Picture book?

My novella has some pictures in it, and strange things done with the formatting. I wonder how that will go over or who will like and dislike it…

I need to take one more picture to stick in there, and finish editing of course, then I will get to hear from some readers whether all these strange things I’ve done work or not.

Here’s hoping! At least they are easy to take out if they don’t go over well.

Finally editing

Enough with short stories! I’m finally getting some momentum on editing my longer works and moving toward them being ready to submit somewhere. My optimistic goal is to have both my novel and novella ready to send places before winter is over.

Very optimistic, I know…

The quest for youth

I’ve started listening to the Picture of Dorian Gray, and it has a lot of intriguing dialogue so far.

I like that Dorian is so jealous of the painting even right from the start. That it will stay young and he will get old is such a painful idea for him, that he brings it up even a few days later, to say that the painting is already days younger than he is.

I never thought about aging when I was 20 years old… so this Dorian is quite the vain person to be worrying about it so young…

 

Mind Hunter

I finished this disturbing series on Netflix recently, and for anyone interested in crime or serial killers, this is a must-watch.

What stuck with me most, though was how they so expertly build up the uneasy anxiety when in the room with these killers. Even though (or perhaps, because) the interviewees speak and act for the most part like normal human beings, there is a tensity, and sense of needing to get the hell out of there is so strong in each of the interviews, that I found myself leaning forward in my seat and clenching my hands. The effect is memorable and unsettling.

I don’t know if it was a movie magic effect, or just my own perceptions, or something somehow conjured by the actor–but Edmund Kemper’s eyes are so dead and empty. And when that emptiness is juxtaposed with the jovial and friendly way that he speaks about murder and rape… the result is sickeningly effective.

The final scene of the final episode really magnifies what I’m talking about…

A great show, recommended!

Love in the Time of Cholera

This was the story of love between many people over a lifetime.

There were so many little nuggets of goodness in this novel that it’s hard to give a general idea of why I liked it. I loved the description of Florintino, and found a lot of myself in him. He was also laughable at times, though, with his ridiculous ideas of love and his determination that bordered on obsession.

I enjoyed the juxtaposition of youth and age, and how their views on love differed, but the views that others took of them remained the same–they were kept apart in their youth because they were too young, but in their old age, their families try to keep them apart because they are too old for love!

Fermina has a hard/hot headedness that Florintino refuses to give in to, and it is fun and emotional to read. He is a tireless, endless lover and you can’t help but cheer for him to keep trying.

The kind of love that lets you fall for someone in your youth, and then be unable to forget about them for fifty years, even when they never talk to you or even acknowledge your existence, is difficult to imagine. But Marquez does a great job of giving me an insight, and a hint at what that might feel like.

 

Hi Friends

You are awesome, even when you feel alone or sad or in pain. Don’t let fear stop you from reaching out to a friend for a conversation when you need one. The person you reach out to just might need to talk themselves, too…

Life isn’t easy. Life often sucks. You don’t have to force a smile and play pretend when you feel like giving up. Let someone know. More people care about you than you think.

And when someone pings you on whatever messenger with a simple hello or ‘hey what’s up?’ remember that they might be in need of friendship just as much as you are on your worst days.

There are hands around you waiting to be grasped. You don’t have to float through life alone.

Winter!

I know it’s only fall, but winter feels like it’s arrived latley. I’ve missed it! Time for burning fireplaces, scraping windshields, thick jackets and frosty breath. And, more writing?

It seems like fall/winter are more of a time for writing than the warmer times of the year. Of course, I write all year round, but it just seems to fit better in this half of the year.

Maybe my word production will increase as the heat decreases…