A Writer Afoot

Writing conference possiblities to consider 2008

For the past few days, I've been hammering out the details of my travels this year.   I'll be teaching at The Santa Barbara Writer's Conference again in June, and Australia in August, and San Diego in October.   I'm also going to play in New Zealand with CR's brother & family, and in NYC with my boy who is (seriously, I'm so not as old as this makes me sound) graduating from law school.   

I promised to post great conference links for you and never got to it, but here are some to think about for this year.  It's not cheap to attend conferences, but once in awhile, it's worth it to splurge.

First up, the Magazine Conference in Boulder, which I attended last fall and enjoyed very much.  This is the least expensive of the lot, and they're going to offer several focused versions this year, from travel writing to the nuts and bolts of magazines.  At $350 and in the stunningly beautiful city of Boulder, it's hard to go wrong with this. 

I love the Santa Barbara Writer's Conference, June 21-26 this year.  I'll be teaching a lot of voice and creativity along with the usual Iowa-style readings that feature so prominently at this conference.  This one is pricier, but it is set right on the beach in a stunning hotel, and Ray Bradbury will be speaking Saturday night.  Enormous variety in faculty and speakers.

The Women's Fiction Festival in Matera, Italy.  One of the most delightful experiences I've had.  The conference is intriguing, the parties delightful (Romeo and Juliet's balcony scene acted out on the square while we drank wine in the soft evening breeze), and the company varied and intriguing.  You will never be sorry you went to this one.  But yes, the price tag is...a teeny bit painful.

And of course, there is the big Romance Writers of America bash in San Francisco this year.  I'm quite torn over whether to attend this year, and doubt very much I can squeeze it in, but I am mourning the possibilities (French Laundry!  Chez Panisse!).  This is one of the most complete, most intense, most vivid writing conference experiences out there, so if you have never attended, even if you are not strictly a romance writer, I guarantee you will learn a lot. 

There are hundreds of others, of course.  I've heard the Surrey Conference is a treat.  There are some retreats in Barcelona I wouldn't mind attending someday, and really, I just think I must find one in Ireland one of these days.  I could visit my friends Tom and Emer and explore Ireland for real.   

What are some of the conferences you know about that we should consider? What's the best conference you've ever attended and why?

Snippets of felt for the shoemakers

It would be very nice to say I know exactly where books come from, that one does this, slides that over, arranges the plotting blocks just so and...voila!  A book arrives, like a baby being born after a requisite nine months.

Instead, it's more like casting spells or gardening or building a relationship.  Or maybe it's not like any of those things.  Inspiration is magic, and it depends on nothing so much as just stuffing it full of whatever it thinks it wants, and even then, there you are sitting at your desk and you pick up a pearlie marble, a very small irridescent crystal ball that used to sit atop a smoky purple bottle your friend Jaye gave you a long time ago.  The bottle was broken in some tragic business involving cats or moving, you can't remember which, but the irridescent pearlie rolls around on a little lip beneath the computer screen, and sometimes you pick it up to peer through it at the mountains, liking the look of the upside down world.  And although you have done this a million times, or at least 150, inspiration blazes right out of it and lands on the page with a funny little chuckle.   The work was moving pretty well before, but there is suddenly something much better there, and who knows how long it had been lurking in some drawer in your imagination.   

Trust it.  That's what you remember you have to do with books and making up magic things like books and essays and poems, you have to sit back and let the girls (or maybe they are elves, after all) weave some magic with the cloth you left lying around.

 

Kitchen insight

Ms. Glaze wrote a wonderful post about being promoted to Chef de Partie and what that means in a French kitchen.   It's really worth reading.  Here's a snippet:

I want to throw up. I want to toss myself into the toxic waters of the Seine or walk into a big black endless hole or just simply throw up. I've been given the sand swallowing promotion of Chef de Partie.

Under normal circumstances this would be very exciting. If I was back in the U.S. I would be shaking up champagne bottles. But here, in Paris, where students start careers in cooking at the age of fourteen and pass their entire lives in clastrophobic kitchens, this is like being handed ten sacks of flour and ordered to run a marathon without having trained properly.

As for me, no cooking today.  It's an artist date and I think I might spend some of it at Adam's Cafe, having a good lunch, then find a good bottle of wine for this evening.....

