tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-66216398214866225142024-03-05T03:54:22.995-05:00Dianne's Place ( I'll Tell You a Story)Diannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18192773386810766798noreply@blogger.comBlogger53125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6621639821486622514.post-85568891902833963262017-08-24T12:06:00.000-04:002017-08-24T12:06:42.637-04:00Progress on Rosie and a book review.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"> Just wanted to do a quick review here today. If you like a good cozy and are looking for something to read, "Yarned and Dangerous, " by Sadie Hartwell is a good one to check out. It's Book I in her new series. This story is chock full of suspects, but I didn't even come close to who the killer might be. My kind of mystery, for sure. I met Sadie at last year's Crime Bake. She was delightful. She didn't look sinister... Looking forward to Book II.</span><br />
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<span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"> Making progress on "Cruising to a Murder." I should be finished by the end of September, take a month to polish it as much as I can and then...drum roll, please... PITCH IT AT CRIME BAKE!!!! </span><br />
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<span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"> My Horoscope stories are coming along. "The Girl in the White Jeep Wrangler" is complete, as is, "Balance and Symmetry, a Story of the Scales" "Taurus, the Wandering Bull" is almost finished. It's a little longer than the short stories I usually write - probably because I'm not sure where it's going. I only know that someone has to die. It is, after all, a story from MY brain. Ha ha...</span><br />
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<span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"><br /></span>Diannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18192773386810766798noreply@blogger.com33tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6621639821486622514.post-72679657742736035292017-08-11T11:57:00.002-04:002017-08-11T12:25:21.510-04:00No Relation<div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">
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<span style="color: blue; font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;">The only similarity between Rosalie Chandler and Jennifer Hammond is, they were born in the same brain. Where Rosie is a mature, loving </span><span style="color: blue; font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;">nurturer, Jenn is a psychopathic teen - so beautiful on the outside, hiding such an awful truth, inside. Will she get her due? We'll See.</span><br />
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<span style="color: blue; font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;">Jennifer's story will be told in an, as yet, untitled anthology being put together by our very talented and diverse writing group.</span><br />
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<span style="color: blue; font-family: helvetica; font-size: large;">We meet every Friday evening and are working diligently for your reading pleasure. Our stories will make you think, laugh, or dive for your covers. What they won't do, is disappoint.</span><br />
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Diannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18192773386810766798noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6621639821486622514.post-65905963328213456812017-08-03T20:08:00.001-04:002017-08-03T20:28:59.971-04:00My Time Has Come<div class="MsoNormal">
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<span style="color: blue; font-size: large;">In a couple of months I’ll be celebrating my 70<sup>th</sup> birthday and I’ve
decided to do it in a big way. I’ve been working on a novel for a long time
now, and have sat by and watched most of my writing friends become published. While I couldn't be happier for them, I have to question myself as to why I've procrastinated as long as I have with my own work.</span><br />
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<span style="color: blue; font-size: large;">And then I thought…</span><br />
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<span style="color: blue; font-size: large;">If not now, when?</span><br />
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<span style="color: blue; font-size: large;">This next birthday has been haunting me, so I'm just going to go full speed ahead. This will be the year I pull out all the stops and give it all I’ve got. I have a
four-book series in me that is dying to come out and I plan to pitch it at this year's New England Crime Bake in November.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";"><span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"><i>Rosalie Chandler is a woman of a certain age. When she boards
a cruise ship with her husband, Stanley, for their long-awaited cruise to Bermuda, she has no idea how much her life is about to change.<o:p></o:p></i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";"><span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"><i>Feeling a little depressed over her fifty-something birthday,
and, oh-by-the-way, that twenty or so extra pounds that seems to have crept up
on her over the last few years, Rosalie is fairly certain that her life has
begun to wind down. That is, until she meets six women only a few years older
than her own daughters, who welcome her with open arms into their newly formed
clique.<o:p></o:p></i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";"><span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"><i>When the group decides to gather their wits and sets out to
solve the mystery of a missing crew member, they, and Rosalie (dubbed,
"Rosie"), by her new circle of friends, realize that she has a knack
for all things investigative which makes the group look to her not only for
motherly advice, but for clues and insight into the disappearance as well.<o:p></o:p></i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Helvetica Neue";"><span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"><i>Rosie is funny, smart and heartbreakingly fragile
in this story of a woman looking for her place in the world when she doesn't
seem to fit anywhere, anymore.<o:p></o:p></i></span></span></div>
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Diannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18192773386810766798noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6621639821486622514.post-60888307278523781562016-04-09T17:52:00.000-04:002016-04-09T17:52:36.121-04:00A dream come true!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-FIGwqxJLpZR8ETgpumxnzk-sIXnuCyNtn8uGlIQm37cBw_VZ-ScnT5PSfb9KuyFA1g5nrDeSW-yL_EU1pMhkAkjOk52r-Xd-Bcw9whu_TX316_Pn9EcsamLdeiLI8sMqnZ0Re3cTGxSa/s1600/IMG_6597.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-FIGwqxJLpZR8ETgpumxnzk-sIXnuCyNtn8uGlIQm37cBw_VZ-ScnT5PSfb9KuyFA1g5nrDeSW-yL_EU1pMhkAkjOk52r-Xd-Bcw9whu_TX316_Pn9EcsamLdeiLI8sMqnZ0Re3cTGxSa/s400/IMG_6597.jpg" width="300" /></a><span style="color: blue; font-size: large;">Years ago, I heard a song on the radio that made me feel so happy I HAD to find out who the artist was. At first I thought it was Buffy St. Marie, but later learned that it was Melanie. I loved her music so much I set out to learn all I could about her. She put into words everything I believed in, in a way that I never could. I got out my guitar and made it my business to learn every note of every song and sang my heart out - for years.</span><br />
<span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: blue; font-size: large;">Last night, not only did I have a fourth row seat to watch Melanie perform with her son, Beau Jarred, I got to meet her as she signed my CD. I was in awe. At sixty-nine years old, she continues to perform with all her heart. She could have sung off key for all I cared - she was Melanie, and she was only a few feet from me!</span><br />
<span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: blue; font-size: large;">It didn't sound like an audience of baby-boomers, no sir. My petite sister can whistle as loud as any man. Men sporting white pony-tails held up their battery-operated candles for "Candles in the Rain" and we all sang back-up. It was a blast! </span><br />
