The Dating Game: Do I Look Like Bob Eubanks To You?

         Chicken Soup for the Soul books is looking for dating stories. They are looking for "contemporary" tales so if you've been married for a couple of decades and it has been a while since you dated, just change "Andy Williams" to "Pharrell Williams" when mentioning what you were listening to on the car radio, and your story will be good to go. (Not that I've ever changed any unimportant details in order to make a story "fit" or make it a bit more interesting.)

           Two of the WWWPs are single, so I know they have stacks and stacks of dating stories. The other three of us...when we hear the word "date night," that means we take the time to braid the hair on our legs so that later we won't be too embarrassed if we're seen with our husbands at Ted Drewes the local frozen custard place.

        The deadline is July 15, so get crackin'.

Sometimes You Win, Sometimes You Lose

       When I get something accepted for publication, I shout it from the rooftop. When I get something rejected, I do the same. (As  a back-up singer in a Joni Mitchell tune sang, "Man, the chick is twisted. Crazy. Scooby-shooby...Flip city.") Getting a "no" from an editor means that at least I'm sending out pieces.

       Three writing friends--Lynn Obermoeller, Cathi LaMarche and Linda O'Connell--have stories in the Gloria Gaynor collection entitled We Will Survive. Because I love the song, I submitted something...and got a quick "no thanks." But hey, at least I tried.

      So Lynn, Linda and Cathi won that round. I lost.



Isn't this a great cover? I've read Lynn and Linda's stories
(at least the rough draft) and they're wonderful tales.

 

 

             Today I drew a name from the thousands  hundreds handful of followers that I have who left a comment for my book give-away. The drawing was handled by the well-known SODAD--Society of Dust and Doghair. The names were written carefully on slips of paper (see below) before being folded and "stirred." 

       And the winner is....Kathy M. Kathy, when you finish celebrating your wedding anniversary and put the camera down long enough to send me your address, I'll send you the book. (If you want, I'll even have Linda and myself sign it...to you,  or just a general notation, or to someone else if you'd like to "regift" it later. Let me know.)

         And especially for Val with her steeljaw trap of a memory--anyone can jump in, however: There are two song references in this post. With one of them, I gave you the artist. Do you know the song? The other one is the title of this post. Do you know either the singer or the song? 

        What's a win or a loss you've experienced recently?


Heartwarming Tales. Tales That Inspire. Tales That Move.

     

Jake and Elwood--a sculpture in an airport...Chicago?
I'm not sure where I was when I snapped this picture.

The Blues Brothers--the original movie and the soundtrack--move me. I laugh, I dance in my seat, I sing along (much to the dismay of anyone within earshot).

On sale now is the Chicken Soup for the Soul's anthology for writers. There is a story of mine in this collection, as well as one by Cathi LaMarche, a Missouri writer. Cathi's story, "Complementary Attraction," is the most heartwarming story I've read in a long time. It's the kind of tale--so well crafted--that you imagine the perfect ending, you hope it will conclude that way and when you read the last line, you realize LaMarche has done it...she's brought you to an extremely satisfying end. (And as she's doing it, she paints a detailed picture of the risk we take when we share our writing with others.) 

My story includes something Donna Volkenannt did. If that has piqued your interest, you'll have to buy a copy of the book to find out what part Donna plays.

What kind of music makes you move? What are some of the movies on your "list of the funniest films"?

 

Topless on the Beach

        In France (my favorite place in the world) the women go topless. The men wear Speedos. Sometimes, visually, it's a scary place.

This is a photo from one of the towns I visited in France, on a trip
I took several years ago.

To celebrate the travel you might be doing this summer or later this year, I'm giving away a copy of Not Your Mother's Book...On Travel. Included in this anthology is my story "Half Right," and the tale answers the question everyone across the country has been asking (while they try to gouge out their mind's eye):

Did Sioux go topless when she was in France?