Remember to do something luxurious for yourself this weekend.  One hour reading, taking a bath, cooking something beautiful, having long lazy sex, taking a good walk, shopping for some stationary to write a real letter....  Whatever you like.

Voice....last chance for January class

There are two places left in the Janurary 29th class.  Read more about it here.

And remember, if you want to take the class and really can't swing it financially, throw your name in the hat for a scholarship. No matter what, there are always two students drawn from that hat, and no one will ever know who you are. 

Without vanity, I know this class does a lot of good. It might be just what you need to start the new year on the right foot. 

Barnes and Noble Book Club Today

Just a reminder that I'll be chatting at the Barnes and Noble Romance Book Club today. The lovely cover of Madame Mirabou is prominently featured on the opening page.  (I still want to go live in that cover shot.)

Come visit if you have time!

This little light of mine

I've known for a long time that there was a person at Unity who worked in Mozambique.   Doing something with orphans.  You know, on a mission or something.  Noble work and very nice, of course. I liked to think about the church sending some pennies on my tithes over there to help her cause. 

But you know. Africa.  Mozambique. A mission and orphans and HIV/AIDS...Africa.  Such a huge and tragic place at the moment.  How do you even begin to start thinking about it? 

And Mozambique. Nice word (Moo-zzzam--BEEK!)--you could dance to it, in a chant---but who even knows where it is?  (I bet some of you do here, because you are very smart readers, but mostly, we don't remember geography in places that have no immediate meaning to us.) 

So, a couple of weeks ago, I arrived and sat at my usual place, on the aisle, in a particular row.  A woman came and said, "Oh, just let me move these things," and I was embarrassed to realize she had stashed some things under the chair in front and I hadn't seen it.  Pretty, well tended.  Dark hair and good clothes and sparkling eyes.  Apologizing profusely, I moved over.

Of course she turned out to be the woman in Africa.  The "missionary."   Sort of not what I was expecting, and when she spoke, she was even more not what I was expecting, and cut right through a lot of my defenses without a single plea to the emotions, just these simple stark facts and a wry sense of humor about her "call" to go to Africa. 

Call.  Well. You know.  That's pretty extreme stuff. 

Except, that's what I'm always telling writers to listen to, that whisper of spirit calling them to writing. Not by accident, on purpose, to do specific work. 

And again, she disarmed me, talking about that call a few days later at a concert CR and I attended to help raise money for that far away land that still had no face except hers.  A face that was very like all the faces in our gatherings.  Well tended.  Vigorous Colorado folks, living the good life. 

She said with laughter in her voice, that she was there one morning, in  Woodland Park (a very beautiful spot) with her house with its beautiful views of Pikes Peak, and her good shoes (she stuck one out to show us) and writing in her dream journal and doing a little yoga (and CR nudges me) and she said she walked into Starbucks one stunningly beautiful Colorado morning to order her 3.50 caramel macchiato and looked over at the New York Times.  The headline said, 12 Million Dead of AIDS in Africa (or words to that effect).   And she looked at her macchiato and thought to herself, "we said we would never let 12 million people disappear again," and went home and started packing her boxes.   

A few weeks later, she was studying Portuguese and off on her call. 

It's like...you know--you--going to Africa to work with orphans.   Like me.  Like knowing nothing and giving up all the beautiful things you like, and the easy stuff like lattes and gorgeous shoes and that great view, and going to a place where there is cholera and malaria and not enough money and you have no idea what you're doing. 

And you do it anyway.  And figure out some answers.  Not every answer to every ill, but one or two that make a difference for some people in one community in a country you weren't even sure where it was, Mozambique (Mo-zzzam--BEEK!) and come up with a plan to give people something to bring in some money and create a new way to teach the community about the transmission of HIV and maybe stop some pregnancies and save a life or two.

Her name is Amy Gillespie.  Her story moved me deeply.  Read about the AIDS Orphans Skills Center.   

And this is what I learned about Mozambique:

It is on the southeast coast of Africa. 
The language spoken is Portuguese

Total population: 18 million
Percent of population under the age of 15: 45%
Urban population: 29%
Life expectancy: 34 years (recently revised down from 50 years as a result of HIV/AIDS)

Now you know, too.

And these are the dolls they are making:

Educational, but also very, very lovable, no?

