tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-69785600421528310242024-03-18T22:44:35.888-04:00The Blonde in the Red T-BirdI reserve the right to change the color of my hair without changing the title of this Blog.Susan Codyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09099591599903033907noreply@blogger.comBlogger190125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6978560042152831024.post-21048120704191301922012-10-03T16:03:00.000-04:002012-10-03T16:03:41.156-04:00Big Blue Eyes and Golden Curls<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Thirty-eight years ago, a beautiful little girl was born. I
was not there, did not participate in that momentous occasion.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> About two years
later, her father brought her into my life – all big blue eyes and golden
curls. Soon she started calling me Mommy.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">And even though her father is no longer in my life, she’s
still my little girl. She still calls me Mommy. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">When I remember all those years ago, I think of dance
classes, costumes, dress rehearsals, French braided hair.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Blue fingernail polish and Guess jeans. Michael Jackson and
Madonna. Cabbage Patch and Strawberry Shortcake.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">The olive drab period. The theater. The amazingly beautiful
young woman in the purple homecoming dress.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Climbing out the window at midnight to go to Rocky Horror. (Which we probably would have let her go to legitimately if she'd asked)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I remember fighting battles for her and proudly watching her
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">She’s an amazing mother. A thousand times better than I was
when I embarked on the Mommy journey, naïve and ill-equipped to know what to
do. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">She is strong and confident, sure of who she is and
perfectly capable of handling everything that comes her way – and some really
ugly things have come her way.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">But she overcomes all of them with grace and courage and a
quiet strength I don’t think she realizes she possesses.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Thank you for coming into my life, little girl. Thank you
for staying there. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Thank you for calling me Mommy.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">~ </span></div>
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<br /></div>
Susan Codyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09099591599903033907noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6978560042152831024.post-76279128813799958612012-08-19T11:50:00.000-04:002012-08-19T11:50:34.087-04:00This Time Tomorrow, and how it began
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I remember the moment when I changed from Little Girl to Big
Girl. There I was, holding onto Barbie with one hand and a transistor radio
with the other. (That’s what we listened to before iTunes, kids,) I was vaguely
aware of these Beatle-fellows, and I knew they were from England. That was
about it. “She Loves You” was on the Top Forty radio about every fifteen
minutes. It was a catchy tune. I liked it. Then came that Sunday evening when
instead of “Walt Disney’s Wonderful World of Color,” we switched over to a
different channel for “The Ed Sullivan Show.”</div>
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There they were. John, Paul, George and Ringo. Clean, neat.
Dressed in suits with skinny ties. Looking as if they were just as astonished
as we were to see them on TV. The audience was filled with screaming girls
about my age. Screaming, did I say? That’s an understatement. Sobbing, tearing
hair out, fainting. I can’t say that I went quite that far, but I’ll admit to
some squees of delight. </div>
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From that night on, it was a steady stream that became known
as The British Invasion. The Dave Clark Five. Gerry and the Pacemakers. Freddie
and the Dreamers, The Who, The Zombies. </div>
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And those bad, bad
boys....The Rolling Stones.</div>
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But my love for the Fab Four never wavered. Even as I write
this, nearly fifty years later. (Can that possibly be right? FIFTY??) I’m
listening to Sirius XM radio’s Breakfast with the Beatles. </div>
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I wanted everything to do with the Beatles. I rolled my hair
on orange juice cans to make it as straight as Jane Asher’s. I begged my
grandmother to make me dresses like the ones I saw in Seventeen magazine that
came from Carnaby Street. And she loved me enough to do it. I learned all the
words to all the songs, and I knew EXACTLY how many hours I had to baby-sit to
buy the next Beatles album every time a new one came out. </div>
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My dreams of actually meeting John (he was my favorite) never
came true.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But that never stopped me. A
romance writer knows how to create her own happy endings.</div>
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In 2007 I was working for a small press – proofreading,
editing and writing – when they announced a writer’s contest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Everyone had to start with the same premise:
Our heroine enters a small cottage in England, walks through a garden gate and
is thrust back in time to one of three eras. Most publishers don’t want “historical”
stories as recent as the Twentieth Century, but this contest offered the “Vintage”
period. That’s mid-twentieth century. So I asked myself, what was happening in
England in the 1960s?</div>
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I can remember smiling as I thought about it. The entire
story was born just that easily. As soon as I put my heroine into 1962, she had
to run into the pioneers of that music era. It practically wrote itself. And I’ve
never been able to say that about any other book that I’ve written. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirxg7T2gquOCUwqx0m74kdBcWswXLd4svagWRQ2Gxsa9r72CHg76auWnrjZFm6glS3WtEaKykryJS-0cfMzJ4y8riDTT9vk-mpCy8nsLJLlFNfIdpecxMBXK6AGjTZExG7nK3792w3Kz8/s1600/This+Time+Tomorrow+Smaller.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirxg7T2gquOCUwqx0m74kdBcWswXLd4svagWRQ2Gxsa9r72CHg76auWnrjZFm6glS3WtEaKykryJS-0cfMzJ4y8riDTT9vk-mpCy8nsLJLlFNfIdpecxMBXK6AGjTZExG7nK3792w3Kz8/s320/This+Time+Tomorrow+Smaller.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
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Alas, I did not win the contest. But the editors liked it
enough to want to publish it anyway. Because I had not won the contest, I had
to change the setting slightly. So I took her out of the cottage and put her in
a castle. Instead of a garden gate, she goes through a heavy door. Who does she
meet in 1962? What happens when they meet? How will she get back home again? </div>
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Ah, you don’t want me to tell you that. It would ruin the story. But you can find
out for just 99 cents.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Either <a href="http://www.amazon.com/This-Time-Tomorrow-ebook/dp/B008W9LZ7S/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&qid=1345391199&sr=8-3&keywords=Susan+Cody" target="_blank">here </a>or
<a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/this-time-tomorrow-susan-cody/1112463979?ean=2940014862783" target="_blank">here</a>. Your choice. Hope you enjoy! </div>
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Remember, all you need is love.</div>
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Susan</div>
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<br /></div>
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</div>
Susan Codyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09099591599903033907noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6978560042152831024.post-49351949757225408542012-05-02T12:30:00.000-04:002012-05-02T12:30:24.773-04:00THE BOOK REPORT<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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It’s been a month since I indulged my bibliophilia at the
Library annual sale. What’s happened since? Well, I’ve read four books. If I
continue at my present rate, it will take me about three years to read all 141
of my selections. And that doesn’t allow for new offerings by my favorite
authors – Stephen King, Sarah Addison Allen, Lawrence Block, Mark Wolfgang.
Those I can’t pass up. So I’m set until at least mid-2015.</div>
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<br /></div>
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And what about those four? How were they, you ask? Someone
asked. I’m sure I heard a query. Anyone? Anyone?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All right, I’ll tell you.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNyHJPQNCDCvSAypGqdQVVuJVw3a7AxEkIvG3GX3fh8XMUW9zPgtrd5xJO7dCSYqzETWsNBnWfz1YzcJukJZgZqdsQOF8gNOjc5eougK2U_2TOAGMBuoqxQX2PAl3rmSbuzBXzhMMpzFM/s1600/JDM.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNyHJPQNCDCvSAypGqdQVVuJVw3a7AxEkIvG3GX3fh8XMUW9zPgtrd5xJO7dCSYqzETWsNBnWfz1YzcJukJZgZqdsQOF8gNOjc5eougK2U_2TOAGMBuoqxQX2PAl3rmSbuzBXzhMMpzFM/s320/JDM.JPG" width="196" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
First up was A FLASH OF GREEN by John D. MacDonald. I picked
this because I thought it was a Travis McGee story. Alas, despite the color in
the title, it is not. This green refers to the environmental connotation of the
word. South Florida. Developers. Corruption. Resistance. Greed. A typical
Florida tale. Except this one was written in 1962. Fifty years later, we still
have the same problems. I enjoyed A FLASH OF GREEN. It was a really interesting
look at life in the early Sixties. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
An aside – I learned recently that JDM originally named his
famous detective Dallas McGee, but he changed it when JFK was assassinated in
that city. I think Travis is a better choice anyway.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Next, GODS IN ALABAMA by Joshilyn Jackson. Based on a review
in a magazine, I picked up Ms. Jackson’s latest, A GROWN UP KIND OF PRETTY, and
enjoyed it enough to make JJ one of my new favorite authors. So I quickly
snapped up this one when I saw it. (I have one more by her, but I’m waiting a
bit to get to it. Anticipation, you know.) So far, the two I’ve read are set in
the South with families who appear dysfunctional on the surface but who have a
deep and abiding love for each other. If you like really quirky characters with
unique plots, this author is for you.</div>
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<br /></div>
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I am reminded of one of my favorite Julia Sugarbaker quotes –
“In the South, we do not keep our mentally ill in the attic. We put them right
in the living room with everyone else.”</div>
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<br /></div>
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Hard to tell the difference sometimes, isn’t it?</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
THE MYSTERIOUS AFFAIR AT STYLES was next. Written in 1916,
this is the first published novel by Agatha Christie. In it she introduces us
to the inimitable Hercule Poirot and his “little gray cells.” Having watched
many episodes of the PBS series, I had no trouble picturing the manor house,
the little village, the cast of characters. I thought I knew whodunit only to
dismiss that subject until Poirot brought me around again, just as astonished
as Hastings. I loved this book and am glad we have more of Ms. Christie to
enjoy in the next four years.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The book just finished over the weekend is A FORTUNATE LIFE
by Robert Vaughn. Having been obsessed with The Man from U.N.C.L.E. in the
ninth grade, this was a must-read for me. Even though my teen crush was on
Ilya, Napoleon was not without his appeal. His early life is very interesting.
