Touch Someone

Dawn, a good friend of mine, who writes Romance Puppy, had what I thought was a really good idea. She said when you visit other blogs, if they have 4 or less comments, leave one of your own. If it’s their birthday, congratulate them. Spread some cheer.

Blogging can seem so pointless at times when no one comments. Sure you might have visitors but if they don’t say anything how do you know unless you have a counter? The internet has connected us in so many ways yet we still hide, still resist contact. Ok so some postings aren’t interesting enough to leave anything. I know I’ve had my dull days. We all do. But if you follow them for a couple of weeks I’m sure they would come up with something you could remark about.

Another friend, Judi Fennell, has a separate page on her blog just for people to post random acts of kindness that either the poster did or someone did for the person who had posted. It’s a nice way to show that goodness and generosity is still out there among the populace.

So make someone’s day - say hi, you’re not alone. I’m here with you. : )

So who is this Chandler guy?

Last week I did a quickie post, on the LIRW blog, about Philip Marlowe. I've heard that name many times while growing up and decided to finally check out some of the books. My local library had Farewell, My Lovely and Lady in the Lake. Marlowe's wit, his tilted way of expression and pace are the points that kept me reading.

Then I thought, who's this Raymond Chandler who wrote this series? I was a surprise by what I found out and the couple of similarities between author and character.

Chandler was born in the U.S.A in 1888. Moved to London with his divorced mother in 1895.
Between 1905-1912 he moves to Paris, then Germany and then back to England In 1908 his poem "The Unknown Love" is published. And between 1905-1912 he worked briefly as a reporter in London and also wrote essays and poetry. (Poetry, in the typical Ode to a Grecian Urn sense, is not a style I would equate with him.) He finally settles in California where some of his jobs are stinging tennis rackets and picking fruit.

The U.S enters World War I and Chandler enlists in the Canadian Expeditionary Force. He is sent to fight in France. He is also being trained by the RAF but the armistice cuts it short. After being discharged he took a correspondence course on bookkeeping and got a job with Dabney Oil Syndicate as a bookkeeper and auditor.

1924 brought him to the altar with Cissy Pascal, who was twice divorced and eighteen years his senior. By 1932 he had risen to VP of Dabney Oil Syndicate but is fired a year later for alcholism, and absenteeism. Now out of work he decides to go back to writing and in 1933 his first short story Blackmailers Don't Shoot is published in Black Mask magazine. Things move along and in 1939 The Big Sleep is published. In the next twenty years he writes seven novels, nineteen short stories and seven screenplays; two of which were unproduced. NBC airs "Philip Marlowe" as a 1947 summer replacement and CBS buys the rights to "The Adventures of Philip Marlowe" radio show in 1948.

After Cissy dies in 1954, he begins to drink heavily. (It seems he always had to wrestle with the bottle and his excess drinking shows up as one of Marlowe's traits. "So I got out my office bottle and took the drink and let my self-respect ride it's own race." - The Big Sleep) The years 1955-1958 have him traveling to London, Capri, Naples (where he interviews Lucky Luciano; never published), New York, Arizona, Madrid, and Tangier. He was hospitalized several times for alcholism. He had affairs with four different women, one of which was Helga Greene, his agent, whom he proposed to. (Marlowe was also a lady's man and appreciated the female form. "It was a blonde. A blonde to make a bishop kick a hole in a stained glass window." -Farewell, My Lovely )

In March of1959 he went to New York to accept the presidency of Mystery Writers of America but unfortunately on March 26 he dies of pneumonia at the Scripps Clinic in La Jolla.

It's kind of sad to see the struggle this man had and how it's reflected in Marlowe. "I was as empty of life as a scarecrow's pockets." - The Big Sleep. I haven't read enough of Chandler's work or of his life to make comparisons between all of his and Marlowe's demons but I have to wonder if Chandler felt he was as honest, loyal and forthright as his character.

Nothing

Nothing new today - I cleaned
Nothing special this week - I worked on my other house, renovating
Nothing special in my life (as of right now) - same old, same old

I will not bore you with the prattlings of a desparate mind just so I can have something down. (At least for this posting.) Today I'm feeling a bit blunt. But come back next week for I'm working on an idea that I hope will be of interest to you.

"Talk" to you soon. ~ Donna

Diversify

Diversify the experts say. Get out of your comfort zone. Try writing something totally different.

Well, I did. I did an interview. Having never done one before I scoured other interviews trying to come up with pertinent questions, things that readers will find of interest. I guess it worked. The author I conferred with loved the finished product, said it was wonderful. She was probably happy because it was a mixture of her personal life and plugs for her new and past books. But that's ok for that's what it was suppose to be. I was trying to get people to know her and her writing a little better.

I was surprised how easy it came together. We did it all by email. I asked for some personal background. Then I sent her some questions using that and other sources. She returned her answers which I then copied and pasted into a coherent article. Let her look at it for final approval and Voila! we had an interview.

I'm glad it was easy because I promised to do the same for eight more people. : )

Baby Van

Yesterday we had our daughter's car towed away. She had totaled it over a year ago and it had been sitting in the garage since then. She was sad to see it go. We all were. It was a really nice car.

