Today was Memorial Day.
The concept has changed a bit since I was a child, I think.
Back then, it was more like a day to remember your own dearly departed, and Veteran’s Day was more the day for honoring those who’d served and died for our country.

Either way—heartfelt sympathy to the families of those lost in the never-ending wars. The tombstones, the markers, the Wall, the lists of those M.I.A. tell only part of the tragic stories.

As for me…

I miss my Dad, who died at the age of 46 without having much of a chance to live.
I miss my gentle Uncle, who tried to do so much in his place.
I miss my Grandfather, who left me the only thing of value he had—his violin.
I miss my Grandmother, who, I swear, could cook a baseball on a stick and make it taste good.
I miss my pets, each and every one, who brought unconditional love into my life.

And I could go on, but each of us has memories enough for this day.
May you find them all still living in your heart.

I’ve just heard THE BIG NEWS of the day:

Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie have finally had their baby!! :mrgreen:

Oh, and there’s one more bit of very important news I’d like to share:

I DON’T CARE. :nonono:

Don’t get me wrong. I’m sure they’re happy, and I’m glad they’re happy. I like to see people happy. And at least they didn’t give the little girl one of those jacked-up names so many of their Hollywood counterparts have chosen, like Apple, or Manger, or Rabid or some crap like that (yes, I happen to like the name “Shiloh”).

But I DON’T CARE. :nonono:
I’m about as concerned with their personal business as they are about mine—which is not at all, I’m sure.
Nor do I care much about the relationship between Tom and Katie.
I believe strongly in religious freedoms, so if she really wants a man who expects her to maintain silence during childbirth—more power to her.
But I DON’T CARE. :nonono:

I DON’T CARE if Britney has a bump, or if she’s kicked Kevin to the curb. Or if Madonna wants to crucify herself, or how many facelifts Cher has had, or who’s gay or not, or whether Oprah and Stedman are really sleeping together.

I just want entertainers to entertain me. If I wanna hear somebody dish on them, I’ll join the fan clubs or read the supermarket rags. I don’t wanna hear about it right before the anchorman tells me there’s been a devastating earthquake somewhere (and I’m assuming he’s reading the news in order of importance). :???:

I’ve been stunned in the past few years to find my local Fox news channel featuring stories about “American Idol” on a nearly daily basis.
:wtf:
I know it’s a popular show, and I’m glad Taylor eventually won—but I’d hardly put it in the “News” category, any more than I would count who’s kicked off on “Survivor”, or who’s left on “Lost”. Call me silly, but I don’t remember news reports about which of the Cartwright boys on Bonanza might fall in love next week (although yes, I know Liz Taylor incurred the wrath of the entire free world by stealing Debbie Reynold’s husband, etc…) :roll:

Maybe I’m in a mood. It’s just my two bits, and that’s about all it’s worth. You certainly won’t be hearing my opinion on the news tonight (and thank God for that).

Think I’ll run along and pull out my “Pirates of the Caribbean” DVD. Captain Jack is always entertaining.

And did you know that Johnny Depp fell in love with his wife when he saw her bare back across a crowded room??? :razz:

Who doesn’t love a great mystery?

I’ve loved ‘em for as long as I can remember reading. Whether they were Biblical or sexy or cozies or intellectual or intergalactic—gotta love ‘em.

I suspect a lot of authors would like to try writing one—including myself. I’ve written books with mystery sub-plots, but I’m talking real, hard-core, body-in-the-room-with-the-locked-door mysteries.

Unfortunately, I often suffer from what a former writing buddy and I dubbed “The Volcano Syndrome”.

Sound strange?
Think back…

Remember all the old cartoons, especially Warner Brothers? Like, Daffy Duck was sputtering out a story, telling how he’d stowed away on a boat to Africa, made his way across the Dark Continent, dodging natives with blow-guns, crossing blazing deserts, fighting lions, etc., until he finally reached the Zowee Diamond Mine, where he found the biggest diamond ever discovered in all the history of mankind?

And just as he’d surmounted every obstacle, was holding it triumphantly in his hand…

SUDDENLY, A VOLCANO!!