<span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: blue; font-size: large;">A night to remember.</span>Diannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18192773386810766798noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6621639821486622514.post-1241193250514458012016-04-07T22:54:00.002-04:002016-04-07T22:54:52.223-04:00I'm on a Roll!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAW2gRXimTMSBjPDyf8f5zOgHQjOF3DmhMTV_6mRX9EqkNlB_wJnbNzMjzKD2gIoU_wPQ4XnMaOF_6pEEyL-Bhgq9aRVf0OFTfR7KiLmm3h7j2K6Xjd355GE5e0ZPrdWBc6habHQvoszF5/s1600/IMG_6538.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAW2gRXimTMSBjPDyf8f5zOgHQjOF3DmhMTV_6mRX9EqkNlB_wJnbNzMjzKD2gIoU_wPQ4XnMaOF_6pEEyL-Bhgq9aRVf0OFTfR7KiLmm3h7j2K6Xjd355GE5e0ZPrdWBc6habHQvoszF5/s320/IMG_6538.jpg" width="240" /></a><span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"> Five hundred thirty words yesterday, seven hundred twenty words today, what's happening? Who am I? What have I done to my lazy self? Ha ha… I'm writing up a storm and I'm thrilled. It's true that the more we sit down to write, the more words come to us. Even if they aren't all good words, they're down, they can be changed and fixed. It's a good feeling.</span><br />
<span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"> I tend to work on my stories while I'm walking and I've been walking these days, so, there ya go! Besides, I have to work off this cupcake I ate in North Carolina. Oh. My. God. It was soooo good!</span><br />
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<br />Diannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18192773386810766798noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6621639821486622514.post-52867292169967898502016-03-28T20:48:00.003-04:002016-03-28T20:49:39.741-04:00Writing while I walk!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3Xv8e8GeXHluoXeG1yzE7zuFlKeYh2H3aZ4DjjodlEKWlI4DlESAzgkmQYuaavH7-1EZkaUccGoFDAZgOjKBVzUoFZnVS-y3Lg3rSmQm7YrawnwOtbDJrMbFmGslBSC4AklHZMp_OESXe/s1600/IMG_6518.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3Xv8e8GeXHluoXeG1yzE7zuFlKeYh2H3aZ4DjjodlEKWlI4DlESAzgkmQYuaavH7-1EZkaUccGoFDAZgOjKBVzUoFZnVS-y3Lg3rSmQm7YrawnwOtbDJrMbFmGslBSC4AklHZMp_OESXe/s320/IMG_6518.jpg" width="240" /></a><span style="color: #741b47; font-size: large;"> So, I've been drooling over a 1/2 Marathon medal for a couple of years now, and I've decided that this is the year. Yep. I'm doing it. I've had physical therapy for some six weeks now, and my legs are feeling much younger than they really are. I'm taking it easy - a few miles at a time - and I've registered for a few races to get me motivated. There's an ALS walk in June, a Cancer walk also in June, a Walk for Alzheimer's in September and whatever else comes up in the meantime.</span><br />
<span style="color: #741b47; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #741b47; font-size: large;"> So, while I was on a three mile walk the other day, I was going over a scene in the second book in my series and my protagonist's future came to me - just like that! I wrote the entire thing in my head and couldn't wait to get home and get it in my computer. I'm loving these walks!</span><br />
<span style="color: #741b47; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #741b47; font-size: large;">Walk on!</span>Diannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18192773386810766798noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6621639821486622514.post-76263460601919350592016-03-17T20:53:00.001-04:002016-03-17T20:53:45.193-04:00Getting down to business!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbrR9t87kJRK_VmZOUacHtBjeRXfMUXBPXojYX8Tu36jEpXj7ScKu-k6op9B1IPAgraO1Qthfj8l_SMLD5LJjy93ZJitjNZ0UyLQ65j97f5zjNoeED80fHY-lFGEwzDKCkK4EHCyLn4vft/s1600/writing.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbrR9t87kJRK_VmZOUacHtBjeRXfMUXBPXojYX8Tu36jEpXj7ScKu-k6op9B1IPAgraO1Qthfj8l_SMLD5LJjy93ZJitjNZ0UyLQ65j97f5zjNoeED80fHY-lFGEwzDKCkK4EHCyLn4vft/s320/writing.gif" width="296" /></a><span style="color: #741b47; font-size: large;"> The more I think about Rosie and the girls, the more anxious I am to finish their stories. I've been writing feverishly lately, trying to get it all down. I know in my heart that I'm not the only one who will love them! Who wouldn't love Rosie? She's everyone's mom, everyone's confidante. Kelli is a wise-ass, but she has heart and she'll never let you down. Missy and Emma are just trying to fit in and Sam is the glue. </span><br />
<span style="color: #741b47; font-size: large;"> We all have someone in our lives who fit the descriptions of these characters. The rest of the story is just waiting for me to write it!</span>Diannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18192773386810766798noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6621639821486622514.post-87964641772881026732016-03-02T23:34:00.002-05:002016-03-03T00:20:12.793-05:00Leaving the nest.<div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCXWZZardpBW2dpTGWNXvUmwHASHhIXVo2JROIQbO4v9PyUVOxLsblk8rdG2Y0AoWwG91WJO1xK6taHbdgC9ZldNh9pGQaHba9YH5XL0rsx49zyYNtLtYURrMczlLq68zREqfNh0FZnyJH/s1600/IMG_2841.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCXWZZardpBW2dpTGWNXvUmwHASHhIXVo2JROIQbO4v9PyUVOxLsblk8rdG2Y0AoWwG91WJO1xK6taHbdgC9ZldNh9pGQaHba9YH5XL0rsx49zyYNtLtYURrMczlLq68zREqfNh0FZnyJH/s400/IMG_2841.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
<span style="color: blue; font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="color: #783f04;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #783f04;"> </span> </span><span style="color: blue; font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="color: #660000;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: large;">Today my daughter finally leaves the nest. When the prospect of her accepting a job almost nine hundred miles away presented itself, I wasn't worried - and then, she accepted it. And all of a sudden everything happened so quickly. The house sold in one day and moving day has arrived. If this was 1955, I'd be freaking out, but today, with Facebook, </span><span style="color: blue; font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: large;">FaceTime and a two hour plane ride - I'm good.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: blue;"><span style="color: #660000; font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="color: blue; font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: large;"> It's a great opportunity for Lisa and Scott and they're both so excited about this new chapter in their lives. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: blue; font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: large;"> We moved into that house when Lisa was ten or eleven years old. She's always loved that house, so she and Scott bought it when they got married, but they've also always been drawn to the south, so it seems to be a natural progression for them.</span></div>
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<span style="color: blue; font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: large;"> Of course there'll be a room for ME in their new home, complete with pajamas, make-up and whatever clothes we shop for, for my NC room. Ha ha… I can't wait to take my first trip down! My thoughtful son-in-law gave me a beautiful card with a heartfelt letter - and the means to take those plane rides to visit.</span></div>
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<span style="color: blue; font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: large;"> I'm so proud of them for being so brave and going for their dream. I know they're going to love it!</span></div>
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Diannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18192773386810766798noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6621639821486622514.post-56772151000069619912016-03-02T22:54:00.004-05:002016-03-02T22:54:59.273-05:00Art on the road.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioqbkv26xPq-kfGhSh5EOO5GX_FNCjpr-Pd27ANvLW01siiEGJlqaTwEd_EgrE__5PURrQKfv6llLW8OTyEnyjdeVmzJHlJCVdlCD0rLzSyA6k-gQY6NUS85hjUUSzRi_Pv7vOsuN2I5sh/s1600/IMG_6455.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioqbkv26xPq-kfGhSh5EOO5GX_FNCjpr-Pd27ANvLW01siiEGJlqaTwEd_EgrE__5PURrQKfv6llLW8OTyEnyjdeVmzJHlJCVdlCD0rLzSyA6k-gQY6NUS85hjUUSzRi_Pv7vOsuN2I5sh/s400/IMG_6455.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