He talks about growing up the son of actors and about all the amazing people he
knew in Hollywood in the Fifties and early Sixties. For example, he dated
Natalie Wood. He encouraged Jack Nicholson not to give up before he made it
big. And he dated a Kennedy. The second half of the book spent a lot of pages
on his political beliefs and endeavors. More than I wanted to know. But it’s
his book, isn’t it? He gets to decide what to put in and what to leave out. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There was no mention of his most recent gig – hawking lawyer
services during daytime court<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>shows.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Too bad he didn’t get a plum role later in life like Ilya
did. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So that was April. What lies in store for May?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So many choices...</div>
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<br /></div>
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# </div>Susan Codyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09099591599903033907noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6978560042152831024.post-44388208187670454132012-04-02T10:10:00.000-04:002012-04-02T15:36:07.763-04:00So Many Books, So Little Time...<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">We love our
public library. There are so many things that I didn’t even know I wanted until
I saw them on the shelves.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Recently,
I’ve discovered the Modern Scholar Series of lectures on CD. Since my clients
are spread all over Wake County – and some far into the next – I’m in my car
fairly often at 30 to 45-minute clips. The lecture series is great for trips
like that.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">First,
Steven found The Lost Generation: American Writers in Paris in the 1920s. As
you’d expect, that one focused heavily on Hemingway and Fitzgerald. But the
professor also talked about Sylvia Beach’s bookstore, Shakespeare and Company.
James Joyce almost didn’t get Ulysses published until Sylvia stepped in and
took care of it for him. He’d already been turned down by several major
publishers who found it too risqué.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">We heard a
lot about Gertrude Stein and how she held court among the literati of the time.
And how Hemingway found her to be a phony. We also heard a good deal about Ezra
Pound and T. S. Eliot. The professor spoke in a friendly, casual manner and
made me feel almost as if I were walking along the Seine, or sitting in a café with
my writing tablet. Good stuff.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Soon after
that, I found a wonderful book called The Paris Wife by Paula McLain. It’s a
fictional account of the relationship between Hemingway and Hadley Richardson,
his first wife. All of this coming soon
after we’d watched Woody Allen’s
Midnight in Paris really had me eager to read all that I could of those great
writers.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Now I’m in
the middle of another Modern Scholar lecture series called The Detective in
Fiction: From the Victorian Sleuth to Modern Day. Wow. It’s so much fun. The
woman who’s narrating this one started out with very early murder in fiction,
going as far back as Shakespeare and even in Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales. But
the first real detective of note is, of course, Sherlock Holmes. She talks at
length about him, from Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s life as a doctor before he
began writing, through all of the great movies made of the sleuth, all the way
up to the TV show House, which is unashamedly based on the Sherlock Holmes
character.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Then she
talked about Agatha Christie, Dorothy L. Sayers, Wilkie Collins, to name a few
from early last century. And she progressed to more current authors such as Sue
Grafton, Ed McBain, Dick Francis, to name a few more.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">So back to
the library. This past weekend, the Wake County Public Library held its annual
Book Sale. They do this to purge the shelves of duplicates, slow-movers, and
copies that just aren’t as pretty as they used to be. They also get a huge
amount of donated books all the time, and they can’t use many of them. So they
go on sale. Over 450,000 books.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The first
day, the prices are $4 for hardcover and $2 for paperback. On Saturday they
lower the prices to $2 and $1. But on Sunday........that’s when the fun begins!</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">On Sunday
you can buy a box crammed as full as you can cram it with books for FIVE
DOLLARS!!! For the whole box! Five dollars! Amazing.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The doors
open at ten. We arrived at about 9:40. I was completely unprepared for what I
saw. The line stretched all the way out the door, down the length of the next
building, around the corner, down the sidewalk, across the grass, into the
parking lot.....you get the idea, the line was LONG!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I fretted that
by the time we got there, all the books would be gone. </span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Silly me!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">There were
still thousands upon thousands of books to choose from. This took place at the
State Fair Grounds in the largest exhibition building. Long tables were set up
row after row. Books were stacked spine-up
about six deep. They were carefully divided into genre, but other than
that, there was no rhyme nor reason to their arrangement. You might find two
books by the same author side by side, but that was rare</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">We started
in General Fiction, then switched to Mystery, then back to General, then back
to Mystery with brief forays into Crafts and Cookbooks. Oh, the treasures we
found!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Here are
just a few of the authors we grabbed:</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Robert B.
Parker, John D. MacDonald, PD James, Agatha Christie, Charles Dickens, Robert
Louis Stevenson, Amy Tan, Tom Robbins, O. Henry, John Dos Passos, Virginia
Woolf, Wally Lamb, Elizabeth George.....</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">We filled up
three boxes with 141 books total. That’s just over ten cents each. Book prices
haven’t been that low in probably a hundred years.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I could go
on and on, but while I’m writing this, I’m not reading!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">What would
you buy if the prices were that cheap? What authors have you been wanting to
check out?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">If you’re
really, really nice, I’ll let you borrow my hard cover copy of Robert Vaughn’s
autobiography. I’m expecting at least one early picture of Ducky in there.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Now go read
something!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">And report back.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>Susan Codyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09099591599903033907noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6978560042152831024.post-1172534640137126142012-03-29T09:06:00.000-04:002012-04-02T10:10:51.195-04:00Why They Don't Live Happily Ever After<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">A friend and
I were discussing fictional romantic relationships and why they are so bad on
television. Specifically, he was talking about Castle and Beckett, and how the
writers seem to have pulled out every contrived romantic plot device from their
grandmother’s attic to keep this couple apart.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Why? Why, on one of the best-written, snappiest,
most popular shows on TV, do the writers resort to stuff that would get anyone
laughed out of Harelquin’s senior offices in a heartbeat. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Maybe it’s
this:</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Stories have
a beginning, a middle and an end. When you go to see Two Weeks' Notice, you
know that as soon as Hugh Grant figures out that he can’t live without Sandra
Bullock, then you better be finished with your popcorn because we’re done. Sleepless in Seattle – once they meet on top of the Empire State Building, what
else do we need to know? </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Romantic
comedies are a short-term commitment. We fall in love with the characters just
as they do. We sit through the conflict. We figure it all out for them. Then,
when they see it too, it’s over. Our 90 minutes are up, and we go out humming
the pop song that ran over the credits. We might even buy the soundtrack. But
we don’t care what happens to them next. We were invested; they paid off. And
now we’re on our way to Johnny Rockets for a milkshake.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The same is
true of books. When we buy a romance novel, we know what we’re getting. They
are going to meet. They are going to fall in love. Some plausible conflict is
going to keep them apart, but they are going to grow and change and overcome
it. Then the book is finished. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Prince
Charming puts the slipper on Cinderella’s foot, AND THEY LIVED HAPPILY EVER
AFTER.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The Prince
wakes up Sleeping Beauty with a kiss, AND THEY LIVED HAPPILY EVER AFTER.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">No one, from
Hans Christian Anderson to Nora Roberts, tells us what happens after that. We
don’t care. We got our reward and we’re done.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Not so for
television. The people who make TV programs don’t want them to end. They want
them to go on and on for decades, earning money for the network, the writers,
the actors, the sponsors. There is no Happily Ever After in television.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">So they
can’t put the happy couple together. Because once they do, what’s left? You wind up having House drive a car through
Cuddy’s living room because.....well, what else can they do with him? They
certainly can’t have Dr. Gregory House live happily ever after. That’s
ridiculous by anyone’s standards. Ask Sherlock Holmes. He’ll tell you.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Dave and
Maddie. How many episodes of Moonlighting did you watch after they hooked up?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">There wasn’t
a single resident of Stars Hollow who didn’t know that Luke and Lorelei
belonged together. But the writers knew they couldn’t let it happen, so they
went for the oldest trick in the romance writer’s book – the secret baby. And
it didn’t work for them. You find me a tried and true Gilmore Girls fan who
didn’t stand up and cheer when April Nardini moved to Arizona. Or wherever it
was. Who cares? We just wanted her gone because her existence didn’t make
sense.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">And when did
Luke and Lorelei finally get together for good? On the very last episode of the
show. Thank you. THAT’S the way to end a show. And they lived happily ever
after.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">But back to
Castle and Beckett. We like the show. We love Castle. He really is ruggedly
handsome. We were sorry to see Firefly cancelled, but we’re glad we still get
to see Nathan Fillion every week. And as much as we know he needs Beckett and
Beckett needs him, I BEG the writers not to let it happen. Don’t jump that
shark! </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">You can give
us sexual tension. We eat that with a spoon. Throw them together and then break
them apart. But do it with style. Do it smart. Do it in a way that the
characters deserve.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Because
that’s what keeps us coming back. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">For really
good conflict, resolved in a way that makes sense, click on one of the links
over on the right. A LOTUS-COVERED DOOR for a quick read, BLAME IT ON THE GHOST
for paranormal intervention, or TOUGHER THAN DIAMONDS for island-hopping,
bullet-dodging, diamond-chasing adventure served hot and fresh with your romance. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">No contrived
conflict to be found</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">And they
lived happily ever after. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>Susan Codyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09099591599903033907noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6978560042152831024.post-48927683889411075512012-03-13T10:29:00.000-04:002012-03-13T10:36:15.769-04:00Why There is no DOOR on the Cover of A Lotus-Covered Door<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI8p68DhcaiOhozsvcvSzRBb7yl589AUqI8Dqi98iHsfDmJSeMs6bydORXltmQKEj6jQyD-Ljzs5FXaq7Wyvdy24Ojt-O_m5EKFwXVC_58ETAvs8eBsx3b1uddomqGuRCrnXhHmjEcEqQ/s1600/Lotus+Cover+for+Kindle-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI8p68DhcaiOhozsvcvSzRBb7yl589AUqI8Dqi98iHsfDmJSeMs6bydORXltmQKEj6jQyD-Ljzs5FXaq7Wyvdy24Ojt-O_m5EKFwXVC_58ETAvs8eBsx3b1uddomqGuRCrnXhHmjEcEqQ/s320/Lotus+Cover+for+Kindle-1.jpg" width="219" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">During the many years that my Prince courted me, he often tried to
lure me with music. A tactic which worked, by the way. From Nat King Cole to
Rachmaninoff, the man knew how to get to me. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Steven went to grad school at the University of Hawaii . During
that time, he became very well acquainted with Hawaii’s popular music of the
80s. Thinking Don Ho? Don’t. Of the great Hawaiian music going on at that time,
two groups were huge. One was Cecilio and Kapono. The other, The Peter Moon
Band. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">He first introduced me to PMB with their classic album, Cane Fire.