Apples and walks

This morning on my walk, in heavy coat and shredding gloves and a hat that always gets too hot, what I thought about was how much I love walking.  It's so simple.  So clean.  So unassuming.  You don't need special equipment. Almost anyone can do it, and over and over and over again, they show that it is one of the single best things you can do for your health.  Walk a half hour a day, eat an apple, and love somebody a lot, and you've got it covered. 

I also bought some very beautiful apples today.  Ambrosias.  Very crisp and sweet and pretty to look at it.

What simple things do you love?

In honor of MLK

In honor of Martin Luther King Jr's birthday, I found a podcast of his I have Dream Speech and listened to it again.

If you have not actually listened to this speech, in his own voice, you really owe it to yourself to listen to it, all the way through.  Sixteen minutes of some of the most beautiful words that have ever been written in pursuit of justice. 

The first time I read it was in a creative writing class in college.  My professor wanted us to study it for the poetry, and she arranged us in a circle and we began to read it, a paragraph at a time.  I could not stop weeping, and I never can listen to it without thinking of what power there is in words.  In his voice.  In WORDS, man, WORDS.

Seriously, in honor of the day, go listen to it here.

Raffle for RWA conference in San Francisco

A friend of mine is sponsoring this raffle for a great prize, and I suspect there are readers here who would find this helpful:

Now that the prices for San Francisco are out, it might be a good time to enter the Valley Forge Romance Writers Rafflemania (yes, we do have a license for this, and it's RWA approved):

Valley Forge Romance Writers Presents The 1st Annual VFRW Writer's Rafflemania!

The Prize

$ 1,500.00 Check

To Defray Your Costs For 2008 RWA National Conference Fee!
Held In San Francisco, CA
July 30 - August 2, 2008
4 Nights Hotel Accommodations!
Roundtrip Airfare To San Francisco!

Raffle tickets cost $5.00 each or (3) for $10.00.
Go to Valley Forge Romance Writers' website www.vfrw.com for
information or send a self-addressed stamped envelope to VFRW Rafflemania,
PO Box 248, Lenni, PA 19052.
Grand Prize drawn on March 28, 2008.
Any checks received after March 1, 2008 will be returned.
Prize is non-transferable.
All entries must be postmarked by February 29, 2008.

Valley Forge Romance Writers' Rafflemania Rules:

The Prize: Winner will receive a check in the amount of $1,500.00 to be
used for one 2008 RWA National conference registration fee, one single room,
including tax, single room rate for July 30 through August 2nd, 2008 at the
San Francisco Marriot, the conference location, and one round trip coach
class airfare. Winner is responsible for making their own reservations and
itinerary. The total amount awarded will be $1,500.00 regardless of total
cost of conference, hotel and flights to winner. No amount over $1,500.00
will be reimbursed and any extra monies due are the sole responsibility of
the winner. Prize package is non-transferable for any reason and
non-refundable.

To Enter: All raffle sales are final. There will be no refund of
raffle chances for any reason. By entering the raffle you acknowledge that
you have read and agree to the conditions and rules as listed on the VFRW
website and/or VFRW Rafflemania flyer. Raffle chances are valid only for the
San Francisco, 2008 RWA National Conference.
Contest is open only to residents of the United States and members in good
standing of Romance Writers of America who are at least 18 years old as of
February 29, 2008. All funds must be received in US currency drawn on a US
bank or money order.

To enter USING WHITE 3"X5" CARD(s), Print The Following:
Name, Address, Phone Number
RWA Number
Email Address
Place your raffle cards in an envelope along with a check or
money order for the appropriate amount.
Make Check or Money Order payable to: VFRW
Mail your 3"X 5" card(s) and check or money order to:
VFRW Rafflemania
P.O. Box 248
Lenni, PA 19052

A confirmation of receipt will be sent out via email but raffle chances will
not be valid until all funds clear. If a check is returned for insufficient
funds, the entrant will be notified by email that they are no longer
eligible and the check will be shredded. It is up to the entrant to send
another check to re-enter the contest (including any NSF fees incurred by
VFRW) postmarked by the deadline of February 29, 2008.

Any raffle entries received that are not on white, 3"X5" cards will be
pulled, the entrant notified and given a chance to correct the error before
the contest deadline. If the entrant does not provide the correct 3"X5" card
entry postmarked by the February 29, 2008 deadline, the check will be
shredded and the entrant will not be
eligible for the drawing.