<span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"> I babysat Kenny's granddaughter, Anabella. I knew I couldn't miss as long as I brought my art supplies with me and I was right. She went to town with those Sharpies and stamped her heart out, saying, under her breath, "I love Sharpies." It was too funny. What a riot. She used every pen, sharpie and brush; in every color and even mixed some colors. We cut and ruled and glued and had a tea party. A good time was had by all. I only wish I had thought to </span><br />
<span style="color: blue; font-size: large;">take a picture of the tea set. It was </span><br />
<span style="color: blue; font-size: large;">ceramic, but felt like china! Just beautiful. Looking forward to doing that again, soon.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjlr6pOYTWw0e6kT2MumCeY7OuySojd_7SOZY8_aeshXeARoshWfeDBP7phbpKjuJjfQmR45hyphenhyphenPfFF0JauGGRFvU25aTSgRL27Bqswn1HxSvaRhJwRdWkoNbXCF4tRfsk8wNCnbEkkJV22/s1600/IMG_6448.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjlr6pOYTWw0e6kT2MumCeY7OuySojd_7SOZY8_aeshXeARoshWfeDBP7phbpKjuJjfQmR45hyphenhyphenPfFF0JauGGRFvU25aTSgRL27Bqswn1HxSvaRhJwRdWkoNbXCF4tRfsk8wNCnbEkkJV22/s400/IMG_6448.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
Diannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18192773386810766798noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6621639821486622514.post-84112191943859493442016-02-03T20:54:00.000-05:002016-02-03T21:12:18.108-05:00A peek into Rosie's life.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjDCLyqEjSw3gRp8IRxxG-DOjvdDMTTfm4RMMSCyonEebn6cvcmqREanSoxVx1e9-tIuuxS4mxDjEa3Z2VHRoXGHhGIFdaDb0uwuFuRUTV3a9LoIaw88JQh7wS_h-X03NFJU9tuASz762Y/s1600/writing.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjDCLyqEjSw3gRp8IRxxG-DOjvdDMTTfm4RMMSCyonEebn6cvcmqREanSoxVx1e9-tIuuxS4mxDjEa3Z2VHRoXGHhGIFdaDb0uwuFuRUTV3a9LoIaw88JQh7wS_h-X03NFJU9tuASz762Y/s320/writing.gif" width="296" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://dianneherlihysplace.blogspot.com/2012/02/meet-rosalie.html" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="color: #783f04;">Meet Rosalie!</span></a></h3>
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<div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-7316778367203839221" itemprop="description articleBody" style="color: #662244; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.5; position: relative; width: 808px;">
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<span style="color: blue; font-size: medium;">Rosalie Chandler is a woman of a certain age. When she boards a cruise ship with her husband, Stanley, for their long-awaited cruise through the Eastern Caribbean, she has no idea how much her life is about to change.</span><br />
<span style="color: blue; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="color: blue; font-size: medium;">Feeling a little depressed over her fifty-something birthday, and, oh-by-the-way, that twenty or so extra pounds that seems to have crept up on her over the last few years, Rosalie is fairly certain that her life has begun to wind down. That is, until she meets six women only a few years older than her own daughters, who welcome her with open arms into their newly formed clique.</span><br />
<span style="color: blue; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="color: blue; font-size: medium;">When the group decides to gather their wits and set out to solve the mystery of a missing crew member, they, and Rosalie (dubbed, "Rosie"), by her new circle of friends, realize that she has a knack for all things investigative which makes the group look to her not only for motherly advice, but for clues and insight into the disappearance as well.</span><br />
<span style="color: blue; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="color: blue; font-size: medium;">Rosalie Chandler is funny, smart and heartbreakingly fragile in this story of a woman looking for her place in the world when she doesn't seem to fit anywhere, anymore.</span><br />
<span style="color: blue; font-size: medium;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: blue; font-size: medium;">So, I re-posted this from Feb., 2012 (Has it really been that long?", as a little background for the scene you're about to read.</span><br />
<span style="color: blue; font-size: medium;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: blue; font-size: medium;">After a few drinks, Rosie bares all to Kelli; and because Kelli has had a few drinks, she gives Rosie some advice on how to confront her husband.</span><br />
<span style="color: blue; font-size: medium;"><br /></span>
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<span style="color: blue; font-size: medium;"> </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; line-height: 200%; text-align: center; text-indent: 0.5in;">Rosie</span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Walking
through the Casino is an assault on the senses, for sure. The cigarette smoke
is suffocating. <i>How do they do it</i>? I
wonder. I stand off to the side, by the huge window seat and look around. The
place is jam-packed with people. <i>Where do
I begin?</i> There’s even an ATM over in the far corner. Hmm…you can’t get on
the internet, but you can get to your bank. Then I spot him. He’s at a slot
machine instead of the blackjack table and lo and behold, there’s even an empty
seat beside him. It’s hard to breathe but I take a deep breath and march over
there to confront him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Sliding
onto the seat next to him, I clear my throat to get his attention and he
doesn’t even turn my way. I insert my key card into the slot and the machine
comes to life. Finally, he turns toward me and does a double take. His face
blanches. “Hon! Are you okay? What are you doing here?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Stanley,
we have to talk.” I say. I pull the lever and get fifteen free games. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“What?
Is everything okay?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“No,
Stanley. Everything is not okay.” The next pull gets me ten more free games and
I’m up sixty-seven dollars. I see his eyes going from mine to my machine and
back. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Okay,
so stop. Tell me what’s going on, for crying-out-loud.” He crinkles up his eyes
then. “Rosie, are you drunk?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I
turned to him and say, “Stanley, if you don’t start paying some attention to me
I’m going to divorce you.” There. I’ve said it. “Your move.” I say, and give
the lever another pull. I love these one-armed bandits. Then the lights begin
to pulse and the alarms go off and all of a sudden we’re the main attraction as
bells on my machine keep dinging and the “Total Amount Won” keeps going higher
and higher. “Oh, my God!” I can’t believe my eyes. It’s actually a little scary
the way people begin to gather around us to see how much I’ve won. For once, I’m
speechless.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Holy
cow, Rosie. You’ve been here for five minutes and you manage to break the
bank.” Stanley’s laughing and so, am I and for a minute, I’ve forgotten my
purpose for being here. I turn to him, my laughter subsiding, my surprise and
excitement replaced with the knowledge that my husband does not take me
seriously. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I
swallow the lump in my throat and for once, do not give in to the tears that
threatened to diminish the importance of why I’m here. Stanley does not value
me. I can see that now. All of a sudden, I see with such clarity, the
insignificance of my existence. I get up from my seat and tell the crew-member
to give the credit-slip to my husband and I walk away.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Hon,
wait. Where are you going?” My husband looks confused. I’m sure he doesn’t even
remember the word “divorce” has passed my lips, because, as usual, he probably
wasn’t listening. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I
just keep walking.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Back
in our stateroom I finally let go of years of pent-up frustration and anger. I
cry and cry. I cry for every little thing that has ever gone wrong in my life.
