Jerry Seinfeld on Drinking Tea

 

As mentioned in previous blogs, my mother is from England. Over the many years that she has been my mother, life’s ups and downs have been met with, “I’ll make you a cup of tea,” or “I could sure use a cuppa!” You’d think that being her daughter and sharing her gene pool that I’d have some understanding of this, but I confess, I don’t.

As with such things, it must be cultural.

Today I was driving to a yoga class, and to distract myself from the impending pain, I listened to the radio. Country wasn’t doing it for me, so I turned to a local station where the DJ and crew is famous for segment called, “Second Date Update.” The way it basically works is that two people go on a date, but one or the other don’t want to go on a second date. So the reject suitor can call in, tell their story, then the DJ calls the reject-or and tries to suss out what the problem is. If all goes well, a second date occurs. If not, back to trolling bars, websites, and grocery stores in search of l’amour.

Over the years I’ve heard some doozeys. One couple made it back to the man’s apartment, and just before he disappeared into the bathroom, he told his new lady friend to pick out a movie they could watch. He had neglected to put his porn collection away. When he came out of the bathroom moments later, she was gone. The gist of it is that she wouldn’t go on a second date, even though he apologized for not considering his collection to not be something just left out in public.

Perhaps my all-time favorite has to do with a guy picked the fancy restaurant, left with girl, before paying the bill. The next day the girl goes to the same restaurant (since she’d enjoyed herself so much) only to be thrown out by the manager. When the story was repeated on air, the guy announced that his credit card was maxed out and he didn’t want to be embarrassed. What?! He  didn’t offer to pay the girl back when she paid the bill. This was possibly his only redemption! Dude! Again, no second date.

So on my way to downward dogs and warrior pose, I hear the woman recount her side of the story (I will fess up to the fact that I missed the guy calling in and offering his perspective on their date). From what I can gather, someone else approached her (perhaps at a bar), and the guy she was on a date with wanted to duke it out there! He became so enraged that HE TORE HIS SHIRT OFF! The DJ and crew were offering all kinds of feedback, “Dude, you ripped your shirt off?” or “Girl, I think you are better off without him.”

The guy interrupts, and says, “Look, I’ll do whatever it takes. I’ll take you out for tea.”

Everyone in the booth at the radio station starts laughing, you can barely hear the girl say, “Alright, I will go out with you for tea.”

For real? There was a moment of confused silence before everyone started bombarding the woman with questions. When it was finally quiet enough for her to be heard, she said, “I like a sense of humor, and if he is willing to go out for tea, I’ll go.”

Is this what I have not understood all this time? That a cup of tea is entertaining? The takeaway from this is, when in doubt, drink tea. Writers could use a cup of tea to resolve dialog issues, Earl Gray or PG Tips can solve political issues, while rose hips mends broken hearts. This seems very Jerry Seinfeld-ish to me.

Setting:

Jerry Seinfeld and George Constanza are in Jerry’s apartment talking about nothing. A buzzer rings. Jerry walks to the intercom and hits the talk button, Elaine announces herself, he pushes the button to allow her into the building. He resumes his conversation about nothing with George.

Elaine enters the apartment, throws her coat and purse down on the round wooden kitchen table. “The weirdest thing just happened,” she announces. Irritated confusion is painted on her face.

“What?” Jerry asks disinterestedly, while pulling a bottled water out of his fridge.

While pushing his glasses into place, George mutters under his breath, “Weird things happen to me every day, but does anyone care? No.”

Elaine stares at the ceiling for a minute, while twirling a long hank of brown curly hair. “The delivery guy comes into the office today and just as I’m signing for the package, he says, ‘You want to go out to tea with me?’ Just like that, no warning, no flirting, nothing!”

Kramer bursts into Jerry’s apartment, “Tea, what kind of tea?” His body quivers with exuberance.

“What different does it make?” Elaine throws a question back at him.

“Tea? Who asks a girl out for tea? This isn’t the 15^th century!” George asks argumentatively, throwing his hands in the air.

“Tea! That is odd.” Jerry finally adds calmly, ignoring the interruptions, seriously pondering the situation. “So, what did you say?”

Elaine took her turn throwing her arms into the air, “I told him I’d have to tell him tomorrow!” The words “of course” floated in the air.

Zeroed in on every word, Kramer stepped over the couch with his long legs, and settled himself in amongst the cushions. His face serious. “Chamomile or Earl Gray?” he asked.

All eyes turned on him. “Whadda ya mean? It tells us something about him. Earl Gray says he’s classy! Hey, what if he wants to take you to the Palm Court and the Plaza Hotel?”

“Alright, alright, don’t get carried away, he’s a delivery man for god’s sake.” Seeing Kramer has grabbed Elaine’s attention, Jerry adds a touch of sanity to the conversation.

“He could be secretly rich!” Kramer says, looking at Jerry cautiously. Seeing Jerry is returning to his conversation he bravely continues, “Well then, maybe Lady Mendl’s Tea Salon. Be careful if he orders Chamomile. Chamomile says, ‘I’m not fully committed.”

“What? How do you know about these places?” George demands, utterly baffled.

Kramer stands-up to his full six feet two inches, shoves his hands into his worn grey cotton pants. He assumes the air and tone of a sophisticated man, and rocks back on his heels. “I know things! Oh yeah, I get around!” He loses it in the end, and punches the air with his index finger, dramatically.

“Gotta go,” Elaine says, surprising three men. The three turn to face her, wearing confused expressions.

With a rising voice, Jerry demands, “Where are you going?”

“To get my hair done.”

“For what?” Jerry nasally New York twang kicks in at full tilt.

“I’m going out for tea.” A hint of a dimple betrays her cautious admission.

“Whadda ya mean, you’re going out for tea?” Jerry’s voice is full of confrontation, while George berates Kramer for putting ideas into Elaine’s head.

With that, Elaine picks her purse and coat up and flounces out the door without a backwards glance.

“Well how do you like that?” Jerry says to no one in particular.

