Odds and Ends, Where Have I Been, Back to Work!

For a few years now, my best friends and I have been making an annual trek to the Epcot Flower and Garden Festival. It always inspires us to come home and work in our flower beds, but this year I had other things to do right away.

Saturday was my Prince's birthday. His 50th. I wanted to take him out to a really nice restaurant. He wanted to have a party. So I agreed to the party. I wanted to have a 1950s theme party. He wanted to have a Hawaii Five-Oh party. Well, it was his birthday, so he won again. He went to grad school at the University of Hawaii. That's why he chose the theme.

So I hurried myself over to iParty and bought every Hawaiian themed decoration in the place, including a grass skirt for me and a lei that lights up. I guess that's so you can find me in the dark if the electricity should suddenly go off. I'm not sure.

Then there was the food - pina colada cake, pineapple cheese casserole, meatballs with pineapple barbecue sauce, pot stickers, and the obligatory chips and dips. All garnished with fresh pineapple, of course. Oh, and a gallon of pina colada mix. And the biggest bottle of rum I've ever seen. Where is Jack Sparrow when you need him?

Well, the party was a rousing success. Yesterday we ate leftovers and went to see Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End. Oh, that's where Jack Sparrow is. And there. And there. And over there! (inside joke; works only if you've seen the movie).

So, now it's back to work. The first thing I did this morning (after looking at my most recent royalty statement and trying to decide whether to laugh or cry) was to call up blog tracker and see whether anyone is still reading me after a week's absence. And some of you are still there!
Thanks for waiting patiently for the next entry. I'll try not to leave you alone so long.

It's always fun to read the search engine phrases that people put in to get here. Sure, most of them say Delia Carnell, Brianna's Magic, Diamond, or some such that makes perfect sense. The ones that amuse me are the ones that are clearly looking for something else. Like "love life of Orlando Bloom." Sadly, you won't find that here. Or "high school blonde leg." Not really sure what someone would want with that.

My favorite is "How to catch a bird high ceiling." Can't you just see this couple flailing around at the poor bird with a broom that's not quite long enough to reach the rafter at the peak of the cathedral ceiling? "Quick, Myrtle! Go google it!"

Yeah. That's what I would do.

Back to writing for me. Have a great day!
Delia

American Idol, Harry Potter and Jack Sparrow

What do these three things have in common? They're pop culture icons, of course.

No matter how bad the singing can get or how much you hate Simon, you have to admire the contestants on American Idol. They just get up there and sing week after week, some of them the subject of Internet trash talk (see Sanjaya), some of them brilliant singers, some of them terrified. How can you not applaud the sheer gutsiness? Well, it takes a certain amount of gutsiness to make it in the music business anyway, doesn't it? Is that not in fact the reason we won't see Melinda in the finals?

Jack Sparrow, on the other hand, has gutsiness galore. Oh, wait. That's CAPTAIN Jack Sparrow. Say what you will about the overdone dramatics and outrageous chase scenes, the Pirates of the Caribbean movies are nearly perfect in presenting us with an afternoon's entertainment. We've got comedy, adventure, romance, hi jinks, big special effects, Johnny Depp and Orlando Bloom. Heck, they even threw in a good looking woman who can wield a sword in a dangerous way. And to top it all off, it's a Disney attraction. You can be a part of this movie over and over again - if you can get to Orlando. Or Anaheim. Or Paris. Etc.

That said, Harry Potter is in a different league altogether. Aside from being a pop culture icon, these books are brilliant literary gems. Ms. Rowling has done a terrific job of following all the rules of good storytelling. As Charles Dickens said, "Make them laugh. Make them cry. Make them wait." Oh, she's got the waiting part down pat. So what happens this July when there is no more waiting, when all the questions are answered and the tale comes to an end?

Of course that assumes she will answer all the questions and end the tale. She's said publicly more than once that this is definitely the last book in the series. She couldn't possibly need any more money. But a writer writes whether he or she expects to get money.

In anticipation of the release of book seven, I reread book six. Then I reread the first book. Much good information in that one. If you haven't picked it up since you plunged on through the series, you really want to take a look at it again before seven gets here. There are many, many things in book one that make sense to us now that we didn't realize earlier.