I cry for the baby I’d lost six months into our marriage, I cry for the time I
couldn’t fit into my new jeans and I even cry for the time my Lana didn’t win
the Little Miss Minnow Contest. I cry into the bed pillows until there are no
tears left. The one thing I do not cry for is the fact that my marriage, as
I’ve known it, is over – I’m crying for the fact that my life has meant
nothing. Absolutely nothing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Now
I’m all stuffed up and can’t breathe, so I get up to splash my face with cold
water and see myself in the mirror. Eyes swollen, blotchy skin, mascara smeared
all over my face. <i>Who cares?</i> I think,
and my pathetic looking face makes me start crying all over again. Now I’m just
feeling sorry for myself, but I don’t care. It feels good to cry. I’m so tired
of being strong. I’m tired of swallowing my feelings, my opinions that have
never seemed to matter, but most of all, the very essence of myself. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">And
all of a sudden I feel an instant calm. And I know that things are about to
change – I’m about to change. At fifty-three years old I still feel like
twenty-five and my instinct to survive kicks in. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I
know it will be a while before Stanley will be able to get down here, what with
the paperwork and all, so I take a quick shower and go out to sit on our
balcony. I lean my head back against the chaise and look up at the night sky.
Our stateroom is situated away from most of the lights on the ship and the
stars are so brilliant it takes my breath away. I see the little dipper for the
first time since I was ten years old and other constellations I can’t name, but
recognize the shapes of. <i>No, my life
isn’t over</i>, I think. <i>It’s just
beginning.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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</div>
Diannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18192773386810766798noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6621639821486622514.post-26312256172697636512016-01-22T11:37:00.004-05:002016-01-22T11:37:43.795-05:00Defunkifying the guest room!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdKPePvQO18i_42BoHYeYv40UXl9U3cF0SQGc5JPLTp18Y_o5UI8uLaUz0sKVrRfdKMW7GE4uLqhnOKdyJ7zAI9gx7GqbguFy8nNfqkngHkcgJgfaKZv9DOVZhQUeW24Om0FpcFMiLYbfs/s1600/IMG_6320.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdKPePvQO18i_42BoHYeYv40UXl9U3cF0SQGc5JPLTp18Y_o5UI8uLaUz0sKVrRfdKMW7GE4uLqhnOKdyJ7zAI9gx7GqbguFy8nNfqkngHkcgJgfaKZv9DOVZhQUeW24Om0FpcFMiLYbfs/s320/IMG_6320.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"> So, the guest room has been cleared of anything that doesn't obviously belong there, which is usually my folded laundry and I just figured out why. Part of the defunkifying process is figuring out why this happens in the first place.</span><br />
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<span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"> I do laundry in the evening, while we're watching TV, so I fold it during that time also. Well, I run mine into the guest room and drop it on the bed because I don't want to miss whatever it is we're watching by taking the time to put it away. So, there ya go. But THAT'S why we have a DVR!!!</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje6NXOGdVK7jHBR7GxOKLrrZZl__L9JUyCJWS9oaQtsbqq87hCuHML_8S-Whz7e71l2rDw6guP19DHSA3xp01jg7uvumrdfMSflnF4gPUw-lMsLsGqxejrGB4z-Vstr1Y2JHzJPRDMHVEz/s1600/IMG_6321.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje6NXOGdVK7jHBR7GxOKLrrZZl__L9JUyCJWS9oaQtsbqq87hCuHML_8S-Whz7e71l2rDw6guP19DHSA3xp01jg7uvumrdfMSflnF4gPUw-lMsLsGqxejrGB4z-Vstr1Y2JHzJPRDMHVEz/s320/IMG_6321.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"> This looks so much better. So, what have I learned? Use the DVR!!</span><br />
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<span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"> Now, for the rest of the story…</span><br />
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<span style="color: blue; font-size: x-large;">UNDER THE BED!!!!</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX8Z8DbM1EzHcQgulq428f5qUmHmY8kycsbRB400eVL_Dn5arGRksc8f9N1QajVy1GFp26UDe070LCEuaWPDTNmpedimLX4v_tDVTqalCezxNJ2Ex0TyzwwzyD0OMR97MfFA1jdVk7DAoY/s1600/IMG_6322.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX8Z8DbM1EzHcQgulq428f5qUmHmY8kycsbRB400eVL_Dn5arGRksc8f9N1QajVy1GFp26UDe070LCEuaWPDTNmpedimLX4v_tDVTqalCezxNJ2Ex0TyzwwzyD0OMR97MfFA1jdVk7DAoY/s320/IMG_6322.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<span style="color: blue; font-size: large;">Sandals and sneakers!</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRBDgOhtNRQgOEdVy1VAIA2XBThiGCVWUri1VBbF6HMFkwOLF8LuzYzjpJ7JwGjjSRy453YNQYR_RzxuorXYMDH0Egfk7_3pT9EHW-4Uj3v47WiTlMEyP1N-kWA1p0Guk5kabxAK-VTbVY/s1600/IMG_6323.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRBDgOhtNRQgOEdVy1VAIA2XBThiGCVWUri1VBbF6HMFkwOLF8LuzYzjpJ7JwGjjSRy453YNQYR_RzxuorXYMDH0Egfk7_3pT9EHW-4Uj3v47WiTlMEyP1N-kWA1p0Guk5kabxAK-VTbVY/s320/IMG_6323.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1ylU27h9HHDqN_Vx6jj6PvMYcVUYnik3r_mnHgjDAPU-yDvBvx8YyMioc7rYyfl4jbLGHDwbVrK8DTn5DCxMmhJA08nmw7a9LMo3bSg4B8yO2Wkc72sFnz1BhrVONevUbEO7j80jRNWxi/s1600/IMG_6324.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1ylU27h9HHDqN_Vx6jj6PvMYcVUYnik3r_mnHgjDAPU-yDvBvx8YyMioc7rYyfl4jbLGHDwbVrK8DTn5DCxMmhJA08nmw7a9LMo3bSg4B8yO2Wkc72sFnz1BhrVONevUbEO7j80jRNWxi/s320/IMG_6324.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<span style="color: blue; font-size: large;">Boxes of leftover cosmetics, a Yankee Candle and an oven tray!</span><br />
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<span style="color: blue; font-size: large;">An oven tray??????</span><br />
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<span style="color: blue; font-size: large;">Lisa, help!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!</span><br />
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Diannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18192773386810766798noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6621639821486622514.post-64038140974236541642016-01-17T20:44:00.002-05:002016-01-17T20:56:18.953-05:00Defunkifying my home!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk7F_sOKwO1PJ_Abf-GX73NXGy5l4jQ_IcttKIKURX3CcPPqYdu49_Yy_u-Kg-hoZ6I3CzHbfd8rKBiF4KcFkgbpmlrgzQXptcbuCy0enJZNqHWAZmCCopT7aLfSHZvzhwaBh2wBEn6WRe/s1600/IMG_6299.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk7F_sOKwO1PJ_Abf-GX73NXGy5l4jQ_IcttKIKURX3CcPPqYdu49_Yy_u-Kg-hoZ6I3CzHbfd8rKBiF4KcFkgbpmlrgzQXptcbuCy0enJZNqHWAZmCCopT7aLfSHZvzhwaBh2wBEn6WRe/s320/IMG_6299.jpg" width="240" /></a><span style="color: #4c1130; font-size: large;"> Defunkifying my home is ALWAYS in the back of my mind - ALWAYS! So, I'm following Tracy's lead, of (Tracystreasures), and I'm going to commit to it - pictures and all - the good, the bad and the ugly! Judgers are going to judge and haters are going to hate, but I only have two people who look at my blog; Lisa (my daughter), and Tracy - sometimes - and they aren't judgers OR haters. Time to go take some pictures!</span><br />