And on that album is a song called “On a Little Street in Singapore.” The PMB version is great, but it’s by no
means the original. The song was written
by Peter De Rose and Billy Hill. The first recording I know of is in the 1930s
by Harry James and this new young singer – some guy named Frank something-or-other.
Oh, yeah. Sinatra. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_1561195891"><br /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://youtu.be/yc2C0iNinkE" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"> Frank Sinatra and Harry James</span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"> The song’s also been covered by Dave Brubeck, Glenn Miller
and Manhattan Transfer. But The Peter Moon Band does it best, in my opinion.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"> I first had it on cassette.
I believe the tape finally gave up from having been rewound and rewound and
rewound. Thank goodness for digital media. My iPod doesn’t care how many times
in a row I play the song. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Why do I love it so much? Probably because it tells a story. I
couldn’t listen to it without thinking about the story. Who lives on the street
in Singapore? How long has it been since he’s seen her? Why? Where has he been?
Why has he come back? My writer’s mind couldn’t leave it alone. I started
writing, and pretty soon I had the story going. They lyrics of the song were
easily weaving their way into the story. “On a little street in Singapore, we
meet beside a lotus-covered door...” The stuff that romances are made of.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">In my mind, Lila (my heroine) lived in the little house on the
little street in Singapore. Robb (my hero) had been gone and had come back for
her. I could see him standing in front of the lotus-covered door, flowers
trailing all around him, running up the side of the door frame, across the top,
back down the other side. It was beautiful! </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">There was one problem. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">The lotus only grows in water.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">There went my vision of flowers winding their way up one side of
the door and down the other. Maybe the lyricist should have gone with
Jasmine-covered door. That would work. But lotus it is, and lotus it must be.
So I made the door wooden with lotus blossoms carved into the heavy wood. Not
the effect I originally planned, but who am I to argue with the source of my
inspiration? </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Listen to the song. And when you read the story, see if you can
spot snippets of the lyrics. It will be like a treasure hunt, with words as
your prize. And isn’t that why we read anyway?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Enjoy the door. And the lotus. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Only 99 cents for <a href="http://tinyurl.com/7azas27" target="_blank">Kindle. </a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>Susan Codyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09099591599903033907noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6978560042152831024.post-10773814712314423792011-09-06T10:27:00.000-04:002011-09-06T10:27:31.867-04:00<br />
On the Loss of a Great Man<br />
<br />
The NFL, the University of South Florida, and the entire Tampa community lost a great man this weekend with the passing of Lee Roy Selmon. Having been the first draft pick of the first year, he was the original Buc. And being the only player in the NFL Hall of Fame who spent more than one year as a Buc, he is arguably the BEST Buccaneer. Ever.<br />
<br />
<br />
Two memories of Mr. Selmon stand out in my mind. My family’s business, which I headed in the 90s and early 2000s, was nominated for “Most Family Friendly Business.” We didn’t win, but as they say, it’s an honor to be nominated. Lee Roy Selmon spoke at the event. He began by saying that if anyone was late because of traffic on the Crosstown, please don’t blame him. He referred to the expressway that was named in his honor.<br />
<br />
But what impressed me most was the way he spoke of family – his own and families in general. It wasn’t the words he said that were memorable, it was the light in his eyes and the emotion in the timbre of his voice when he spoke of his mother and his brothers, his wife and his children that made me know this man believed in the sanctity of family. I had no doubt his family was first in his life.<br />
<br />
One Saturday afternoon, I was in Buccaneer Heaven picking out a new shirt to wear to the next day’s game. It was early in the season, and the store was crowded. We’d won the SuperBowl the year before. We were optimistic. The energy in the store was electric and fun. Suddenly the cheerful noise ceased, little by little, replaced by whispers. “Lee Roy.”<br />
<br />
Through the front door came our Hall of Famer, pushing a handcart loaded with cases of his Barbecue sauce. Here was a man who made his own deliveries to each little mom-and-pop location that sold his sauce. Like when Moses approached the Red Sea, the crowd parted to let him through. If this was Buccaneer Heaven, then surely Jesus had just walked into the room.<br />
<br />
The crowd of shoppers stood in silent awe as he shook hands with the manager, picked up his paperwork and emptied his cart. A few brave souls said hello to him as he passed back out the front door. He nodded and smiled, and went on about his quiet business. But we all knew we had just been in the presence of greatness.<br />
<br />
Football is just a game. Certainly other things in life are far more important. Like Family. This weekend we lost a man who loved both. And we deeply feel that loss.<br />
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Susan Codyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09099591599903033907noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6978560042152831024.post-25153596620291816342011-01-10T17:37:00.002-05:002011-01-10T17:46:23.735-05:00Who's Yours?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIcWXK5yCi95iuaaSA5R-ZM6IboQ56bt1TYhQQuRQQvulE0FaOmJSJw3nzutq6uXijLbNJs8H5xS91-S3KEU66bBio9ZYTd87kzAvZ1vpYQUwpfh0TFjawTu1THTzIsqHJQD9_-oc2V0I/s1600/Sinatra.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 178px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIcWXK5yCi95iuaaSA5R-ZM6IboQ56bt1TYhQQuRQQvulE0FaOmJSJw3nzutq6uXijLbNJs8H5xS91-S3KEU66bBio9ZYTd87kzAvZ1vpYQUwpfh0TFjawTu1THTzIsqHJQD9_-oc2V0I/s200/Sinatra.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560692319599422834" /></a><br />We were listening to Siriusly Sinatra this weekend when the announcer said Sinatra was the “greatest singer of the Twentieth Century.” Now, I truly love ol’ blue eyes. That’s why I was listening to the station in the first place. But the greatest singer? Of the entire century? Which led me to wonder, if not Frank, then who?<br /><br />One could make a case for these:<br /><br />Elvis – remember the term was “greatest singer,” not “greatest voice.” If you don’t think Elvis can sing, I direct you to “Love Me Tender.” Case closed.<br /><br />Luciano Pavarotti – Lives the person who can listen to “Nessun Dorma” without a shiver running down the spine? Or perhaps tears in the eyes? Absolute beauty.<br /><br />Ray Charles – Just the other day, I happened upon his version of “Georgia on My Mind.” Memo to everyone else in the singing industry: Don’t record this song. Mr. Charles owns it.<br /><br />Tony Bennett – This one I’ve had the great joy of seeing in person. “Fly Me to the Moon” was a life-changing experience. His voice was warm brandy. Unbelievable.<br /><br />Renee Fleming – It’s not just having a great voice. It’s also knowing how to control it, how to wrench every ounce of emotion out of the music. Plus, she’s so elegant!<br /><br />Barbra Streisand – the lovely lady for whom the term “superstar” was coined. Stunningly beautiful voice. And a great comic actress as well. I recently saw her on Oprah. She sang the theme from “The Way We Were.” Still beautiful.<br /><br />Ella Fitzgerald – I tried to come up with the quintessential Ella song to talk about, but there are so many. “Someone to Watch over Me,” “The Man I Love,” “’Round Midnight.” They’re all good. It just seems so effortless when she sings it, whether she’s doing a slow and soulful version or a quick jumpin’ scat version of the same song. Pure Ella.<br /><br />Billie Holiday – And of course, Billie Holiday. I wish the recordings we have of her were better. There are some that sound great, but many of them are showing their age. Still her unmistakable smoky voice is astounding.<br /><br />Linda Ronstadt – I’m adding this one just for me. This attraction began for me with the Stone Ponys. “Different Drum” was always a favorite. But her later stuff with Nelson Riddle showcases the purity of her voice. And for personal reasons, her version of “A Dream Is a Wish Your Heart Makes” brings tears to my eyes no matter how many times I hear it.<br /><br />Now Frank. The Chairman of the Board. Francis Albert Sinatra. It’s not just that he has a great voice, it’s the WAY he sings. He can make you feel like he’s singing right to you. And that at any moment, he’s going to walk off the stage and sweep you off your feet. The mournful sound of “In the Wee Small Hours of the Morning” makes me cry every time I hear it. The playfulness of “Lady Is a Tramp” makes me fall in love with him. I get too hungry for dinner at eight, Frank. Pick me!<br /><br />So that’s ten choices. Without meaning to I picked five men and five women. And now I realize I’ve left off Mel Torme. They don’t call him the Velvet Fog for nothin’. How many great singers were there in the Twentieth Century?<br /><br />Who’s your choice?