For the Criminally Inane

Ok, I know I've said it on here before that I don't like fantasy boy book.  I think I've changed my mind.  I love these books.  We listened to the first three books via audio while traveling cross country.  I found myself laughing out loud, and looking forward to getting back in the car so I could hear more!  The eight book series, the eighth book just coming out this year, is about a boy-genius who continues in the family business of ill-gotten gains.  But there is a fantastical element.  It all starts when he decides to kidnap a faery for the ransom and starts a relationship with the Underground World of magical beings.  His writing is crisp, clever, and hilarious.  Check him out!

There is probably no human emotion that is more damning to my personal growth than jealousy.  It is something that impairs my creative process, my chi and my spirituality.  Yet, it is so hard not to read about someone's smash hit success and not feel the smothering green emotion.  As a writer, I can never become that which I envy.  Negative emotions do not produce good fruit.  How do I overcome these emotions?

"You have been called to serve as a missionary in Switzerland, Geneva..." "Will you marry me?" "Yes." "There's two pink lines.  That's positive, right?" "Congratulations, you are no longer pregnant." "I present the graduating class of 2002!" "I present the graduating class of 2005!" "You've been accepted to Washington University..." "It's positive." "It's positive."

I think about this topic so often, I'm surprised I haven't actually written a post about it.  This is a good question.  Why do I write?  Why do I skip sleep, sacrifice social interaction, food, just about every basic need a person could have to write?  There is only one answer:  Because I have to.  Writing for me is an art.  Artists are passionate to create what they see, feel or hear and then share what they see, feel or hear with others.  I've always loved making people laugh and cry.  That's why I gravitated toward theatre in my youth.  Writing is an extension of that.  And it's a cheap hobby. The other reason is for me.  I use my novels to work out my demons (I have many), express feelings I may not want to deal with in any other form, maybe even discover feelings I didn't even know I had.  Writing helps me release those feelings, deal with them and move on.  It's pretty cheap therapy.

 Jodi Picoult speaking to many attendees at SLCL. Ms. Picoult and her daughter signing "Between the Lines" their collaborated YA novel. So, I have a confession to make.  I've never read anything by Jodi Picoult.  In fact, I had to Google her name to find out what's she written.  She's written some 20 books, some you may have heard of since they made it to the silver screen, like "My Sister's Keeper."  What drew me to this event, and to buy the book, was this sweet notion of a mother-daughter writing team.  How awesome would that be to work on a project with your daughter!  That would rock!  I hope my daughter wants to write when she's a little older.

Bathing suits are hanging in the shower to dry.  I smell the suntan lotion and bug spray when I sniff my kids' skin.  Yup, my favorite season is here: summer!  Long days, sleeping in, BBQ, there is so much to enjoy in summer.  I love it all.  Except one thing:  Getting rid of unwanted body hair.  Can we side with the Europeans on this?  PLEASE?  I dread going out in public in a bathing suit, not because I'm flabby (I am), not because I have stretch marks from three kids (boy do I ever), but because I'm so afraid I've missed that one patch of hair behind my right knee.  Sorry, but I think the Europeans have it right on this one.  I don't understand the logic of why girls have to be hairless and smooth.  That's Hollywood.  That's the airbrushed look.  Why is it that men can strut around with a thick carpet of chest and (ew) back hair and it's okay, sexy even, but if a girl has one curly black hair sticking from her thig...

I watched Roman Holiday a few days ago.  You know the black and white romantic comedy classic, with shining star Audrey Hepburn and the impressive Gregory Peck (you have to say his name in a bass voice).  I'd seen it before, but this time, I can't help but be so sad a the end.  I mean, we know from the beginning that she's a princess.  And a princess and a reporter could never get together.  But there is still something terrible that happens within me, a heartache, a longing when Audrey Hepburn puts on her stony regal face and chooses duty over love.  Shouldn't love conquer all?  I am such a hopeful (not hopeless) romantic, that I have to rewrite the ending to the movie, where she abdicates and lives a humbler, yet happier life as a struggling reporter's wife.   They'd have to be happy.  Love has to conquer all.  To you, what is more satisfying ending to a movie or a novel?  Realistic endings?  Or romantic ones where the t...