Sunday, August 25, 2013

It's (Un)officially Fall


Even though we are roasting here, it's sorta kinda fall.  Houston schools start tomorrow.  It's my granddaughter's first day of high school.  She admits to being a little nervous but not much.  On her first day of kindergarten (which seems like yesterday) her picture was in the Houston Chronicle, holding onto her daddy and crying.  But now she's a young lady, who walks better in high heels than I ever did, and certainly better than I do now. She'll be fine.

And another sign of fall:  It's football season.  Will the University of Texas Longhorns regain their rightful place among elite college football teams?  Will the Houston Texans get to the Super Bowl...or at least past the second round of the playoffs?  We'll see.

Halloween items line store shelves and I actually saw some Christmas items a month ago.

I''m looking forward to a chill in the air and eventually some colored leaves.  Fall is my favorite season.

Thursday, August 22, 2013

Interview with Leila Summers, Author of It Rains in February








Q: Can you share a little about your story with us?
A: On the 1st February 2006, my husband, Stuart, arrived home from work and unexpectedly confessed his love for another woman - a married woman whose children were friends with my children. I thought there must be some mistake, a misunderstanding, or perhaps, he was having a midlife crisis. But Stuart spiralled down into depression, becoming obsessed, and my perfect life began to unravel along with his sanity. I spent the following year torn between my own heartache and trying to save him. Every day I treaded lightly, juggling work, children, tears, and threats of suicide. On 24th February 2007, I got the dreaded call. Stuart was dead. His father said, "It's over." But it wasn't over, for me, or for any of us. I was a widow at the age of thirty-seven, with two young daughters, aged six and four.

 

Q: What inspired you to write down your story?
A: During the traumatic year leading up to Stuart’s death, I kept a journal, a space to simply pour out my pain. After he was gone, I typed up the scribbled tear-stained pages to keep as a record for my daughters so that they would one day know the story. More words poured out as the story expanded until I realized that I had the skeleton of a book. I included all of Stuart's letters and emails leading up to his death. Four years went by as I worked for hours at night, the story growing and evolving as I filled in all the spaces.
Writing became an important part of my healing process. There were many times that I wanted to forget the idea of publishing, but something kept spurring me on. It was as if the telling of my story was as important as putting it out there for the entire world to read. Only after my book was published, and I was forced to officially call myself a writer, did I discover that another part of the process was to find myself.

 

Q: Is there a message in your book that you hope to share with readers?
A: To be honest, I tried to keep away from including a ‘message’ in my book, and simply shared my story. I believe that stories have the power to heal, not only ourselves, but others who come across them. Not all stories have happy endings. But the depth that comes from within them, the powerful feeling they leave us with, reminds us that we are all connected. Each of us has our own story, our own heartache and our moments of joy. Mine is a story of love and loss, but also hope. Hope because no matter what any of us have been through, we know that someone else has been through hard times too, and has survived. I have survived.

 

Q: What has been the response to your book? 

A: I have been surprised by the many positive responses to my book. As I mentioned, it wasn't intended as a book with a message. But books have a way of finding readers who relate to certain aspects of a story. As expected, there have been angry readers too; people who do not understand how I could put up with as much as I did. I can appreciate how they feel. I didn’t plan my story, it simply unfolded before my eyes, and I dealt with it in survival mode on a day to day basis. If I hadn't lived it, I might feel the same way. Whatever emotion the book brings up, I am satisfied that, at the very least, I have done what every writer aspires to, and that is to evoke strong emotions within a reader. In retrospect, I have no regrets.

 

Q: What are you working on now?

A: After I published my memoir at the end of 2011, I moved to a tiny country village in South Africa where I now live happily with my two daughters and our six pets. I have just started writing my second memoir, a story of life after grief.

 

Q: Where can readers buy your book?

A: It Rains In February: A Wife's Memoir of Love and Loss is free to download on Amazon Kindle today! Visit http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0062EIRAI to get your copy.

 

Q: How can readers connect with you?





