Uncategorized 12:19 pm
EEEP! Andrew Eccles, famous photographer–my dream photographer, emailed me and has generously offered to do my picture for the book! This man’s work is art and I can hardly believe he will photograph me. I feel like Cinderella here!
Check out his some of his beautiful works www.andreweccles.com
Uncategorized 4:40 pm
It’s true, life changing events will not come as you predict, but rather when you least expect: blind siding you on some idyll Tuesday afternoon.
On Tuesday, June 3rd I received a very important call from a publisher.
I almost didn’t answer the phone as I’d lost my voice due to allergies. And I’ll never know if the publisher was calling to once again reject my work or calling to give me a final chance to further pitch my manuscript. It was an enjoyable, comfortable call that stretched to almost two hours. And I knew when he made the offer somewhere during that 2 hour call, I’d picked the right publisher to publish my memoir.
The only thing that would make this sweeter would be to receive a blurb from Jeannette Walls, author of The Glass Castle and Dave Pelzer, author of A Child Called It. I admire and respect their works.
And it wouldn’t hurt to have my dream photographer, photograph me for my book’s jacket. Andrew Eccles, a world famous, notable photographer, a man I had privilege to meet, and the rare opportunity, several years ago, to closely watch him at work: a
man whose works I adore.
A girl can dream…
Uncategorized 1:06 am
Stop the world a minute, God. I’m getting off. Catch you on the next spin.
What’s playn’ on my CD: Katie Melua, Nine Million Bicycles
Read: Audio, A Breath of Snow and Ashes
Uncategorized 6:51 pm
a bay horse on cobbled streets
in vieux carre’
breaks the silent wisps of steam
waterlogged sheets
soak
in a cowhide bucket,
waiting
an attempt to mitigate heat
i wrap my body cold
in the clinker-brick building
encased in bougainvillea
and
a wrought iron veranda
my fingers cradle an old tea cup
cracked,
but filled with absinthe
the smell of floral
hidden beneath weathered slate roof
holding heat,
holds it
eternal
cool of lisle melds with flesh
i loosen my wrap
and
look up
his eyes are blue,
they grow dark from shadowed hues of overhead slate
darker from want
they should be brown,
brown eyes
i look away,
turn back,
suddenly immersed in pools
of still cave waters
he does not know;
he does not yet remember,
and over a hundred years must pass before he does
my breathing quickens
he hands me a rose,
the rose has such beauty;
a red so rich and deep,
black,
unlike any i’ve seen
thick velvet petals brush my lips,
timeworn kisses caress
movement,
unspoken words
i do not like roses,
it is sunflowers i love.
cranky motors on cobbled streets
in vieux carre’
break the silent puffs of blue smoke
damp silk embraces my body
in the chalk-dust brick building
intertwined in trailing english ivy and
rusted wrought iron
my fingers wrap around tall sweated glass,
smooth,
filled with lemoned sweet tea
an overhead havana spins slow,
stirs citrus air,
teases
complex aromas of earthy,
male musk rise,
fuse,
stirring primeval memories
cool of silk molds to heated skin,
i peel away sodden threads,
expose glistened flesh,
and look up,
searching
his eyes are brown,
wide wading pools of sun-lit amber
growing narrow with need
they should be blue,
blue eyes
i look away, remember,
he is a hundred years away,
my heart shatters
he lays a sunflower on my lap,
the sunflower is aged,
its face dulled, brown,
with
spent petals
fingers curl,
withdraw,
reach for timeworn kisses
i do not like sunflowers,
it is roses i love.
What’s playn’ on my CD: Nickelback , Far Away
I wore out my favorite: Mazzy Star, Flowers In December 
Finished: Thousand Splendid Suns, def a fan thumbs-up all the way!
Current Read: Gerald Jones, Ginny Good and in case you stop by, Gerald: I’m loving it– and thanks for the audio too!
::smooch::
Uncategorized 9:25 pm
The groundhog saw his shadow today and I look out and see; winters bleak, the warted barks of brown, naked trees, sleeping grasses and I hear cold winds whistle — snake between ill-fitted panes. I wrap myself tighter in flannels and fleece, and like the lover who chanced and lost, I weep and wait for another’s spring kiss.
Current read: A Thousand Splendid Suns, by Hosseini, Khaled
Whats playn’ on my cd: Jeff Buckley, Grace
The Red Tent was a wonderful, lyrical read, very satisfying.
Update on my ms: still on hold, waiting for pubs decisions, but, but, but, one major publisher who turned it down has now requested it again–a rarity and I feel so blessed, whether it’s a nay or yah.
And as always, Dave compliments complete–encourage me:
“That is a beautiful para above there kiddo-if your writing is as that you will get a positive answer from your publisher. And as a lover does-think only of the heart for it is the still small voice that speaks to you in those time of inbetween. love Dave”
Uncategorized 12:36 am
I’m to share three tips for my fellow writers and tag five others according to Janna.
Finally, don’t think you have to follow every literary rule. Some of the most successful make their own.
Remember, a lot of rules are no more than guidelines.
Uncategorized 2:55 pm
ToT left yesterday, leaving behind the fun memories we shared. It was a great visit from Chi baby and the night before I captured this beautiful sunset on the river.
It was such a beautiful winter evening on the river.
Current read: The Red Tent, by Anita Diamant
Playn’ on my CD: Mazzy Star, Among My Swan
Uncategorized 10:19 pm
This morn, Dave, wrote this beautiful poem for me.
Thank you, Dave, it’s awesome like you!
Unmeasured, too deep mortal mark
My mind alone my soul?
Where is it this soul
that Grace declared
was God’s immortal thought
Starved the child that does not hold
that hand with eyes which guide
tween twixed and Never Never Land
unmeasured, too deep mortal mark
