Spent the weekend with the fam down at the old homestead. As usual, when mom and I get together, much eating and shopping is done. But this time we went to an awesome, AWESUMMMM cafe called the New Orleans Creole Cafe. It is across the green from the haunted Whaley House. (Believe me, it's really haunted, or enchanted as I was old.)
After lunch, the Little Dude conked out in the stroller and we stopped at the New Orleans Creole Cafe for breadpudding and coffee. I had a latte and mom had a mocha. Magnifique! But no ghost sighting. Bummer.
Saturday afternoon we dragged my dad and the pugs to the patio and feasted on red beans and rice (me), roast beef po' boy (mom) and chicken jambalaya (dad), all washed down with sweet tea. The sun burned off the murky clouds and the wind was cool with the scent of lavender, bee balm and the pepper trees. But we didn't stop at lunch. We savored rich, moist red velvet cake with whipped cream cheese frosting that melted on the tongue. Mom had the pecan pie that was sweet and buttery in a crisp crust. There are no words.
New Orleans native and co-owner, Mark Bihm told me, "We look real pretty when we're young but we love to eat and get real big when we're old." Friends, that meal and future meals will be worth the price of the liposuction I'll need after my second baby.
But back to what I said about the Whaley House ... yes, it is haunted. Why do I know this? One rainy June day, many years ago, Mom and I were upstairs looking into the childrens' bedroom. The rooms are sealed off by plexiglass and the windows are shut. But I happened to notice that a miniature rocking chair with a blue-eyed doll sitting on it began rocking (swear to God!). I tapped mom's shoulder and pointed. Her mouth formed a perfect "o." We never felt threatened. We felt as if we happened to look over our shoulders, we'd see a woman in Victorian dress standing behind us. So without a word, we went downstairs and I don't think mom has been back since then. If the Little Dude hadn't fallen asleep, we might have ventured back upstairs. But breadpudding in whiskey sauce suited us just fine.
Monday, June 12, 2006
Sunday, June 04, 2006
She Walks the Walk
I'm supporting fellow author, Jenna Peterson as she walks 60 miles in the Breast Cancer 3-Day walk. She is also raising $3500 for breast cancer research through an online auction of critiques, advance release copies and signed books starting Monday, June 5 and ending June 12. Every penny will go to the Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer Foundation and the National Philanthropic Trust to fund breast cancer research, education, screening, and treatment.
If you're an aspiring author, consider bidding for a critique of the first 50 pages of your manuscript by me. (I promise to be gentle.)
If you're a reader, bid for a signed copy of In Between Men. (If you've already read it, think about bidding on it as a gift to someone you know and love.)
Check out all of the auction items at http://www.passionatepen.com/auction.htm
Go Jenna!
Torn Up About "The Break Up"
I saw "The Break Up" with my husband and our couple pals last night. Mixed feelings. On one hand it was a very good movie; Vince and Jen played successfully with the dark side of their personas. And yet, we left disturbed. My husband and I talked about the issues that push male and female buttons. This movie pushed all of them: how women play games rather than just say what they really want; how men get aggressive in a fight and fight to win even when they're wrong.
Like us, a lot of couples probably left that movie talking about people they know who are just like those characters. Fewer saw those characters in themselves.
However, I digress. This movie won't do well at the box office next week because the previews promised one thing, but the movie delivered a completely different experience. I think that's the biggest problem with movies today. First, there are way too many writers in the writing room and what was once a strong screenplay, got diluted. Second, some movies try to be everything and then forget what they were needed to be. In this case, there were moments of ridiculous comedy (ala Wedding Crashers) and then it took a screeching turn into searing drama.
From one writer to another, I recommend you watch it and take those lessons back to your desk. As a movie viewer, wait for the DVD.
Like us, a lot of couples probably left that movie talking about people they know who are just like those characters. Fewer saw those characters in themselves.
However, I digress. This movie won't do well at the box office next week because the previews promised one thing, but the movie delivered a completely different experience. I think that's the biggest problem with movies today. First, there are way too many writers in the writing room and what was once a strong screenplay, got diluted. Second, some movies try to be everything and then forget what they were needed to be. In this case, there were moments of ridiculous comedy (ala Wedding Crashers) and then it took a screeching turn into searing drama.
From one writer to another, I recommend you watch it and take those lessons back to your desk. As a movie viewer, wait for the DVD.
Thursday, June 01, 2006
Where the hell have I been?
Dude, if I could tell you, I would. Okay, I'll try.
Have you ever had a period in your life when there's just too much happiness? It's a three-hundred foot wave off the coast of Hawaii that sweeps you into a tumbling reel and then dumps you on the sand when it swoshes out to sea kind of happiness. I'm not complaining, nor trying to figure out why or how. I'm just in awe.
Two weeks ago I flew to Miami and kept flying on the energy of 70-plus writers, filmakers and readers. After writing two anthologies with them, I finally met the Friday Night Chicas: Berta Platas, Sofia Quintero and Caridad Pineiro. While we chatted or I heard them read their work, I couldn't believe I was hearing their voices or looking into their eyes after so many email conversations.
