Dichotomy

I love this.  I don't know if I would say it is beautiful, but it touches me.

I also love this.  I think this is beautiful.  I would love this to be my parlor, but the crow picture would not fit in.  Yet the crow picture is totally all about my blog.  And my head.  I think this explains a lot.  But I am the only one who benefits from the explanation. 

The person who lives in this parlor would like this:

This is by Rene' Lalique and I think it is perfectly exquisite, but I would be very uncomfortable wearing it. 

Well, I am just rambling today and trying to settle some of my thoughts. 

Image Attribution:  all from my Pinterest board "Beauty" where you can find further documentation of these images and see a bunch of neat stuff. 

MY BLOG

I do not remember when I first heard about blogs and blogging.  I never did much organized writing before that if I could possible avoid it.  But if I had to do a paper on something I cared about, or was writing someone a letter, I would go on and on.  There were even times in my life when I "submitted".  Of course not successfully, as we well know, or I would probably have several Pulitzers under my belt and a few really good movies playing on your local screen. But I received actual professional encouragement.  Have you?   Anyway,  it became what it is.  A place for me.  A place that people visit.

I have only the vaguest idea of what an algorithm is, and I know there is one on Amazon that is good to me.  But I would really like to know the algorithm that brings visitors to my blog cuz there is definitely no rhyme or reason to it.  I know how to pull a few strings if I start to fall below the horizon, but I get these huge numbers when I have done nothing or think I have nothing.  Well, I am not going to analyze it cuz it is all just kind of fun for me.

Sometimes I really need to let loose with a bunch of stuff that bothers me, but usually I just blather.  As you well know.

There is one thing I am going to pay attention to, though.  I actually worked on my work in progress tonight.  I have been having huge problems with it.  I wrote a bunch of junk just to put words down, which is supposed to be rule number one:  Just Write.  So, tonight, looking at it, some of it was salvageable and some actually useful.  Not "good".  I have written some stuff that I felt was "good" and I get specific reactions to that, so I can kind of judge myself.  But I wrote.  I edited.  I corrected.  I deleted.  And there are two more things I have to put in it.  I know what they are and I am not worried about that part.  What I always have trouble with is having the person "here" where I wanted them to be and where I put them and getting them to "there" where I want them to be and where they have to be.  So I am making progress there and am starting to think I may actually be able to launch this one last book before I head to the happy hunting grounds.

And this time, I am going to notice if this blog has any influence on what happens after I publish. My blog is now a different entity.

So we shall see.

Not too much keeps the old bird up and running these days.  Now that Delaney uses polysyllabic words and wears big girl pants, I feel it is pretty much all over for me. And I am getting sick of Barney's incessant wonderfulness.  I do have an idea about a different tangent, and a fun thing I might do to put Amazon through its paces.  So maybe there is life in the old girl yet.


Image Attribution:  smugnom.com

Bird cages

I really just wanted to see how this looked on my site.  Pretty nice, I'll say.

Sorry about the border drift. For the sake of art. It will correct next blog which may be any minute now.

Excerpt from Sacred Sin

Of course, it was only a matter of days until Barney knew she was back in town.  One morning, Sarah brought the mail in, including this week’s “US” magazine.  On the cover were two side by side photos, one of Daniel getting off the plane in England and one of Jenny and the kids, getting off the plane at O’Hare.  The caption read, “Trouble in Paradise?” and, within, a long article with photos of Daniel with his split lip and Jenny crying.  Barney was on his way out the door to go to work and took a minute to glance at it.  “I’ll drive by and see if she’s okay.”  And he dashed out the door.

The kids were on the lawn and Jenny was sitting in the side yard writing on her computer.  When the huge red truck pulled up and the huge guy got out, she hit ‘save’ and started across the lawn.  As he ran toward her he thought, “If the house was on fire, she would remember to hit ‘save.’”

The kids were terrified, especially little Maisie who began to cry and run to her mommy just as Jenny literally jumped into Barney’s arms.  “Oh my God.  You look so wonderful.  The glasses.  You’ve put on weight.  You look wonderful.  Oh my God.  I’m so glad to see you!”

“Jenny.  What did you do to your hair?  Are you alright?  You weigh nothing.  What’s going on with you?”

“Just a sec,” she said, as she stepped away to pick up sobbing little Maisie.  She turned away from Barney and put her cheek against the baby’s and whispered to her, Maisie’s tears wetting Jenny’s face and their copper curls comingling.  The baby’s crying ceased the moment she felt the safety of her mother’s embrace.  The sight of them--each end of the spectrum of all that was true in his life,  Maisie, the perfect replica of the nemesis of the kindergarten Barney, and Jenny, the only image he carried in his soul--stabbed into him, love spiraling into itself, redoubling and ripping a hole in his chest where his heart had been.

He felt full of some ancient knowledge, but as though his life was renewed.  “Not my kid.  Not my kid. . .” his brain kept trying to remind him.  But he knew that this icon before him was his only truth.  He knew he was seeing Jenny’s reality, if only for a second, her truest person, and he knew he would never be anything more to her than her soldier, her bastion, her anchor.  But he realized that was all he was meant to be and she needed that.  And her need for him, born when she took her first steps and reached for his hand, drawing her to him in the troubled nights of her adolescence, and now her child reflecting the intensity of her love, brought him a sense of purpose he had never known.  He knew that he was the part of her that finally let her be unafraid to give her love.  And he knew he would be rooted to this spot in time, in his life, in his soul, forever.  He chuckled slightly, “And was this one cloned in a Petri dish?”

(This is one of my favorite parts.  It ties all my books together. Sacred Sin will be free to download on May first and May second, 2012.

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B005H3EW3Q

Seriously

I keep saying Barnes and Noble bring me the most sales, but I promise not to let it go to my head.

Discovery

I rewrote The Maze and put it up on Kindle Select today. I was a nervous wreck. Then I was "speaking" to my spouse and I said I wondered why I got so nervous because what difference did it make if I did something wrong. I could go back and fix it. And he replied, "Now you're catching on." So I guess that means I am never going to get nervous about anything ever again. Sometimes I just wonder why he is not the ruler of the whole fucking world.

No. I know exactly why he is not. And so do you.

I wish we had a special font for sarcasm in case any of you aren't getting my point.

P.S. I don't want the Maze to be over. I want to write and write and write about these people.