A Lightning-Bolt Moment

       This weekend I watched the movie Belle. If you have not seen it, run out immediately and get it from Redbox or wherever you get your rentals. 

        Two of the co-stars are Tom Wilkinson (one of my favorites---he was hilarious in The Full Monty) and Miranda Richardson (she was brilliant in The Crying Game). The singular star is Gugu Mbatha-Raw, another Brit, who plays Belle.


       In the movie, there is a lightning-bolt moment when Belle's fiancee says something...something that is so dismissive of Belle's past, Belle cannot compromise or ignore any longer. An undercurrent to the primary storyline is a court case that has quite an insidious premise.

        This movie is snatched from the pages of real-life history, which makes it even more compelling. If you love romance, you'll love this film. If you adore period pieces, you'll go ga-ga. If you are a history buff and are looking for a new not-well-known avenue to travel down, you'll find it here.

        This morning I also drew from a pile of names for the copy of Verna Simms' novel Water Under the Bridge. The competition was so stiff, with my thousands hundreds dozens three followers, it took an age to write down all the names, fold them in half, and stir them up. However, my numb and nimble little fingers finally finished, and the winner is...

                   Shay.

       Shay, if you send me your address, I will send you a copy of the book.

       Have you--my three followers--had a lightning-bolt moment? A moment when you immediately knew--in an electrical moment--that you'd have to quit your job or divorce or fall in love or surrender or take a risk? 

        Share, please.        

What's In a Name?

         Names are important. Titles tells us something. But sometimes, names or titles change...

         Donna Volkenannt has a story in Chicken Soup's newest collection, Hope and Miracles. (It comes out October 7.) If you don't know Donna's work, you should. And if you don't know her titles, you definitely should check out her deftness when it comes to creating a title for her stories. 

         This slice-of-life story is called "A Patchwork of Hope," and the title fits both figuratively and literally. (It's also a moving and well-crafted tale.)

         When I was born, my birth mother named me Margaret. (I can see myself as Maggie. Margaret? Never.)  My parents named me Susan, which was fine until I hit 7th grade. Both Susan and Sue (and definitely Susie) were too conventional for my tastes. My inability to fit my round self into the square holes, combined with a passion for everything Native American led me to rename myself "Sioux." My friends knew me as Sue spelled with an X, my parents shook their head in dismay, and I remained Sioux--unofficially--until I was in my forties.

         It was then that I decided that the third time was a charm, the third name of mine was going to be the one that stuck, and I went to court and paid to change my name--legally--to Sioux.  

        What do you think of your name? Did you ever have occasion to change it? If you did change it, what would you have changed it to? Nosy people like me want to know...

Jealousy or Revelry?

         I read Crystal Otto's post this morning while I nibbled on a Muffin, and it immediately brought to mind a phrase a writing friend said. When she said it--several years ago--it resonated with me.

      Truth be told, when I get together with Britton Gildersleeve, lots of things she says hum and resonate and stick. She's a wonderful critique partner/editor, she talks a mile a minute, she reads everything that's worth reading, and she's wicked-smart. (Unfortunately, I only see Britton once a year at my annual writing retreat in Conception, Missouri.)


      Britton said, "The sun that shines on you also warms me."

      We happened to be talking about people who are jealous of the success of others...People who try to downplay their accomplishments...people who try to hog up the spotlight.

       So the next time you look a little green-with-envy, think of how you can bask in that warmth, too.

        Because you can. And you should.  

Worth Waiting For

      Last week, the final season of Sons of Anarchy began. It was 117 minutes I had been waiting for for a while.

     
  During the past six seasons there have been twists and turns, unflinching looks at various issues--an exciting roller coaster ride, in my opinion.

     
    It seems that the main character (Jax) is going to get undone...and his drive for revenge is what is going to undo him.

     On the first episode, Marilyn Manson did a guest spot as a prisoner. I now know why he wears such strange make-up. 

     
    What TV show episode did you look forward to with great anticipation? What television series were you the most saddened to see end?

      
      And if you don't watch Sons of Anarchy, why not...?


And Lisa, I was all ready to post this on Thursday to keep to my Monday and Thursday schedule. I had written it on Wednesday night in preparation, combatting my normal procrastinating style. Thursday morning, no "network." No wireless connectivity. The things I unplugged and then replugged (all I really know how to do) did nothing. Thursday night--I spent the evening with my granddaughter. So I was well-intentioned and ready...and technology conspired against me.