<span style="color: #4c1130; font-size: large;">So as not to put Tracy into shock, I decided to begin with my most perfect room - the second floor bathroom - MY bathroom. (It's in the room next to my studio). I love this room almost as much as I love my studio. So, nothing do be done here. NEXT!!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">The Guest Room</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3U9D8p487NdMIdJYHhM4JDvexBaESQJUh4Z8r-PEmMQdRDufDp2320eo8HUfJOHQ9nz3PVLx_EI6XJIHSIBM5yKNSBTYN01PazCvZZqfQRt3AF1oTA0Ap0d79mT0t72e0kpX07loUnaGC/s1600/IMG_6296.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3U9D8p487NdMIdJYHhM4JDvexBaESQJUh4Z8r-PEmMQdRDufDp2320eo8HUfJOHQ9nz3PVLx_EI6XJIHSIBM5yKNSBTYN01PazCvZZqfQRt3AF1oTA0Ap0d79mT0t72e0kpX07loUnaGC/s320/IMG_6296.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLcKw-4Vf1hEqzafh4f3HV2jylI8wqmRn5Qz9FbrOKvD7K6gs4iIQlDH_AsmAzRfClxyeavnCk2zTtREG6ARHLzdybOSsCPEMVJqJRST5cLum3pAgzdYGXfEsQKaw8l0SZ9I9FOt9Yvud1/s1600/IMG_6297.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLcKw-4Vf1hEqzafh4f3HV2jylI8wqmRn5Qz9FbrOKvD7K6gs4iIQlDH_AsmAzRfClxyeavnCk2zTtREG6ARHLzdybOSsCPEMVJqJRST5cLum3pAgzdYGXfEsQKaw8l0SZ9I9FOt9Yvud1/s320/IMG_6297.jpg" width="240" /></a><br />
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<span style="color: #4c1130; font-size: large;">So, this room seems to be a catch-all for my folded laundry and odds and ends that do not yet have a home. This has to stop, because I end up closing the door and I like ALL the doors open!</span><br />
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<span style="color: #4c1130; font-size: large;">Not only that - under the bed is Chock. Full. Of. Stuff! Mostly shoes I don't wear or muffin tins that I seldom use or boxes of left-over, but not empty, cosmetics. Oh, so much!</span><br />
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<span style="color: #4c1130; font-size: large;">This room I'll tackle tomorrow (we're getting snow), and I'll post pictures tomorrow evening.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #4c1130; font-size: large;">Here I go!</span><br />
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<span style="color: #4c1130; font-size: large;">I HAVE NOTHING TO LOSE AND EVERYTHING TO GAIN!</span><br />
<span style="color: #4c1130; font-size: large;"><br /></span>Diannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18192773386810766798noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6621639821486622514.post-5295705464163963682015-12-22T18:39:00.000-05:002016-01-18T11:16:39.879-05:00Boston with Margo<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjERyQgxF-pXDvEGeR7GeBbdrvPv4uDpTtXdnu85rUcfmp-NJcaFUfHZJTg4fyhztaMXkQGjnRWZibW3T-6GgJRoS6bDiQdDWrA1P4rybUFTfpHAcaL7G2MGBWZ_jqtRjOGJvBcjUoz1ZMq/s1600/Image+4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjERyQgxF-pXDvEGeR7GeBbdrvPv4uDpTtXdnu85rUcfmp-NJcaFUfHZJTg4fyhztaMXkQGjnRWZibW3T-6GgJRoS6bDiQdDWrA1P4rybUFTfpHAcaL7G2MGBWZ_jqtRjOGJvBcjUoz1ZMq/s320/Image+4.jpg" width="240" /></a><span style="color: #38761d; font-size: large;"> Margo and I took the train into Boston yesterday and had such a great time. The ride was too short though. Next time, we'll continue on to NYC! Ha ha… </span><br />
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<span style="color: #38761d; font-size: large;">While walking through Government Center we hit a wind tunnel that I thought was going to knock us down. Wow! We made it to our destination and had some lunch and a good old fashioned talk. It was the best. There's pretty much nothing I can't tell Margo.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #38761d; font-size: large;"> Later, we found just the gifts we'd been looking for (my granddaughters are going to be very happy) and we made it back to the train just before dark. Ahh… A most perfect day!</span>Diannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18192773386810766798noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6621639821486622514.post-39895294693625097392015-12-16T21:26:00.003-05:002015-12-16T21:26:37.805-05:00One week 'till Christmas!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoPoeMlZhUPBg79IYNGKlg8Bi_ilhUEfilWJJDJF-44swTaADuxhijDOp25O4wCsA5nZr4phFjezGtyXtxWp6RuZJNuUUNg3rjB-KLUU5ZCEiGl6rbH2qY6YYfje6iygcySGXfRpI-vdUJ/s1600/IMG_6148.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoPoeMlZhUPBg79IYNGKlg8Bi_ilhUEfilWJJDJF-44swTaADuxhijDOp25O4wCsA5nZr4phFjezGtyXtxWp6RuZJNuUUNg3rjB-KLUU5ZCEiGl6rbH2qY6YYfje6iygcySGXfRpI-vdUJ/s320/IMG_6148.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<span style="color: #38761d; font-size: large;">Christmas shopping is done, food is planned and the family is set to visit. My oldest son, Tim, lives in Maine with his wife and six daughters, so we won't be seeing them, that will happen in January when I take the drive up. I always look forward to that as I love road trips!</span><br />
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<span style="color: #38761d; font-size: large;">This is the Christmas Tree I made for my daughter, Lisa last year. It was such a pleasure to make. I liked it so much I've started to make one for myself. It's mounted on a 21/2 x 31/2 inch piece of wood that I usually use to make ATCs to trade with my mosaic friends.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #38761d; font-size: large;">Next week I'll be jumping on the train to go into Boston to do a little shopping. Even if I don't buy anything, I LOVE taking the train in. I'll be sure and take pictures. It would be awesome to have a little snowfall that day!</span><br />
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<span style="color: #38761d; font-size: large;">'Till next time...</span><br />
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<span style="color: #38761d; font-size: large;"><br /></span>Diannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18192773386810766798noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6621639821486622514.post-87043004650177873802015-12-05T13:44:00.005-05:002015-12-05T23:12:32.806-05:00My studio is a mess!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizHkw2x04CP4MqepVQC3Oh-ECrvoJx2RRkr-QtJm2Ckbs4KPpYPoRH6epmhu1WZiP_9LEoMNakUz24KyKyzddi7yQA-4kuXRVYAVi9NN01kNMpJxrIYkGYmm3casr7Qkesb-Gth3uKu80v/s1600/IMG_6096.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizHkw2x04CP4MqepVQC3Oh-ECrvoJx2RRkr-QtJm2Ckbs4KPpYPoRH6epmhu1WZiP_9LEoMNakUz24KyKyzddi7yQA-4kuXRVYAVi9NN01kNMpJxrIYkGYmm3casr7Qkesb-Gth3uKu80v/s320/IMG_6096.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7PfAjYX9dOXdGdIJyXukmZy8ahOWvhi4_x8_Hx6jIyWdC45yr7fqrbNC6SV3sDMvuj5mxxvFUiVdC5Jsj4b3PsCoZaOEj1zzLwCrpcoThtwd4q4lQestRnWyXpN3NoDaEriFJjRwF31K2/s1600/IMG_6100.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7PfAjYX9dOXdGdIJyXukmZy8ahOWvhi4_x8_Hx6jIyWdC45yr7fqrbNC6SV3sDMvuj5mxxvFUiVdC5Jsj4b3PsCoZaOEj1zzLwCrpcoThtwd4q4lQestRnWyXpN3NoDaEriFJjRwF31K2/s320/IMG_6100.jpg" width="240" /></a> <span style="color: #38761d; font-size: large;">How can I get anything done in a mess like this? Arghh… I've tried to set aside fifteen minutes at a time to go up and take care of one little spot, but I never know where to start! All I end up doing is cleaning off the table to start a new project. Wahh… My daughter could organize it for me, but she'd end up throwing things away. She's a minimalist, so, messy spaces like this would totally give her anxiety! Lol </span><br />
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<span style="color: #38761d; font-size: large;">I have so many unfinished projects that it's embarrassing. I should just make a list of projects to complete, one-by-one, before I start even one more thing. That could be my big project for 2016!!</span><br />