 

Thanks for reading!

Call Me, Anytime!

(Girls Night Out - Wicked, love Elphaba)

A few days ago my daughter said, “You are to crochet, what I am to sewing, what Pigpen is to cleaning.” I laughed until I almost wet myself. She’s right!

We were sitting in the airport departure lounge, watching a woman crocheting an afghan, sweater, or some such. Her hands were a blur as she whipped her crochet hook through, around, and under the yarn! It seemed possible that before boarding was called this crochet-capable lady was going to have blankets for everyone on the plane.

To explain. I have miles of yarn. I bought junk yarn, convinced that eventually I would progress to silk and bamboo blends. I bypassed perfecting any skill and just bought beautiful yarn. Every once in a while I pull out a skein or two, crochet endlessly for a few days and then put the unfinished project in its hidey-hole.

Last summer, my fashion-capable daughter decided to learn to sew. I am a demon with the sewing machine. My seams are sown straight, folded, top stitched; after the fabric has been painstakingly matched my pleats are perfectly distributed. Naturally she asked me to teach her. I was ecstatic. I envisioned hours of sewing together, prom dresses constructed, dollars saved, original designs!

She bought all she’d need to sew a beautiful yet simple summer dress. After a few hours of lip biting, she completed a complicated bodice pleats, then looked at me, face flushed, sweat on her upper lip, and announced, “I hate this.”

“I know honey. I could tell you weren’t having any fun.”

“But I want to be good at it.”

“Really?”

“No.”

“Want me to finish it?”

Her eyes sparkled, “Would you? Please, yes, that would be great!”

I promptly took the heap of materials, put it in a hidey-hole, then took her out for frozen yogurt. My plan was to finish it in secret, present it to her, she’d get to wear it without any negative feelings. So… a few days ago I found the bag of materials, fitted the dress on her, and well, she’s grown! Those bodice pleats! They are our undoing.

We laughed.

Time goes way too fast to worry about you what cannot do. Focus on what you can. My daughter makes great macaroons.

What do you do best? What do you enjoy? I love to write (obviously), read (also obvious), but more than anything, I love human interaction. So, I invite you to contact me via this blog, on Twitter or Facebook. Maybe together we can broaden our horizons! I know a lot about plants (I am a Landscape Architect), the aforementioned sewing, how to travel on a shoe-string budget, many things. I’ll warn you up front, I know nothing about Physics. That’s my husband’s department.

Curious where authors find their muse?

How Charlotte’s Restrained came to be…

Late in the summer of 2008 my husband and I were watching an episode of Inside the Actors Studio. Host James Lipton was interviewing Clint Eastwood. This multi-talented man fascinated us. After the interview was over, we chatted about how amazing it would be to invite him over for dinner and get to know him. The obvious problem: how to contact Clint Eastwood? Next obvious problem: if we could call him on the phone, what would compel him to want to have dinner with complete strangers? Sidestepping these crucial issues, it didn’t take long for the plan to evolve. It also didn’t take long to realize that it would be preferable to go to his house for dinner. After all, he lived in Carmel-by-the-Sea, California and likely had a better cook than me.

At the same time, I spent the first week my kids were back in school perfecting my domestic goddess-ness and realized I was as good at it as I wanted to get. There was something else I wanted to do more – write. I fired up my laptop and started writing. I didn’t have a strategy, hadn’t jotted down an outline or done any research. I also had zero contacts and resources. All I had was plain old-fashion gumption. Honest to Betsy, it never occurred to me that I couldn’t write a book.

It was also completely obvious to me to borrow from reality and write a book about encountering a long admired celebrity. Mirroring real life, there would have to be plenty of twists and turns. However, in the fantasy world, we can make incredible things happen. I needed people, loads of interesting and entertaining people who could make such a feat happen!

Let’s face it, we want it all. We want romance. We want to be a part of a group of friends who grew up and grow old together. We want to travel. We want to eat good food and drink great wine. We want to wear fabulous clothes! So, how to get it all in one book?

Charlotte, her BFF’s, a celebrity, and a handsome Irishman!

I like to think of myself as mostly normal, so I feel comfortable representing all women, when I say that we know we’ve found a real friend when we don’t worry about the state of our house when they stop by. We are really good friends if we’ll change our clothes in front of each other. We know we are Besties if when we really mess up, the other person may be really angry, but needs our own special brand of crazy in order to feel like life is do-able. Oh! And the most important factor: laughter. All of us want someone we can belly laugh with.

Charlotte, Hillary, Tiziana, Kathleen and Marian are such a village. These five women have history, have bled for each other, talked each other in and out of bad and good situations. Let each other be real. Fortunately for us these vivacious women are scattered around the globe, giving us the opportunity to travel to exciting places, where they meet up, drink up, and get into a little trouble.

We also have Des Bannerman, the King of Romantic Comedies in Charlotte’s Restrained. Des Bannerman is my vision of a mega star. A decade into his career he is riding the wave of major-motion picture success. He’s the go to man for chick flicks. Des Bannerman started out with a really big dream, but has become a little jaded by all the glitz and glory, and lives a life surrounded by people he trusts, but doesn’t really get to meet new people, because how does he meet them and who can he trust?

Pivotal to the story, is Liam Molloy, the Irishman who steals Charlotte’s heart. Liam has many things going for him; he’s gorgeous (of course), he’s the source of envy (providing many opportunities for the ladies to banter about men and “love”), and he has a great sense of humor. To be honest, I borrowed from reality again, the banter between Charlotte and Liam is much like mine and my husbands.

What makes a compelling story?

Beneath it all, I believe that we thrive when we know we are a part of a village. No one person can give us everything we need, BUT when we have a village we have everything! Friends, lovers, pets, children, frenemies, co-workers, all provide us with opportunities to grow and love. The most successful tales take place in the village concept.