Taking Advice

A trainer who evaluated my 8-week old puppy (she checked out the rest of the litter as well) suggested we hold him like a baby--with his back against our stomach, while we watch TV. She said we should do this as often as possible. This was not a time to rub his belly or ruffle his fur or pet him. This was a time to help him feel secure. If he wiggled to get down, we were instructed to firmly tell him, "No," and not let him down until he had stopped struggling. This was to cement it into Radar's head who is boss. (Duh! Obviously, Radar is the boss.)  

This is Radar and me at a fine arts festival. (He wore a donation vest for our rescue group.)



Now Radar is 45 pounds. His legs are as long as a teenaged (human) boy. I am developing a hernia each time I hoist him up onto my lap. Perhaps he's no longer a lapdog. Maybe once they get Shetland Pony-size, they shouldn't be snuggling in my lap.

The trainer gave wonderful advice. Radar is quite secure.

Here is some other advice I've gotten recently from a variety of friends:

• Don't downplay your successes--no matter how small or how temporary. If an editor wants to see something, don't start wailing to everyone that the editor certainly is not going to like what you send them. You have something to celebrate, even if it's just for a moment. You never know...

• Use a tea bag to help extend your hair color. Are you overdue with Clairol? Is L'Oreal late? Dab that tea bag (after it's been dipped into hot water) on the "skunky" parts...and pray that no one sniffs your head and is then tempted to ask if you want cream and sugar with it. 

• Take a chance. (TakeaChanceTakeaChanceTakeaChanceTakeaChance. Can't you hear Abba in the background?) Try something new. Think outside the box. Again, you never know what the results might be. There was a call out for "potty training" stories a while back. I dug into the recesses of my memory, and gave the editors the scoop on my poopy story about my son. It's being published in an anthology put out by Monkey Star Press. You never do know...

• Stop chewing sticks. If I have to reach into your mouth one more time so I can pull out chewed-up pieces of slobbery sticks, I'm gonna throttle you. (Oops. That is not meant for you. I apologize.)

            What has a friend (or specifically a writer friend) given you that has proven to be good (or bad) advice? Inquiring minds are dying to know...

 

Keeping a Sense of Humor

      In my day-to-day activities, I am forced to keep my sense of humor up close and personal. Yesterday one of my students said, "Mrs. R---I love your toes." I replied, "I'm assuming you're talking about the turquoise nail polish, and that you're not talking about my old-lady toes."

     On the first day of school, I spoke of having my students' backs. I'd look out for them, and if they saw me with one brown shoe and one black shoe on (it happened once last year, and it was not "tacky" or "mismatched" day at our school), if they saw me with my hair looking all wild, they'd say something. One of my super-helpful girls is--on a regular basis--whispering to me that a hunk of hair has escaped, that some of my hair is standing up (at attention)... so much, that I have to say, "I know. My hair is always wild."

     With our puppy Radar, I have to keep my sense of humor gripped tightly... otherwise, I might throttle him. Or, I might dampen my underwear as I laugh too heartily. He has a toy that resembles an octopus--it has a Kong (an odd-shaped hard rubber ball-like thing) at its core, and five or so long furry "legs." The rubber core is large enough that when he wrestles with it, it hits him in the head. (Thank goodness he has a hard head!) Radar is fascinated by the tree dogs (the squirrels) and tries to climb up the tree after them. A couple of days ago, he saw (for the first time) his reflection in a mirror. It was hilarious.

Doesn't he look angelic? Looks can definitely be deceiving...

      Recently, I submitted something to New Haven Review. I suspect that what I sent will not be their cup of tea. However, I did laugh a few times as I read their submission guidelines...and that doesn't happen often. Most of the time, guidelines are businesslike...dull...dry. When I sent an initial email, I noted that I chuckled over their guidelines, and along the way, I tossed in a bit of my snarkiness. Apparently, it's sometimes a good idea to lead with your humorous foot, because they asked me to send my story.


      I did. And even though in all probability they won't accept it, an editor sparked my interest and--if only for a microsecond--I sparked theirs.

      And if you've missed my comments on your blog in the last couple of days, I've been swamped at school. Last night I got eight more students (we're going down from three 3rd grade classrooms to two) and tonight is Open House. I'll have to catch up tomorrow... as I'm nibbling on chocolate or hydrating myself in some manner.