I’ve always hated having my picture taken. My husband tends to get upset with me over my lack of enthusiasm about being photographed. It’s odd that I’m married to a multi-media professional and not anxious to participate in his zest for capturing the moment. I don’t understand why I should have to be subjected to something that disturbs me so much. When I was young and cute I still vehemently resisted being photographed. Now that I’m older—it’s even worse. I’ve been known to run from a camera. I’ve been known to hide behind whatever shield is at hand upon realizing that someone's about to shoot me. Click Click feels like Bang Bang. Consequently, and to my dear husband’s chagrin, we have way too many shots of me hiding behind newspapers and whatever else might be handy at the time.
You may think that I’m full of self-loathing. I am not. (I won’t go into my theory about just why I’m so damn camera shy, but it has to do with my mother, and I don’t believe this blogspot is the proper place to engage in self-therapy, so I’ll spare you readers by not going there.)
Imagine my resistance to attaching my image to my up-coming book, Boomer Tales, Please Stand By. "Why do I have to?" I asked, sounding like a whining fool. "Who gives a crap what I look like?" I said. I was forced to give in though. Seems people do care, or so I am told.
My daughter snapped this shot of me not long ago. Waiting for her in her car, I opened the door for a little air, leaned back, closed my eyes, and dozed off. I don’t know what possessed her to take my picture upon returning, but I heard the car door open, and then her voice calling, “Cheese.” So, as you can see, I sent her an air kiss.
I don’t hate this picture all that much. It wouldn’t suck if this were the only shot my daughter had to remember me by. At least there’s no newspaper between us.
Methods Employed to Recall Terrific or Not-So-Terrific Story Ideas
Inspiration for stories may hit morning, noon, night or day. What bothers me most is when I don’t jot these lightening bolt ideas down right away, and what could have been stellar subject matter flies right out of my forgetful mind. Drat and double drat! I have a file on my desktop here on my Mac aptly named Titles & Ideas. I keep a notepad and pen on my night stand, just in case I wake up in the middle of the night or early in the morning, in hopes that I will shake off the sleepiness and then hurriedly record my inspiration. But, I don’t usually manage to produce anything understandable coming out of a deep slumber.
When I go back and read the sketchy details saved, I often find myself wondering just why I thought the idea was worthy of being recording in the first place. For instance, I found a note in my purse, a little something that I scrawled on the back of a grocery receipt one day: the title, Zing. Zing? What was I thinking when I took the time to scribble those four letters frantically, and then nothing more? I just couldn’t recall what had inspired me to stop and write that word, so I crumpled the miserable remnant up and tossed it in the trash.
Another dud: Small Minded, an exploration into the lopsided relationship between a wallflower and her married-super-shallow-excessively-demanding-good-looking boss. Huh? Neither the lackluster title, nor the description motivated me to begin typing. Not one little bitty bit, so I hit erase.
And what about this one? Riding Along, the story of a woman compelled to travel from city to city, so she might continually go on “ride alongs” with cops. What? Too farfetched, so I almost hit erase, but paused and thought better of it. Wasn’t Fight Club farfetched? I didn’t erase Riding Along after all. I gave the idea a stay of execution; just in case I felt differently when next I returned.
OH MAN! I HATE POSTING “ABOUT ME”, (no… seriously… I really do.)
I’M AN author, a designer, and a proud mother of five. I have FOUR grandsons, and a baby granddaughter.
INSPIRATION for my fiction comes from many sources: life experiences, (duh!), various individuals (young and old) that I have loved, hated, envied, supported, tolerated, respected, cherished, and observed through the years, as well as the many beautiful places and homes that I’ve visited, and the not-so-beautiful places and homes that I’ve visited, music, the great outdoors and the animal kingdom, to name a few. Growing older may endow a writer with insight, wisdom, and judiciousness, if the writer is willing to listen to the grand lessons and call upon all her strength to push her obstinate ego aside. Ideas come in sparks or bolts, while driving in the car, falling asleep, doing laundry, or staring at the blank computer screen.
I RESIDE in the wine country between Orange County and San Diego with my astonishingly artistic husband, (see blog design to affirm!), and three eternally loyal doggies.
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright act of 1976, no part of the publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the copyrights holder and publisher.