To make the village happen in Charlotte’s Restrained, we are blessed with the opportunity to travel to London, Rome, New York, Dublin, and Saint Tropez. Amongst the many benefits of all this travel is that we get to see and feel the tempo of life in different parts of the world – we eat and drink foods that may be new and unique, we walk down streets ladened with history and float on oceans that are azure blue.

Me!

I love getting to know authors, most of those that I’ve reached out to have been amazingly accessible and supportive. You can learn as much about me as you can stomach at www.celiakennedy.weebly.com or on Twitter (@KennedyCelia), Facebook (Celia Kennedy, Author). On my website there are links to my blog WomanReinventsSelf. That’s where you read the good, the bad and the ugly!

If you look for me on Pinterest (http://www.pinterest.com/celiakennedy) you will find boards that I have created for Charlotte’s Restrained, Venus Rising, and my current work-in-progress, Kathleen’s Undressed (a sequel to Charlotte’s Restrained).

The View From Where I Sit

I have sat in this chair before. The one where the view from where I sit seems more compelling than the one I’ve stared at for so long. Today I sit at the worn wooden table in my rented apartment, where I can look down the hallway, through the corbelled arch of this 1920’s building, and out the transom window to the blue sky beyond. I have been in Montreal for eight weeks and I still haven’t figured out the metric system. It will be 29 degrees Celsius today. I’m not sure what that is in Fahrenheit, all I know is that it will be hot!

As an exchange student in 1995, I sat on a bus, staring out the windows, absorbing the verdant green hills that rolled past and the honey colored stone buildings of small villages I could see in the distant landscape of rural England. I had travelled from Brighton to Edinburgh, from Liverpool to Lowestoft, and though I was about to head to Europe for several months, I already knew I didn’t want to go home to all that was familiar. Now, after eight weeks in Montreal, I feel that same sense confusion. A foot in both worlds. The one that is known, and the one that has yet to be explored.

Years ago I recognized myself for who I am. A vagabond, a wandering spirit, an adventurer, an explorer. I disguise myself regularly in the clothes of someone else. Mother, PTA President, gardener. I only expose this wandering spirit to my husband, because in this we are kindred spirits. We want to go everywhere, live in all kinds of spaces and places, eat strange foods, try new things. It never fails to amuse me that while I moved every two years of my life, my husband lived in the same house for the majority of his life. Yet, we have this mutual need. We also have the mutual desire to provide a stable environment for our children to grow up in.

Hence the disguise.

Is this a new revelation? No. I have parents, siblings, friends who demanded that we return before we left on this adventure. One child is filled with wanderlust, the other says, “No! I want to go home. I want to stay there, FOREVER!” Am I confused? Yes!

Recently, yesterday actually, a friend created a Facebook Page where a bunch of us who worked together back in the late 1980’s, started sharing details of our lives. Many were from Europe and going to work was akin to landing on foreign soil daily. In reading their updates it was interesting to see that a handful had children and had continued to move all over the world. It’s been on my mind quite a bit this trip that whether we move or stay, what we have to do differently is help our children understand us better. I think we have worn our disguise long enough.

I know that all of this is why I write what I write. It isn’t accidental that the books I have written, and those still waiting their turn to make it to digital format, take place all over the world. As natural as it is for others to want a homestead, a place where grandchildren will come to visit, I need to see the world, to have minimal restraints. This is witnessed so perfectly in a recent book review when the individual wrote, “the research is sound and there was enough of London in it to make me believe that the writer had been there.” I want to tell her, “I have! I have! Many times.”

One form of vicarious travelling that I do is in forming connections with authors around the globe. We are able to relate and support each other in ways never experienced before. While we do not sit in salons in Paris or London, we Skype, chat, tweet, and post. It is a gratifying community to belong to. For me it goes far beyond the writer’s relationship of promotion and research. It’s the knowledge that we dreamers can dream alongside someone else.

As there are armchair quarterbacks, there are keyboard tapping travelers.

 

Charlotte Restrained Travels the World via Fiction Addiction!

 

Years ago, when I was studying Landscape Architecture, and was just about to give a presentation to professors, students and invited professionals on a project that was months in the making, I would tell myself, “It’ll be over in two hours, just relax.” This was after countless hours of research, miles of concept doodles on bum wad (what we called trace paper), and then days and days spent crafting fluffy and technical design drawings.

Many of these same skills have come to bear as an author; during the writing process and now as I promote Charlotte’s Restrained and Venus Rising. I have been asked several times as we prepared for the book tour which three words I would use to describe myself, my answer: curious, perseverant, witty. From beginning to end, the world of authorship is a tough row to hoe (or tough road to hold). It twists, turns, and meanders, and there is no map to follow!

Back in February, with two completed books and three partially written ones under my belt, I was ready to throw in the towel. Ready to take a paying job where I could show up, complete a set list of requirements, pack up my bag, and go home. Then three remarkable things happened.

I went out with a bunch of friends, most of whom are embarking on new careers, and we brainstormed with wine in hand. The ladies convinced me to look for different in-roads.

I was already reading books and writing reviews, so I went in search of book review services where I could connect with fellow authors. Immediately after signing up, I began receiving ten or more requests for book reviews per day. When the list hit eighty seven books, I had to put the brakes on. I am happily plugging away at the list, thrilled to be supporting new authors such as myself.

The third event was creating an account on Twitter. Though I worked at Microsoft as a software tester years ago, I am not a technology junkie, so this was a big step. I was going to have to figure out Twitter, try to find people to follow, forge connections, and then… and only then, start to promote my work.

 

What I had told myself years before as a Landscape Architecture student has changed, the big reveal won't be over in a few hours. Writing and promoting my work and those authors I respect will occupy most of my days.

At this point in the game I have read many blogs on Twitter Etiquette, writing, publishing, social media, and self-promotion. There are so many people in the Twittersphere who’ve unknowingly helped me gain confidence through their generous sharing of knowledge. The path that was once full of twists and turns now seems a little less circuitous, and so I thank you sincerely.

To all of you who have supported me, in person and online, I am forever in your debt.