<br /><br />*Susan Codyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09099591599903033907noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6978560042152831024.post-86157654133895549702010-12-28T10:12:00.003-05:002010-12-28T10:20:24.859-05:00In the Interest of TruthOkay, so I'm not a blonde. And I sold the T-Bird.<br /><br />Does it really matter?<br /><br />I've often said that the longest-lasting relationship in my life is that with Rhonda, my hairdresser. I could sit in her chair and say, "Do whatever you want," and know that I would be happy with the result. That's how well we know each other.<br /><br />But when we moved to North Carolina, Rhonda the Hair Stylist is one of the things I left behind. Now what do I do? <br /><br />Well, I'm certainly not going to let strangers color my hair. So I'm reverting back to the dark auburn I was born with. We shall see how much gray has arrived. Maybe none. Maybe just enough to be interesting. That's my hope anyway.<br /><br />Then there's the car. I had the T-Bird for seven years, and I loved it. Love, love, LOVED it. But it started to get a little wonky. There were various problems that took several WEEKS to figure out. So I decided I'd be more comfortable in something new. And there's the fact that while exceedingly beautiful, the T-Bird is not Very Practical.<br /><br />More than once Jeanette and I had to call for back-up when we were out shopping. And when Steven used to fly in from Maryland to go with me to Disney, I had to tell him he could bring only a gym bag. And that he'd have to hold on his lap. With the top down.<br /><br />So it was time for a change. I got a really cute SUV crossover that I also love. Even if there are ten thousand others just like it within a one-mile radius. Mine's the one with the pink Georgia Girl sticker on the side window.<br /><br />But the real question is Do I have to change the title of the Blog?<br /><br />I think not. In my heart, I will always be blonde, always be driving fast somewhere in the red T-Bird with the top down. <br /><br />Any questions?Susan Codyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09099591599903033907noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6978560042152831024.post-26458855288668645942010-12-10T08:54:00.005-05:002010-12-10T09:08:23.513-05:00A Florida Girl Deals with Snow<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCYclY-_Vi8Z17TQXdaOA7996Um-8GABDVjEvIeL6CUcbNGN2yGpI1i4uIhKGXdmXCKtDNiq4_LArBlZO2UJEKFxlyc8aJHOlkUHnS6LXPpbFjDhKT8BhmPAy2eKf7I45081e10hce1Tg/s1600/DSCN8586.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCYclY-_Vi8Z17TQXdaOA7996Um-8GABDVjEvIeL6CUcbNGN2yGpI1i4uIhKGXdmXCKtDNiq4_LArBlZO2UJEKFxlyc8aJHOlkUHnS6LXPpbFjDhKT8BhmPAy2eKf7I45081e10hce1Tg/s200/DSCN8586.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5549054983302085602" /></a><br />We’ve lived in North Carolina just over two months. During that time, any number of people have told me, “Oh, we hardly ever have snow. And NEVER before Christmas.” Of course I was disappointed. I lived in Florida for nearly all of my life. Snow is not in my realm of experience.<br /><br />I’m not one of those people who’ve “never seen snow.” I spent a December in Maine once and a chunk of January in Maryland. But I didn’t live there. I was only visiting. Snow was a wistful novelty.<br /><br />But now that I’ve moved out of the eternal Vacation land, I wanted SNOW!<br />I was not disappointed.<br /><br />We went to the mall to finish up our Christmas shopping. We were headed outside to cross the parking lot to the Big Box Book Store. As we turned to the door, we saw it – little dots of white falling from the sky, pushed nearly sideways by the wind.<br /><br />I squealed with joy.<br /><br />Of course, the first thing I did when we got outside was lift my head and open my mouth. Even I know that snow isn’t snow until you catch it on your tongue.<br /><br />Here’s something I didn’t know: Snow is wet. When it lands on your head, it melts. Then your hair is wet. And cold. Didn’t matter. I kept playing in it anyway. But the cozy interior of the book store was warm and welcoming.<br /><br />We stayed in there for about twenty minutes, finished our chores, and when we left – IT WAS STILL SNOWING!!! Even the locals were laughing and taking phone pictures of each other.<br /><br />All your life you hear that no two snowflakes are exactly alike. I want to know who started that rumor. I was led to believe that snowflakes look like this:<br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA0xJZNKJxDa4-PH6p_dVCeF0Xlpzk8KDNewIQnEl-H7mazBcecyYMd5nZaxb50teQFpEA8IVvL4lIP2Z6FYnoQLmY7lmdtTNIhB7ED2AuS2t5WlXHvqmKGnhuTS1McNnSsin2CI2kQOI/s1600/Smowflake.bmp"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 159px; height: 175px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA0xJZNKJxDa4-PH6p_dVCeF0Xlpzk8KDNewIQnEl-H7mazBcecyYMd5nZaxb50teQFpEA8IVvL4lIP2Z6FYnoQLmY7lmdtTNIhB7ED2AuS2t5WlXHvqmKGnhuTS1McNnSsin2CI2kQOI/s200/Smowflake.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5549052870168991458" /></a><br /><br />They don’t. They look more like this:<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjmR5gBlLlDId31-f0nsl3x3exYAQbQU5Zhw88OT0027xuL5jf7Eu9PhEZOpuQNQ3-JbyL-dOJd1Xnn9FvmV6L9iaXqcpA4H5vvK8cEc5cvOD6xjjqMimnybvY8_pGyVpo6gERaAPlL1k/s1600/Snow+Cone.bmp"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 167px; height: 167px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjmR5gBlLlDId31-f0nsl3x3exYAQbQU5Zhw88OT0027xuL5jf7Eu9PhEZOpuQNQ3-JbyL-dOJd1Xnn9FvmV6L9iaXqcpA4H5vvK8cEc5cvOD6xjjqMimnybvY8_pGyVpo6gERaAPlL1k/s200/Snow+Cone.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5549053222647681282" /></a><br /><br />Minus the fruity syrup.<br /><br />Nevertheless, it continued to snow for the rest of the day. As we wended our way home in our sleigh – I mean, car – I discovered another incredible new phenomenon. EVERYTHING looks stunning with a light dusting of snow on it. Like a – forgive me – Winter Wonderland. Our poor Florida patio table didn't know what happened to it.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilQaR6dkr8HYJvfSeg-wbrkSV0QaT9z3bz9aZ9Zq3f9NWZCLZqvvwxu5G4DgyxPs2Dj09TVnUsOBoZfOGm2SJkivuToB6T3NG9KSY-1vbxePOPu97FVPdTO_H7U0FyuX32Yl727j_cxck/s1600/Picnic+table.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilQaR6dkr8HYJvfSeg-wbrkSV0QaT9z3bz9aZ9Zq3f9NWZCLZqvvwxu5G4DgyxPs2Dj09TVnUsOBoZfOGm2SJkivuToB6T3NG9KSY-1vbxePOPu97FVPdTO_H7U0FyuX32Yl727j_cxck/s200/Picnic+table.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5549054264979187714" /></a><br /><br /><br />I had thought the colors of autumn leaves were the most beautiful things I’d ever seen. Snow may have them beat just for its elegant simplicity.<br /><br />But in a few months, there will be spring blossoms.....Susan Codyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09099591599903033907noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6978560042152831024.post-993267602238618962010-02-10T08:23:00.002-05:002010-02-10T08:25:58.646-05:00"I'm Mad As Hell..."I have Google alerts set up to bring me information about all of my pseudonyms. You never know when some website will review one of your books. It’s nice to hear about it.<br /><br />But yesterday, my good friend Google returned to me a link to a website that I found disturbing.<br /><br />In 2007, I published five e-books under the name Delia Carnell. Three of them were with Loose-Id and two with Cerridwen Press. When I followed the Google link, I came to a website that offered all three of my Loose-Id titles for download. Free. <br /><br />I don’t know when I’ve ever been so angry.<br /><br />During the seven years that my mother and I lived together, we routinely swapped books back and forth. I have no problem with that scenario. I wouldn’t expect two people living in the same household to purchase two separate copies of a book. In addition, it’s good for the book industry and writers alike for families to read together, to enjoy books, to talk about what they’ve read. <br /><br />I have serious objections, however, to some unknown entity putting my work up on a website for the whole world to access. I wrote that book. I struggled with each sentence, each word choice, each plot twist to make it my very best. I did the research, the promotion, the advertising copy. I own the rights to those works. <br /><br />And just like the butcher, the baker and the candlestick maker, I want to be paid for my work. I should be paid for my work. <br /><br />What this website is doing is theft. It is piracy. It is AGAINST THE LAW. <br /><br />It’s time for the publishing industry to take a stand just like the music industry did against illegal downloads and file-swapping. And I’m sure they will. I don’t expect this particular website to last very long. In addition to my three little works, yesterday they also made available four books by Nicholas Sparks. No doubt he and his publisher have much bigger lawyers than I could ever muster.<br /><br />Poking around a bit on the website (whose name I will not reveal; they don’t deserve the publicity), I found the place to state my objections to my work being offered on their site. I followed the instructions, filled in the form, stated my case. I received this in response:<br /><br />“Thank you. Abuse report was submited.”<br /><br />They don’t even have a flippin ‘ spellchecker?<br /><br />It doesn’t matter. The fact remains that the illegal download of ANY copyrighted material is wrong. It is theft. Don’t do it. And if you see it, please report it.<br /><br />Thank you.Susan Codyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09099591599903033907noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6978560042152831024.post-6008247066372200572010-01-20T08:22:00.003-05:002010-01-20T08:27:04.906-05:00The Big Sleep for Mr. Parker<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4N-WW82OttA3hJLa42G5AdCGH76lQpwg0yWJ3j2OrxTXr6b5BvPqKt0nlg3z79F3k-2UtCJv7Ex0T7joQmjqP9sTTuociz1rjy6yxbfRc4eUW7Iz4GhBqU-sk17o8_fT6EEeA2c0yr0U/s1600-h/parker.