The Drawing: All 3"X5" raffle tickets will be placed in a large bin for a
random drawing on March 28, 2008. Winner will be notified by phone on or
about March 28, 2008.

The Winner: For IRS tax purposes, the winner must supply in writing his/her
social security number before receiving the prize check. A
1099 form will be issued to the winner by Valley Forge Romance Writers. If
the winner does not supply his/her social security number in writing by
April 15, 2008 to the president, vice-president or treasurer of VFRW, the
prize is forfeit. Any and all taxes are the responsibility of the winner.
The winner agrees to allow VFRW to use his/her name and/or likeness for
publicity purposes.

Winner agrees to hold VFRW blameless for any credit card finance charges
incurred, and from liability for events beyond control, including an act of
God, conference cancellation and/or hotel overflow. If the official
conference hotel site does not have any rooms available, the winner is
welcome to make reservations at an overflow hotel; however, no amount above
the $1,500.00 will be reimbursed.

Questions: may be directed to ask_vfrw@yahoo.com

Begin again

I mentioned yesterday that the book idea that's been brewing just didn't work for anyone.   I threw it out there valiantly because it seemed like I might be able to get it there eventually, but agent didn't much love it, than editor (remember, I chose her because she is so smart) nixed it without much regret at all.  And when she called to tell me to start over, what I felt was relieved.

Now, you may ask, if that was true, why did you send it to them in the first place? And the answer is, because I can't always judge my work clearly.  Nor can you.  No writer can.  That's why we work with professionals like editors and agents who have the unenviable task of being clear-eyed when we are not. They alos have the pleasure of saying, "Wow, you outdid yourself this time," or "this is going to make us a lot of money, kiddo," or "this is the best thing you've ever written."

I know some of you think that a writer gets to a certain point in her career where everything she writes is gold. I wish it were true.  It isn't.  Some ideas never quite jell, and the reasons are as varied as the reasons any book doesn't quite work--characters, plot, tone, setting, execution.  There were some intriguing things about this book, a setting I found compelling, and a single character action that called to me, which was the entire kernel of the idea in terms of my emotional resonance. 

But it wasn't the main story, and there was no way to make it the main story, so I built a lot of other stuff around it and tried to make it work.  It didn't. 

There was another idea bubbling on a back burner, and I've been adding some spices and possibilities to it over the past couple of weeks. This morning, I'm going to sit down and let it reveal itself.  Kind of juicy, this one. 

So, if you've been discouraged by a rejection recently, or a book isn't working, just let go, toss it all on the compost heap (all that stuff gets recycled, you know. No idea is ever lost.) And begin again, with me.

How do you handle the news that a project didn't work?

Friday artist date

Fridays, on the new, improved schedule, are for artist dates.   This gloomy, crackling cold morning (it has been well below zero at night), I am going to go to yoga class, even though my muscles are still sore from Tuesday.  Then out to find some new cooking tools: a zester, which I do not have and really want; a heavy, midsize saucepan, which I do have but want a better one; and a new grater.  I gave one away in a fit of generosity, and it was the wrong. 

Then Whole Foods.   There were alluring recipes in Oprah this month--I want to try the clear broth with kaffir lime leaves and chiles, and some gingerbread cookies that look plainly sinful. I had to scrap the developing book (a blog for another day--trust me, it was the right decision) and am puttering around while the right one brews.  Cooking seems to be absolutely required for that process somehow.

I might go see Juno, but honestly, I'm not much in the mood for passive watching. I want to DO something.

Any cooking going on in your world? Cooking up books? Artist date planned any time soon?

The REAL Scent of Hours shop!

While watching television recently with Christopher Robin, we saw a commercial for a Manitou Springs perfume shop called Salus.  It looked clean and elegant, and most surprising of all, it offered patrons the chance to make their own perfumes and add the fragrances to a wide variety of bath and body products. 

CR and I looked at each other with our mouths open.  "It's The Scent of Hours!"

Which is, for those in the know, the name of the perfumery in Madame Mirabou's School of Love (now also available for the Kindle, I just noticed!)  which is the story of a woman who is searching for her place in life after a divorce. Her way of relating to the world has always been through scent, and each chapter begins with a recipe from her perfume journal. The shop she eventually opens is in Manitou Springs called the Scent of Hours. 