I invite you to participate in the fabulous book tour that Fiction Addiction has organized for me. We’ve made it super easy, all you need to do is click here or go to my website. You will find links to interviews, reviews by respected reviewers, and Giveaways!

As always, thank you for reading!

Inspiring Blogger Award... and Seven Interesting Things About Me!

 

 

Author Glynis Astie tagged me to participate in the Very Inspiring Blogger Award/Tour! Happily I received this invitation as I sat on the couch reading her book, French Twist.

This is a very fun tour to participate in, I get to share seven interesting things about myself. Then I have the honor of asking seven authors to participate. Which is terrific, because then I get to learn more about them (I'm hoping they'll share the juicy stuff).

 Alrighty...

1. I married my fiancé's best friend.

2. Bill Gates took me water-skiing.

3. I have backpacked through Europe three times and drive my family nuts when I yell, "I've been there... and there!" I'm usually jumping up and down while I point at the TV when I do this. 

4. While I was in college I worked for the Nuclear Engineering Division at a Naval Shipyard. My job was to assist developing tools to defuel nuclear reactors. (My parents picketed the shipyard on a regular basis.)

5. I've played blackjack with Mike Tyson.

6. (Sons suggestion: Most dangerous thing I've ever done) I went canoe surfing off the shores of Oahu during hurricane storm warning in an outrigger. With the ocean roaring in our ears, we rode the waves several times. We also flipped a time or two. I'd feel the canoe nose going under the wave, brace myself for the two bodies behind me to slide down. With a thud, we'd all go crashing into my friend sitting in front of me, just before being launched into the ocean. Bathing suits, sunglasses, hair bands, all went missing. "Want to go again?" Mike asked. "Oh yeah!"

7. (Daughters suggestion: Most glamorous event I've ever been to (other than my wedding)) While attending the University of Liverpool, the college of Architecture was celebrating it's two hundredth birthday. Princess Ann, Queen Elizabeth's daughter, attended the function. We were taught how to curtsy, shake hands, make chit chat. We were expected to dress nicely. However, we were starving college students. So off we went to Oxfam Charity Shop to buy a dress. I found a lovely LBD that I still own for about $5.00. I DID not meet Princess Ann though.
 

Who to tag? I would love to know more about Jan Romes, Jane Porter, Roberta Goodman, Kelsye Nelson, Erin Lawless, and Evan Asher.

The rules are, ladies and gentleman, post the logo, link back to me, Celia Kennedy, then list your seven things! Ready? Set? Go!

TOUCHED BY FIRE, By Lorrie Farrelly

Touched by fire was Oliver Wendell Holmes’ description of the three million men – many of them scarcely more than boys – who fought in the War Between the States. Over 600,000 of them would die; nearly all those who survived found their lives changed forever. At the war’s end, veterans poured into the west; some sought adventure, some sought fortune, some wanted only to outrun their demons and find a reason to go on living. Most could scarcely remember peace; many had no choice but to try to start over.

I’ve always been interested in the Civil War, and I love Westerns. Sorting through a box of old family papers, I came across two documents I’d never seen before. One was a parole pass, and the other, an oath of allegiance. Both had been signed in 1865 by my great-grandfather, William McClain, who had fought in Georgia Infantry. In signing, he swore he would never again bear arms against the United States, and he would abide by all new laws, including the emancipation of slaves. In return, he could go home as a paroled prisoner of war – assuming he still had any home.

I stared at that young man’s signature for a long time. I had so many questions: Why had he fought for a new country founded on terrible injustice? Had he feared for his home and family? Had he expected excitement and glory? And what had he felt as he signed those papers? Humiliation? Bitterness? Exhaustion? Relief? What would he make of his life now?

These questions were the inspiration for my Western historical romance TERMS OF SURRENDER. A Readers’ Favorite 5 Star novel and an Orange Rose Award finalist, it’s the story of former Confederate cavalry Captain Michael Cantrell, a young man who has lost everyone and everything he loved. He roams the Western frontier, seeking peace and new purpose to his life. When a violent encounter in Wyoming Territory lands him in the middle of Annie Devlin's war, Cantrell chooses to make a stand with the young rancher, testing the limits of his courage – and his passion.

Michael and Annie’s family became so important to me that I had to continue their story. The second
novel in the series, TERMS OF ENGAGEMENT, is set in 1885. Annie’s younger brother, Rob Devlin, now a widowed physician with a young daughter, boards a train bound through the Wyoming wilderness. When a fellow passenger, Tess Rutledge, suddenly collapses, Rob’s skills save her life. But in caring for her, he is drawn into her life-and-death flight from a brutal man who is determined never to let her go. Rob and Tess have a chance for a future together – if they survive.

In the final novel in the trilogy, TERMS OF TEMPTATION, Michael and Annie Cantrell’s headstrong daughter, Kinley, strains the patience – and the restraint – of Deputy Game Warden Bram Killoran. He’s wanted Kinley since the day he first saw her outside the Paradise Saloon – backing a burly drunk three times her size up against a hitching rail and giving him a truly inspired and colorful upbraiding for mistreating his horse. Kinley’s determination to defend herself and the animals she loves will make her Bram’s unlikely ally. They are irresistibly drawn to one another, but when her passion and spirit clash with his tangled conflict of duty and desire, not only their hearts will be in danger, but their very lives as well.

“A delight to read...The way Farrelly writes her characters makes quite an amazing page-turner!"
D. Pinzon, Readers' Favorite

“Evocative and compelling ... Readers can expect to find humor, violence, gritty action, and exquisitely-wrought tension throughout ... For readers who seek more depth and layers in their stories."
D. Donovan, reviewing for Midwest Book Review

“Reads like an epic novel. A historical romance that providestwist of supernatural flair.
B. Casto, Readers' Favorite

http://www.amazon.com/Lorrie-Farrelly/e/B008P3LJ0O

Lorrie always loves hearing from readers! Find her at:

https://www.facebook.com/LorrieFarrellyAuthor
http://www.enovelauthorsatwork.com/153-2/
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4351229.Lorrie_Farrelly
https://sites.google.com/site/yourbestreads
https://plus.google.com/u/0/+LorrieFarrelly/posts/p/pub
http://www.linkedin.com/pub/lorrie-farrelly/27/5a0/64

Meet My Main Character, Blog Hop!