Now, the audience had not been told about a possible volcano, nor was there any reason for one to be there, other than to resolve the storyline.
Unavoidably, the volcano would be followed by an earthquake, which would open a tremendous chasm into which the diamond would fall, and Daffy would be forced to retreat by the stream of lava which seemed determined to chase him down the mountain, etc., etc… :yesyesyes:

In other words, Daffy had painted himself into a corner, and had to come up with something from waaaaay out in left field to get out of it.
And I have come up with a volcano or two in my life. :roll:
I’m talking deus ex machina extraordinaire.

What do you do when you’ve trapped yourself in a plotting situation? How much of your story are you willing to sacrifice to resolve it? Do you ever have trouble pinpointing where the problem began? And how lenient are you with the ‘volcanic activity’ of other authors when you’re reading? :smokin:

Dear Jane:

THANK YOU!! :waving:

~Raine

I sincerely hope someone out there will bitch-slap me if I’m ever guilty of any of the following. Really. I mean, Really. :roll:

If I ever forget where I came from. If I don’t care where my readers are coming from.

If I allow somebody else to dictate what I can or cannot be or do. :moon:

If I forget that perfecting my craft should be more important than pimping my product.

If I should be gifted with sudden success, and begin to behave arrogantly, as if I was just as suddenly superior to others.

If I should ever get the idea that MY way was THE way, the Truth, and the Light, and no one shall cometh unto publishing by any means except mine. :thumbsup:

If I cannot offer a gentle, constructive suggestion to my fellow readers/authors without scorning their intelligence or position in life.

If the publishing world ever becomes all about mememememe……. :smokin:

If I become too important to laugh at myself. :yesyesyes:

And incidentally—I may hit back. :uzi:
But bitch-slap me anyway. :mrgreen:

Sending out a big, appreciative thanks to Alyssa for a terrific thumbs up. THANK YOU! :waving:

***** ***** *****

I have an acquaintance at work who’s deathly afraid of flying. She talks about taking exotic vacations, is dying to go to Fiji—but she will not fly.

“Sooo…is it the flying you’re afraid of, or the landing?” I once asked.

“What difference does it make?” she snorted. “Fear is fear.”

Was that true, I wondered? If fear was fear, what made one person paralyzed by it, and another seek to conquer it? And was there really any difference between fear of failure and fear of success?

Everyone has experienced fear of failure in some form. It can be crippling. It can keep you from experiencing things you need in order to grow. I know people who determinedly avoid doing ANYTHING different with their lives because doing nothing is a lot less painful than failing. And if you can find some outside force to blame—plane malfunctions, childhood, responsibilities, editors, agents—so much the better.

Fear of success is a little more subtle. If you’re a wanna-be writer, it can be just as crippling.
After all—what if you should suddenly become successful?

There go the excuses for not writing. It’s not a hobby anymore. You must write.
You’re also expected to continue your success once established. What if the next book isn’t as good? Or the next, or the next?
No more wailing, “Oh, I must not be any good.” The Writing Gods have chosen you. Your excuses are flying out the window.
And now there are people (fans, publishers) who expect things from you.
And maybe the most terrifying thought of all…that you may be far more special than you’ve ever allowed yourself to think.

Of course, the fear of failure is all tied up in the fear of success, and vice-versa.
So what’s the difference?

Maybe it’s just a matter of how badly you want to go to Fiji?

Sending out a big THANKS to Keishon of AvidReader.com, who was a virgin e-reader and gave Let’s Pretend a try–and a thumbs up!
(yes, I thank everybody who likes my books, lol—and the ladies who point me that way, you know who you are). :waving:

Today: It’s Friday, thank God, thank God…
Weather: Cold (yes, COLD!) and rainy.
Mood: Like I’m caught in a traffic jam, and all I can see at the moment are orange barrels. :roll:
Writing: I have a new hero who keeps changing his *!#+&!! personality on me. But I will prevail!! :???:
One Quirky Thing: Found a cluster of lovely balloons in my yard. Sitting there. Waiting for me. Smiled like a big kid, thanked The Wind God Who Has No Name, and accepted them.

Have a great day!