positive thinking

The Blogging Dilemma

2006-11-28T23:54:00.000-08:00

Lately, an old friend contacted me to tell me she has just started a blog. I have been meaning to pop over there, but I realized yesterday that I honestly haven't had the time because my mind is crammed with all the things on my to-do list. Morale of the story - I forgot. Until last night at any rate and that was because I couldn't sleep for thinking about my to-do list.

This made me realize how easy it is to start a blog and have no one read what you write. One of the main reasons is that if you don't read other people's blogs you don't have much chance of them taking the time to read yours. My busy schedule doesn't give me much time beyond the bracket I concede myself to read posts by agents who blog and the messages in all the writing lists I'm on. I use this blog mainly to keep writing, even when I'm not writing as much as I should.

Blogging, to many of us, is like being at the beach. You know you're expected to wade into the water, but you're not sure if you want to. You stick your toe in and then cringe as the water temperature clashes with that of your body. Then you look around. Everybody else is swimming and they seem to be enjoying themselves. You might as well join in. How long you stay in the water before you get goosebumps is another issue altogether.

Nephele Tempest has an interesting blog post at http://www.romancingtheblog.com/blog/ titled To Blog Or Not To Blog, where she discusses the utility of blogs for published authors and how a website may or may not be an interesting alternative.

If you're a writer or an aspiring one, go take a look.

On Queries

2006-11-05T01:53:00.000-08:00

I'm working hard on my agent list before I start querying them with my novel. What I'm doing is so much on my mind that even when I sleep, I dream I'm on the Web surfing agent profiles and reading about them.

It feels good to have the buzz again.

Storytime

2006-10-15T23:42:00.000-07:00

There was one particular cartoon I loved watching when I was a child. I think it's a Japanese production and the episodes were all about a particular bee called Maia and the other inhabitants of the woods. They're airing the episodes again on Italian TV and this morning, during breakfast the story of this particular episode, one I had never watched before, enchanted the writer in me in its perfect simplicity.

On one of their nature walks near a stream, a bee named Maia and her friends, another little bee and a grasshopper named Flip, come across a Mama snail trying to convince her three sons that they are now grown up enough to leave on their own. Around her, a group of insects protest that Mama snail is too hard-hearted to insist when the three little snails cannot stop crying and are begging her to let them stay.

Even the ugly old spider, who plays terrible music on a violin to confuse her prey and attract them into her web, says so. Mama snail is indignant at the accusations from the other insects, but wiser, and remains of the opinion that her offsprings must leave.

When Maia asks Flip why this is happening, Flip says it's the natural way of things. Children are born and their mother takes care of them with love, but there comes a time when they must leave the nest and strike out on their own. To hold them back would be a mistake. They must learn to face the world independently, for their own good as their mother will not always be there to protect them.

Maia tells the tiny snails that she, too, is still a young bee, but she faces the woods on her own, with the help of her friends. The three snails, however, are too afraid to leave their mother's side. They do not trust the unknown.While this discussion is taking place, a human throws a lit match into the scrub nearby and the woods catch fire. All the insects are trapped between the fire on one side and the spider's web on the other.

Mama snail starts inching towards the spider's web. If the spider eats her then she'll be satisfied and her children can pass through. But the idea seems too cruel to Maia. Flip is angry at the spider and accuses her of being heartless. But the spider says that if she felt sorry for every insect who appeared before her web she'd starve and be dead by now. Another of nature's undeniable truths.

Maia looks around for a solution and after much debate with her friends, she notices that a natural dam of sticks and leaves is blocking the stream water at one point. They work together to remove it and the water overflows the banks, putting out the fire. The woods are safe once more.

The insects rejoice in Maia's quick thinking. And the three little snails begin to hope that the world cannot be so cold out there if there are friends like Maia who will help them along the way. The fact that Maia is so independent makes them realize that they, too, must leave their mother's side and fend on their own.

Maia gives them hope and courage.

Fascinating!

Epitaph

2006-09-13T09:32:00.000-07:00

My paternal grandmother died yesterday. We've been calling her nanna Cettina for as long as I can remember. She was 92 and the most vigorous person I've ever known. She was conscious to the last and I'm glad that I got to see her only days before she passed away.

There are two lovely childhood memories I forgot to mention in my previous post:

nanna Cettina making home-made ravioli filled with ricotta, just for me;

the way she always said she liked having me at her home when I was a little girl, because I didn't make a fuss and was always quiet and good company.

You were good company for me, too.

I love you nanna.

