Still Cookin'

It's a black moment in my kitchen, with cookies and meringues cooling, dicing and slicing, browning and whipping, peaking and poaching going on. I pretend I like to cook and play house elf. Don't get me wrong - I love to eat. And this is the time of year when extravagant goodies are not only allowed, they're encouraged. I guess what I don't like is the expectation that it's a good gig, fun for the kitchen slave, and it's expected. As my grandmother once said: "Four hours to make that pie and it's gone in ten minutes. Not doing that again." If only food lasted, like words on a page. Or something stitched up. Or painted. The ephemeral nature of food is what gets me - I want my art to stick around for more than a meal. I so admire people who can stand in a kitchen for hours and come up with one amazing creation after another, unconcerned that it's about to end up in someone's gullet. Or maybe it's just that I want to be the one with the gullet and not the tired feet, LOL. Yeah, that's it.

The lack of Christmas excitement in the stores in a real downer. Normally, I absorb all the rush and bustle like sunshine. Crowds and lines make me smile. Not this season. Finding a parking space is way too easy, and for the first time I can remember, there're no lines of cars creeping into the mall at a snail's pace. Bummer. Where can I get my holiday jollies? All my gifts are wrapped, mailed, or under the tree, so I don't even have that excuse to enjoy the days before Christmas. Come on people, it's not that bad! Christmas should have a surfeit of happy moods and silly singing aloud in the car as the same carol is repeated for the thousandth time. Let's get with the program! Or I may start cooking again, and believe me, you don't want me to do that.

Women and Food

This is a mini-rant of sorts. Since I'm confused, I'd love to have an answer to my Big Question.

Why do women diet at parties? I mean, the point of a party is good food, good friends, and lots of both. I swear, I see women nibbling on celery sticks, and I want to strangle them. Why go to the party if all that lovely food makes you miserable? The host or hostess goes to a ton of trouble to prepare juicy morsels, and women act as if the tables are laden with poison.

Now men, they eat. No issues with seconds or thirds. I'm with the guys on this one. Diet tomorrow. Eat an apple for lunch. But don't insult the hostess by acting as if her lovely food was designed to kill you. It's all an act, anyway. We know you go home and stuff your face with potato chips because you're so danged hungry.

There, mini-rant complete. Can you tell I'm not happy at all with No Nascar? Hanging in there, barely. . .

A Good Book and Eclairs

I just finished a mystery titled WALK IN HIS MOCCASINS by Craig Johnson, and boy howdy, did I love it. Wish I'd written it.

Many years ago I wrote a manuscript on spec about the Children of Dust, and my then-agent told me it'd never work because it was ancient history and no one cared about Amerasians anymore. Since it had murder, intrigue, and music, I figured there were other selling points, but she didn't see it that way. I may drag that book out of dust bunny hell, if I can find it, and re-read it for the heck of it.

Now, I'm not giving away Johnson's story, but it involves a Child of Dust. Go forth, buy the book, and plan a day or so to enjoy it. Give it to yourself for Christmas.

The Christmas decorations are slowly finding their way around the house and yard, I'm picking up the Frazier fir tomorrow, and if the darned leaves will ever stop falling, it'll start feeling like the holidays around here. If the ancient oaks and maples all over our property weren't so gorgeous the rest of the year, I'd be tempted to commit tree murder and have them removed. I can't remember a fall where the leaves are still coming down in December as they are this month. My love-hate relationship with them is now full-fledged hatred.

My oldest has a birthday tomorrow, making me feel very old and nostalgic. Just today, I was remembering her terrible-two stage when she was hell on wheels. Hmmm, the more things change, the more they stay the same??? The good news is, she's a feisty woman with her own mind, which means we did our job raising the young 'un.

Made eclairs today. It was the only viable alternative to raking and moaning about it. With no January Nascar testing in Daytona allowed this year, I'm complaining to beat the band about that AND the leaves. Guess that means I have to write harder to keep my mind off the no-Nascar horror of these months with no racing.

Or eat eclairs. Hmmm...