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Diannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18192773386810766798noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6621639821486622514.post-18203182257429015302015-12-01T14:53:00.001-05:002015-12-02T20:31:33.753-05:00Happy Thanksgiving!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="color: #274e13;"><span style="color: white; font-size: large;">T</span><span style="color: #38761d; font-size: large;">hanksgiving was a whirlwind of family and good friends. Michael and Diane, Paul and Margo and Kenny and I enjoyed our dinner here, while Julie, Shane, Sara and Shawn ate at "The Common Man," in NH, but we all had dessert together. We had such a nice day. We even watched videos of the kids' vacation (swimming with sting rays). I'll stay on the boat, thank you very much. LOL!</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: white; font-size: large;">I don't see my children on Thanksgiving, but they come for Christmas.</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: white; font-size: large;">So, I was very organized and wasn't the least bit stressed, as I have been in previous years. I'd done quite a bit of prep the day before and set the table before I went to bed, so all I really had to do was make my bread. I LOVE to bake bread. There's something so therapeutic about kneading the dough! I made lovely knots out of the dough and brushed them with an egg wash. I really do have to remember to take more pictures of things like that.</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: white; font-size: large;">By five-thirty my feet were up and I was lost in my Fauxbonichi!</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: white; font-size: large;">Lata'</span></span>Diannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18192773386810766798noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6621639821486622514.post-28684791953803407802015-11-14T22:16:00.000-05:002015-12-02T19:50:51.357-05:00Another Crime Bake Under My Belt<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="color: white; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Well, another Crime Bake has come and gone and once again, a good time was had by all. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">It began on Friday, November sixth. My first Master class was on Revision, with Barbara Ross as the speaker and I doubt if anyone could have done it better. She's one smart and lovely person. I got so much from her class and I glad I chose it.</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #38761d; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">The fabulous Elizabeth George was our speaker and she was just wonderful. She's quite shy, but she really put herself out there and announced that we could approach her with our questions any time at all. I thought that was so generous of her. Actually, all the panelists were approachable in that way.</span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuQnDwWOMNzJPQipWlolejUlds1dNucHhbxx-Me3K727m9jiiYCzus8RxiFH5RiJuIafkCxAXD9mv2kV5fyCG65JAC-r9S0mD1CecuODd6Wvjzxe9SAPyAOk8yezmitVmzdaqrv1AjGGlc/s1600/IMG_4146.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="color: #38761d;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuQnDwWOMNzJPQipWlolejUlds1dNucHhbxx-Me3K727m9jiiYCzus8RxiFH5RiJuIafkCxAXD9mv2kV5fyCG65JAC-r9S0mD1CecuODd6Wvjzxe9SAPyAOk8yezmitVmzdaqrv1AjGGlc/s320/IMG_4146.jpg" width="240" /></span></a><span style="color: #38761d;"><span style="color: white; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="color: white; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #38761d; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"> I got to meet old friends and new ones, got to chat with my favorite death investigator, Michelle Clarke, the cute little blonde on the right. Yup, whenever there's a crime in the state of Connecticut, Michelle is on it!</span><br />
<span style="color: #38761d;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I didn't win Flashwords, but my girlfriend, Margo (at right in the cowboy hat), did!! Her story, "Sweet Thing" was a hit. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #38761d;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">And last, but not least, the wonderfully funny, sassy, amazing Arlene Kay critiqued the first fifteen pages of my WIP, "Cruising to a Murder." She liked my protagonist and the premise. She said the dialogue was good and she said she really sees my being able to sell this. EEEEEEEk!!!! She spent a whole hour with me - so happy I was her last one.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">I could go on about the music and dancing and shenanigans, but there's not enough room <i>or</i> time.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">So, I had a blast and can't wait to go back next year.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">~ Write on</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"></span>Diannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18192773386810766798noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6621639821486622514.post-31751346939207064772015-11-02T17:10:00.000-05:002015-12-02T19:51:10.586-05:00It's NaNo time!!!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFkxNlAAKWQZT5r7_IrSE9vaeq5RZUHA0UJeiIIaI4cQA4Krdc1rUIYLQV2aXLniI9qH_33TxA34z7Akr3v172UG_PxxHnx1eP1Zbje0LViD6SIAMEmdxuyjF9113kpqlzRqTn9wFI_2Fp/s1600/NaNo-2015-Participant-Badge-Facebook-Profile.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFkxNlAAKWQZT5r7_IrSE9vaeq5RZUHA0UJeiIIaI4cQA4Krdc1rUIYLQV2aXLniI9qH_33TxA34z7Akr3v172UG_PxxHnx1eP1Zbje0LViD6SIAMEmdxuyjF9113kpqlzRqTn9wFI_2Fp/s1600/NaNo-2015-Participant-Badge-Facebook-Profile.jpg" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"> <span style="color: #38761d;"> Woo hoo!!! It's NaNo time!! So far, I'm 3500 words in and happy-as-a-clam! I'm getting it down for "A Murder in the Neighborhood." That way book two will be ready when "Cruising to a Murder" goes to print. Ha ha ha ha ha… The laughing is a joke. I do expect to sell it in the next year, so I have to be ready when I do. I've had "Rosie" in my back pocket for a while now and she's dying to make her public debut.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"> So, NaNoWriMo is all about writing your novel in thirty days, or, at least 50,000 words. Now that I'm retired I have no excuse. My mornings belong to me, as Kenny goes for coffee every day until eleven o'clock. When he gets home we go out for lunch, maybe a bike ride or we walk the mall. I could write again after dinner, but I usually make some art, watch television, or aggravate Kenny. Ha ha… Anyway, those three to four hours I have in the mornings are more than enough. Next Monday night I'll be meeting other writers at Panera Bread in Vinnin Square and we'll all write together. So much fun! I even made a calendar for myself, which I'll post a picture of the next time I write a blog post. Hopefully, it won't be next year!</span></span>Diannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18192773386810766798noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6621639821486622514.post-83673161367149507552015-10-24T15:34:00.000-04:002015-10-24T15:34:56.691-04:00It's Flashwords Time!