking out to remind me every time my poor ankles passed them.  My little green wooden table was blocking the entrance to the living room.  I wondered that evening if I would get stuck inside that room and never get back out.  I took the cell phone with me and manoevered the table in front of me until I got it onto the couch.  I sat down and stared at the overwhelming tower of boxes before retreating to make up the bed. 

I did find sheets, but where were the boxes I had marked "Open First?"  They were buried in the mountain occupying the living room.  I made the best of things and showered without a shower curtain.  I found damp "delicates" dry very well in a warmed-up-to-350-degree oven the next morning.  I found a clean shirt to go with my dirty jeans and returned to the house because we had missed the deadline of 7PM by 1 minute and the gates of U-Haul were locked.  I had called and spoken with the U-Haul staff several times on that Saturday to tell them the truck's ramp had stuck and we had to get tools to house it back under the truck, the "service engine soon" light illuminated immediately it climbed the first hill and the transmission was slipping and the engine 'missing' the entire way to and from Monrovia.  It also had no brake lights, which gave my son an exhilerating ride in my Escape as he followed behind.  I was told if I didn't get the truck back on time, I would have to take it back the following day and pay, too.

Arriving at U-Haul the following morning, my son having to drive again from Whittier to Highland Park and follow me to South Pasadena, we found, thankfully, 2 much nicer, apologetic and understanding U-Haul employees, who took the truck away, removed the extra day's charge and lowered the prices on all the extra items, such as the dollies and the moving pads.  I told the manager we were no novices to U-Hauling after driving a 27 footer pulling my car on a transporter all the way from Phoenix, AZ to Worcester, MA., but that 24 foot truck was a nightmare and needed to go immediately for servicing.

AT&T also gave me a bad experience.  They cut off my DSL the Wednesday before I moved, when my phone service wasn't disconnected until that Saturday.  I ended up having to talk to a supervisor after the representative was absolutely no help and I told her someone had to make that mistake right.  They gave me dial-up service but it was so slow, it was useless.  When I arrived here, Verizon had mailed out my start-up kit on May 5, when I wasn't moving into the apartment until May 10.  UPS stuck a note on my door that Sunday morning, after I had only been gone 10 minutes to walk the dog, to let me know they were not going to try to deliver it again and I had to go to Baldwin Park to pick up the package.

Now Verizon became the bad guy.  I made 5 lengthy calls that got me through to all the wrong departments, who transfered me after listening to my tale of woe and then disconnected me.  This doesn't count the times I just got cut off.  Period.  I finally got a card from UPS with a tracking number, called them and insisted they bring the kit back, but to the office, so they could sign for it.  They did, and thanks to the maintenance man, because the office is never open when I'm home, the kit arrived 2 weeks after I moved in.

My desk never made it in the door.  It ended up in a dumpster, all $550 of it, because it would not fit.  I'm now using a $5 table I bought 20 years ago at a yard sale in Houston, to house my monitor, keyboard and printer.  It works, so I'm not going to try to find a desk to replace it.  This isn't going to be my permanent place of residence past a year, I have promised myself.  "Indelible" will get revised, I will get a new agent, I will land a 3-book contract and then I will blow the dust of California from my heels as I head for somewhere kinder to my pocketbook.

After the last month, I deserve it.

Taking Care of Business (Certainly Not Pleasure)

Life has been treating me a little harshly here and there lately.  After six and a half years in the same house, I have to move.  Luckily, with the big heads-up my landlord gave me, I was able to start looking for somewhere else to live without the stress of only a month's notice.  However, with a dog and my budget, it wasn't easy.

I will be moving to Monrovia on May 10.  I've got to downsize to 550 square feet, which means my beloved dining set and buffet are now on Craigslist, as is my desk.  My photo/video lights will be following very shortly.  There's no storing anything in the shed outside now, and throwing everything that won't fit inside the apartment onto my tiny little balcony won't work.

Of course, my phone and DSL company has to change, as does my cable TV.  My neighbors' son is going to move my worldly goods, and he's finding 2 friends to help him, so I am down to just reserving the U-Haul.  But there are all those other things, like spending time on the phone to cut on and off the utilities, finishing up the packing, and then there's the matter of my friend arriving on Thursday night from Spokane and finding out she is going to be accompanying me to sign my lease on Friday, before she leaves to visit family in Orange County.  She's prepared for the boxes (she moved long distance last year in a nightmare move that can no doubt beat most of mine) so she'll probably just say "whatever" and take the opportunity to chat as we drive around.

Then this morning, I walked into the bathroom to wash my face, turned on the faucet, went to turn it off and...it did not.  After I said "What the hell next?" I got a grip and called the landlord, who arranged for a plumber this afternoon.  I managed to reschedule my patients and now I am taking the opportunity to take care of checking off some of the items on the long list that seems to grow ever longer.  The more chores I complete, the more seem to appear.

Ah, life.  It's always an adventure.

Cleaning out My Life

In the spirit of 'never a dull moment around here,'I am struggling my way slowly through the revisions of my work-in-progress, "Indelible) while trying to pack for a move to goodness-knows-where and being asked to provide everything and anything to wind up my aunt's estate.