Changes

Can't believe it's been ages since I posted. The good news is, I've been writing like a fiend. Still working on stuff that's in the 12th draft mode (I hate this book at this stage), taking breaks now and then to watch the Chase for the Cup on the weekends (the truck racing is by far the best this year), and to rake leaves. Ahhh, yes, the eternal hell called leaf raking. I feel like such an idiot dragging leaves off the lawn and out of the flower beds. They're beautiful, for one thing. Carpets of yellow and orange - quite lovely this year. But since they'll kill my very expensive grass, I keep at 'em. Kinda like picking up after toddlers - a tedious, odious, neverending job, but someone has to do it. I console myself with thinking it's great exercise for those upper arms, LOL. Not sure if it is, but I have to give myself some motivation.

BLOOD CHOCOLATES has me at the keyboard when I give myself a break from revisions. What a lot of fun it is to write. I'm keeping Andrew Gross' TEN WAYS in front of me - 1)Pace 2) Think in scenes 3) Tight first POV (I break this rule regularly, but it's fun in first POV) 4) Riveting opening 5) Make the reader care 6) bad guys you want to hate 7) Four memorable scenes 8) the Big Hinge (book shifts tacks) 9)Widen what's at stake and 10)plot, plot, plot in detail.

The last one is a bone of contention with many of my writer friends. They feel as if the magic disappears if they plot in advance, because they already know the ending and that's no fun. I've learned to let go of the minutiae and focus instead on the theme (always!), the characters' growth, the internal and external conflicts, and the Journey. I know the last chapter before I start, but it's allowed to change if the characters insist upon a different ending. I agree with Gross that you need your four pivotal scenes before you start out, as well. They give you plot points to build towards, and thus, your pacing.

I'm amazed at the new Dean Koontz novel, YOUR HEART BELONGS TO ME. It's so different - in a very good way. A romance in its heart, it's about the corrupting influence of unfathomable wealth. Who knew Dean Koontz understood women as well as dogs?

Almost Halloween

How did October slip away like this? When I went through the candy aisles this past weekend, huge holes greeted me. Yes, I'm late buying the Halloween goodies, and I can't believe it. Half the fun is leftover chocolate and other decadent treats I don't stock in the pantry the rest of the year. Now I have to find my Harry Potter costume so I can greet the children. I love Halloween fun - not as much as my husband, who lives to scare toddlers. Last year, he and his Dementor costume sent a few screaming into their parents' arms. One sick puppy, my beloved.

Martinsville's race two weekends ago was a bust - I was too ill to enjoy it. Being sick in a hotel is just no fun. At least we got to see our daughter at Va Tech and enjoy the lovely mountain scenery. Fall in Virginia's Blue Ridge Mountains is simply gorgeous.

So - on the writing front: finished the start to a different kind of story for me. It's going to be a Sleeping Beauty thriller, tentatively titled BLOOD CHOCOLATES. That's the plan for the moment. Got the first 30+ pages printed out, now to outline the rest of it. I always need that long warm up to discover the characters and decide if I like them enough to live with them for the next year. Still proofing the Golden Oars and trying to cut some more from its 428 pages. Playing with Saving the Sun God. It's getting there. Need more time. Maybe if I didn't go racin' or put up Halloween decorations, I could squeeze out more hours. Hmmm...don't think that's gonna happen.

Now it's up to the attic to find the costumes. Happy Halloween, everyone.

Richmond Race Pix

Finally, some pictures from the September race in Richmond. What a great day! Not under the lights, but still and all, a fun time.

'Dega and the Importance of Friends

Can't wait for the Talladega race today. Hope it's as exciting as they come and that the best car wins. However, at 'dega, that's not always a given. It's who your friends are that count for more than horsepower at the restrictor plate races. Witness Kurt Busch and his teammate, Ryan Newman last February at Daytona. Busch came through at the right moment, just when Newman needed him the most.

Writing friends are like drafting partners. They tell you, with unvarnished honesty, when your idea for a new book is so far-fetched, you may as well waste your time washing the kitchen floor. They push you to finish the monster that just won't end. They buck you up when the writing is mired in six feet of storm muck, and when your agent doesn't like a single idea you've pitched for the past six months. Best of all, they understand what writers do and the cost it exacts. Sometimes, it's a choice between retreating into the fictional world and the one that exists outside your office door, and they let you know when you're making the wrong one. God bless all writing friends. It's a tough job, and no one has to do it.