Favourite childhood memories

2006-09-08T21:02:00.000-07:00

There are so many of these but some stand out more than others. Let's see...

Going to the beach with my grandfather...just me and him. He would watch me from the beach and let me swim to my heart's content. It was hard for me to explain I wanted to go with my friends when I was a teen, but he didn't need any explanation. I love you grandpa.

Playing at just about anything with my younger sister and my cousin at my grandma's house. We would use all her pasta to play house with. When she finally got to cook the pasta, it was always mixed LOL.

Playing 'tent' with my younger sister.

Looking for crabs with another of my cousins on lovely afternoons at the beach with my aunt.

Going out with the whole family and my very own uncle Sam. I truly loved him. We all did, but he passed away too soon.

Reading fairy-tales...oh, how I loved it. And not just the classic ones. All I ever got for my birthdays were books from my aunts and uncles because they knew how much I adored them. One of my fondest memories is of a family of mice living in a shoe with their tiny furniture and clothes :-).

Thinking little people lived inside a radio . I was very young here LOL.

Mum making us fries at home and putting them in a paper bag, as if we'd bought them from the take-away.

The film 'Grease' :-)

Roots

2006-09-06T07:26:00.000-07:00

Roots. They form us, mould us into what we become as teenagers, grownups, adults. No matter how much we run from them, they always catch up. And that's not always a bad thing. In fact it can be good to realize how much of one's family one carries around. The place where I was born, the house I grew up in, the streets, the nooks and crannies, the scenery, the people, the mentality, the culture, the good side and the not so good side...they all add up to mix with the essence of me and make me who I am.

A person proud of her roots.

Pedestals & Co.

2006-08-17T10:40:00.000-07:00

I heard a sentence that stuck with me today: "When someone puts you on a pedestal, the only way to go is down."

How many of us put others on a pedestal? People we care about, who can never live up to our ideal no matter how hard they try because as we all know, nobody's that perfect.

It happens all the time and is probably one of the major reasons for conflict in any relationship. Mothers and daughters, fathers and sons, parents and their children, siblings, husband and wife, best friends - we all have expectations, hoping the other person will live up to the way we want them to be. When they don't it's a mammoth disappointment all around. It takes time to elaborate what happened and get over the hurt, until we realize that we're all just people. People who make mistakes.

We all deserve a second chance if we really want to make things work.

And this is what I want to write about in my next book. Thanks for tagging me Magnolia.

Wednesday funny

2006-07-26T00:19:00.000-07:00

During the wedding ceremony of a rich eighty-year old geezer to a young girl of 22, the minister asked,

"Will you, Sam Baker take this Karen Frost to become her lawfully wedded husband?"
"Yes."
"And will you, Karen Frost take this Sam Baker to become his lawfully wedded widow?"

You bet!

LOL

Writing quote

2006-07-01T08:12:00.000-07:00

"Ask a writer to tell you her story at your peril." Audrey Higgans

Growth is painful

2006-06-27T00:13:00.000-07:00

On an island paradise, a young local was chosen to become his father's successor as Medicine Man, but first, he had a mission to accomplish. He had to row himself on a small makeshift boat to the deeper waters of the bay and capture a live turtle, the holder of sacred powers. No mean feat since the guardian of the bay, a solitary dolphin, chased turtles away from what he cosidered his own, personal territory.

Our hero dove into the blue depths fraught with underwater coral, a result of volcanic eruptions from years past. He had to earn his father's trust and that of the community through a sacred rite.

A large turtle swimming under an outcrop of rocks caught his eye. He lunged after his prey, the tough shell covering the ancient body slick under his eager hands. But the jelous dolphin chased the turtle away. The hero tried again and this time he managed to catch the turtle before the dolphin got in the way. Lungs bursting, he rose to the surface, hauled the turtle on to his boat and rowed back to shore bearing his prize. He had gained his father's trust.

That's all very well, but they ate the turtle! I feel for the poor reptile, whose powers are probably about as mystic as those of any of us.

Growth is painful, especially for turtles.

The meaning of true love

2006-06-06T02:40:00.000-07:00

What is true love?

It's a question writers and philosphers from all over the world, country, pop and rock singers galore and common people such as me have been battling with since the beginning of time. There as many answers and possibilites as there are men and women out there and one exclusive response is perhaps impossible to define.