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 111px; height: 144px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4N-WW82OttA3hJLa42G5AdCGH76lQpwg0yWJ3j2OrxTXr6b5BvPqKt0nlg3z79F3k-2UtCJv7Ex0T7joQmjqP9sTTuociz1rjy6yxbfRc4eUW7Iz4GhBqU-sk17o8_fT6EEeA2c0yr0U/s200/parker.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428812615308677154" /></a><br />Yesterday, the world lost the mystery writer Robert B. Parker. He died at age 77 at his desk. I hope he was writing, and I hope he was so engrossed in his story that he didn’t even realize what was happening to him. I can’t think of a better way for a writer to go.<br /><br />Mr. Parker was probably best known for his Spenser novels. But in saluting his life, we must note that he held a Ph. D. in literature from Boston University. His dissertation was a study of classic mystery writers Dashiell Hammett, Raymond Chandler and Ross Macdonald. What better foundation for a craftsman of this particular genre? <br /><br />I’ve read a fairly large stack of Mr. Parker’s novels, but last night I was moved to hunt down his very first. It’s The Godwulf Manuscript, published in 1973, and it’s the first Spenser novel. Here’s a line from an early scene in the book: <br /><br />“She was wearing something in purple suede that was too short for a skirt and too long for a belt.”<br /><br />Ah, they don’t write ‘em like that anymore.<br /><br />Rest easy, Mr. Parker. Thanks for the many years of entertainment you gave the world. Thanks for your attention to the details of your craft. And thanks for showing the rest of us how it’s done.Susan Codyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09099591599903033907noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6978560042152831024.post-72020724621437446882010-01-13T07:33:00.002-05:002010-01-13T07:37:13.468-05:00Lessons from American Idol<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja_YsXwcoOIFs0zTwIf6DJ3cD2WOoiu7sis5l4BV-RNTN6rBQUCJui9MXO8tnUTePJpebn-wApIJZkE2Kh4msRVwqrR7i8sXNj6IND88chQFtNEo6SqCQQZRSjWVjw1chR3koGOC-g8lc/s1600-h/American+Idol.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja_YsXwcoOIFs0zTwIf6DJ3cD2WOoiu7sis5l4BV-RNTN6rBQUCJui9MXO8tnUTePJpebn-wApIJZkE2Kh4msRVwqrR7i8sXNj6IND88chQFtNEo6SqCQQZRSjWVjw1chR3koGOC-g8lc/s200/American+Idol.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426202493125146834" /></a><br />You know you’ve watched too much American Idol when you can unerringly predict a contestant’s performance based on his or her pre-audition interview. If the young lady cares for her aging grandmother and has a sweet face, she’ll sing like an angel. If she’s dressed as a character from Star Trek and says her friends think she’s better than any previous contestants on Idol, she’ll screech like a stray cat in the alley. Or slightly less in tune than the stray cats.<br /><br />It shouldn’t surprise me to see such a similarity between American Idol hopefuls and unpublished writers, but there it is. The more a person talks about how great his manuscript is, the more I know it’s going to suck. Please don’t tell me that your mother, sister-in-law, daughter’s English teacher, etc. couldn’t put it down. Don’t tell me how much they loved it. Especially don’t add the phrase, “and they don’t usually like this type of book.”<br /><br />Your fate is sealed. I know it’s going to be a stinker. <br /><br />I’m at a point now where I can spend one evening with a classroom of fledgling writers and determine which one’s homework I’m going to look forward to reading and which one I’m going to dread. <br /><br />Talent does not need a sales pitch. If you’ve made it to the audition room in front of Randy, Simon and Kara, then shut up and sing. Similarly, if you’re invited to submit your manuscript – publisher, class homework, friendly critique group, whatever – shut up and hand it over. <br /><br />I’ll repeat here some words of wisdom I picked up long ago from an author I knew casually (and whose name I’ve forgotten): “The only person whose opinion you should listen to is someone who is in a position to write you a check.”<br /><br />It’s great if your grandmother loves your short story. But she’s your grandmother. She’s supposed to love every little thing you do. This is, you’ll remember, the woman who recorded your first deposit in the Big Potty. You want to wrap that up and send it to an editor? Didn’t think so.<br /><br />So let’s take a lesson from our Idol viewing: Shut up and sing. The public will ultimately decide whether to keep you or vote you off.Susan Codyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09099591599903033907noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6978560042152831024.post-29913003041711997292010-01-07T10:09:00.003-05:002010-01-07T10:17:44.379-05:00I Left My Heart...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOur8WeJq4W8BSvHW5VnBF7M-_tMqHM2NbYj150F6sZlsg3qAKX_3qfgDh2raiz6a4sKiSdiv8YzhIxTsonQ-XqSqU_qfV1ANwvZUbjwPWmwmWVW3icKdnT0ed0eXra71gQcsqY5zi-zg/s1600-h/Tony+Bennett.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 135px; height: 63px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOur8WeJq4W8BSvHW5VnBF7M-_tMqHM2NbYj150F6sZlsg3qAKX_3qfgDh2raiz6a4sKiSdiv8YzhIxTsonQ-XqSqU_qfV1ANwvZUbjwPWmwmWVW3icKdnT0ed0eXra71gQcsqY5zi-zg/s200/Tony+Bennett.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424016926801264434" /></a><br />In the Seventies, my mother and I went to the airport to pick up some family member or other who was flying in from somewhere. This was a time, boys and girls, when just anybody could walk right up to the gate and stand around without a boarding pass, a body search, or even a relative to meet. As we walked down the smooth corridor toward the arrival area, we noticed a man sitting on one of the waiting benches alone. He was quite nattily dressed in trousers, blue blazer, and a dapper tweed hat. We glanced at him, he smiled, we kept walking. About ten yards past, Mom and I turned to each other and almost simultaneously said, “That was Tony Bennett!”<br /> <br />Indeed it was.<br /> <br />Last night, I saw him again. This time, at a concert at Ruth Eckerd Hall in Clearwater, FL. His 27th appearance at that venue. <br /><br />The thing about this particular hall is that, although it comfortably seats over 2000 the atmosphere is intimate. During the hour-and-a-half set of standards and hits, I felt as if I were sitting in a rather elegant nightclub about as close to Mr. Bennett as I had been that night at the airport. His showmanship was a large part of that feeling. No doubt he was absolutely delighted to be there. He loves what he’s doing. It shows in every step, every strong note, every accolade to his four-piece band. <br /><br />Although he’s well past his 80th birthday, there was no lack of energy, no lack of strength. For me, the highlight of the show was his version of “Fly Me to the Moon” completely free of microphones or any electronic amplification. The ol’ guy can still belt it out to the very last row. <br /><br />Sure, everyone who goes to San Francisco leaves a little bit of the heart. But nobody does it with so much style as Mr. Bennett. <br /><br />And how many times are you going to hear a story that begins with, “My best friend, Frank Sinatra...”<br /><br />Thanks for a great night. Here's to many, many more.Susan Codyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09099591599903033907noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6978560042152831024.post-57150482658484281102010-01-06T08:37:00.002-05:002010-01-06T09:17:09.369-05:00THE HELP Could Use Some HelpI know I’m behind the curve in reading The Help. It’s been out for almost a year, and I’m only just now getting around to it because I got it for Christmas. I don’t normally read best sellers or Oprah’s picks. But I’d heard a lot about this one, so I approached it eagerly.<br /><br />If you’re one of the half-dozen people who hasn’t read it yet, here’s a quickie explanation: The story takes place in Jackson, Mississippi in the early 1960s. It is about the ‘colored’ domestic help who work for the white ladies. There are three main characters, two of whom are maids. The third is an unusually enlightened Caucasian young woman who wants to bring ‘their story’ to the world.<br /><br />If you look around the blog-o-sphere, you will find many complaints about Kathryn Stockett, a white woman, writing in the supposed voice of the African American women. There are some who say the dialect she adopted for the two maid characters is demeaning, if not racist.<br /><br />I disagree there. The dialect is not remotely as demeaning as Mark Twain’s in Huckleberry Finn and yet we continue to revere that book. Having lived in the South my entire life, I think I’m qualified to say she did a good job with the southern language. She should have. She grew up with it, too. <br /><br />However, I do have a major complaint with Ms. Stockett’s work. My problem is with timing. It is late 1963. Skeeter is listening to the radio and hears Bob Dylan singing “The Times They Are A-Changing.” Not possible. That song was not recorded until 1964. <br /><br />Later on, in January of ’64, she hears The Rolling Stones on the radio. Again, not possible. The Stones’ first album was released in April of 1964. In January of that year, The Beatles had not even been on The Ed Sullivan Show yet. We’d barely heard of them, let alone The Stones.<br /><br />At another point in late ’63, Stuart, Skeeter’s on-again, off-again boyfriend, goes to San Francisco to face his issues with his ex-girlfriend. He finds her wearing a prairie dress and peace sign jewelry. Sorry, Ms. Stockett. Not in 1963. The Summer of Peace and Love was 1967. The Hippies to which you refer a few times were not even a blip on the socially conscious radar screen in ’63.