I’ve been tagged by the fabulously funny Chicklit Sisters, Pam Burk and Lorraine Campbell, authors of several quirky novels that are loaded with hilarious and tender moments. I thoroughly appreciated How To Survive Your Sisters (being one of three girls in my family). Be sure to read this book and their other novels, penned under the name Ellie Campbell.

What is the name of your character? Is he/she fictional or a historic person?

The main character of my work-in-progress is named Kathleen Ehlers, and though she is fictional, she is larger than life. She sprang to life in my first novel, one of five friends in a very close sisterly relationship.

Reappearing from Charlotte’s Restrained are Charlotte, Tiziana, Hillary, Marian, Liam, Ted, and the King of Romantic Comedies, Des Bannerman. Adding to the witty and sometimes vitriolic banter is Sébastien Langevin, who takes Kathleen’s ordered life and flips it upside down.

When and where is the story set?

I love to travel, and so do the characters in my books. This book primarily takes place in Paris, France, during Fall Fashion Week, 2008. However, we’ll take jaunts to London, Rome, Saint Tropez, and Seattle where we’ll explore Kathleen’s inner-workings at some of the finest restaurants and establishments these beautiful cities have to offer.

What should we know about him/her?

Kathleen is an elusive character in my first novel Charlotte’s Restrained.

After I finished writing the book I found myself wondering about her. Why does she flitters here and there in the background? We feel like we get to know her, but really, we don’t. I wanted to explore this further, and decided to write a sequel, casting her as the central character.

What is the main conflict? What messes up his/her life?

We learn straight away that Kathleen is a very artistic person (her current outlet is in remodeling apartments across Paris) but works in a world of facts and figures as a Product Acquisition Lawyer for L’Oreal Paris.

She’s done a great job at having it all; professional success, financial security, a glamorous life amongst the who’s-who in Paris. She’s brutally independent and content with living life on her own terms, and there lies the crux of the story. Why is she so determined to fly life solo?

What is the personal goal of the character?

Kathleen would tell you her goal is to take Paris on, one apartment at a time, one acquisition at a time. To be a real estate mogul and break the glass ceiling at L’Oreal Paris.

However, in witnessing the major changes in the lives of her four closes friends, she begins to consider letting go of the past and living in the present. But to do this will mean bringing all of her friends that we’ve met in Charlotte’s Restrained, up to speed on who she really is versus who they think she is.

Is there a working title for this novel, and can we read more about it?

Kathleen’s Undressed. I really like two word titles.

When can we expect the book to be published?

Fingers crossed, Fall 2014.


If you’re enjoying the ‘Meet My Main Character’ blog hop, I’ve tagged to follow me the very talented Daphne DuBois, author of Fairies and Creatures of the Night (2013) and The Seller of Fortunes (2013). Also meet Laurie WJN, author of The Misadventures of Me and My Uterus (2013) and a YA novel (yet to be named) about Anna, and the Spanish Flu Epidemic of 1918. And, we have the talented Glynis Astie, author of French Twist (2013) and French Toast (2014).

Thanks for reading!

Blog Tag Tour - My Writing Process

I’m always up for playing a game, especially if it is a word game! Author Laurie WJN invited me to join fellow Authors and Bloggers in a game of Blog Tag. Yes, I could probably use physical exercise, but the temptation to write is too great. My promise to myself is that after writing this, I will run a couple miles… or eat some chocolate.

I had the pleasure or reading and reviewing Author Laurie WJN’s book, The Misadventures of Me and My Uterus. Make sure to visit her site, where you can appreciate more of her writing and great sense of humor.

The game is afoot, er, ahand!
What are you currently working on?

I am currently working on Kathleen’s Undressed. This is a sequel to my first book Charlotte’s Restrained. After I finished writing Charlotte’s Restrained I realized that Kathleen, one of the five main characters in the book, had a very elusive nature, and there is much to explore here.

These two books, though primarily lighthearted comedies, are very much about the bonds of friendship between women. In leaving Kathleen’s nature a little more abstract, I realized that I could build a story that would allow these five lovely ladies to once again come together in real hotels, restaurants, and other locations in London, Paris, Seattle, and Rome. We continue to explore their evolution via their witty banter, brutal candor, and admirable lives.

How does your writing process work?

I studied Landscape Architecture, and in my very first design studio a professor asked, “Why should a client hire you?” To be honest, being only two weeks into the program, I was stumped. One rainy November afternoon, a few months later, I found out what my process is: a cup of coffee, a molasses cookie, and a cloudy Pacific Northwest sky. The perfect cozy atmosphere to ponder solutions from as many perspectives as possible! …while doodling! Doodling keeps my brain in a foggy state, letting the right and left sides hammer out a solution that is unique, and meets the needs of the client.

I apply the same process to writing that I apply to landscape design. It might seem odd, but the old saying, “write what you know,” relates. Do what works for you in other aspects of your life. If you figure out how to solve a problem while doing yoga, do yoga. If you need listen to music and dance, crank the radio and do your dance!

How does your work differ from others of its genre?

In my own life I have found that laughter, candor, commitment to love and friendship, good food and wine, as well as the opportunity to travel, consume me. An urgency for them all co-exists. When one dips off the radar, all of me gets out of whack.

In women’s literature, I think the Damsel in Distress concept exists because readers want to be consumed by the heart thumping passion that true love or new lovers possess. Life doesn’t end after the declaration of eternal love! All parts of life get woven together; we introduce our lover to our friends and family. We have first, second, and third arguments. We run out of toilet paper.

How our love grows and changes can be just as heart stopping. That’s the stuff of life, what I want to write about.

Why do you write what you do?