To get your name in the drawing, all you have to do is become a follower. If you're already a follower, all you have to do is leave a comment. (For you busy writers, to minimize the time you're spending away from the short story/article/novel you're working on, just say "Yo," or "Hey," or if you're a fan of the Lumineers, you can leave "Hey Ho" as a comment.)

Good luck--for all those who are brave enough to be willing to read these stories. (As an added bonus, there is a hilarious story about cruising by a fellow WWWP, Linda O'Connell. No, she's not a cruising cougar on the prowl in this story...at least not in this story. ;) I will draw a name on the last day of June...

 

 

Relaxing and Recharging

       Two weeks ago I went on a writing retreat to Conception, Missouri. The setting was Conception Abbey. Beautiful grounds, some sharp "editors" who gave great feedback, and no distractions. (No television, limited internet, and sketchy cell phone service.)

       The peace I felt reminded me of the tranquility that France brings me. It is a country that's lured me three times so far. I plan on returning someday with my daughter and granddaughter.

        Here are some pictures I took on my most recent trip, which was several years ago.

They say that if you can ski in the Pyrenees, you can
ski anywhere...Needless to say, due to my gawkiness, I
did not ski on any of my trips to France.
 

Architecture that is four or five or six centuries old is wonderful to explore. When I was in France,
I had to explore the possibility of going topless on the beach. Did I keep my swimsuit top on, or did
I embrace their customs with gusto and go sans top? You will have to buy Not Your Mother's Book...On Travel,
by the Publishing Syndicate, to find out...

 

 

This is a shop in the Basque region, an area that spans both France
and Spain. They have a distinctive culture--this shop, for example,
has strings of dried peppers hanging on the front exterior wall.

 

 

Okay, I know this is not indicative of what the scenery is like in France,
but it was one of the coolest sand sculptures I've ever seen.

 Everyone needs some time periods when they can relax and slow things down. Quiet times are especially needed if you're an artist (or a parent of young children, or if you have a stressful job or if...well, we all need serenity--NOW).

 

What do you do to relax? Or, where do you go (either mentally or physically)?

 

 

 

Incredible News

      I reached the pinnacle of greatness this week. After working for months and months and failing, I finally succeeded. I reached a major goal.

      I stumped Hillbilly Mom. I out-Seinfelded her. I baited her, she nibbled, and then I reeled her in. I set out my trap, I...Oh, I hear some mumbling and grumbling. Too many metaphors? Sorry.

      Hillbilly Mom (HM to her closest friends) is a Seinfeld expert with steeljaw trap of a memory. There are rumors she spends her whole day--every day--watching Seinfeld reruns, along with reruns of Designing Women and various other shows. She probably takes detailed notes, because no minor plotline eludes her. Except for this one time...

    HM wrote a post about getting blood work done.  That was not the main subject of her post, but I pounced nonetheless. Because I remembered an episode where Kramer poured some blood (that he was transporting) into an overheated radiator, I made a comment.

      And Hillbilly Mom failed to make the connection. I asked if I had stumped her (to verify my victory) ; she confirmed it. And then the celebration began.

      There was a ticker tape parade when I left my house and headed to Aldi's. The mayor of my little township presented me with the key to the city. My name (so they tell me) will appear in the next Guinness World Book of Records. And I'm going to be a guest judge on the show "So You Think You Can Dance" since I am quite skilled at dancing just like Elaine. (Sadly, I'm a one-trick pony. That is the ONLY dance I know how to do.)

         
       Although I know this was a small battle--an insignificant skirmish in a huge war--I am savoring my win until the next time when we face off...and I'm beaten by her once again...

      And in honor of Father's Day tomorrow, I'm including a video of Daniel Beaty, a wonderful poet. His poem, "Knock Knock" speaks to the impact a father has.

 

 

One of my favorite memories of my father was on vacation trips, in our station wagon, he'd sing. Funny songs, serious songs. From him I learned that "mares eat oats and does eat oats and little lambs eat ivy..."

 

What is a favorite memory you have of your father?