Dinner and a Movie

Last night was terrific fun.

We had a lot of people show. If we keep doing these, I bet we’ll get a full room. (I’m thinking of another restaurant next time. Just to change things up?)

What do you think about us asking someone to come and read from their pubbed novel next time?

What if, instead of all of us reading, we did a mini-write-a-thon? What if someone spoke on craft?

 

We should have planned to have Ann Dee read from HER fabulous novel.

 

You were inspiring all. I loved the fresh voices I heard, the original details and the story you each conveyed in just a few words. It will be lovely to hold your books in my hands–or watch your plays.

Keep writing. We’ll do another one of these in a couple of months.

And we’ll have something writerly happen very soon.

Right, Ann Dee?

 

Surprise!!!!

Surprise One

Last week, after days with only one toilet in this rental (if you need an agency to NOT go with, ask me), the plumber showed up early (10 am) without calling first. I wasn’t expecting anyone to stop by. Why would I? No one comes over here. Except for the census guy.  And I was really bothered about him stopping over because I had intentionally not filled out that report and then moved.

Anyway, I was doing something at the computer (probably staring at it), when there was a ring on the doorbell and Violet, our Killer Dog, leaped at the throat of the man standing on the other side of the cheap front door.

Turns out he’s a nice guy who has to work for about a third the hour  of what he’s worth because this crappy rental place takes advantage of it’s employees, too. BUT. The story isn’t about rentals, dogs or guys, it’s about surprise. And surprised I was. I was wearing my wonderful 4-ways sweatshirt (backwards, I think), no bra, dirty sweats and I hadn’t brushed my hair since the previous morning. My face was un-make-upped and the house was a mess. I blamed the sleeping kids for the mess but I couldn’t (hardly) blame them for my appearance because, well, I couldn’t think of a way to. So I just pretended I looked like this always which is the truth.

(Note: Wanna visit? Call ahead.)

Surprise  Two

Coming out of the elevator at BYU (I won’t say which one-but it wasn’t in any math building), I saw one of my most favorite boy students, Nicholas. Nick is one of those students I knew would get published the first time I read his well-crafted work. He’s an excellent critiquer, too.

I saw Nick, but he didn’t see me, so I walked up to him, just like I was twelve or thirteen (the target age I write for), and hit him with my new briefcase-ish bag (a gift from Cheri that is way too classy for me). He looked up, startled. I was grinning like a loon (I love that expression. Did I make that up?). Not that loons grin, but you get it. I think Nick is great. He’s smart. And he laughs at my jokes (which makes him smarter).

Anyway, as I walked away from that encounter, I felt so twelve–so embarrassed. Why had I struck him with the bag? Why? Why hadn’t I just stood in front of him and waited patiently for him to pull the music thingies out of his ears. Or why hadn’t I just danced my way out of the elevator or even, maybe, acted normal?

Why? Because attacking people I haven’t seen in a long while is normal for me.

Surprise Three

Day before yesterday I came up with a great idea for Kyra’s book. It’s important and it will tie in and the thing is I hadn’t been thinking of her book much (I have my own book to think of, which by the way, I haven’t been thinking about. I’ve been thinking about other, way more stressful things) and all the sudden I had this great idea.

I couldn’t tell Kyra because she has a new boyfriend and so I never see her anymore unless she’s walking into the chapel during choir practice yesterday at 4:30 in a pair of short shorts and a T-shirt that has the neck cut away with her tank top exposed.  For those of you who aren’t LDS, we sort of stick to dressy clothes in the chapel.  And yes, she wore summer clothes when winter has dumped many feet of snow on us here. Of course, yesterday was a bit more summery, what with its rain and 35 degree weather.

So, while I wasn’t expecting Kyra in short shorts in the chapel with the lead pipe, I was expecting even less a super important idea for her book that will fit right in the climax and make everyone cry their eyes out.

The End of This Post Where I Try to Make Everything Fit Together

So, I love being a writer. But the truth is I’m not very good at anything else.

Writers always say, “Yes, I’m a loner, mostly. I just want to read and sit in my room and write and wander about thinking of my book and what should happen next and  I had no idea I had forgotten my pants because I was at this problem part of my novel and I couldn’t be bothered with things like clothes. Isn’t it great when you’re writing on your novel and when you look up the whole day is gone and it’s night and your’re still in your pajamas (or green 4-ways sweatshirt)? Guess what? I went to this big writing conference and we were all walking around excited-like because we were with other writers and I saw one girl running the show and her clothes didn’t match and she was wearing tennis shoes that didn’t match her un-matching clothes and she hadn’t brushed her hair but neither had I and . . . and . . . I just felt so at home.”

I’ll say.

I’m starting to realize that’s ’cause most of us writers sort of should be alone, allowed out when only other writers are out, because we scare even the plumber.

I wish I could say the moral of this story is  Be Who You Are but the truth is I think my daughters sometimes wish I hadn’t let them always be who they were and now they have tics (not creatures but small movements) because I didn’t care about whether they brushed their hair or wore matching clothes or raced down the street (beating all the boys) in their moon boots.

The moral of ANOTHER story is, I think I have discovered why life is so damned hard.

But I’m not telling.