<br /><br />I could go on, but I’ll rest my case with those examples and assure you there are several more. In her acknowledgements, Ms. Stockett admits she tooks liberty with time and uses the Bob Dylan song as an example. My question is, Why? What point does she make by moving events around? Is the Dylan song central to the plot? No. Does the girlfriend need to be a Hippie? Of course not. These are tiny asides that don’t advance the plot or reveal character in any way. So why bother?<br /><br />What she does accomplish is destroying her credibility for me. If she’s not right about these little things, what other truths has she bent to fit her story? <br /><br />On her own website’s Q&A, the author responds to a question about her research of the times by saying she went to the library and read old phone books and newspapers.<br /><br />Ten minutes with Google would have been a better choice.Susan Codyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09099591599903033907noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6978560042152831024.post-36403993800223712682009-03-16T07:59:00.003-04:002009-03-16T08:09:59.793-04:00But Before There Was Barbie...There was Suzette. And I would be remiss if I didn't give her equal credit. <br /><br />A full year before Barbie changed my life, there was another fashion doll who took center stage in my imaginary world. Suzette and boyfriend Bob were made by the Uneeda company. If I'm not mistaken, they were exclusive to the W. T. Grant department store, of which there was one in my local shopping center. Here they are:<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKcpvvf3BW0gRw47SotuxNWshYFl97HZweIIXKxZkEN_n5Bdl1oZcYS_Gw6gmd0efs745UPtN2ZgYSZQ5O9nCuEJmKuVIwCcNk4ZJk5K3oIdUtIbpS_BhnLFkXocYyFElttvJ5JLdOHC8/s1600-h/Bob+and+Suzette.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKcpvvf3BW0gRw47SotuxNWshYFl97HZweIIXKxZkEN_n5Bdl1oZcYS_Gw6gmd0efs745UPtN2ZgYSZQ5O9nCuEJmKuVIwCcNk4ZJk5K3oIdUtIbpS_BhnLFkXocYyFElttvJ5JLdOHC8/s200/Bob+and+Suzette.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313754793191517794" /></a><br /><br />These are not my original two. These are two that I bought at America's Yard Sale, eBay. But these are exactly like the ones I had when I was six or seven. Suzette is an inch shorter than Barbie. And she has a bigger head and bigger feet. But she can wear the clothes. That's one of Barbie's dresses she's wearing in the picture. Shoes are harder to come by these days. But I'm lucky enough to have found two pairs. Bob, on the other hand, has to make do with Ken's hand-me-downs. The pants are too long and the shirts too big. But he doesn't seem to mind, does he?<br /><br />There were a couple of others in the Fifties. Little Miss Revlon. Tammy. Miss Toni.<br /><br />Barbie may not have been the first, but she's definitely the reigning queen. It's always about Marketing, isn't it?<br /><br />Enjoy your day, whoever your playmate might be.<br /><br />SusanSusan Codyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09099591599903033907noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6978560042152831024.post-6308533845840244222009-03-14T14:33:00.005-04:002009-03-14T15:03:17.569-04:00I'm a Barbie Girl<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji2jazfNvWaOj4RPK2kA0TKT-YE03RKgxKIyZD1J2sAy2pZGJKUsc7VxCEmjU5rp32dPAH2swDe64Oj3RGVsfqgWtgfeAVrHlZvXVMAXEBbGEVq8_DI-62mtQ3Y3KD5RgelchQVjIWBug/s1600-h/Barbie+Vintage.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 128px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji2jazfNvWaOj4RPK2kA0TKT-YE03RKgxKIyZD1J2sAy2pZGJKUsc7VxCEmjU5rp32dPAH2swDe64Oj3RGVsfqgWtgfeAVrHlZvXVMAXEBbGEVq8_DI-62mtQ3Y3KD5RgelchQVjIWBug/s200/Barbie+Vintage.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313114795743490562" /></a><br />The girl looks pretty good for 50, doesn't she? <br /><br />I've never been one to put my age out there, but there are no secrets left when I say that I had an original Barbie when I was eight years old. Barbie was my best friend, my playmate, my cool much older sister who already knew all the answers to questions I hadn't even formed yet. <br /><br />So of course I'm excited to see her reach this milestone. And still be so cool. I don't know where my Barbie is. I remember giving some things to my best friend's little sister when I was in high school. Julie Hartley, if you have my Barbie....I want her back!!<br /><br />I do still have my original Midge, though. And here she is:<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaUBnXms_Gb9nuYA3PkEXSYv-_uVRTbjAIRUAUdeNHXxg3vHqp3rSnqOIqtxxC3EhPHCHc6VgdffmRmNg9CECGaiYx8MvDVAeQjT7NxHzTpNEZYnEKJTy_svn8odrQHRvY_vMvu3hDFz0/s1600-h/Midge.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaUBnXms_Gb9nuYA3PkEXSYv-_uVRTbjAIRUAUdeNHXxg3vHqp3rSnqOIqtxxC3EhPHCHc6VgdffmRmNg9CECGaiYx8MvDVAeQjT7NxHzTpNEZYnEKJTy_svn8odrQHRvY_vMvu3hDFz0/s200/Midge.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313115456230754706" /></a><br /><br /><br />In the early days, when you would purchase a Barbie fashion, you would receive with it a little catalogue showing you all the other wonderful outfits that were available for the girls. I found one of my old booklets in which I'd marked each page with a check or an X so that Santa would know which ones to bring me. This one was always one of my favorites:<br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzdNfDFIcl35iGXsPlJ1n_oTEy0Ch7s4unlE8wlRUf1AiWbApjHPG7sjjc_fbCs-EMgQC7q2JoBLqrrcVQz4MipzFwXiGN6o4UKnhyZ6KZLwrVhpM_gl3082zsnmB-uoAo5e5wbT2vu-M/s1600-h/Solo.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzdNfDFIcl35iGXsPlJ1n_oTEy0Ch7s4unlE8wlRUf1AiWbApjHPG7sjjc_fbCs-EMgQC7q2JoBLqrrcVQz4MipzFwXiGN6o4UKnhyZ6KZLwrVhpM_gl3082zsnmB-uoAo5e5wbT2vu-M/s200/Solo.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313116257521473634" /></a><br /><br />It's called "Solo in the Spotlight." Yes, each outfit had a name. Of course it did. Why not? That's a reproduction in the picture, although I do still have my slinky black evening gown from the fifties. It's not quite as fresh as that one, but it still fits. <br /><br />Certainly there are detractors who say that Barbie is bad for little girls. She represents an idealistic body shape that no woman can ever achieve. She objectifies women. She stereotypes little girls. <br /><br />That's simply not true. <br /><br />I adored Barbie - still do - but I also played with trucks and trains and guns - yes, guns! I played baseball, basketball and football with all the boys in the neighborhood. I don't have a body like Barbie's. I don't expect to. I'm very comfortable with the one I have.<br /><br />Playing with Barbie and Midge was the beginning of my life as a writer. Oh, the stories we would star in! We could travel the world - properly accessorized, of course - without ever leaving the corner of my bedroom. We were spies. We were cowboys. We were doctors and zookeepers. Each day we spun a new tale. <br /><br />And we never needed Ken. I was not interested. Completely bored with the possibility. What fun would it be to dress him? All he had were trousers and shirts. How mundane. <br /><br />Thanks to the wonder of the Internet, I can type a few keys and find all the Vintage Barbie fashions for sale. Some at a perfectly reasonable price. I'm slowly amassing the wardrobe I didn't have for my Barbie when I was eight. It's fun.<br /><br />You've got to give the old girl credit. She looks pretty good for fifty, doesn't she? I wish I would be around to see how she looks at one hundred. Maybe my great-great-granddaughter will have one.<br /><br />Take good care of your toys. And they will take care of you.<br /><br />Have a great weekend!Susan Codyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09099591599903033907noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6978560042152831024.post-57879259351046531292009-03-11T08:49:00.003-04:002009-03-11T09:03:04.591-04:00MORE RAVE REVIEWS!!!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxZhPlWRYXv52MPPYsdDtaCDwaAkiL1XoERtwvVq_60x7gV9cK0OWBQ-ZDWQDgfmJjM5gu8NInfsf6DBJqxe5bQBCzO234g2uR4ZE8ZMgOZOXd5XzP2Ge4lxzlHovvGR-IjWL30IVQc8g/s1600-h/Tougher+Than+Diamonds2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 122px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxZhPlWRYXv52MPPYsdDtaCDwaAkiL1XoERtwvVq_60x7gV9cK0OWBQ-ZDWQDgfmJjM5gu8NInfsf6DBJqxe5bQBCzO234g2uR4ZE8ZMgOZOXd5XzP2Ge4lxzlHovvGR-IjWL30IVQc8g/s200/Tougher+Than+Diamonds2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311914932241910354" /></a><br />Possibly my favorite of all my ebooks is TOUGHER THAN DIAMONDS. That's the one that's set in Tampa. It's sort of my homage to all those great Bogie and Bacall movies that typify Film Noir. The book was released exactly two years ago. So you can imagine my surprise when this review turned up on my Google Alert yesterday:<br /><br />"This story was exceptionally easy to read, with excellent characters! Rebecca was both sophisticated and easy to like. The author did a fantastic job showing the reader all the layers of Rebecca’s psyche. She was feisty, intelligent, and lovable.<br /> <br />Jake was also intriguing, with a macho exterior and a marshmallow interior. A true man’s man with sensitivity and the ability to love someone without too much angst. I truly enjoyed reading their story."<br /><br />This review came from Rista Tompkins at The Romance Readers Connection. Thanks very much to Rista for finding this book and for liking it. <br /><br />This kind of attention is extremely good for a writer. Like I've said many times before, writing is a solitary experience. It's also a long, long time between writing the words and receiving any pay off. All these reviews that show up on the Internet are very valuable to a writer. <br /><br />Now I suppose I should get busy and finish the current project. Yes, that's a good idea. <br /><br />Have a great day!