I love to write about relationships, and I have asked myself this question because I tend to look at real life as a source for my writing. So many people I know have spoken to me about the problems they face in their relationships. It has made me realize there is one common denominator that puts everyone at the same level, or at least those of us who are able to drop the mask. Men and women baffle each other and it's easy to get lost in the fog while searching for the solution for a perfect relationship.

As the song goes, "true love is hard to find", but I would go a step further and say that though one may be lucky enought to find it, (I believe it does happen or I wouldn't be a romance writer), it's hard to keep the fires burning, day in day out, when real life steps into the picture and throws wrenches into well-laid plans.

Recently, a person said these words to me. True love, the one that matures over time in people who learn to accept their significant other, warts and all, means that you stop saying "I love you because I need you" and start saying "I need you because I love you" instead.

A character who goes from one way of thinking to the other...that's what I want to write about.

Re: Tangled

2006-05-17T22:46:00.000-07:00

In my previous post I wrote: I stopped writing fiction because I need to understand reality, before I can write fiction again.

It was one of those sentences that come into my head when I least expect them but they are crystal clear as to how I feel inside after elaborating for some time.

With regard to the comments from Diane and Magnolia (thanks so much BTW, I'll be visiting your blogs in a little while)...it's funny because ever since I posted I've been thinking along the same lines...If I wait until I fully understand everything, I will never write a word of fiction because it takes a lifetime and possibly more, to understand real life. The writing bug keeps chomping at the bit. Maybe I should just barge ahead and muddle through it all, writing as I go.

Diane and Magnolia...thanks for the kick in the butt :-).

Tangled

2006-05-17T07:36:00.000-07:00

I stopped writing fiction because I need to understand reality, before I can write fiction again.

Amethyst

The art of listening

2006-05-12T23:34:00.000-07:00

Are you a chatter-box or a listener? Can you be both?

This is something I hadn't given much thought to until a week ago when we discussed it in a group I'm part of.

I am a regular chatter-box, even by e-mail, but I had always thought of myself as a good listener. There are, of course, reasons why I have such a voracious need to express my thoughts and opinions. There's always a reason and it's usually embedded in our past, a maxim I like to adopt for the characters in my novels as well as to discover more about myself and the people around me. But that's not the topic of my blog post. My attention today is focused on the verb 'to listen'.

What does listening really entail? The dictionary defines it as follows: to pay attention, to hear something with thoughtful attention, to give consideration, to be alert, to catch the unexpected.

Do we really do all of the above when we listen? We may think so, but more often than not, we don't. I've noticed that when someone is talking to me, I want to listen and I am honestly armed with good intentions but the truth is, a form of empathy makes me personalize what I'm hearing, and my thoughts fly to the time when I experienced a similar feeling. In order to make the other person feel better I can't wait to tell them how much like them I felt in the past and how much I understand them.

What do chatter-boxes do in these cases? They interrupt. With the best of intentions, but they do interrupt. Yet, what the other person needs is not to hear about our problems, or for us to find a solution, but for us to listen to theirs.

I'll try to think of that next time a friend or relative needs a good listener.

Quotes

2006-05-08T08:40:00.000-07:00

Here are two quotes of mine...light bulb moments when my mind is prone to philosophise ;-).

"Want to know more about writing conflict in romance novels? Get married!" Amethyst

"I looked inside myself and got lost in the labyrinth." Amethyst

I've been tagged

2006-04-27T15:16:00.000-07:00

I've been tagged by Magnolia at family funnies (http://familyfunnies.blogspot.com/). Take a look at her blog. It's fantastic and has some really insightful posts about writing and life.

Here are six things aobut myself and then I have to tag someone else.

I love travelling to new places

I can count my very special friends on the fingers of one hand and they've seen me through the good and bad

I'm emotionally independent (well....I'm working on it LOL)

I LOVE writing and reading romance and women's fiction

I adore Sicilian home-made chocolate ice-cream (and anything else with chocolate in it ;-))

I'm a fast learner.

Today, I can safely and thankfully say it feels good to be me!

I'm tagging Lynette, Diane and Cathy

What Kind of Writer Should You Be Quiz

2006-04-04T00:06:00.000-07:00

I confess...my writer's ego succumbed to this one...and here's the enthusiastic answer:

***You Should Be a Film Writer***
You don't just create compelling stories, you see them as clearly as a movie in your mind.You have a knack for details and dialogue. You can really make a character come to life.Chances are, you enjoy creating all types of stories. The joy is in the storytelling.And nothing would please you more than millions of people seeing your story on the big screen!

Very flattering indeed. Now if only I could get down to some serious writing .

