Once Upon a Time~

I tried to quit, really I did. I tried to become a gardener, but my soil is just so unforgiving. I tried to become a housewife but I’m very, very bad at it. Just when you get everything cleaned up it all goes to hell in a hand basket again. What kind of a job is that? Where is the THE END part? Hey, I was taking a self-soothing break from the relentless deadlines and crazy market trends, and maybe a permanent one! I thought about getting a secretarial job. The part where I can type 2000 words a minute with the UPS man standing in the hallway waiting for my manuscript was a big asset. I’m a cheery person, I’m computer hardwired, I could learn Microsoft Access! But hmm would I be able to steal some writing time? I considered a job at a storage facility. Lots of down time and maybe even some story lines from the contents of abandon storage units?

One day I said to myself, what if I just wrote whatever came out of me instead of manually twisting and forcing my muse into the current "Hunt for High Concept” shape?
So I sat down and just let her rip. I even sat down at a computer that wasn’t my normal computer. Change of scenery. I got eight pages of really amazing stuff. I won't tell you how long it stayed at eight pages, and how excited I got a couple of agents about those eight pages. But the rest of the story hadn't evolved yet. My imagination sparked like a flint- but the twigs weren’t quite dry enough yet. I had to keep trying to twist things up into pretzel shapes.
The Summer of 2009 will go down as the summer I packed my virtual suitcase full of research and inspiration and moved into the hotel Kathryn. Kathryn is the main character in the young adult trilogy I have been crafting for two years. By sheer chance (ha ha) I connected with a wonderful woman last fall. Sometimes you need an expert like the Amazing Maggie to get the flint to ignite all the way. There is nothing that woman does not know about Scottish/English/Roman history. Turns out we were on a bigger journey than just books, and we’ve opened up our lives to all kinds of amazing adventures. Scotland and England here we come!

Birthing the full concepts for these three books was like well, birthing another kid, and I’ve had four already. If you count my seven other books, that makes eleven! I can honestly say it was a c-section too, because I had to cut all the self-doubt and old negatives out of my head to get this train on its track. (talk about your mixed metaphors!) Yes, it does mean that my contemporary work is on hiatus, coming soon to a new publisher near you, once Kathryn has had her way.

So. I admit it. I’m a writer. Well, we all knew that, didn’t we. I watched Wonder Boys yesterday. (I love Toby Maguire btw) There was a line from the crusty old writer/ professor where they asked him why he wrote the book he wrote (the one that flew into the river) and he said. . .
“Because I couldn’t stop.”

Christmas- its not for Wimps.

Whoa- not a creature was stirring, just the whirring floor polisher and the quick restockers. Now I know what happens at the Walmart after Midnight. I did a one day blitz of shopping yesterday from noon to midnight. Granted I am the Queen of Shopping so it was a joy to cruise through the entire set of peripheral mall stores and then land softly in the mother ship- the mall itself. I even enjoyed a nice dinner at a little Asian cafe I adore--no food court moments for this performance artist.

Speaking of performance artists there is a great bit on motherhood extracted and showing on a G rated mom friendly blog site of Erma Bombeck fans (including me.)
The Mom Song

Well back to the shopping. Spurred on by threats of The Perfect Storm looming in our near future, the Ice Machine of Doom, the Day After Tomorrow winter of our discontent, many of us were out reaping the rewards of generous markdowns by panicky retailers. It is a great time to shop-not much waiting in line in the off hours, no actual hysteria yet- that sets in about Dec 23rd for those who truly wait till the last minute- and these days, for another paycheck. And I'm sure we're all in the same boat when we say that all gifts this year are of a practical nature. My daughter asked for a battery recharger. THAT is the spirit, girl!

Having worked for Nordstrom's in my early years (my experiences translated into Hysterical Blondeness, the book) I have extreme empathy for all store employees and treat them with the fun and frivolity they deserve at such odd hours, often offering to ring things up for them and cover their coffee breaks if I can use their employee discount. So far no takers.

A large chunk of my time was of course spent in the big Barnes and Noble store resplendent with new books and calendars and a Starbucks. If we're going to be stuck inside with no power huddled by the fireplace insert, we'll be reading by candlelight anyway! I want to encourage everyone to give books this year for the holidays- the publisher you save may be my own!


Speaking of books, I'm busy reinventing myself so hang on, it's going to be a wild ride. I'll keep all my friends and family posted when something finally breaks through. Think of it as ice fishing. You've got to saw through some ice to get to the fun.

Back to shopping. Now that I've got the stuff to stuff them with, (oh and Santa will help I'm sure) I'll be getting those stockings hung by the chimney with care~ well maybe after the storm settles down. We don't want to singe our jingle bells.

