Déjà vu all over again. As I began a new novel, A Gentleman in Moscow, (and a painting), I felt like I was in a flashback. In the novel the main character, Count Alexander Rostovis, has been sentenced to live out the rest of his life on "house arrest" in the Metropol...
How can blogging help me write the great American novel?
So, the other day I had a casual conversation with a younger woman who likes writing, but is reluctant to wade into words, arranging them in such a way that satisfies herself and communicates her thoughts. My analysis — not her’s. Writing is . . . tricky. Being...
Discovering unclaimed property in my mother’s name has been unsettling, reacquainting me with feelings of loss, grief and guilt. And yet giving me and my brother with a wee spot of cash from our mom. UNSETTLED My mother bought a $500.00 insurance policy when she was...
One of my regrets is not pursuing art. I remember only one acquaintance in high school who was bound and determined to pursue art – and she enrolled in the Maryland Institute of Art: a daring choice the aspiring English major thought. I wonder where her choice took...
Every time I begin a thought with “What if” I risk getting myself locked up in emotions and memories that feel like a hamster’s wheel. As our anniversary rolls around, I could wonder: What if I hadn’t gone to Ecuador in the fall of 1968? (For that matter, what if I...
Whether it has been a combination of May weather or more protein and lower white carbs, I moved today. Gardening and painting, I also got moving! The past few days have been open window days; not just early, cool morning glory. No, the windows stayed a good while....
Ok. I am obsessing about this new eating adventure – well, writing about it is taking up more time than it should. But thank you reader, who agreed to be accountable with me! Just for today. So here’s where we are at close of day: I didn’t blow it. Much. Maybe I am...
Taking our walk today, we noticed many small delights, and pondered a few deep thoughts. First, even though the day is gray and muggy, many trees seem finally to be aflame with color. The reds and oranges are mood enhancers I wish I could market. We walked on –...
Writing a story which another might read couldn’t be all that hard I reasoned, graduating from high school with the ambition to write the great American novel. But who, at 18, has lived a story worth reading? Jane Austen, maybe. I was no Jane Austen. Nor did I have...
My days are no more uncertain than the ones my mother or grandmothers lived. However, they feel more dangerous than any previous time in my life, because of so much anger and ignorance. Therefore, the decision to turn off the news, and listen to biographers and great...
First, It is Over. My Life Isn't. Friends are hurting; others are dazed unable to believe what happened November 8, 2016 happened. But my life isn't over! (Although the saddest outcome was learning that almost 47% of Americans, who could have voted, didn’t.) Second:...
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