 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Tuesday, August 20, 2013

Quotes for the Week: Summer


I walk without flinching through the burning cathedral of the summer.  My bank of wild grass is majestic and full of music.  It is a fire that solitude presses against my lips.  ~Violette Leduc, Mad in Pursuit


Ah, summer, what power you have to make us suffer and like it.  ~Russel Baker


A perfect summer day is when the sun is shining, the breeze is blowing, the birds are singing, and the lawn mower is broken.  ~James Dent


Sunday, August 18, 2013

Our Vet by Toby and Tiki

Toby
Tiki


Today our vet, Dr. Eckerman, had  a big party to celebrate his 40th anniversary in practice.  We weren't invited of course--only humans.  Our mom went and said it was lovely.
 
Dr. E. has been taking care of us since we were small kittens.  To tell the truth, we don't like him very much.  He pokes and prods us--very demeaning for a cat.  The vet is about the only place we go, so as soon as our mom puts the cat carrier in the car, Toby knows what's in store and he throws up.
As soon as Dr. E. touches him, Toby growls. 
 
But he has taken good care of us, saved us from fleas and heartworms and infections and such.  So we sent him a copy of our favorite book, Poetry for Cats.
 
And here's one of our favorite poems, written by John Donne's cat.  We think it's especially appropriate:
 
Vet, Be Not Proud
 
Vet, be not proud though thou canst make cats die.
Thou livest but one life while we have nine,
And if our lives were half as bleak as thine,
We would not seek from thy cold grasp to fly.
We do not slave our daily bread to buy;
Our eyes are blind to gold and silver's shine;
We owe no debt, we pay no tax or fine;
We tremble not when creditors draw nigh.
The sickest animal that thou dost treat
Is weller than a man; in peace we dwell
And know not guilt or sin and fear not hell.
Poor vet, we live in heaven at thy feet.
But do not think that any cat will weep
When Thee a Higher Vet doth put to sleep.
 
Oh, dear, we don't really mean that.  And by the way, if you'd like to read some more poems by famous cats, look up Poetry for Cats by Henry Beard.



Thursday, August 15, 2013

Writing Our Lives: Interview with Joe Pfeiler, Author of Half Italian (and then some)


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Describe the book:

Half Italian (and then some) is the story of my Italian family, as seen through my eyes. The humor is unique, like the time my grandmother flushed her dentures down the toilet, later retrieved from a septic tank. The book isn’t just for Italians; it’s for anyone needing a good laugh.

Currently, the book is a finalist in two categories of the Readers’ Favorite 2013 book contest.

What inspired you to write the book?

This came after reading Frances Mayes’ books on Tuscany and Yvone Lenard’s on Provence. Both authors created worlds I couldn’t wait to get home to each afternoon, simply by writing about “what happened.” I found myself wishing I owned something that had “happened” to write about. But all I could think of was two stories on the Italian side of my family: a homemade electric chair (complete with live shock) that my cousins made as a joke, and my family using a still to make booze during Prohibition. Those didn’t seem like much of a start. But my father had recently passed away, and I realized time was precious. So one Saturday morning I sat down at the computer to type those two stories into a document. With that, something in me opened and the rest of the words flew.

I saw on Amazon that you write about your grandmother (sounds hilarious). What other family members do you write about?

A mixture of the immigrants, the American-born generations and the Europeans: my great aunt, my uncle, my mother, a particularly lively cousin, and some of my family who still live in Italy.

My grandmother’s first U.S. experiences have entertained people for many years. She’d never seen a banana, mustard, or a fruit pie until adult age during her migration from Italy to California, and threw them all out the window of her train because she thought they were spoiled. (Mushy fruit? Yellow meat? Wet, squishy stuff, between crusts!?)

Is the book a series of short pieces or one long, connected story?

It’s one connected story, beginning with my family leaving Italy. As they continue their lives in Southern California, I’m always present, commenting. My interest in the old country grows, and the book’s apex is my first visits to Italy.

What’s your favorite part of the book?

The chapter titled “Grandma” is particularly important to me. I hadn’t intended to include her death, but once I began to write about it I realized I’d never processed that loss. That chapter is a turning point, the end of one period of my life. The loss of my great aunt, another life-changing event, is also a section that’s important to me.

I loved writing about the chickens.