Last Saturday, CR and I wandered over to Adam's Cafe for lunch, and I remembered the ad. We stopped in, and it is gorgeous, well appointed and clean.  A lovely place to go play, if you are in the area (or visiting), especially with a friend or sister or mother. I think I could spend a couple of days mixing scents and creating my own signature scent! 

What's funny is that I had never heard of such a shop, and it did not exist when I wrote the book.  Now there is.  You can visit in person, or on the Internet.  Tell her I sent you. 

PS.  I'll be talking about the book with Eloisa James at the Barnes and Noble Review site one week from today, January 24.  Please stop by if you can.  This is a great new thing they're doing, and wouldn't we all love to see it be successful? 

Mad Men

Who recommended Mad Men?   I've finally had a chance to check it out, and have since downloaded every episode available from Itunes and am trying to watch every single episode in a single binge. It's weirdly like walking into one of my mother's magazines from long ago.

Fantastic work, such an intriguing milieu. Thank you.

Honor, opening volley

In yoga class last Friday, our teacher asked us to think of a word we'd like to use as a mantra or guiding principle over the course of 2008.  The word that popped into my mind, and stuck there like an annoying burr no matter how I tried to dislodge it, was honor.

Honor. No problem to think about that one, hmmm?  Honor yourself, others, the world.  Yes, yes, very good idea.  But as with all spiritual concepts, there is ever so much more to it when you start giving it real thought. And of course, I'm now tripping on ideas of honor at the click of every hour.

Reading a regular column called A Million Ways to Save the World in the new Oprah magazine, a line struck me like a thunderclap:  Forget self-esteem...focus on self-respect, says Diana de Vegh, a psychotherapist.

Not self-esteem, self-respect. It made me hear my father's voice in my head, exhorting me to be responsible, to think about the consequences of my actions (and, thankfully, he never allowed me to slide--if consequences were not forthcoming from external sources, he imposed them from within the family structure).   

Not self-esteem, self-respect. One implies unconditional love, which is fine in its place.  The other encourages esteem born of action and responsibility to self, others, the community and world.  Honor? 

I have been thinking far too often of one of the incidents from last week, about a person I am fond of who took a dramatic and destructive turn.  The consequences are terrible for her, and she was first in my prayers and sorrows, but as the days pass, I keep catching glimpses of the ripples that radiate outward from her, and how many different people are affected in small and large ways.  She most of all, of course, but we all choose our paths, one way or another, and so did she.  Those around her did not choose but will be forced to deal with the fall-out.  Her actions have consequences.

I'm sure many of you have heard about the plagiarism discussion surrounding a historical romance writer, who was outed on an irreverent romance review website. (I am not going to contribute to the fire by adding links or names--that is not the point here.) There are dishonorable actions all around on this one--the plagiarism is wrong, and should rightfully have been reported.  But with power comes responsibility, and the glee of the exposers is in poor taste.  The body of journalism law and ethics has developed for a reason, out of trial and error. Plagiarism is a crime that must be reported whenever it is discovered. That is responsible.  Continuing to hoot and holler over the crime after reporting makes it feel about as appealing as a couple of sixth graders kicking a dead deer on the side of the road.

Also, Madeline L'Engle says, "If you don't do your work, it might not ever get done."  My minister (whom I seem to be quoting a lot here recently) says over and over, "Do what is yours to be done." 

Simple, clear, straightforward, and like a powerful sword, the idea carries both redemption and crusade.  If you do your work, it then goes into the world to heal or inspire or quiet or amuse or breathe life or excite or express.  If you do it, things heal, get better.  If you don't, the work goes unfinished, the holes remain, the ache stays aching.

It's almost impossible to imagine a world in which everyone is doing that, focusing on what is theirs to do.   I can certainly see times in my life when simply focusing on my own stuff would have made a difference.  I'm sure you can see incidents in your own, can't you?  To earn self-respect, I must be responsible to the press of the work that is mine to do, and the consequences are toward healing.   My acquaintance turned her back on what was hers to do, and the result is crushing.  The reporters of the plagiarism were responsible and did what was theirs to do, but then allowed power to lead them into destructive action, and thereby possibly wound the work that is still theirs to do.  They turned honorable action to dishonorable action.  Sensationalism is never honorable. (Notice how sensationalism enters into the presidential race, for example.)

