Bunny Lake

is Missing. Have you ever seen that movie? What an odd one. A child is missing. In fact, she may not even exist. Laurence Olivier is the police inspector looking for her--as he says at one point--for even one piece of proof that she exists. I knew who took her, but I wonder if that's because I'm used to the way the villain of the piece acts when doing villainy.

Ya gotta wonder what kind of relationship the brother and sister (child's mother) have. At the point where they're chatting while he's in the bathtub, I had to turn my eyes, though she didn't. Kind of ick. Nevertheless, I really like the movie.

Dragging Myself Back to the Internet

Still haven't finished my book. (I've never been so late with anything in my life.) Still haven't entirely shaken the flu.

But today, I'm working at the kitchen table, taking a break from my final chapter (yay--thanks to my buddy Karen, I know what to do with it), and I'm also making bread. Can't wait until the house smells all homemade bread and clean laundry. (Also getting caught up on that.)

Uh-oh--gotta go knead! Just when I had important things to say! (Not really--just thought it made a good exit!)

Her Reason to Stay--The Cover

I'm so excited. This is the beautiful cover for my June book, Her Reason to Stay. Didn't the art department do a great job? I even recognize the house behind them! ;-)

Who else...

is loving the John Adams series? I love that time period, and I'm amazed at the great acting, the reluctance, the courage our forefathers showed. My mother used to love Irving Stone, who wrote historical biographies. I picked up the one about John and Abigail Adams when I was very young and began a fascination with their story.

I live in the country his courage and that of his compatriots built. My own many-greats-back grandfather fought in the infantry during the Revolution, but I am dumbfounded as to where they found the courage. I found myself crying at two moments in the series--when George Washington explained he was in mourning for the colony of Massachusetts and talked about duty at a time before anyone else understood what he meant--and when they read out the Declaration of Independence. Those words sealed their fates as outlaws and traitors--and founding fathers. It reminds me of a day in our own time--the man who faced down the tanks in Tienamen Square. How do you love freedom so much?

I ask that as a mother and wife, concerned with family and deadlines and getting dinner on the table and laundry washed--in a world where most of those chores are so much easier. These men and women had all these same responsibilities, and yet they took on the building of a country. I don't normally talk about the "big" concepts on this blog, but--as on the day the guy in China walked in front of a tank with his shopping bag--I wonder where the courage comes from.

End of Unexpected Blog Break

I can't believe it's been a month. I went to a conference where I got to chat with old friends and new about writing! Writing!

And then I went on to visit a family member who was sick and needed some help. Got home last Friday and apparently brought along some flu. After how-many-days shivering with a fever, I'm determined to feel better today. Determined.

In fact, I'm going to get going with that right now and use all my health-induced strength to finish work that should have been done a couple of weeks ago. Determination is half the battle. I'm sure of it!

Distracted by...

The Presidents. I DVRd the series on the History channel on Monday, and I'm allowing myself small bites. In college I had enough credits to minor in either Physics or History. (Hence the DVR of Cosmos episodes I'm also hoarding, like dessert. I had a physics professor in college who, like Carl Sagan, made it interesting enough to make me want to delve deeper.)

I love learning new stuff!

Late to the Blog

And i wish I had something vitally entertaining to share.

Hmmm. I am reading a good Rita comp. book, but I can't really share that title.

I'm also writing like crazy. I'm at the stage of the book where I'm both editing and writing new stuff and shaping and hoping I'm catching up all the loose ends. (I'm seeing a ball of clay in my head as I type this.)

It is sort of like clay. The story was a bundle of ideas that I put into a synopsis which doesn't greatly resemble the story that's building out of it. But I think the actual story is better. It's a good sign that I care so much about these characters. There are moments when they really get to me. I feel as if I'm visiting in their world.

I remember once, my son was grounded. Whatever he'd done was so upsetting he wasn't even allowed to play his guitar. After a few days, he showed up in front of me, a semi-mad look I recognized on his face. The wanderer in the desert, who keeps bumping into the mirage--that then fades.

"Mom," he said, "I'll take being grounded. You can add on time. But please, won't you guys let me play my guitar? I can't stand not playing."

I knew that desperation so well. If someone took away the instruments I use to write, I'd be looking like my boy. But just as he practices pretty constantly, I have to write every day. The thing is, he makes his music sound effortless. It flows from his guitar or mandolin or banjo (I love the mandolin best), but I'm not feeling sanguine that my writing is achieving that flow just now.

Gotta go smack some metaphorical clay around. I refuse to let it slap me senseless first!