You can take this quiz at:
What Type of Writer Should You Be?http://www.blogthings.com/whattypeofwritershouldyoubequiz/

The Butterfly House

2006-04-03T02:13:00.000-07:00

In a tiny place in Sicily called Viagrande, at the foot of the Etna volcano, there's a place called The Butterfly House. If you're ever in Europe and visiting southern Italy, don't let the chance to visit this place slip away.

The minute we stepped inside, a blanket of tropical humidity wrapped itself around us, sticking to our skin and clothes, but the high temperature is a necessity for the aviary inhabitants. Besides, the enchantment of seeing butterflies of all sizes and colours from all over the world flying around us among the flowers and trees more than made up for the discomfort.

An enthusiastic guide pointed out an Australian turtledove tending her nest of eggs, tiny birds from New Guinea zipping from one side of the aviary to the other, some newly-laid butterfly eggs, frogs in a little pond and even a live coupling between two butterflies - a glimpse of the magical beauty of nature.

The best moment of all occurred when a butterfly danced around me for a few precious moments. I kept still and thought, wait, don't go away. Without warning, it stopped to rest on my leg. I stood paralaysed calling out to my friends to take a picture, but before they could the butterfly flew away in a flurry of bright blue, black and brown.

I like to think I was singled out by the butterfly fairy...a sprinkling of gold dust to help me through the rest of life's journey.

Changing of the seasons

2006-03-31T22:45:00.000-08:00

This morning I woke up to a swallow's cry...in Sicily that means the start of Spring and a definite goodbye to cold days and bouts of the flu. From now on each day of sunshine brings summer closer and closer. Lazy days when all you want to do is go out for a nice long walk in the countryside or near the sea. A new burst of energy that makes me want to write and write and write ;-).

Reach out for your dream

2006-03-29T02:56:00.000-08:00

Reach Out For Your Dream

I had a funny dream last night. I say funny because my dreams are usually a reflection of what's been going on in my subconscious.

I dreamt my maternal grandfather, who was also my godfather (I called him 'nannu Leli', short for Emanuel) was lying on a bed in one of those white on white hospital rooms and my mother and I had gone to visit him. He seemed weak, but the second he saw me he reached for something inside a black bag standing next to the bed on the floor and placed it in my hands.

It was one of those glass spheres filled with a transparent liquid and some obscure object stuck to the plastic base. My paternal grandmother had one when I was little, but it was one of those objects children could see, but not touch and although my fingers itched to do just that, I never dared. Maybe I should have. Those spheres always seemed to contain some kind of magic when you shook them a little and the snow started falling.

When I moved the the sphere my grandfather gave me in my dream, a shower of glittering particles filled the liquid and tears filled my eyes because I knew, without words, what he was trying to tell me: "Reach for your dreams, no matter what."

Only yesterday, I told my dearest friend Belle that I need to start working on my second book no matter how busy or preoccupied I am with real life. My writing dreams have taken a back seat lately through no fault of mine, but now it's time to shake off the dust and start polishing them to a shine.

Thank you grandpa

Amethyst

Let It Snow

2006-02-19T02:16:00.000-08:00

There are times when no matter how hard we struggle against something we don't want in our lives, that something persists and needs to run its course. What I've found to be extremely productive is to accept...not approve or resign myself to what's happening, but accept what happens and all the feelings that go with it, be they mine or somebody else's, while nurturing a never-ending desire to change for the better, be the change internal or external.

The more I accept, the easier it seems to climb that Mountain. Recently I went to a skiing resort not far from my current home. Having lived on a tiny island all my life where mountians and snow were alien entitities I had only ever read about it books, seeing and touching snow for the first time was an awesome experience. The maginificence of the Mountain left me breathless.

The sight of all that whiteness covering the immense giant to its peak clogged the air in my throat and helped me approach the might of nature with the respect it deserves. I couldn't help thinking that if the Mountain saw fit, and being an active volcano, it could have started rumbling and scattered us far and wide with terror in our hearts. But the Etna was lenient, might I say benevolent towards us.

The magic began with the first fall of snow, the first I had ever witnessed in my entire life. Each snowflake had a different design. Wonder filled my heart at their exquisite, tridimensional beauty, coupled with reverence for the Artist. When I touched them, they disintegrated. Like all things of beauty, they only lasted so long.

My initial fearfulness melted into awe. By the time I had scaled the slopes a dozen times and careened down on my red, plastic sledge screaming like crazy and laughing my head off at my friend's antics, admiration gave way to sincere affection.

