Thursday, December 18, 2008

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

Monday, November 17, 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.


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

Wednesday, September 03, 2008

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~!

Thursday, August 14, 2008

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!