And don't get me started about Alisa Valdes Rodriguez. I confess that I was a little frightened at the prospect of meeting her. Not that she's scary in a bad way; she's scary smart and I thought that I'd have to say all kinds of smart things for fear that she'd think I was a nimrod. But then there was a moment at the last dinner when some very brave authors took to the mic and performed or read their works in progress. There was one who was so vibrant, hilarious and heartbreakingly obscene (dude, her stuff was on!), that I happened to look across the room and meet Alisa's disbelieving and delighted eyes. And then I figured it out. Alisa, in spite of her success, taking on a-holes on CNN, etc. is just another girl. An amazingly generous and loving one; one that I'm so priveleged to call a colleague and friend.
I could go on but I won't. Well, just a little bit more. There are two new stars on the horizon and their names are Caridad Ferrer and Reyna Grande. Reyna is in touch with the universe with her novel, Across a Hundred Mountains. Listening to Cari read from her upcoming release, Adios to My Old Life felt like she'd read my diary when I was seventeen and full of impossible dreams.
And then after returning from Miami, I prepared for my bestest friend's wedding. There's something so special about seeing someone you love walk down the aisle on the arm of the man she loves. Her uncle spoke during the ceremony and his words have stuck with me ever since, "Don't grant judgement; grant safety."
By the way, I'm loving the new CD by the Dixie Chicks. When they were Bush-whacked for (gasp!) speaking out against the war, I went out and bought all of their CDs in support. Now they're back and this CD has weight. It amazes me that some Americans forget we have a First Amendment right to criticize our elected officials. (But they sure got off on fighting for "democracy" in Iraq, didn't they?)
Okay, I concede that everyone is entitled to an opinion. (I'm granting safety!) Some are just not as informed as others.
But wait there's more! Yesterday, my husband found out that his screenplay won the UCLA Professional Screenwriting Program Contest. This is the second screenplay he has ever written and I am so very proud of him.
While I was reeling and reveling in all this happiness, I finished my proposal! After another spit and polish, I'll send it off on Tuesday with the hope that it will get picked up (gotta feed the Little Dude, you know) and then in a year or two, find its way into your hands as a complete novel.
Off to work...
Cheers,
Mary
Have you ever had a period in your life when there's just too much happiness? It's a three-hundred foot wave off the coast of Hawaii that sweeps you into a tumbling reel and then dumps you on the sand when it swoshes out to sea kind of happiness. I'm not complaining, nor trying to figure out why or how. I'm just in awe.
Two weeks ago I flew to Miami and kept flying on the energy of 70-plus writers, filmakers and readers. After writing two anthologies with them, I finally met the Friday Night Chicas: Berta Platas, Sofia Quintero and Caridad Pineiro. While we chatted or I heard them read their work, I couldn't believe I was hearing their voices or looking into their eyes after so many email conversations.
And don't get me started about Alisa Valdes Rodriguez. I confess that I was a little frightened at the prospect of meeting her. Not that she's scary in a bad way; she's scary smart and I thought that I'd have to say all kinds of smart things for fear that she'd think I was a nimrod. But then there was a moment at the last dinner when some very brave authors took to the mic and performed or read their works in progress. There was one who was so vibrant, hilarious and heartbreakingly obscene (dude, her stuff was on!), that I happened to look across the room and meet Alisa's disbelieving and delighted eyes. And then I figured it out. Alisa, in spite of her success, taking on a-holes on CNN, etc. is just another girl. An amazingly generous and loving one; one that I'm so priveleged to call a colleague and friend.
I could go on but I won't. Well, just a little bit more. There are two new stars on the horizon and their names are Caridad Ferrer and Reyna Grande. Reyna is in touch with the universe with her novel, Across a Hundred Mountains. Listening to Cari read from her upcoming release, Adios to My Old Life felt like she'd read my diary when I was seventeen and full of impossible dreams.
And then after returning from Miami, I prepared for my bestest friend's wedding. There's something so special about seeing someone you love walk down the aisle on the arm of the man she loves. Her uncle spoke during the ceremony and his words have stuck with me ever since, "Don't grant judgement; grant safety."
By the way, I'm loving the new CD by the Dixie Chicks. When they were Bush-whacked for (gasp!) speaking out against the war, I went out and bought all of their CDs in support. Now they're back and this CD has weight. It amazes me that some Americans forget we have a First Amendment right to criticize our elected officials. (But they sure got off on fighting for "democracy" in Iraq, didn't they?)
Okay, I concede that everyone is entitled to an opinion. (I'm granting safety!) Some are just not as informed as others.
But wait there's more! Yesterday, my husband found out that his screenplay won the UCLA Professional Screenwriting Program Contest. This is the second screenplay he has ever written and I am so very proud of him.
While I was reeling and reveling in all this happiness, I finished my proposal! After another spit and polish, I'll send it off on Tuesday with the hope that it will get picked up (gotta feed the Little Dude, you know) and then in a year or two, find its way into your hands as a complete novel.
Off to work...
Cheers,
Mary
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