<br />SusanSusan Codyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09099591599903033907noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6978560042152831024.post-71282204252272515402009-03-06T08:22:00.003-05:002009-03-06T08:42:39.753-05:00Sing Us a Song....You're the Piano Men. <br />And sing us a song, they did. <br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm9veYzeZkfnV6iZ5I9kvvc_hFYGpG7MzkVdYYY854ltuif3njxOMd9N2Px_R6D_OTlRKhPQ6UMGGjGruta5ZoY0Pcp7gkgIx2judexziOu4dmZkwqe7uLq-6iNsXiZt23AMSYdi7Kun8/s1600-h/eltonjoel400.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 185px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm9veYzeZkfnV6iZ5I9kvvc_hFYGpG7MzkVdYYY854ltuif3njxOMd9N2Px_R6D_OTlRKhPQ6UMGGjGruta5ZoY0Pcp7gkgIx2judexziOu4dmZkwqe7uLq-6iNsXiZt23AMSYdi7Kun8/s200/eltonjoel400.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310064792811858130" /></a><br /><br /><br />I've been playing the piano since I was seven years old. My mother told the story that after visiting a friend who had a piano, she saw me sitting on the bed, fingering an imaginary keyboard. Very shortly thereafter, a piano showed up at my house. <br /><br />Mrs. Johnson once told someone that I was the best student she ever had. She never said that to me, of course. To me she said, "Cut your nails!" and "Slow down!"<br /><br />But I still have to thank Mrs. Johnson for keeping me in love with the piano, even after The Beatles took over the rest of my musical life. <br /><br />My favorite all time piece of music written for the piano? That would be Rachmaninoff's Variations on a Theme by Paganini. I loved it even before it was used in the movie "Somewhere in Time." (Which, by the way, is the reason my son's name is Christopher, but that's another story).<br /><br />But my favorite live performance by a pianist? That would be last night at the Ice Palace in Tampa, Florida. Sir Elton John and Billy Joel. I've seen these two in concert together two other times, about fifteen years ago. I think I love them best when they're doing each other's songs. <br /><br />The show opened with "Your Song" and closed with "Piano Man." And the energy never flagged in between. From the roots-rocking "Italian Restaurant" to the audience participation "Tiny Dancer," both artists held us captive in their hands for three hours. <br /><br />And their hands! I've seen a lot of concert pianists play Gershwin, Mozart, Beethoven. They all have large hands with long, slender fingers. These two guys - cowboys, the local paper called them today, and I can't disagree with that - have little chubby hands with short pudgy fingers. How do they reach those octaves? On Billy Joel's "Angry Young Man," his hands moved so fast there was nothing but a blur on the jumbo screen.<br /><br />It was the ultimate "Jellyrolls" last night. Dueling pianos manned by the two greatest pianists of our generation.<br /><br />We were all in the mood for a melody. And they had us feeling all right.Susan Codyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09099591599903033907noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6978560042152831024.post-39952736207471210262009-02-05T08:23:00.003-05:002009-02-05T08:38:23.058-05:00What I've Been Reading<strong><em>"There is an undeniable pleasure in stepping into an open-top sports car driven by a beautiful woman."</em></strong><br />- Dr. Gregory House<br /><br />Oh, wait a minute. It wasn't House who said that. It was Thomas Lang, protagonist of the novel THE GUNSELLER, written by Hugh Laurie.<br /><br />So maybe House did say it, after all.<br /><br />If you've heard rumors that I've been involved in a mammoth House-a-thon, then you know where my head's been of late. Inside the mind of the evil - or is that heartwarming - Dr. House. <br /><br />One of the various book stores to which I have the rewards/loyalty/preferred customer card had a deal on box sets of DVDs. I'd been confused ever since this season started with that whole Wilson's Dead Girlfriend thing, so I decided the really best way to get it all sorted out was to start from the beginning.<br /><br />So I did. And in very short order, I watched the first four seasons of House in their entirety, including special features, bloopers and producer's commentary. Of course, then I had withdrawal. And that's when I remembered the book:<br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZhQ0De4C0U_JzA8psk619xt0t0_xQu6vY-eort3rAOlyij5p3x2oETnxugxXRC1czJXUEKUxS3Po_14jZbvWSv0NOgJPOx07uS6erForQo6VqQaitfodzCFt-fOtuk7ICr3UXWGSMqO8/s1600-h/The+Gunseller.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 96px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZhQ0De4C0U_JzA8psk619xt0t0_xQu6vY-eort3rAOlyij5p3x2oETnxugxXRC1czJXUEKUxS3Po_14jZbvWSv0NOgJPOx07uS6erForQo6VqQaitfodzCFt-fOtuk7ICr3UXWGSMqO8/s200/The+Gunseller.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299306512924583362" /></a><br /><br /><br />This is a really fun read whether you're a House fan or not. I had a tendency to picture the curmudgeonly doctor as I was reading, but you don't have to do that to enjoy it. It's very witty and quite an adventure. The hero - and I use that term loosely, as House would prefer - is one of those reluctant to be in the role but who does the right thing in the end.<br /><br />Hugh Laurie is an entertaining writer. And quite witty to boot, which I always enjoy. If I have any complaint, it's getting some of the characters confused so that I occasionally had to go backward to remind myself who was which.<br /><br />But a good read nonetheless. Have you read it? Tell me what you think. <br /><br />Have a great day!<br />SusanSusan Codyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09099591599903033907noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6978560042152831024.post-6790588925988873212009-01-13T09:34:00.004-05:002009-01-13T09:49:41.362-05:00Turns out, you CAN go home again!I've just returned from a quick trip to the place of my birth, Thomaston, GA. The main purpose of this trip was to teach my cousin Jane how to do eBay. Oh, my! She's sitting on a gold mine filled with Depression Glass, vintage toys, antique school furnishings, and much more.<br /><br />In fact, I told her husband that they have enough inventory to open their own Antique store. His reply was, "That sounds like something you'd have to go to every day."<br /><br />Yeah, I get that. Trying my very best not to have to go SOMEWHERE every day. So far, I'm good until about 2012. <br /><br />So I truly did enjoy my visit with Jane and family. Also my cousin Kay from the other side of my heritage. It was great to see the old places and get caught up on everyone's children. All of that was part of the reason for going. Here's the part that I didn't expect:<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZyXcVHUAZyxbRMqjIPDo5EDckVV6waM4-3aGfri4trHl6T_wXV5JCUM5cVMD8fsk23KiJ3kqvxNyX19KZuHLNvur-uqadrcjoUyEALx3R803KpXSDDLnXyGyXMkpJkZ3hN_agtvez2go/s1600-h/Sallie+and+James.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZyXcVHUAZyxbRMqjIPDo5EDckVV6waM4-3aGfri4trHl6T_wXV5JCUM5cVMD8fsk23KiJ3kqvxNyX19KZuHLNvur-uqadrcjoUyEALx3R803KpXSDDLnXyGyXMkpJkZ3hN_agtvez2go/s200/Sallie+and+James.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5290788028738089026" /></a><br /><br />I'm afraid those may be too small to see on the Blog, so here's what they say:<br /><br />Sallie Profitt 1839-1901 James O. Hoyal 1833-1881<br /><br />Those would be my grandmother's grandparents. Wow.<br /><br />Jane and I stood there in that damp cemetery with cold wind whipping around us contemplating those two headstones. We don't know what they looked like. We don't know what their personalities were. Did she like to sing? Was he tall? What attracted them to each other? We will never know. But we do know this profound thing. If not for those two meeting, falling in love, marrying....Jane and I would not exist. (Along with a bunch of other people, but they weren't with us that day.)<br /><br />I knew about Sallie and James O. Their names are in my great-grandfather's Bible. She's the reason I had Sallie on my baby name list when I was pregnant. Until I found out the baby was a Boy. <br /><br />Now I have been bitten by the Genealogy bug. I want to know the generation before and the generation before that. Luckily for me, there is a wealth of information out on the Super Cyber Highway. It's just a matter of sorting out the true from the mistakes. But I look forward to the adventure.<br /><br />Who knows? I could find out I'm related to YOU.<br /><br />Have a great day,<br />SusanSusan Codyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09099591599903033907noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6978560042152831024.post-37831262676520749372008-12-11T09:17:00.004-05:002008-12-11T09:45:22.435-05:00THE DIAMOND STILL SPARKLES<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx4na3VWxrrIBRAS0ntk0D4p8qOsnLxvL6lYOAeN_0JP3bZvfbabW_BpM07JG8bgFUl8JNZwAO9cCmGlCeBexrYnaGZcYShYl_q29QNwtfM8_pe0l2bd3-lG2oL3bm7NX9VRPr7qnXvEc/s1600-h/Tougher+Than+Diamonds2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 122px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx4na3VWxrrIBRAS0ntk0D4p8qOsnLxvL6lYOAeN_0JP3bZvfbabW_BpM07JG8bgFUl8JNZwAO9cCmGlCeBexrYnaGZcYShYl_q29QNwtfM8_pe0l2bd3-lG2oL3bm7NX9VRPr7qnXvEc/s200/Tougher+Than+Diamonds2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278540512221756322" /></a><br />Wow, this is amazing. TOUGHER THAN DIAMONDS was released in March of 2007. This morning another review showed up in my mailbox. And it's a fine one!<br /><br />The Romance Studio has given it Five Hearts! Here's a snippet of the review:<br />"Delia Carnell does an exceptional job telling the tale of these two people and their lives...This is one of those books that was hard to put down as the suspense built to a well done ending."<br /><br />It's such a treat to hear words like that. And this time, I received praise for a facet that's never been mentioned to me before. Check this: "There are some interesting secondary characters...also make great additions to the story."