And remember this - Ms. Rowling is very good at her craft. She seems to faithfully follow the writer's rule that if there is a cannon on the stage in act one, you damn well better fire it before the final curtain. So go back through book one and see how many unfired cannons you can find. I guarantee there is something in there that points to her resolution.

Now I'm off to pack my bags. I'm spending a few days with that other great pop culture icon, Mickey Mouse. You can bet I'll take at least one trip with Captain Jack Sparrow while I'm there. But I'm taping Idol, so don't you dare tell me who wins before I get the chance to watch it!

Have a great day!
Delia

Let the dream begin, let your darker side give in...

At last night's performance of The Florida Orchestra, the man representing the weekend media sponsor compared music to words. He said that in much the same way a musician uses notes to create a symphony, journalists and writers use letters and sentences to create a symphony of words. There wasn't a writer in the crowd who was surprised or who would argue. We have always known we have a deep connection to music.

This weekend's show is part of the Pops series and was conducted by Marvin Hamlisch. If you've ever seen "The Way We Were" or "A Chorus Line," you know his music. One of his guests was J. Mark McVey, a Broadway star best known for his TWO THOUSAND NINE HUNDRED TWELVE performances as Jean Valjean in "Les Miserables." He thrilled us with an achingly beautiful rendition of "Bring Him Home." That song has a personal meaning for me, and I cannot hear it without hot fat tears sliding down my cheeks. But Mr. McVey clearly owns the song.

But it was "Music of the Night" that got me. I've seen PHANTOM a few times, both the Broadway version and the movie with Patrick Wilson. The music always touches me, but never more than it did last night. Mr. McVey put so much emotion into the song that I could swear he must have donned a half-mask at some point. I could absolutely see the Phantom singing the song instead of the clean-cut good looking man in the well-tailored suit. He wrenched so much emotion from me, in fact, that I had a strong urge to smoke a cigarette afterward.

We only hope we can stir this much emotion in our readers. What is that elusive quality that hovers just out of our reach? We long for it, dream of it. Sometimes, we know, we grasp it. But it's so difficult to be sure.

I have an autographed copy of Mr. McVey's CD which includes both "Bring Him Home" and "The Music of the Night." Lucky me! Now I can relive these exciting moments over and over, embellished with the memory of seeing them performed live. I know I will find inspiration from his talent. When you read about my hero with a deep dark side, you'll know where I found him.

Have a great day!
Delia

Roving Body Parts

One of my pet peeves - whether I'm writing, editing or reading - is a phenomenon known as Roving Body Parts. Here's an example - "He dropped his eyes to the deep vee of her blouse."
Taken out of the context of the surrounding prose, it sounds even more absurd, doesn't it? How exactly does one drop one's eyes. I've dropped my keys. I've dropped my shoes. Heck, I've even dropped my coffee all over my computer desk and into the tiny crevices of my keyboard. But my eyes do not at any time leave my body. It's his gaze that he's dropping. And if you want to get technical, he's lowering it.

And don't get me started on the hands. Okay, go ahead. Get me started. "His hands wandered aimlessly..." Is it just me, or do you get an image of a couple of those big white Hamburger Helper hands strolling down a country lane?

"Her knees turned to jelly." Okay, maybe the metaphor is valid, but it makes me laugh every time I see it. Grape or strawberry? Could I have some peanut butter to go with that? And while you're at it, I wouldn't mind a glass of milk.

While you may see any or all of these phrases in a published work of fiction, for me it marks an immature writer. The seasoned writer should find a better way to get his or her point across. At the very least, didn't the editor know better?

It's completely possible that you'll find one of these in a published work of mine. I don't pretend to be perfect. Things pop out of your head when you're not looking and glue themselves to the computer screen. I admit it could happen. In fact, if it means that much to you, go ahead and buy all my books and look for them. I dare you!

Just don't drop your eyes while you're looking!

Have a great day.
Delia

Back from the Beach!

And what a great time we had! From the Lake Wales Family Restaurant to watching Brian's Escort Service in the Wendy's parking lot, we had a thousand laughs.

Once again, I fell in love with the Atlantic Ocean. People in somewhere like Kansas probably wouldn't get the distinction between the two coasts of Florida, but they are vastly different. For one thing the Gulf is much more placid. The ocean is angrier, more powerful. I will never tire of standing on the beach and watching the surf as the waves come in to cover my feet.