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: large;"> Has it really been a year since I last wrote about my favorite contest ever? Yes, Flashwords is my favorite, not because I won it one year (heh heh), but because it's such a challenge. We have to write a compelling story of one hundred and fifty words using ten of twenty words taken from the titles of our guest speaker's novels - no easy task. My friend, Margo Carey, is a three-time winner! LOVE her flash fiction. Anyway, I waited until the last minute this year. I was hung up on writing a story to match a title I had come up with, but couldn't do it, so at the urging of my sister, I put my butt in the chair, put the title out of my mind and just wrote the story. Whew! </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> Naturally, I didn't like it when I read it the next day, but after reading it to my writer's group, I felt much much better about it, as they liked it very much, and I trust them.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> It's amazing how much work goes into putting a few choice words together in a way that gets you more bang-for-your-buck. For instance, "<i>The young woman put down her book and yelled at him for being so rude." </i>gives you so much less than, "<i>The young woman slammed her book down on the table and yelled at him for being so rude." </i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i> </i>I have also submitted the first fifteen pages of Book I in the Rosalie Chandler mystery series, for critique by a published author. I've heard from my author and we'll be meeting for fifteen minutes or so. Looking forward to that! </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"> Till then ~</span>Diannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18192773386810766798noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6621639821486622514.post-3499187401161528752014-11-22T18:15:00.000-05:002014-12-10T12:21:20.901-05:00Rosie's baaack...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: large;">Rosie went on vacation for a while as her story evolved. A woman like you, like me and millions of women all over the world, Rosie is a real, flawed human woman trying to get through life with as little pain as possible. But, in order to grow and become the people we are meant to be, we must take risks and the end result may involve a little pain. Well, Rosie does end up having pain - lots of it - but it's what she does with it that makes her special. So, she gives Marcie, her young neighbor, a little advice on how to save her marriage in this second book in the Rosie Chandler mystery series, "A Murder in the Neighborhood." Here's an excerpt:</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span>I answer the phone and it's Marcie. This can't be good. I expect to hear crying on the other end of the line. At least that's how it's been for the last two weeks, but I'm pleasantly surprised.<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span>"Rosie, wait 'till I tell you," She says. "You will just die."<br />
"Oh, oh. Marcie, what have you done?"<br />
"I've saved my marriage, that's what."<br />
"Oh, do tell." What else could I say? I'm not really comfortable getting the inside scoop like this - especially when it comes to a person's love life.<br />
"I've signed up for belly dance classes!"<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">So, yes, Rosie is back and I couldn't be happier.</span>Diannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18192773386810766798noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6621639821486622514.post-72226786217626003702014-11-22T13:54:00.000-05:002014-11-22T13:54:26.461-05:00Crimebake, 2014<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI6d9rgLcDtKooE3WLeXK0Jt1PprmpprnIbFo5rAIPbzW-mBwATq2fE5HSLXlrCtaGOHANX1VwwEGdHMAWmXnEVlTDtEzqIlpA6LMLEzK9rXZaNJ4hAwmBMcbAD8rILRIwgt7H1e0w3Lds/s1600/IMG_4151.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI6d9rgLcDtKooE3WLeXK0Jt1PprmpprnIbFo5rAIPbzW-mBwATq2fE5HSLXlrCtaGOHANX1VwwEGdHMAWmXnEVlTDtEzqIlpA6LMLEzK9rXZaNJ4hAwmBMcbAD8rILRIwgt7H1e0w3Lds/s1600/IMG_4151.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIBSwHJShsKVxrU8GaZxsaap6dJ4t94C5SRfC0-kAthbR4iKbgCJom78Rvw8aryULjzkbadeuWzW4uwSeHPRbNAzt6QcRCuzsZmb_GpNkfFCLXpVuvJhcJd-X3TUooBQmyDW2hup21Nj6l/s1600/IMG_4132.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIBSwHJShsKVxrU8GaZxsaap6dJ4t94C5SRfC0-kAthbR4iKbgCJom78Rvw8aryULjzkbadeuWzW4uwSeHPRbNAzt6QcRCuzsZmb_GpNkfFCLXpVuvJhcJd-X3TUooBQmyDW2hup21Nj6l/s1600/IMG_4132.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"> On the last day of this, my sixth Crime Bake, I can't help but think about my first. It was in 2009 and I didn't know a soul. I felt shy and intimidated by the throngs of people who had come to learn more about the craft of writing, and to pitch their novels to agents and editors, hoping to land that coveted contract with a big-time, NYC publisher.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;"> I sat at a small table table practicing my fifty-word pitch when a woman came over and asked me if that was, in fact, what I was doing. I told her it was and she said, "Okay, pitch to me." I practiced with her for a while, she wished me luck and went on her way. My shyness kicked in and I retired to my room, ordered room service and went through my swag bag. I did mingle a little more over the next two days, met a few people and came away a little smarter.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;"> Now, as I look around the table, it is filled with the wonderful people I've met over the years; some from past Crime Bakes, others from past Seascape writing retreats. All generous, helpful people with a common goal - to write and be read. Life if good.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>Diannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18192773386810766798noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6621639821486622514.post-48920622139404782772014-04-30T22:06:00.002-04:002014-04-30T22:18:59.921-04:00Here we go again!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">A few hours from now, Margo and I will be on our way to the NECRWA conference in Burlington, MA, always such a fun time. The attendees are so friendly and the authors, so generous with their tips and their books. Yes, books! Every time you turn around someone is putting a free book in your hands. When you walk into a conference room for a workshop, there are more books; on your chairs and on the tables. The raffles are fantastic <i>and </i>numerous, and the food is great! </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Two years ago, Margo went by herself. She loved it so much I decided to go with her last year. We loved it so much the two other women in our writing group decided to go with us. Yay! We're taking up half a table! </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Margo and I are going a day early to get some serious writing done, and Lisa and Rachel will join us on Friday. We've all submitted five pages of our manuscripts to be critiqued by agents and editors. I'm hoping I get some constructive feedback.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Regarding CrimeBake, I waited until the last minute to submit to the Al Blanchard contest and to Level Best Books. I sent "Listen, and You Shall Hear" to the contest, but I was too late for the anthology. They only accept hard copy and it had to be postmarked by today. Oh, well. Live and learn.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I'll post this week-end from the conference - with pictures!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">~ Later</span>Diannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18192773386810766798noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6621639821486622514.post-19281529003451983842014-04-19T21:06:00.001-04:002014-04-19T21:06:15.022-04:00Writing tight.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijg_zCYTm1cV3xKRu1A2HYj3QHPWTbMT65sx_rgxOwBitzINQUn-9kNd5YD4U7wUxf9Wguoo_pz3lZCCsWr6394hl-iS2_GeIQ6DXs0c2Nnle_iBS7v6e33uECD9-Q6wUcd2H43hDBvwCt/s1600/IMG_2867.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijg_zCYTm1cV3xKRu1A2HYj3QHPWTbMT65sx_rgxOwBitzINQUn-9kNd5YD4U7wUxf9Wguoo_pz3lZCCsWr6394hl-iS2_GeIQ6DXs0c2Nnle_iBS7v6e33uECD9-Q6wUcd2H43hDBvwCt/s1600/IMG_2867.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
