Must Be Nuts

That's it. My NaNo author's name. Must Be Nuts. I know, most people choose their own name and try to promo whatever they're working on while they're writing but when faced with the blank sign-in line my fingers took over. Evidently my subconscious answered the question Author's Name?

Must Be Nuts.

My NaNo profile is here. For those of you who haven't already realized this, the moniker is a good fit. Um, just saying...

Happy Halloween!

NaNo No No?

Tomorrow is the beginning of NaNo, National Novel Writer's Month. Info can be found here. Basically it's a 30 day challenge. Write a 50,000 word novel in 30 days. Sounds crazy, doesn't it? I've done it a few times and always had a blast. It does add a new stress level to my already busy life, but hey, who doesn't enjoy an extra jolt of stress now and again?

I still haven't signed up for this year's madness. Still mulling over the idea of finishing one novel while writing another and polishing a third. Sounds nuts, doesn't it?

Right now, I'm thinking I'll sign on. What have I got to lose? Besides my sanity, that is? Really, if we don't challenge ourselves from time to time life gets dull as dirt, doesn't it? Yeah, I'm doing it. Just decided. I'm in.

What about you? Have you got a story to tell? Why not take 30 days and tell it?

The small vineyard

This is the first year we harvested enough grapes to do more than serve after dinner. Actually, we ended up with enough grapes to make jam. The fruit ripened to a beautiful deep shade of purple. Sweet and juicy, when cooked they released an aroma that was almost intoxicating. We are tickled by the pint jars of jam! They taste heavenly, better than anything Welch's or Smuckers makes.

We're hoping next year's harvest will yield enough to make wine. We're dreaming of vin santo, a table wine whose origin in humble but filled with love. Ah, the things dreams are made of...

But this year we're thankful for our grape jam. We have no doubt that smeared on toast during the long winter months it will remind us that hidden beneath the snow are the vines. Yes, the vines whose roots are buried not in soil, but in optimism.

Pumpkin Madness

I should be writing. Instead I'm carving a pumpkin. Try it. But I warn you, it's addictive!

Pumpkin Carving Madness.

In the air today...

The northeast has a special kind of beauty in the fall. The sound of crunching underfoot, blindingly clear blue skies and the faint scent of woodsmoke wafting in the air. As trees find brilliant burst of color and leaves rain to the ground the world seems magical, as if it knows a secret it's yet to reveal. And with spooky ghosts tumbling from trees and scarecrows on every corner, I feel the lure of the unknown beckoning me. Pumpkins gain personalities all their own and even the most ordinary winter squash looks festive when propped beside a bundle of cornstalks.

Yes, I love fall.But hey, I'm a sucker for any season! It's true. I love 'em all. Each one brings a different slant to my writer's mind. Each season encourages its own sort of story.

Winter makes me want to write cozy, snuggle-in-and-hibernate, contemplative stories. Spring, of course, brings tales of renewal. Maybe an adventure, or even two, with optimistic, outgoing characters. Summer? Hot, romantic love stories come to mind, and my fingers itch to create characters who live in the warm, passionate moment. And then there's fall...

Mysterious and alluring, fall naturally encourages me to write stories magic, the unknown, ghosts, goblins and things that go bump in the night. Too, I yearn to write about endings, followed by beginnings. Doesn't seem logical, does it? Most people think the end follows the beginning, but I feel it's the other way around. Why? Because although the last leaf is about to drop, the first snowflake is waiting to flutter to earth. A new beginning, seamlessly following the last ending.

I've got to admit, my writing is greatly influenced by the seasons. I'm beginning to flesh out the plot of a new novel in these fabulous fall days. It is a tale of murder and intrigue, one whose last chapters will be more about what's found rather than what's been lost. An opening of sorts, at the close.

I just hope those last few leaves hold to the maple branches outside my window long enough for me to become engrossed in writing this one. If not, I may end up with a novel whose ending is somewhat wintery!

Mona Lisa's...brows?

Hey, what about the smile? Isn't that what we're all supposed to be obsessed with?Ah, I see... It's time to focus on a different part of the lady's face. *sigh* Isn't that typical? Just when interest over one body part settles down, a new issue comes under scrutiny? Who can tell how long it's going to take before we all stop staring at her eyebrows? The smile thing took five hundred years so two brows and two sets of lashes? That could take forever.