I doubt that this phenomenon is unique to writers. As I stand there, I can imagine pirate ships sailing across the rough and tumble waters to reach their treasure. I think of explorers and what that coast must have looked like when they sailed into it five hundred years ago. I imagine cruise ships, sailboats, deep sea fishermen. The stories seem as endless as the waves that pound against the sand relentlessly.

The weather kicked up a bit while we were there. We stood on our balcony watching the palm trees bend against the uncommonly strong winds. The surf rolled and crested, luring the locals out with surfboards. You definitely won't see that on the left coast!

But the best part of the entire trip was being with my mom and my sister for three days. No husbands, no children, no pets. Just the three of us, laughing and talking. We don't get enough time for that in our hectic lives these days. I'm really glad we did it.

Okay, so Brian's Escort Service - it's a business that follows large vehicles on the highway with the WIDE LOAD signs and flashing lights. But can you just imagine the person who engages their services thinking it's the other kind of escort? That would be a fun conversation to follow.

Back to work now. Have a great day!
Delia

Happy Mother's Day

I've already written about my mother on her 85th birthday last Thursday. Today I'll write about my grandmothers.

Lola Frances Barker was a petite woman. She didn't quite reach five feet tall. Her husband was over six feet and her son, my father, was six-five. She never cut her hair. It was so long that she could sit on it, but she kept it swept up in a bun most of the time. When we were little girls, she would sit for hours and let us brush it, braid it, play with it. Surely we must have hurt her when we pulled the brushes and combs through all that hair, but she never complained.

She was so sweet. I always compared her to Melanie Wilkes. It was so ingrained in her not to ever tell a lie that when she eloped with my grandfather, she told her parents she was going to a wedding. She could crochet beautifully. Even when her eyesight was gone and her fingers were curved with arthritis, she still worked that crochet needle all day long. She made bedspreads for each of us and gave them as wedding presents.

Annie Mae Hoyal was tall and slender with auburn hair. Her husband left her when her children were tiny, but she managed with the help of her brothers to raise them well. She lived with us my entire life and is the reason we never knew what Day Care meant. While my mom ran the household, Mae was the laundry lady. She could catch a piece of clothing before you let it hit the floor and have it washed, dried and pressed and hanging in your closet by the time you got ready to go to school the next day. All through college and a few years after when I lived in my swinging singles apartment complex, she did my laundry for me. Just before I got married, my dad took me aside and told me I couldn't bring my clothes home for my grandmother to wash any longer.

She loved to read. Her favorites were Emilie Loring and Grace Livingston Hill. Together we learned to love Kathleen Woodiwiss. It disturbed me a little that she would read the explicit love scenes in those books, but she told me, "I close my eyes when I read those parts." She would be so proud of my published works today. But she'd have to close her eyes much of the time!

I won't be back to the Blog for a few days. I'm taking my mother to the beach. See you later in the week.

Don't forget to call your mother today.

Delia

I've Been Tagged

My friend, author Amanda Young, tagged me. Here are eight things you don't know about me:

1 - I'm a classically trained pianist.

2 - I'm a member of Quill and Scroll, an honor society for high school journalists.

3 - I'm a rabid football fan. (Okay, if you read my blog regularly, you might know that).

4 - My first major in college was Math.

5 - I was in my high school's production of GUYS AND DOLLS. I can't sing. I was a streetwalker.

6 - I've broken bones three times - leg, elbow, wrist. All on the left side.

7 - I have eleven Barbie dolls.

8 - In college I memorized the entire balcony scene from Romeo and Juliet just for fun.

Tag! You're it! I'm tagging these writers:

Mark Wolfgang, Terry Odell, Anny Cook, Ashlyn Chase, Cindy Spencer Pape, Janice Bennett, Elissa Abbott, Charlene Leatherman.

Here are the rules:
1 - Each player tagged must create a list of eight random facts about themselves.

2 - Post your list on your own blog or website.

3 - At the end of your list, choose eight people to get tagged.

4 - Notify your eight people to read your list and let them know you've tagged them.

And now it's time for me to say goodbye. Parting is such sweet sorrow!

Delia