Apologies for not posting as much here. I took a few weeks to escape the norm and find some inspiration to write again. In the meantime, here’s a picture of me (well one that reminds me of me) – always in a bookstore wherever I travel to, thumbing and searching for that wonderful little novel to take my mind off of the realities of the world:
And just in case you are wondering what I am reading right now, click here. The best and funniest book I’ve read in a long while.
I apologize for neglecting to update to those interested in my whereabouts and ‘whatabouts’. But I have been extremely busy in finishing up my next book, among other writing obligations, which require time-consuming research. I know – not a good excuse, but for now there are not enough hours in the day, or days in the week for me, to effectively be everywhere. I do promise, however, that I will do my best to stay in touch more frequently.
So here’s an interesting topic – at least for me: Seven Books That Might Become Your Next Favorite Movie.
Maybe it should read: Seven Favorite Books That Might Become The Next Best Movies?
Normally, movies are made from top best sellers or even some unknown book someone found tucked away on a shelf in a small bookstore around the corner. But this article talks about the types of books that could very well be turned into your next favorite movie. Let me know if you are familiar with any of the mentioned.
Lincoln in the Bardo, George Saunders (Random House)
Eleanor Oliphant Is Completely Fine, Gail Honeyman (Pamela Dorman Books)
Priestdaddy, Patricia Lockwood (Riverhead Books)
Killers of the Flower Moon, David Grann (Doubleday)
Genuine Fraud, E. Lockhart (Delacorte Press)
The Deal of a Lifetime, Fredrik Backman (Atria Books)
How to Stop Time, Matt Haig (Viking—forthcoming on February 6, 2018)
Any opinions you might want to share?
If Romeo and Juliet Had Gone House Hunting Together – is a read that had me entertained so much that I had to share it here. Please do yourself a favor today and simply appreciate the creative take on the story of Romeo and Juliet and oh…a few villas:
What if Romeo hadn’t drank the poison? What if Juliet had awoken to find her beau alive & kicking at her bedside and they’d ridden off into the sunset in search of a love nest, to live out the rest of their days happily ever after? Now that would be a house I’d like to visit. And some five centuries after their story is thought to have taken place, it appears as if the Italian real estate market has really changed all that much. You see, I’ve been imaginary house-hunting again in the dreamy property books of Italian agency Lionard, and it seems there is no shortage of historic castles and palatial estates fit for a Montague heir and his runaway bride. Palazzo’s of all shapes and sizes, waiting for a new generation to save them from ruin. Let’s just play real estate agent to Shakespeare’s star-crossed lovers for a moment…(more)
I don’t know about anyone else, but I feel really down during September. I don’t know what it is about this particular month. But it’s been like this for me ever since I can remember. Perhaps it’s the end to summer, and the long sunny days mostly spent outdoors, or the warm evenings being able to sit outside and gaze up at the sparkling, starry skies.
I could very well be a dreamer, but then what is life without dreaming?
The most that suffers during this sluggish period of mine, is my writing. When I am simply not so interested in formulating any sort of creativeness. However, what I do find peculiar is that the Internet seeming to sense my mood, swiftly pops-up to the right side of my screen, just the perfect encouragement to get me back on course.
On Monday, I signed up for next semester’s writing course at Stanford University continuing studies, and ordered the reading materials from the public library to have on hand, before the start date (September 25). I had a difficult time making my choice, because there were too many wonderful classes being offered, and if I could have pull it off, I’d take all of them at one go.
But, reality is that I have a full-time job during the day, and I write evenings and weekends and so here we are – one class at a time. Oh woe is me! (sarcastically of course).
Anyway, the whole point of this article is – there are so many helpful articles online about writing – a bit similar to the list of courses being offered by most any writing program and it got me thinking – what would you do? Would you choose the free articles online over schooling – in terms of creative writing?
Check out what I mean:
Can you imagine a short? A weekend with a lover…here?
Write the first 250-500 words of a story or essay in which you’re describing an object you saved from a burning house. Without describing explicitly what that object means to you (to your narrator), let the images themselves, and story or stories you tell about the object, imply the object’s significance.
I’ve never had to save something from a burning house; Thank God! But when we downsized for our move from Sacramento back to San Francisco, we sold every piece of furniture, except a Bassett 3-drawer dresser my mother gifted me decades ago. At the time, my husband wanted it gone. He felt the weathered dresser that was in dire need of repair, and a new coat of varnish, represented everything he wanted to put behind us in order to start again. 
I disagreed with him, and insisted on bringing the dresser along. I adored the intricate craftsmanship, I told him, even, the way the dresser slanted left, compromising the pull and push of the drawers. He laughed when he noticed me carefully packing the contents into a moving box. From drawer one, I pulled out a few trinkets from my childhood, before we moved to the U.S. A dozen or so photographs, held together with a brown ribbon used for a flower girl basket from my cousin’s wedding; I found the color simply elegant and worthy of a keepsake. There were five journals in excellent condition, that I kept during my difficult teenage years. A photograph from my senior prom made its way to the floor. The uptight pose from my date, made me laugh, remembering how he was forced to accompany me.
From drawer two, I pulled out an art book and a dozen or more used up crayons, and markers, and even a dried-up water-color palette. Fabric samples and a Barbie doll dressed in the outfit I made for her decades ago.
In drawer three, I found a stained postcard I sent my mother from Paris in the early 90s; I remember finding in her ‘things to shred pile’, thinking then, it had to be there by mistake. There was also an expired work badge with my last name forever misspelled, a driver’s license from a decade ago with my best mug-shot. I loved my hair cut then. A romantic card from my husband, before he was my husband, was among a collection of other greeting cards, stacked neatly in a collaged box I made in fifth grade. A tarnished bracelet I bought with my first paycheck; I found caught inside a crack in the drawer. And a neatly folded overpriced gold-leafed drawer liner, I couldn’t resist buying from an arts and craft store.
Although everything fit inside one large moving box, easily storeable along with the rest of the frivolous, in a Public Storage unit. I knew the dresser with its contents would end up in a space; I will designate my own, no matter where I end up.