What has been your family’s response to the book? Did they know ahead of time you were writing about them?

A few family members knew I was writing the book and couldn’t wait to read it. Then, surprise! They had little to say, once they read it. In fact, one cousin remembered very little about it, when we spoke later. Maybe they’ve just heard those stories too many times.

Enthusiasm at this time is coming from those who don’t know my family, which pleases me greatly – that means I did my job, and wrote a book that’s interesting to a wide audience, not just those who know me.

I particularly like that the book gives new life to a past that’s gone. The loss of my grandmother was devastating, so hearing remarks about her now, from people I don’t know give her a new kind of life. I feel like she’s standing nearby, smiling.

What is your writing background?

Half Italian (and then some) is my first book.

Tell about your writing process:

I write down my thoughts ASAP because some tend to fly away and not come back. On vacations, I carry a tiny notepad and make bullet-points. Doesn’t matter how rough-form the thoughts are, as long as I get them in writing. After that, I try to be patient. Connecting the pieces of even one small story can be challenging. I’ve learned, though, that just a few minutes spent each day on one section can produce a smooth story that seemed impossible to complete when it was nothing more than raw thoughts. Later, when re-reading, I ask myself if things make sense. Have I written about a character before introducing her? Is there a contradiction as to when events took place?

What are you working on now?

I just finished “On the Roads of France,” a collection of three short stories about driving in France, plus one in Italy, all my own experiences.  The liner notes will include, “From the lanes of a medieval village to receiving a speeding ticket, this collection will amuse as well as provide tips on how to supplement and respect a GPS.

I’ll also be continuing with a second memoir, about the other side of my family, called “The Other Half.” This will have some darker moments than Half Italian (and then some).

Any tips for writers, especially memoir writers?

Read your work, and ask why you want to include the material you’ve written. What does it contribute? Does it support your book’s general direction or one of its threads? Would someone who doesn’t know you find the material entertaining?

I recently read a memoir that was presented like an inventory list. This, and limited personal observation from the author made the book a difficult read. Several parts of the book read as if random memories had been recorded on tape and those words were simply transferred from recording onto the book’s pages. The book’s only direction seemed to be linear time, such as who did what and when they did it, with few comments or feelings from the author. One section was simply a roster of who’d lived where, like names poured from a bucket, with no direction or reason.

Make your writing personal. When writing about someone else, share your own experience of that material with your readers, not merely “what happened.”

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Kobo link:


BN (Nook) link:


Amazon (Kindle) link:


Blog:


Facebook:


Memoirs Only link to Half Italian:


Tuesday, August 13, 2013

Quotes for the Week: Attitude

 

 If you have nothing to be grateful for check your pulse.  ~Author Unknown
 
 
 Think big thoughts but relish small pleasures.  ~H. Jackson Brown, Jr., Life's Little Instruction Book


Every thought is a seed.  If you plant crab apples, don't count on harvesting Golden Delicious.  ~Bill Meyer




True contentment depends not upon what we have; a tub was large enough for Diogenes, but a world was too little for Alexander.  ~Charles Caleb Colton


To be wronged is nothing unless you continue to remember it.  ~Confucius




Monday, August 12, 2013

Summer

School starts in a week and it's still summer.  In fact, it's sooo summer that my brains are fried.  I can't think of anything to write about today.  And Saturday night I went with a group of friends to see Shakespeare in the Park at Miller Outdoor Theater.  We chose to see Antony and Cleopatra, which I've never seen before, but who doesn't know about Cleopatra and her famous suicide from the bite of an asp.  A light rain was falling as we settled on the hill behind the theater.  It stopped just as the curtain went up.  When the curtain fell and people headed out, we packed up our chairs and picnic baskets and left, too.  We wondered why the actors did not come out at the end and why, unlike most of Shakespeare's tragedies, Cleopatra and her lover didn't die at the end.  "Oops," as our esteemed governor would say, when I checked the Cliffnotes, I discovered there was no curtain call because the play was not over.  We left at intermission.  All five of us, all of us well educated and familiar with the story.  Too much summer.  Maybe Shakespeare should be watched in cooler weather.
 

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