Hmm.  I think this is going to be very interesting, exploring honor, as part of what is mine to do this year.

What is yours to honor this year? What does honor mean to you? 

Class updates

Still working on the Circles class, and have been tweaking the Girls in the Basement.    Voice II, first segment, is full.  Still room in Voice I.  Let me know if you're interested.

And remember, there are two scholarships given away for each class, so if you want to toss your name in that hat, send me an email with "scholarship" in the header and specify which class you're interested in. (I would love to be able to give them all for free, but they're quite time intensive and that's just not practical.)  You may also recommend someone else. 

For those who might not be familiar with the classes, I'm not a nuts-and-bolts kind of teacher.  You can get dialogue or structure from teachers who are much better at it than I am.  What I love is encouraging writers to discover how fabulous and unique they are, and what beauties they have to offer the world.

I was also exhorted by one of my spiritual teachers to help create circles of women to heal ourselves, heal each other, and heal the planet, and this is my small way of trying to do that.  Not every single class results in a tightly knit group, but some of them do, and many have helped create loose communities. 

If you have any questions, email me anytime.

Last night, I made pizza from scratch.  Roasted peppers, and garlic, tucked in a small steel dish and drizzled with olive oil and covered with foil, and the surprisingly delicious roasted fennel bulb leftover from a salad two days ago.  Whole wheat dough, rolled thin, and smeared with olive oil, kosher salt, the smashed tender garlic. (Garlic, softly dripping, sliding out of its jacket like a hearty lover).   

It's been a challenging week--nothing directly personal, impacting my life, but sad things swirled around and fell in lumps around us, and I felt them.  The empathy that is such a friend to a writer is not such a friend at times like that, when there is nothing to be done and no way to fix anything, and just those simple, stark, sad things lying there.   Writing is too much, too pointed and sharp, for times like that.  It takes me closer, not farther away.

So I found myself in the kitchen, looking through ingredients, tossing through cookbooks, hunting for the actions that would soothe, satisfy.  A can of pineapple, hiding at the back of the fridge, leftover mozzarella from a party last week, the garlic and onions and red peppers I keep in stock, and just enough white flour left to lighten up the whole wheat.  Bread dough to knead and punch and leave to rise, coming back later to see the speckles of grain, two balls rolled out, one for me and one for CR, to create our own masterpieces.  His was a some beef sausage and pineapple and lots of cheese and a base of red sauce.  Mine was mainly the vegetables and garlic and pineapple wiht a little cheese.   

Outside, the cold winter wind blowing. Inside, the smell of comfort and love and peace, all wrapped in a bit of dough and leftovers.

Go outside and play

It is a vividly bright day this morning, sun shining on freshly fallen snow, the Peak crisply cocked against a balloon sky.  The house is quiet.  The tree has been dismantled, the beds stripped, the fridge and cupboards cleared of all dangerous treats (well, except that one bottle of rum.  Oh, and the verpoorten advocaate which my friend Renate brought for a little New Year's Day party we had here.  And three candy canes.) 

Yesterday, I finally trundled my way back to the gym, with a new goal to learn how to swim more efficiently.  It's good for the shoulders and neck, which get so tight during all those hours at the computer.  I'll get back to yoga classes tomorrow, too.  I've been hiking and walking the dogs, but that's a challenge with the icy paths and streets (especially since Jack is still in recovery from knee surgery), and it's not been enough.  I like to be active.  Not for health benefits, though that's a nice side effect.  Not for weight loss, though it does mean I can eat more.  Not for any reason except that it feels good.  I was never an athletic child--I was particularly horrible at team sports involving balls--but I loved walking forever with my grandmother.  I loved riding my bike all over the neighborhood and climbing ropes and spending as much of the day as possible at the local swimming pool and skating at Roller Rena with my dad, who as a beautiful skater and swimmer.  It felt good, especially as the rest of the time, I was curled up in a chair, utterly still, reading.  And reading. And reading. 

The statistics are out again, about modest exercise and what it can do for you.  Simple things. Walk a half hour.  Swim a little while.  A woman I know is losing weight like crazy by rollerblading, and I seriously want to get some outdoor skates (not rollerblades for me, thanks, but check these out) for spring.  I've been swimming again because I did love it so much as a child. 