“Because I must,” seems so cliché, but it is the honest truth. Years ago, long before I found any of the passions of my life, I was talking to a friend about his passion, physics. Hours could pass and he wouldn’t notice. I wanted that.

One rainy day, in March 1990, I watched a landscaper planting pansies in the rain and I thought, “I’d rather do that.” So I quit my job at Microsoft, and signed up for classes at the local community college and found art history, which lead to Interior Design, which lead me to the University of Washington to study Architecture and Landscape Architecture.

All these areas of design have a lot in common with writing. They all tell stories about a period of time, a place, and the people who occupy the space. They are life. It all just… captivates me.

Who's up next?

Authors Mary Ann Bernal and Lorrie Farrelly.  Mary Ann, and is the author of The Briton and Dane Collection of novels as well as several short stories. Make sure you swing by her blog.

Thanks for Reading!

Making it Real with help from Jane Porter

About the time I was fully committing my mental self to being an author, I read She’s Gone Country by Jane Porter. Life has its serendipitous moments, I’d picked her book up at the local library around the same time I published a blog confessing my love for country music.

 

I was immediately hooked by the book and Ms. Porters writing style, so I took five minutes off from reading and requested that any and all of her other books get shipped to the local library, which turned out to be about five miles from where Ms. Porter lived at the time. Within a month I had read three or four of her other works. The two that stood out the most were Odd Mom Out and Mrs. Perfect.

The blurb from Mrs. Perfect on Amazon: As a young California girl growing up in a blue collar neighborhood, Taylor Young dreamed of being popular, beautiful, and acquiring a wardrobe to die for. Not to mention marrying a handsome, successful man and living happily ever after in a gorgeous house with three wonderful children. Now, at 36, Taylor has reached the pinnacle of her dreams, but is it all about to unravel? As the new school year approaches, Taylor prepares herself for playing the perfect alpha mom: organizing class activities, fund-raising, and chairing the school auction. But the horror! Her archrival, bohemian mom Marta Zinsser, is named Head Room Mom of Taylor's daughter's fifth grade class. As tensions rise at committee meetings and school activities, the two rivals seem to be destined for a final confrontation. But as Taylor plans her next move, she is floored by a more serious blow at home-her husband has been secretly unemployed for the past six months. With her posh lifestyle crumbling, Taylor struggles to maintain her alpha image-but could Marta, who cares little about appearances, be her only true friend?

Ironically at the time I was the PTA President at my children’s elementary school. My life, outside of trying to write my first novel, was all about volunteering at the school and supporting my children's endeavors. I would like to say that this book was just a caricature of life for a stay-at-home mom, and while I didn’t really identify with most aspects of Taylor’s life, I had experienced people like her, and understood my own desire to be the perfect mom and successful volunteer. Which really scared me! I needed a Marta in my life.

So I moved onto Odd Mom Out, because if I couldn’t have her in real life, I wanted at least the fictional version.

The blurb for Odd Mom Out by Publishers Weekly: Marta Zinsser has made her nine-year-old daughter Eva, conceived through sperm donation, her whole world. The two move from Manhattan to a wealthy Seattle suburb, where Marta plans to run a successful advertising agency from home and be close to her ailing mother. Soon however, Marta's bohemian ways stick out like a sore thumb among the impeccably groomed housewives of Bellevue. Pressured by a tenderly and believably drawn Eva to be a real mom, Marta signs up for school chaperoning and committee duties, with near-disastrous results. And when Marta falls for a handsome billionaire, she must decide whether to refocus her lone wolf self-image enough to allow a man to enter the picture. The alpha moms Marta detests are cartoonish, catty villains, and self helpese creeps into the plot gaps. But Marta is an intriguing heroine: she values freedom and toughness, but her jeans and combat boots mask vulnerability, heartbreak and fear of change.

This book was an epiphany for me. I’ve written about my tumultuous past in previous blogs, so with any luck, you already know that I’ve bounced around the world and country, changed professions a time or two, and have a relatively interesting life. When I read this book, I honestly felt like you could have stuck my name in instead of Marta. Or at least you could have, if I hadn’t met MacGyver.

In my late twenties, when all hell was breaking loose and I was studying Landscape Architecture, I honestly thought I was going to grow old on my own. I studied very hard to become the best LA that I could be, because I was quite certain that financially I was on my own and that the center of my world would be my work and the community of this profession. Having gone through a very torturous relationship, I pushed a connected relationship and children to the farthest recesses of my brain.

I was having these “Whoa!” moments while reading Jane Porter’s work. How had I gone from being Marta to becoming Taylor? Clearly all of us are a jumble of personality profiles. Some we throw away as we get older, thinking, “My grunge days are behind me,” or “I was never meant to wear a chignon and pearls.” (If you’re curious, since I started writing daily, my standard uniform is top to bottom fleece.)

After reading Easy on the Eyes, I found out that Jane Porter was going to be at a book signing nearby. I was very frustrated when I realized I couldn’t make it, so I got very brave and sent an email to her. No, I didn’t stalk her! I found her contact information on her website and sent an email gushing my praise of her work, she very kindly responded.

My mind was blown. I was absolutely touched that she would take the time to respond to my email. After that, I began emailing various authors whose work had grabbed me – Marian Keyes, Margaret Atwood, and Peter Mayle to name a few. Not because I wanted to be a groupie. There was something about the interaction, the  knowledge that these authors were approachable human-beings that made my dream of being an author feel tangible.

Now, five or six years later, I still feel all twitter pated when one of my favorite authors, comedians, artists, and musicians comments on a tweet I’ve posted. I know that I stand on the outer fringes, but I thank all of you on Twitter, Facebook, Google+, Tumblr, Pinterest, and all other social media platforms, who take the time to be real people, sharing your experience and knowledge with me and all other newbies.

For more information on the lovely Jane Porter, go to her website: http://www.janeporter.com.

Thanks for reading.

Music and Lyrics

One of the greatest lines ever written is Every Life has a Story. Five short words which sums up an absolute truth. Not just the lives of those noted in the history books, on film, or printed on a brass plaque.