There will be other trips to the Mountain, but this one will remain in my memory forever.

I accepted the mountain and it showed me its good side. There are always two sides to a coin. Sooner or later, life reveals both and I'm free to choose which one to follow.

I dedicate this post to Jade.

Character Development and Scene Suggestions

2006-01-08T09:02:00.000-08:00

There I was, thinking about the main quality that identifies the main protagonist of my next novel and its exact opposite (following the suggestions in Donald Maass's book Writing The Breakout Novel), when I got the idea of looking up both words in my thesaurus. I looked up tenacious and weak.

A plethora of words, 28 just for tenacious, sprang from the pages of the book in my lap (I know we're in the internet era, but I still love to flip through a book I can touch with my own two hands, not to mention that the book is a cerished gift). It made me wonder if I could take things a step further and use these words to discover even more about my character and perhaps give my new novel a kicking start.

With this thought in mind, I created a table with three coloumns, titled Quality, Definition and Scene Suggestion. Even in two words that appear similar in the English language, there are often subtle differences to be found. While looking up the words in both the Oxford and Webster dictionary, some of the sentences shook my muse awake and began to suggest new scene ideas. This after a long drought in composition, the annoyance of which, perhaps, only a fellow writer can really grasp.

For example,

for tenacious I found:
Keeping a firm hold of property, principles, life, etc; not readily relinquishing, persistent; suggests strength in seizing, retaining, clinging to, or holding together,

but for its synonym pertinacious, I found:
stubbornly unyielding

Ah...so being tenacious has it's down side...being stubborn...this got me thinking...how far can the heorine take her stubbornness before it gets her into trouble...perhaps in relation to something she really cares about? That's when I had a lightbulb moment. I already knew what that was! The process got the ball rolling. A scene began to take form in my mind's eye. I can see as far as the headlights show me in the surrounding darkness.

Anything to beat writer's block.

:-)

Hidden Meanings

2006-01-08T08:13:00.000-08:00

I saw a rainbow today.

My first reaction was surprise...enraptured surprise at the sight of such shimmering beauty. A beauty that stirs the heart. My thoughts flew to childhood readings about the pot of fabled gold at the end of the rainbow...Our car raced towards one end, but the closer we got, the dimmer the rainbow became until it disappeared altogether. Perhaps that's the way it's meant to be. For us to chase rainbows, until we find what we're looking for. The beauty of the journey, lies in the chase.

Who knows what it means? Is it a good omen? A promise of good things to come? There's one thing I'm sure of: I feel privileged to have been one of the few who witnessed nature's show for today. One of a chosen few who weren't too busy doing something else to notice.

A symbol of hope for dreamy ol' me.

Thoughts on love from a romance writer.

2005-12-09T10:00:00.000-08:00

"I can't live without you."

How many times have we read this line in romances? How many other times have we heard this line in love songs or spoken by some love-struck, drop-dead-gorgeous male hero in a romantic movie?

Once upon a time, they were the only words I wanted to hear. When I had starts in my eyes and being in love with love was the most wonderful, heady feeling in the world. Almost two decades down the road, a part of me still yearns to hear the words, but the other part starts to wonder...Is this conception of love really that romantic? And even if it is, in a globally recongnized sense, is this what real love is or ought to be about? Depending on another person for your happiness? Or is it merely an immature way of plonking all one's insecurities on the other's head, making him the sole maker of breaker of your happiness, piling a responsiblity on his shoulders he is sure to topple under and which can only lead to a general unhappiness on both sides.

A broken heart never killed anyone unless he/she wanted it to. Love is not "I can't live without you." Love is "I can live without you, but I want you to be a part of my life."

Welcome to the 21st century fairy-tale, where in a healthier relationship, each person is whole in their own right and more capable of giving a love that is less tainted by misconceptions and the youthful desire to find our reflection in the other person's eyes, instead of appreciating the difference. Not a cynical outlook, only a more mature one.

The idea of this ever taking place in any relationship is actually idealistic.

But there is such a thing as hope....and that's why I write romance.

Haikus in public

2005-12-06T01:33:00.000-08:00

I wanted to share the feeling of hearing someone else recite a poem you wrote. It happened to me last Sunday.

There was a special reading of love poems held at the cultural centre in our province, by a well-known local poet who is on the up and coming. He called me to say he'd chosen one of my haikus on love to share with a roomful of people, with soft lights and a piano playing in the background. I sat there with my hubby and listened to the words. Weird, but nice...definitely nice.