The emotions brought me back to my first car. It was a black, brown and yellow '65 GMC Handivan. It had no power steering nor seat belts and the heater was about as hot as a mouse's breath. The linkage for the stick shift was worn and if you shifted too quickly it could get stuck in gear. Then you'd have to go under the vehicle and give one of the rods a yank to get them moving again. I got quite proficient at it, surprising both my passengers and some onlookers . For the first 2 years of ownership it didn't have a radio. So I sang a bit or rolled down my window at traffic lights to hear other people's music while I waited. As you can see it wasn't much but it was mine.

Then in '77, while driving on the Meadowbrook Parkway with my husband (then boyfriend) a car came off the entrance ramp into the middle lane, right in front of me, going about 15 mph slower than I was. I swerved into the right lane to avoid hitting them but lost control and went up the grassy side of the parkway. There were some planting of trees being done and my left front tire fell into one of the holes. The van flipped, the ass end coming up and over, landing on the front driver's side.

My husband had pulled me down when we started going over. He said it was surreal watching the windshield shatter and disappear then seeing blue then green, blue . . green, blue . . . green as we rolled down the hill three times. Having no seat belts we bounced around like two super balls. We landed upright and the van was now traveling back towards the parkway. Don tried to reach the steering wheel but couldn't because I was unconscious on the floor, blocking him. Someone was watching over us for the van started to turn away from traffic. My husband pulled himself up slightly to see what was going on just in time to witness us hit a lightpole. He lurched forward smashing his nose against the metal dashboard as the light pole came crashing down. The accident had finally ended. (picure is of the injuries poor Baby Van incurred. The right side had very little damage.)

Someone had stopped and helped Don pull me out. He then went and turned off my car. Yes, it was still running after all this. My father drove it home wearing goggles. Can you just imagine that coming down the street behind you? :)

But I don't remember any of this. In fact I don't even remember the car that cut me off or being in the middle lane or half the time I was in the hospital. Believe it or not, we just got very badly beaten and the only thing broken was Don's nose. More than a hour of my life, where I lost my car and we almost lost our lives, is blank. If it wasn't for him I wouldn't know what happened. It's really a strange feeling.

Like my daughter, I was so sad to let my baby go. I had gotten her when I was 18. She was my independence. My freedom at a time when I was vulnerable and growing. She gave her life for me. I still miss her.

500 Words

Remember how in my last post I said I finally sent out my ms? Well there was a bit of a snafu. It was an e-submission and the auto response never sent me the confirmation that they received it. I waited a few weeks and tried again. Same thing. I reached one of their editors and explained my situation. She’s helping me find out what’s happening. (I don’t want to say her name because I don’t want everyone to think they can email her personally. But I will say she’s very nice and understanding)

So that’s under control. Now what? I know they say to keep writing, editing and all that writer stuff but I haven’t had a real creative thought since March. Talk about a dry spell! Sure, I’ve had a several imaginative sentences but a few sentences does not a novel make. I also write this blog, I am a regular contributor to the LIRW blog and I write a monthly president’s message for Shorelines. But it’s not like the creative stream you need for a story.

I have to admit I haven’t tried that hard to write either. I’ve been putting a lot of effort into being president of Long Island Romance Writers. It’s taken up quite a bit of my time, especially since my computer is on the older side and I have dial up. Yes, dial up. I know, just give me a chisel and a stone slab. But the time the Board members and I have put in seems to be paying off. I sense an energy that’s growing within the group. We’re doing more things, trying new things and it’s been for the better. Yay!

But that doesn’t help my writing. So I’m going to pledge to write at least 500 words a day, starting Monday. I know that isn’t much but I have to start somewhere. I will place my total for the week at the end of each posting so you can keep me in line. You are permitted to virtually slap me on the back of the head if I don’t make the 3,000 words a week. (No, I’m not bad at math. Hey, I get to take one day off, right? : ) ) Deal? Anyone else care to join me in a pledge or am I the only one being a naughty little writer?

Celebrate the RED, WHITE and BLUE

Well yesterday was the 4th of July and I hope everyone had a safe and happy one.

I, like millions of others, had a barbecue but with bratwurst and vegetable kabobs; ending with the patriotic parfait of strawberries, blueberries and whipped cream.

Then we all loaded into the van and drove over to the beach. This has turned into a tradition for us. From there we can watch all the fireworks being launched on the mainland. And it is spectacular. (By next year I hope to figure out how to put a video on this blog so you can see it.) So many people are there to view this event. More just drive the loop for a quick glimpse. But we're all sharing in the celebration of our great country. I think it was John Adams who said in 1777 that the citizens should celebrate with bonfires. Well that idea has certainly grown!

Then we came home and watched the remainder of the Boston Pops with Craig Ferguson. I think it's fantastic that he hosts this special. One, because I think he's funny and two, and this is the important one, he's originally from Scotland and became a U.S. citizen. He seems to genuinely love this country, sometimes even more so than natural born citizens. After he took the oath, he got a tatoo of the snake divided into 8 pieces that had been published in Benjamin Franklin's Pennsylvania Gazette, on his forearm. I wouldn't have had the . . . you know, to do that. But he did. He is now a part of this country and it is a part of him. YAY!!

We forget a lot of times how good we have it here. So Hip Hip Hooray and happy birthday, America. May you always be strong and wise.