<span style="color: blue; font-size: large;">With only a couple of weeks remaining until the <i>Let Your Imagination Take Flight </i>RWA conference, I was rushing to submit the first five pages of my my short story, <i>A Necessary Romance, </i>before the deadline. In my haste, I deleted the entire story! All I had was a hard copy, so I had to type it in all over again. When I got to the end of the fifth page I realized that it was in the middle of a sentence. I couldn't really stop there, so I had to start cutting. But, cut what? What words could I possibly throw away? I"d sweated over every one of them! Alas, one-by-one, I killed my darlings. Killed them until I had five pages that would leave you wanting more, but not leave you frustrated.</span><br />
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<span style="color: blue; font-size: large;">I didn't think it was possible; the story is so short, but it was. I know about writing tight, and I thought that's what I'd done, but when I was able to cut so many words and make my story more meaningful at the same time, it was a revelation. You KNOW I'm now going to have to go through all my short stories and start cutting!</span><br />
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<span style="color: blue; font-size: large;">Latah' </span>Diannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18192773386810766798noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6621639821486622514.post-78092321122204493302014-01-15T19:01:00.000-05:002014-01-15T19:01:01.737-05:00I am a writer!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvAQxFIag40D-JmKpn5KiyGORa62i2SSmtS_6z_Tjlw_t8gvohcoo0psPVPJrkXJ9v2Xrkk4VK3Vgt4sLFyT4b4q_Umidc__0LT66KzTo4IgtrJTypVpx1UdOvnwn1CNUNUXbBfB4duGrq/s1600/IMG_2870.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvAQxFIag40D-JmKpn5KiyGORa62i2SSmtS_6z_Tjlw_t8gvohcoo0psPVPJrkXJ9v2Xrkk4VK3Vgt4sLFyT4b4q_Umidc__0LT66KzTo4IgtrJTypVpx1UdOvnwn1CNUNUXbBfB4duGrq/s1600/IMG_2870.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a><span style="color: blue; font-size: large;">A sweet daydream I've had throughout my adult life has been to step off a plane in Hawaii and have a lei placed around my neck. I've seen that in movies and have always thought it magical, so as I walked into the banquet hall at Crimebake this year, and a pink lei was placed around my neck, it <i>did </i>feel magical. Some people can't sit down to write without their coffee, a special hat or even a stuffed animal sitting atop the computer. Well, I have a pink lei! I wear it when I write and since November have felt lost without it, so thank you, to the Crimebake committee for choosing a tropical theme for our banquet this year.</span><br />
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<span style="color: blue; font-size: large;">A few days ago, I looked at some of my short stories and a few chapters of a novel I'm writing. Maybe it was my frame of mind, maybe my stories <i>aren't </i>half bad, but I've decided to give it the old college try - again. I made a list of the steps I need to take in order to get published and began taking those steps, because as the saying goes, if not now, when?</span><br />
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<span style="color: blue; font-size: large;">~ Onward </span>Diannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18192773386810766798noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6621639821486622514.post-56360052581838394592014-01-11T19:43:00.000-05:002014-01-11T19:43:22.438-05:00Better Late Than Never<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifxdoC7AMXP51NJzoZ1EPV0AJernz43kd-z0fl2TMAeoxpafyoiTzKAWqOsumlGKRBMtQadsvszqxzP74RfRTXGajA-TavyOkV62wdBotJE7xyFvJ-T6ggWRN5Zpc0SCeyxHZEPUGatY7y/s1600/writing.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifxdoC7AMXP51NJzoZ1EPV0AJernz43kd-z0fl2TMAeoxpafyoiTzKAWqOsumlGKRBMtQadsvszqxzP74RfRTXGajA-TavyOkV62wdBotJE7xyFvJ-T6ggWRN5Zpc0SCeyxHZEPUGatY7y/s1600/writing.gif" height="320" width="296" /></a><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #741b47;">I'm a FLASHWORDS winner!</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-size: large;">WHAT!!?? </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #741b47;">It's true. While on vacation in Key West, I received an e-mail saying that I was a winner. I couldn't believe it and I was so happy. But, it gets better. My friend, Margo, was also a winner. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #741b47;">WHAT!!??</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-size: large;">We couldn't tell anyone until the winners were announced at the Crimebake banquet, so neither of us knew about the other until that night!</span><br />
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-size: large;"> It was so exciting. We read our stories in front of approximately three hundred attendees and I wasn't the least bit nervous. I was too happy. Actually, I was thrilled to death. Get it? SinC, death... ha ha.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-size: large;">I just find it so hard to believe that I didn't get right on this sucker and blog about WINNING! </span><br />
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-size: large;">Actually, and I can't explain why, I haven't written much at all since then. Oh, sure, a few things here and there, but for the most part I seem to have abandoned all the characters I love so much.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-size: large;">It's time to get back into the swing of things so Rosie can get on with her life. I registered for a Scrivener class in August with SinC NE., but I couldn't keep up. I had hoped that the program would help me get more organized. I'll try again.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-size: large;">Anyway, Margo won Flashwords again, last November. I loved watching her read her story up there - on the stage - without me. Ha ha. She was so confident and I got all choked up. She did great! My story didn't make the cut this time. I'll try again this year.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-size: large;">In the meantime, I'll take a few days to sit and look at what I have. Really look. I have a few questions to ask myself and a few decisions to make. Am I really a writer? Do I have what it takes to go all the way? Is it the rejection I fear, or the acceptance? Hmm… I'll never know unless I follow through to the end. So, here I go. Time for some truth-telling. I'll be back with the answers.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-size: large;">Till then ~</span><br />
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<span style="color: #741b47; font-size: large;">Dianne</span></div>
<span style="color: #783f04;"><br /></span>Diannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18192773386810766798noreply@blogger.com3