Which reminds me. My beautiful daughter-in-law Tifanie came over and made cookie magic- delicate, intricately beautiful snowflake cookies. I on the other hand tried to re-melt the chocolate chips on my out of the box coconut bars and well- answered the phone and well- heard husband scream "THEY ARE BURNING!!!" in a loud terrified voice as he froze before the new stove we purchased (no payments till the economy stabilizes) trying to figure out which button to push. He was home recovering from his unfortunate cross-country ski mishap- which falls under the "self-inflicted" category.

That pan of flaming coconut and chocolate chips is now "cooling" outside for the next day or so. It is time for me to pass the cookie baking baton to my son's wife, without a doubt. She and my daughter were a great team. Younger son also does a terrific "cut and bake" batch.

It looks like we are ready for the holidays. It takes a village to create a holiday and right now our new kittens are eating our Thomas Kinkaid Hawthorn Village. Better put that up on a scaffold till they get bigger!

Merry Christmas to all~and a Bright and Promising New Year!

A Snowy Evening

I've been in a river of Swiftly Moving Inspiration lately. All winter and druids and things that go bump in time. ooh pretty good trailer there!

Things that fascinate me today ( I have a sort of kaleidoscope of fascinations) are my daughter’s new interest in poetry. I used to write poetry from third grade to about age 25 when children and life knocked the stuffings out of me—mostly in a good way.

I met the most famous poets alive at the time- Richard Hugo, David Wagoner, Robert Bly, Gary Snyder, even William Stafford. I was completely blessed to be in the midst of greatness during my early twenties. It had a profound effect on me.

Poetry is a gateway drug that leads to fiction. It also leads to the love of language and tight imagery if you really sink your teeth into it.

Then fiction will lead you back to poetry because as we all know Fiction eats you alive and spits you out like a hairball and then you crawl back to poetry to make you broth and tea and cinnamon toast and soothe your soul.

So here is an old poem about winter many of us read in school. It has always been one of my favorites.


Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
by Robert Frost

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there's some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night! Suzanne

NOVEMBER 2008

THINGS are HAPPENING. Oh yes, things are happening. Sometimes after a very long dry spell the wind comes and pushes you right off your chair and up into the air, and then you are flying.

Repeat after me: THINGS ARE HAPPENING--GOOD THINGS--CREATIVE THINGS! PASSIONATE THINGS!

November is wild. Edward Hopper is at the Seattle Art Museum. I'm out flying. When I land I'll tell you all about it.

November is GRATITUDE for being in the zone.

November is a strawberry mango smoothie and raw words blended together.

oh and for... new writing companions who will rustle up the papers and change the energy in the office. Two new kittens. I'll post their picture tomorrow after we pick them up-- post post.

MEOW.... suz

Try To Remember the Kind of September . .

..When life was slow and oh, so mellow.
Try to remember the kind of September
When grass was green and grain was yellow.
Try to remember the kind of September
When you were a tender and callow fellow.
Try to remember, and if you remember,
Then follow.

Nothing in the world moves me like Autumn. I'm revived and joyful, ready to work hard, ready to learn. I guess that comes from my love of school all through my life, which lingers on as I read and write books and revel in research, (a mouthful there.)

And well, the joy of seeing my lovely children get on the school bus once again. BYE NOW!! Air kisses blown on the breeze in extreme gratitude to the teachers who will now take over their days and leave me free to write!

Autumn is for blondes. Remember when we used to get our colors done? Guess what? I'm an Autumn. I can even wear ORANGE!

One of my favorite scenes from one of my own books is a pumpkin carving scene with all the women in Talk of the Town. I seem to use fall often in my books come to think of it. There was a fall wedding in Hysterical Blondeness, and after the wild, romantic antics of The Forever Summer came the hero and heroine reuniting in September.


So here's to Autumn and my new adventures, whatever they will be. If you have September stories to tell, be my guest~!

Answer: Reinvention, Resurrection, Resurgence! Question: What do Romantic Comedy writers do to insure their survival!

Wow I think I'm going to resurrect my Blog while I'm at it!

Lets talk about Flamingos. Have you noticed how flamingos are everywhere? Born in the Fifties, those creative pink creatures of plastic lawn fame? I mean hello, what's not to like about flamingos? Just keep that in mind, because flamingos are my new theme.

I just returned from San Francisco. My son Evan lives there and he knows all the best Chinese hole- in -the- wall places where we indulged in our mutual love of food in all forms. Seems like it was a whole Chinese/Italian flip flop thing every day of the week. The great news is Evan has decided to surrender to the fact he is a born novelist. He's soaking in technique and getting his groove as we speak. Its not much of a stretch, he's been a journalist for the last five years working for the Onion and San Fran Weekly, to name but a few. Evan is an iceberg of talent and I told him it was time to flip upside down and let his light shine!

And now back to our regularly scheduled life. Ta Ta for today!

Spring Blonde

Happy Spring everyone, I figured it was time for a face lift on the blondie blogs. I'm not one for blogging away the day but I like playing with my paint box so we're beachy now! That's to go with my new beachy cover for The Forever Summer. Lately all I want to do is read and write and read some more. What are y'all reading anyway?