 

The phrase is the voiceover on the Biography Channel, which I love to watch. When stories unfold one can see the thread along which a dream travels. Determination making anything seem possible. It is this which draws me in to books, newspapers, blogs, tweets, Facebook, Pinterest, music, and social events. I love a good story. Chances are if one listens long enough, one will hear several.

Someone recently posed the question on a writer’s blog, “How do you rejuvenate yourself when your creative juices are depleted?” My immediate response, listen to music. Ironically the next day a friend asked, “Do you listen to the lyrics? I don’t. I have no idea what they are saying. I just listen to the music.” I almost keeled over. My life generally functions in absolute silence or in lyrical saturation.

Pick one artist, right now… Eminem, The Beatles, Frank Sinatra, Blake Shelton, Stevie Wonder, Three Dog Night, Bruno Mars, Pink, Tony Bennet, Amy Winehouse, One Republic, Metallica, Mary Chapin Carpenter or Justin Timberlake. We know these people, not just for their antics, but for their ability to convey intense emotion in the story that they sing. We hear a performers name and immediately feelings of like or dislike, happy or sad, run through us. If we don’t sing along, we push the button, turn the station. A song can remind us of when we were ten years old, first dates, high school prom, vacation, a smell, weddings, birth.

I would say that music is primal. Like sight and smell, it is trigger happy.

In thinking of how a lyricist moves through the arc of a story in three to four minutes, I began to understand the need to distill images and emotions with similar brevity. Whether blogging or writing a novel, extra is distracting. Around the time that developing this skill became my OCD, I attended a workshop on self-branding and social media. As far as I can tell, Twitter is the social media of brevity. I, who am wordy, tweet off and on throughout the day to practice.

I don’t want to follow everybody on Twitter. So, I go hunting with discretion. I found Andy Roddick (tennis player, sports commentator, married to Brooklyn Decker, seriously opinionated, very intelligent). Yesterday he wrote, “When is One Direction gonna go in five?” If my math skills are up to par it only took fifty three characters to express very clearly his opinion.

But how does a salmon swim upriver? I haven’t written a blog in forever, in part because my life has been fraught with big experiences and these occupy a great deal of thought and emotion which cannot be neatly packaged, let alone distilled into 140 characters including hash tags. My brain feels like it has been broken down into boxes with lids neatly labeled: “For Later,” “Deadline,” “Grief,” “Job,” “Feet,” “Social Media,” “For $#@% Sake!”

So I do what I always do in these situations, look for something to focus on while my brain quietly meanders through the maze of containers, taking lids off and sifting through, bit by bit, one by one. All this occurs in the background while I keep my hands busy typing, knitting, hugging, kneading bread, weeding, chopping… even my hands are wordy!

I return to lyricism and biographies. They are hand in glove. The words to a song rarely focus on inanimate objects or emotionless voids. I actually looked for examples, because every good writer enjoys research. The song I am a rock by Simon and Garfunkel came to mind, but that is all about despair and isolation. I searched Water on YouTube and found a perky little song by Brad Paisley about swimming holes, courage, and bikini’s. A similar search for Purple pulled up a list having mostly to do with drug induced states. A similar search for Void directed me to a band with a song entitled, Who Are You. After listening to two screeching minutes of it, I found myself thinking, “I don’t care.” I pushed the stop button.

As is true with literature, music induces discussion. Little Mac and I were in the car the other day and had a wonderful conversation trying to discern the dividing line between Hip Hop and Rap. That line is becoming more blurry to both of us. As we pulled into the driveway, the conversation had become how we had surprised each other. While I know he is a great lover of music, I had no idea his repertoire was so broad and so emotionally directed. He was shocked to find out that I love Eminem!

This conversation reminded me of when our children were young and how we would crank the radio up after dinner and dance with them. Our Fluffball chose Elvis Presley’s A Little More Satisfaction over and over, while Little Mac danced to whomever. It was him who brought Bruno Mars, The Lazy Song, to our attention when he was a boy of eight. Of course we reached a place where our dancing was too embarrassing for our kids to endure. There were a couple of years where they pleaded with us to NEVER dance in public. Fortunately, enough time has passed that whether they think we are awful or not, we find ourselves dancing in the kitchen again.

I’ve long believed that the elderly are not hard of hearing, they are just replaying a lifetime of memories in their heads, while staring off into the distance. When I am old and grey, I will see our family singing and dancing in front of my eyes, humming Don't Blink. 

Thanks for reading!

It's There When I Look In Your Eyes

Tis’ the season… no not The Holidays. Tis the Season of Love! The lyrics to Love is in the Air by Tom Jones and Love is All Around Us by Billy Mack (a.k.a. Bill Nighy) orbit and swirl through my head on a regular basis.

I’ve broken out in song at Target, the grocery store, Jazzercise; well, pretty much everywhere. Except for one place. Wherever my kids are. Because as we all know, once you become a parent you are not allowed to sing in public. I’m sure even the likes of Paul McCartney, Gwen Stefani and Celine Dion get told to shush if they so much as hum a tune once their kids turned ten years old.

Why those two songs versus all the others, I have no idea. If I play the game, "say the first thing you think of" this is what comes to mind. A few years ago I was on the same flight as Tom Jones … he’s much shorter than you’d imagine and the way his head swiveled around baggage claim he gave the impression that he was looking for adoring fans. To be fair, a few women (myself included) were staring at him, but I think we were all trying to see what had induced women to throw their knickers on the stage. Bill Nighy is a seriously fascinating man to watch; his eyes are full of devilment, his voice oddly soothing, and as an actor he is quite quirky. This list of words is important: short, swivel, confusion, acting, quirky.

Back to the question, where does this focus on love come from?? Well, I’ll tell the story, but will keep names to myself as I want to remain loved by those in love.