<br /><br />That's fun to hear. And it's something I tell my students when I teach the writing class. Even if the characters are only in the story for a short time, they have to have a purpose, and they have to be well defined. <br /><br />TOUGHER THAN DIAMONDS is one of my favorite books (yeah, I know...I say that about whichever one I'm talking about at the moment) because I truly love Jake. He's so tortured. So emotionally bankrupt. So easy to fall in love with. And this was the first book I set in my hometown of Tampa. That was fun. And easy. No research needed! I enjoyed sending Jake and Rebecca to places I go on a regular basis. Rick's on the River. Jackson's Bistro. The Florida Orchestra. <br /><br />If you'd like to read the entire review at The Romance Studio, click <a href="http://www.theromancestudio.com/reviews/reviews/tougherdiamondscarnell.htm">here</a>. <br /><br /><br />And if you'd like to fall in love with Jake yourself, click <a href="http://www.jasminejade.com/pm-4410-372-tougher-than-diamonds.aspx">here</a>.<br /><br />Thanks very much to Dee Dailey at The Romance Studio for making this rainy morning a little bit sunnier.<br /><br />Have a great day!<br />SusanSusan Codyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09099591599903033907noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6978560042152831024.post-69055581767670286632008-12-05T08:21:00.004-05:002008-12-05T08:38:31.130-05:00Top Ten Lists - The Other Side!Usually if there's something to do with a Top Ten list in this Blog, it's because I've made one. Today, it's because I'm ON one.<br /><br />Not too long ago, I got a fabulous review for TIME TO KEEP, my time travel romance that was out this year. Now Kimber at Fallen Angel reviews has compiled her list of the Top Ten best books of 2008.<br /><br />Guess who's on it!<br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4IFjL-2DJeuvSt1X9s715smc5X7OAs1X8Ogb-Eox8-vu5742hZ_f-tP4WlPu9_aEtn0c3CDksd6YhhwUMlqaOEGSt3RFJ-hMYLDpG4kCUUp4vhow5M7R0DncWgSQAoO_PpADo7eI_fz8/s1600-h/TimeToKeep_w1659_120.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 120px; height: 180px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4IFjL-2DJeuvSt1X9s715smc5X7OAs1X8Ogb-Eox8-vu5742hZ_f-tP4WlPu9_aEtn0c3CDksd6YhhwUMlqaOEGSt3RFJ-hMYLDpG4kCUUp4vhow5M7R0DncWgSQAoO_PpADo7eI_fz8/s200/TimeToKeep_w1659_120.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5276299043173595426" /></a><br /><br /><br /> Yes, that's right. Kimber has honored us with a spot on her list. I can't tell you what a thrill this is. I've said this here before, and I'll say it again: Writing is a Very Solitary Experience. I sit here in this little space that I've made as visually appealing and inspirational as I can. I have mood music, photos of people who resemble the major characters (Mark Harmon, usually), and a few reference books. I try to capture what I see in my head, the dialogue I hear, the emotions my characters are feeling.<br /><br />But I never know if I'm getting it right. One of the difficult things about writing is the huge length of time between creation and feedback. Did I get it right? Does it make sense? Will someone else be as crazy about it as I am? <br /><br />You just don't know, so you keep on putting down the words, day after day, working on nothing but blind faith. Someone will love it. Someone will buy it. Someone will be glad she read it. This time, I have my proof. Someone not only liked it, she liked it TOP TEN BEST of all the books she read this year. <br /><br />Wow.<br /><br />Thanks, Kimber, for not just the honor, but for the inspiration, the kick-in-the-pants to go on. And on and on. <br /><br />If you'd like to see the rest of Kimber's list, click <a href="http://enduringromance.blogspot.com/2008/12/10-2008-book-picks.html">here</a>.<br /><br />And if you'd like to read TIME TO KEEP yourself, then click <a href="http://www.thewildrosepress.com/index.php?main_page=product_info&products_id=757">here</a>.<br /><br />Thanks, Faithful Readers. What would I do without you?<br /><br />SusanSusan Codyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09099591599903033907noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6978560042152831024.post-75824574685905510732008-11-26T08:13:00.002-05:002008-11-26T08:26:59.503-05:00Giving thanks...anywayI've told my sister that I absolutely will not stand in a circle, hold hands and say what I'm thankful for prior to carving the turkey tomorrow. It's a tradition. Of course it is. Everybody in America does it. We have to mark the holiday in some way. After all, those Pilgrims did a brave and dangerous thing. We should be glad. And I am glad. It's just that personally, I haven't had a lot to be thankful for this year.<br /><br />But lest I sound maudlin, I decided to come up with some things for which I am truly grateful despite the tragedy that struck my family in 2008. So take these in the spirit with which they were summoned. And see what you might be able to add.<br /><br />I'm thankful that I no longer work for a woman I can't repsect.<br /><br />I'm extremely grateful that I wasn't running a trucking company when fuel hit five dollars a gallon.<br /><br />I'm very thankful that Cloris Leachman was voted off Dancing with the Stars early on. I couldn't have tuned in to watch Warren if she was still there.<br /><br />I'm grateful to Mr. Disney for deciding to build in Florida. That goes with the corollary thankful to my dad for deciding to move us to Florida.<br /><br />I'm thankful that the Bucs finally started doing well so that people are buying my tickets on Stub Hub.<br /><br />I'm glad I finished reading DUMA KEY before it got dark last night.<br /><br />I'm thankful for my son's girlfriend who is a great cook and wants to do the dinner tomorrow.<br /><br />I'm grateful that my mother didn't have to see the Georgia-Florida game this year.<br /><br />And because writing is not unlike producing music in many, many ways, I'll leave you with one of my favorite Paul Simon lyrics from the song Lincoln Duncan:<br /><br />"I was playing my guitar, lying underneath the stars, just thanking the Lord for my fingers, for my fingers."<br /><br />Have a happy thanskgiving.<br />SusanSusan Codyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09099591599903033907noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6978560042152831024.post-91732690463415108592008-11-24T11:03:00.003-05:002008-11-24T11:19:38.091-05:00DON'T GET IT WRONG!My writer friend Mark! and I have been discussing - here and in other places - the obligation writers have to get the details right. If you're writing about Boston, and you've never been there, get somebody from Boston to read your work. Otherwise, you might not know that at five o'clock on a winter afternoon it's already dark. <br /><br />Yes, that happened to me. I have lived in Florida since I was four. I knew it got colder up there. I didn't know it got dark earlier. Good thing I had a Boston native read it for me before it became a permanent mistake. <br /><br />As promised, here are some of my favorite mistakes (other than the Sheryl Crow song):<br /><br />This was a category romance in the late 80s. The hero took the heroine to Disney World in Florida. They rode Space Mountain. They sat side by side. Observe Exhibit A:<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXZb5WapAAczTIwlkKhp7NWtfZ1JQMwgRr75lC4ErKKlgkoDcQTJuXafLrIRAGCuOtVf1-BFERTqRR-q0J8A4LKTRh7kDmHHqGKyNzG8o6PwvYGuF4volKE1nPeBST8scrfgMo6Rybhbw/s1600-h/Space-Mountain-goofy-on-ride-724627.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXZb5WapAAczTIwlkKhp7NWtfZ1JQMwgRr75lC4ErKKlgkoDcQTJuXafLrIRAGCuOtVf1-BFERTqRR-q0J8A4LKTRh7kDmHHqGKyNzG8o6PwvYGuF4volKE1nPeBST8scrfgMo6Rybhbw/s200/Space-Mountain-goofy-on-ride-724627.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5272256760331679042" /></a><br /><br />Side by side? No can do. <br /><br />Granted, there was no Google in the 80s. It wasn't nearly as easy to find that kind of picture then as it is now, but still...how hard would it have been to find somebody who'd been to WDW and ASK them? Not very.<br /><br />Same book, same author: They're in a hotel on Miami Beach. They look out the window. The hero says (and I'm not quoting exactly) "Oh, look! A hurricane's coming!" <br /><br />Boys and girls, believe me when I tell you, you don't look out the window and see it coming. It doesn't provide a whirling vortex of flotsam and jetsam like the Tasmanian Devil skipping across the surface of the ocean. Very sophisticated meteorological instruments detect the presence of a hurricane long before you can "see" anything. And what you see, really, is a lot of rain and bending palm trees. <br /><br />Here's another one. Florida author. Should have known better. Hero lives in a secluded cabin in the Everglades (I forget why). Heroine goes there for some reason. They watch a movie on cable.<br /><br />Now I've never worked for Time Warner or Bright House or any of those cable providing conglomerates. But I will bet you my last dollar that none of them have to date laid cable down Alligator Alley and into the swamp. At least not yet.<br /><br />They could have watched a movie on DVD. They could have watched a movie on Satellite. On cable? I don't think so. <br /><br />This one is my personal favorite:<br />The book is by a well known author and comes from a Big New York publishing house. There are characters in the book from New Orleans. Someone asks the woman how she survived Katrina. (Boy, those hurricanes!) She says, "No problem. We rode it out in the bayou in the basement of a church."<br /><br />I'll leave you to ponder why that is so wrong. If you can't get it, I'll fill you in tomorrow.<br /><br />Now I'm off to work on the book that I'm setting in the small town in Georgia where I was born. THAT one, I know.<br /><br />SusanSusan Codyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09099591599903033907noreply@blogger.com0