Yesterday's revelation by a French engineer, Pascal Cotte, that Leonardo da Vinci originally painted his masterpiece with brows and lashes was well received. A collective sigh of relief, one heard round the world, followed. Apparently many have speculated about the elusive brows for some time, spawning as many theories about her lack of facial hair as there are stars in the sky. Who knew? I have to admit I've never given them a single, solitary thought. Never. Sorry, Mona. My apologies, Leonardo.

And while I find this interest in art and the beautiful lady heartwarming, I still wonder about that enigmatic smile she wears. I can't help myself. I see the set of her lips, the way her cheeks have a faint blush and the knowing stare she fixes on me and my pulse quickens. My mind races. So many questions unanswered...possibilities to be explored...scenarios that may explain her smile. Has she witnessed a crime? Scorned a rival? Sought satisfaction for an ancient vendetta? Made love with the most wonderful man?

Let others focus on Mona Lisa's brows. Let's face it; I'm just not ready to get past the smile.

To read, or not to read

Doesn't it seem like everyone's got a blog now? Aunt Mildred. The Avon lady. The kid who delivers the newspaper. Celebrities. Politicians. The local historical society. Everyone, everywhere, seems to have a blog to call their own. A place to share thoughts, ideas, recipes, photographs, reviews, rants--whatever comes to mind.

And we, being a curious bunch, read these blogs. Why not? That's what they're there for, isn't it? To read? So we read. I've said it before and I'll say it again--I love reading other people's blogs. I love seeing what so-and-so has to say about such-and-such. It's a fast, easy way to get inside someone's mind, at least to the part they're willing to share.

Some people share incredibly intimate things in their blogs. I've got to admit, that creeps me out. A lot. I don't want to know about anyone's boils, bunions or broken heart. I don't want to hear they're despondent, down on their luck or determined to seek revenge. I just don't want to know. But that's what the mouse and the little red X at the top right corner are for, right? To decide to read...or not to read?

Me? I'll keep reading. I enjoy it too much. And you? I hope you'll keep reading, too. :)

The Joy of Sex

*giggling*

Got your attention, didn't I?

Don't worry, I'm not going to talk about the joy of sex. At least, not here. Not now. Hey, my mother reads this blog!

What I had in mind when my fingers hit the keyboard was The Joy of Writing. Figured that wouldn't grab your attention, make your heart shudder or your pulse race, so I gave in to the giggles and wrote the other, um, more interesting title.

Anyhow, it's the joy of writing that's got my attention these days. Working on Hope Mountain and Sandswept in tandem and they're both doing well. It's satisfying to see a story grow, to watch the plot develop and characters evolve. Hoping to have both finished by the end of the month, but the month seems to be sliding by quickly.

Hmm... I guess I should get back to writing, shouldn't I?

Reading, Writing and Rankings

Every author yearns for readers to read what he or she has written. It's part of the deal, a part that can bring laughter or tears. After all, writers write hoping that someone reads. And that the reader appreciates what's been written.

Aside from reviews, authors consider how their books are ranked. Everyone wants to be on the bestseller list, even if the list is a small one kept by a publisher.

This morning I saw that Finally, This Season is in the number two spot on the bestseller list at The Wild Rose Press. And a quick glance at the historical American line showed that Proclamations is in their number one spot. Yippee!

Sleuth

Last night my husband and I watched Sleuth on the Turner Classic Movie channel.

It's a film from 1972, starring Laurence Olivier and Michael Caine. If you've never seen it, I suggest you do because it's really amusing. A mystery novelist, played by Olivier, plots revenge on his wife's lover.

What a wonderful movie! We laughed in so many spots, especially since the often convoluted stream of consciousness "out-loud writing" the author does is ...well, recognizable! My poor husband often hears my "what if"s and "then he said"s, including my theories about murder weapons, for my mysteries. It was a hoot to see someone else doing what is, for us, an everyday occurance!

See the film if you can. You won't be sorry!

Happy Birthday Eileen!

One of the best things about having a blog is being able to say whatever's on your mind. Yep, I like that. A lot.

Today my post is a fast, happy one. I'm hoping you'll join me in sending big happy birthday thoughts to my cousin. Happy Birthday, Eileen! Enjoy your celebration luncheon--wish I could be there to help you blow out the candles! We're thinking of you!

See, Dad? I told you the blog works! Sending big hugs and much love your way, too. :)