After six and a half years, my landlord has decided to sell the house.  He gave me a big heads-up with an email in the middle of February, thank goodness.  I decided I could do nothing more until after I returned from the trip to Portland, and let the lawyer up in Canada know the same thing.  There are only so many crises even I can deal with at one time, and I already had work from my day job coming out of my ears.

Now I am coping with reality--dry cleaning, washing, dusting and packing my life.  This evening I abandoned a half-empty box and dove into files in my office.  Amazing what I have accumulated over the past few years.  I have spent a lot of time not looking too closely and trying to throw out as much as I can, especially of research files that pertain to subjects that interest me, but that I haven't developed into full-blown ideas.  I brought back the plastic crates from the shed and started emptying out my lateral filing cabinet, which became overstuffed with manuscripts and decided to partially collapse.  I shredded letters I had kept from family members who are now deceased.  I read a couple of them, decided I couldn't cope with sentimentality if it meant buying another box and toting it down 18 steps, and sent them to the recycling plant.

People have told me to purge, like I have a household full of junk.  I don't, but I am seriously learning to live without half the paper that has inhabited my life.  Next I will start in on the bookshelves, which have been depleted three times already.  Goodwill has been replenished by my visits.  It's good to let go.

Now, if I can only have success with finding somewhere to live--pet friendly and not prohibitively expensive.  Yes, I know I'm asking for a lot, especially in L.A.

Experience

I always listen more than watch the early TV news in the morning.  Lately I have been getting up at 5:30AM so I can get some jobs accomplished before leaving the house, such as packing for my pending move.  There's something non-stressful about wrapping my china in newspaper during the early morning hours versus in the evening, when I'm tired and cranky after a full day at work (no wonder I can write negative emotions so well when I'm composing or revising those charged chapters of Indelible!)

I usually avoid commenting on politics, not because I don't have strong views, but because it always draws the most prolific and most opinionated comments that do not have a place here on Blog Trek.  But this morning, I heard a recap of the released information on Hillary Clinton's exposure to "experience" during her years in the White House.  The report stated that most of her experience came from social meetings.  I wondered how she could have gone through 8 years as the wife of a president without being exposed to far more than social gatherings.  Spouses talk together about their frustrations, opinions, etc., etc., etc.  Indeed, family members and friends do the same thing. 

Experience for all of us comes from exposure to life and all its learning experiences.  We form opinions and views based on what we learn from life.  On-the-job-training is frequently used for new jobs and the new hats we wear, and if we can bring at least some life experience to those jobs, we take far less time to settle into new roles than if we come without those experiences.

These days, media sits in judgment of everything and everyone.  It twists and skews reports, sound bites and visual images to suit a variety of reasons, all of which seem to be aimed at accomplishing whatever agenda set for the day.  Yesterday, for the first time that I can remember in a very long time, I turned off the news and turned on Smooth Jazz.  To hear so much negativity about ALL the candidates left me feeling that no one on this planet could satisfy or meet the criteria set for leadership in this country today.

That's a sad reflection on us as a nation, and I wonder where this path will lead us next.

It's Time To Blog

I'm finally posting after a long absence.  I've been promoting, working the day job, attending EPICon in Portland and trying to get myself in gear to move after 6 and a half years in the same house, which will be going up for sale.

As usual, everything in my life is happening at once.  One of my friends said she just gets exhausted from reading my emails, and that pretty much sums up how I feel, too.  I don't even ask for complications, but they seem to come in a deluge.  It's like one little raindrop appears above my head and it's open season.

For every plus, there's a minus.  Why is that a rule?  Who decided that?  Maybe it's written somewhere in the regulations governing my life on this planet, but I sure didn't sign up for that, so I would appreciate some sort of refund, or at least a rebate for good behavior.

EPICon was very informative.  The promotional track gave me a chance to learn a lot about web promotion that I didn't know, and Portland was an excellent backdrop for any downtime.  My son came with me and we rented a car the morning we arrived, so we could drive up the Columbia Gorge.  The weather was kind, the scenery beautiful, and both of us got to relax for a change. 

I only managed to get my son onto public transportation one time.  He seems to have a phobia about trains and buses, so we ended up walking A LOT.  I discovered muscles I had forgotten I had, and they were letting me know about their existence in a very uncooperative manner.  My stomach reacted by requesting food on a regular basis.  I'm not sure if the scales tipped in my favor or not after that trip, but since it will probably be my only chance to get out of town this year, I'll just say it was worth it whatever the cost to my overall plan.  Sometimes, you just have to live in the moment.

More great news on "All That Glitters" and "The Sweetest Song"

Night Owl Romance gave "All That Glitters" a Reviewer Top Pick with a score of 4.5/5.  The reviewer said it "belongs on the list of superb suspense stories." 

For a look at the complete review:

http://www.nightowlromance.com/nightowlromance/reviews/Review.asp?ReviewId=1262

(You may have to type in my name to get to the actual review)

"The Sweetest Song" is now listed under Best Sellers on the homepage of Romance at Heart Publications:

http://rahpubs.com/index.htm

Both are now available to be downloaded onto Kindle:

http://www.amazon.com/All-That-Glitters/dp/B0013L2BOS/ref=tag_stp_st_edpp_ttl

http://www.amazon.com/The-Sweetest-Song/dp/B00140FWKS/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&s=digital-text&qid=1203740958&sr=1-2

I'm pretty darn pleased this week!