And for the record, I am not particularly good at any of these things (well, skating. I am good at that.)  I splash around the swimming pool like five little kids.  I jog so slowly that turtles zip right by me.  My hiking buddy, who is a decade older than I, routinely has to slow down while we are hiking.   

But writers have a very, very, very sedentary job and we have to consciously add movement.  It makes the work better.  It keeps repetitive motion injuries to a minimum, and it allows time for ideas to percolate. 

Everything out there is telling you to lose weight for the new year.  I don't care how much you weigh.   I do care about how healthy you are.  If you are not moving, what is stopping you?  Do you feel embarrassed to do something badly?   Take a lesson or two.  Is it too cold/hot where you are? Find something you can do indoors.  What kind of exercise feels like play to you? Did you, like me, swim and roller skate?  Did you love to play softball at the corner lot?  Did you ride your bike forever and ever and ever?

What are some ideas for exercise that is PLAY?  What do you love to do? (And if you like something hard, that's great.  I want to test myself hiking some more 14ers this summer.)

Every dog has a purpose under heaven

Jacqueline Mitchard posted today about her Saint Bernard puppy, who is quite, quite adorable. (Seriously, go look at the photo.)  What is it about writers and their animals?  I am ashamed to say that I sometimes forget to carry photos of my children, but there is always a photo of Jack on my cell phone. 

Jack, who is too afraid to go to doggie day care and shivers over lightening.
Jack who has never listened to a word anyone has to say except me.  Sometimes.
Jack who bit the lawn boy (who had been warned not to come into the yard without asking me and did it anyway, thinking it would be okay).
Jack who shattered the living room window last New Year's Eve when fireworks started going off and he had to find us NOW.
Jack who had to have knee surgery last month because he took a flying leap from the deck and demolished the joint.
Jack who sits beside my chair squeaking the toy of the day, which is cute for the first five minutes. 

Miles brought me photos of Jack as a baby tonight, and looking at them, CR teased me about the release of the list of most trainable dogs. My old dog, April, was a border collie husky who really could practically speak English.  A rancher with hands as withered as tree trunks once offered me a hundred dollars cash for her on the spot. Border Collies are the #1 most trainable dogs.

Chows are dead last.  I'm pretty sure it doesn't help a lot to have a chow mix. 

But I didn't know all that when he arrived at my door, barely five weeks old, a rescue from the interstate, where he'd been dumped.  Even if I had, how could I ever have turned this baby away?

And he has stayed this cute.  I mean, sometimes, you get a really smart dog.  And sometimes, you get one that just loves you to pieces. Since Jack showed up five weeks to the day after I split with my ex-husband, I'm pretty sure there was Divine Order in place.  Jack came to love me, and you know, he's really good at that.

New Class Schedule

There will no doubt be more work done and not all the classes are up yet, but I have created a new website for the voice and girls in the basement classes.  Check it out:

THE CARE AND FEEDING OF THE GIRLS IN THE BASEMENT

Post holiday crash

Is anyone else as tired as I am?  I've been getting my work done in the mornings, but then I'm just demolished for the day.   It's the great rush of activity catching up with me, and I'll be better by Monday, but till then....whew!

I'm watching movies, mainly.  Finished rewatching Before Sunrise and Before Sunset, which I've seen many times.  Treated myself Wednesday to PS I LOVE YOU (five big fat stars from me--really a lovely romantic story with a terrific grace note).  Last night, it was...hmmm.  I can't remember.   Today, I'm headed out to see Atonement, which I've been waiting for for ages.

The new proposal is just about finished, finally.  It seemed to take its sweet time, but they do sometimes.

The Jeapordy Link

A good debate friend of my eldest has been on Jeopardy this week.  (Dan Pawson, if you've been watching the show.)   It's been a blast to watch, especially as he has become a 5-time champion, which is a really, really big deal.   I mean, really.  How many people can DO that???  Tonight is show #6.   We're all watching with great attention, cheering him on.  (And really, he has the kindest smile.) 

Read more about him at his wife's blog (to make it even more thrilling, she's about to have a baby at any second--what a story to tell your child!).  Also, some of you might remember her from posts here, and from a link or two I've posted in the past. 

Just thought you might like to tune in for the great excitement.  Ian was here for the first two nights, so CR and I had the pleasure of sharing it with him, and now we're hooked.  Go, Dan! :)