It’s Middle School! The Hypothalamus kicks in and screams to the Pituitary Gland, “Make Estrogen!” Or “More Testosterone needed!!” The body chugs and churns, producing more and more of these little critters, 24/7. Soon the body is pulsating with the stuff. It ripples through the minds and into the veins of Middle Schoolers in quantities mostly forgotten by those over the age of 20. And all this churning takes place inside short, confused, quirky people who are trying to act cool and in control.

Though I know love is alive and well everywhere, I think there is nothing quite as amazing as witnessing the seemingly overnight transition of kids who’ve never before noticed the opposite sex to suddenly realizing they might like to talk to and possibly make physical contact with the object of their amour.

Not all that many years ago I held tiny infants in my arms and wondered all sorts of things. Would they like broccoli? Would they like to read? Would they be able to carry a tune? (MacGyver has an issue with this particular skill.) Every day has been about learning the answers to these many questions and so as one piece of the puzzle gets placed, the picture becomes more complete.

When your kids are little, they are your whole world, and you are theirs. Gradually more and more people enter the story. Yet, at the very beginning it is just you and them. In quiet moments when I wondered about broccoli, algebra, and having rhythm, I couldn’t fathom the day when their heart would be entrusted to someone who could nurture them or break it to smithereens.

What is fabulous is that while your kids become more of who they are, so are you evolving. As time has passed I have watched in awe as tentative conversations and sweeping gestures have been made. Way back when my fluff-ball was in First Grade, a lovely boy gave her a charm bracelet just before he moved far away. He wanted to give her something to remember him by. The charms were well thought out, it’s made of real silver, and she has kept track of it all these years. (No small feat given three moves, the transition of toys to make-up, and the revolving/evolving clutter that is in her room.)

The boys’ mom and I watched them scamper down the path to a tree they always hung out in and watched the tender exchange. The only sadness I felt was that he was leaving and that she would be without her best friend. Of course, they were six years old. So, gentle for us all. Though he remains in her memories affectionately, she moved on gracefully.

This past summer my kids, who are in their early teens, started hanging out with me less and less and more and more with other kids. Trying to do the right thing, I read parenting articles, called friends who had already turned this corner, and then went with my gut. I must say, it was a summer unlike any other. Though there were roller coaster moments, there were many, many more where I watched clusters of kids chat and laugh. Music is a really important medium for kids to bond around, so while I chauffeured herds around town, I listened to them sing… loud… and mostly off-key.

Then, wham! School started. New kids came their way, old friendships were re-established, and with just a few weeks of the three R’s barely under our belts, the lyrics to Love is in the Air began to swirl. Because, So-and-So is dating What’s-her-Name and You-Know-Who is crushing on That-Guy-Who-Wears-Contacts-But-Now-Has-Braces!”

“Love is in the air, Everywhere I look around! Love is in the air, every sight and every sound!”

I will simply say that as the parent of a child who is smitten and is being smitten back, my thoughts are no longer about broken hearts or feelings nurtured. I am trying keep my child focused. While I rejoice and am touched by the exploration of feelings, experiences, and all the rest, I need homework to get done!! Chores to be remembered. And one other tiny thing… other relationships. No, I am not jealous. It is about teaching balance. There are still only 24 hours in a day and all the usual needs to happen, as well as the Cutie-Pie waiting for the phone call. (Incidentally, I am starting to understand my parents better and better.)

Okay, more love to be witnessed! My lovely niece married her Bride recently. Both wrote their own vows and while I don’t know if either knew what the other had written beforehand, the words spoken were heartfelt, funny, in sync, and deeply personal.

“Love is all around us, it’s everywhere we go.”

We need love, much like we need water. And we find love in places unexpected. As I sat looking at the calendar a few weeks ago I realized that all my nieces and nephews have been married in September. This September also marked my knowing my man MacGyver for half my life. I fell  headlong into twitterpation with him in September. It is the month of love!

My parents met Mac the day after we were engaged (to be fair, he and I live a few hours from them and it was less than three months into our relationship). I invited Mac to attend my father’s ordination into the Episcopalian priesthood with me. We had decided beforehand that we wouldn’t share the news as it was my father’s big day and my mother’s birthday. Two days before I had seen my brother, and being the savvy guy that he is, he sensed something was up. At the reception following the ordination he asked me what was going on. Mac and I shared a moment of telepathy and then happily announced we had become engaged the night before. Like wildfire, my siblings found out. To stop the random strangers, who were overhearing this news, from congratulating my parents, we decided we’d best tell them. So, standing in a huddle in the midst of a few hundred people I shared our joy with my parents. Because love is like that. When it is in you, it wants to burst free and work its magic on anyone within proximity.

It was only after we’d been married a few years and had faced a few bumps in the road that I realized the true enormity of commitment vows. Two people making ginormous promises to see each other through all kinds of stuff... stuff that most of us can’t know about until time passes, decisions are made, and then decisions are lived with. Our parents sit back and watch us take these vows and I’m sure they hold their breath and wonder when they can exhale.

It’s mostly easy being the aunt, watching beloved nieces and nephews grow up, follow their hearts, and make commitments. Not because I don’t worry about them, but because I know and love them differently than their parents do. Maybe it is objectivity. I don’t know. I’ve actually tried to put words to my feelings, but all I come up with is that their choices feel right. My beloved family is happy and there is nothing I want more.

As my kid’s mom, I have to say that I’m sure along the way I will have moments of trepidation, many experiences will not go according to plan, and even if they do, something is going to end with a splat. I’ve said it a thousand times, but my kids dazzle me. They are pretty solid people. Yes, they are works in progress, but I feel excited about this phase that we are entering. It’s a lot like the broccoli question. Of course, way back when, I also wondered who they would find interesting, attractive, and trustworthy. They have shown amazing judgment in life so far and while the path isn’t long, the path has been easy to follow.

So, while I expected a blonde and not a brunette, this new young person is helping us spread our wings, and we'll be forever grateful to sit on the sidelines and learn about love in a new way.

 

Finally, to witness one of the most interesting duets EVER, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GOXLgBmvJNo !

 

As always, thanks for reading!