Naturally Super

Tonight (Thursday) I'm going to hunker down in front of the TV for some long-awaited viewing goodness. LOST is back and you know I need to know what's up with the survivors making it back to the real world. Heck, I just need a Sawyer fix.

But I'll have the VCR running because SUPERNATURAL also has a new episode. And I do love me some Winchester boyz. And since I feel it is my duty here in the convertible to ensure we have a beefcake post every now and then, let me tell you about my favorite TV obsession. Remember ladies, I write these posts for you. Woman cannot survive sitting before the keyboard all day or doing the 9-to-5 thing Monday through Friday. We need eye candy. Also, seeing as I'm the paranormal chick in the convertible, I like to spread that which is my twisty darkness about whenever I can. I give to you my best.

SUPERNATURAL is one of those cult-hit shows that probably doesn't have as big an audience as it should. It's about two brothers chasing monsters. Okay, two sexy brothers chasing monsters. Each week they battle another demon, poltergeist, vampire, swamp monster, urban legend or some other creepy crawlie. The show is not gratuitous with their two sexy stars. (I know. Damn!) They take their monster chasing very seriously. In season one alone I counted but one shot each of the brothers wearing just towels. I barely had enough time to count four- or six-pack! Sam's my favorite, the lanky, desperately cute, intellect of the duo who still feels like he was forced into hunting. Though, I wouldn't sneeze at Dean, the easy-going older brother who never met a one-night-stand he didn't like, and who can crack a joke while kicking demon butt. Heck, Winchester sandwich, anyone?

There are a few standards to each story: the '67 Impala that Dean drives and loves almost as much as his brother, the classic rock n' roll blaring in the background, the credit cards scams (it's how they survive, seeing as how demon hunting pays crap), and their quest for the big bads.

But that's not what the show is really about. If you take away all the monsters, you're left with the relationship between the two brothers. And that is what makes this one fine show. Kudos to the writers. You can only slay so many creatures in so many ways. But the ties that bind the brothers? Incredible.

It started when the younger, Sam was only six months. A demon killed their mother. Dean was forced to flee the house with his baby brother in his arms. And he's been protecting him ever since. They grew up, learning how to hunt from their father. Sam hated it; Dean took to it because he knew no one else would do it, and he respected his father and did what he was told. And now, as they journey across America, episode to episode, they struggle with the issues of having to always be there to protect one another. Or the aching pain that maybe Dad liked one better than the other? And why did Sam get to go to college and Dean had to stay back and hunt? They love each other so much, they'd give their life for one another (and have). And yet, the push and pull between them, the unresolved angers and misunderstandings left in the wake of their recently deceased father make for fascinating interactions. Dean is the responsible one who would much rather slack. Sam's morals make it difficult to resolve his increasing descent toward evil.

So this is my point, and surprisingly, I do have one beyond beefcake is good. We go back to stories and television shows and movies not because of the action, the adventure or the spectacular effects. What we as the audience want are those characters we can connect to, understand, relate to. And while we may not be able to relate to a twenty-something male demon hunter cruising chicks in his classic Impala, we can certainly understand the angst of having to always be there to protect a sibling, or the grief of losing a respected parent, or even the nagging that maybe this is all life will ever hand us, and what the hell are we supposed to do with it.

Who are your favorite characters, either in books or on television? Which characters plead for a re-read, or keep you tuning in week after week? What about the Winchester boys; you like?

Okay, I'll take that sandwich now.

Guest Author: Kimberly Van Meter

Helen here. I first met fellow SuperRomance author Kimberly Van Meter at last year's national RWA conference in Dallas. We were both newly published, but since she's much more prolific than me, her third book (not that I'm counting or anything) is out this month and her fourth book will be out in April. She's smoking!

Welcome to the convertible, Kim!

The Gift Of Words

Inspiration is a funny thing. Sometimes the muse knocks you sidewise with her magic wand and you go ass over teakettle with the force of the amazing ideas ready to spring from your brain to your fingers on the keyboard and other times, it’s like the muse went on vacation and left no forwarding address.

But who has time for that fickle little imaginary friend? I don’t and most published authors on contract (and deadline) don’t have the luxury of luring the muse to return if she’s being stubborn. In fact, sometimes you have to grab that recalcitrant little hussy and shake the stories out of her because you don’t have time to play games.

That’s what happened with my current release, RETURN TO EMMETT’S MILL, published through Harlequin Superromance (help a starving writer. Go buy it. Now. Don’t wait. Hurry. While supplies last.) Pull up a chair and I’ll tell you a story about a writer, her muse, and a psychic’s advice.

As I state in my Dear Reader letter, while writing my current release, I was going through a personal crisis of my own. In short, my marriage was imploding. Not much fun to write about a blossoming romance when your own is going down the proverbial tubes. In short, I couldn’t write. I mostly sobbed at my keyboard and if I wasn’t weeping I was staring at the blinking cursor, my fingers frozen and my brain paralyzed. Writers put pieces of themselves in their work but if they have nothing to give, where do they go from there? Well, I can’t speak to other writers but what I did was panic. And cry some more. Then, I went to a psychic.

She told me some great things about my future as well as gave me hope for my marriage but the one thing she said about my writing was that my creativity would return in a month. That’s great, I said. Except my deadline was in a month. I couldn’t wait that long. She smiled and said, “Fake it ‘til you make it. You can fix it later.”

Strange advice but I’ll tell you, it worked. I pretended that I was writing wonderful prose with a meaningful plot and wonderful characters and didn’t allow that internal editor to tell me that I was doing the exact opposite.

While my heart was mending, the words flowed from a magical place and the heroine, who was going through her own pain, felt my heartbreak. Each time I sat down to the keyboard it was like opening a vein and before I knew it, I was nearing the end. I managed to make my deadline (two months to write a book isn’t long enough, I’ve learned), much to my agent’s immense relief (she was afraid I was setting myself up for a nervous breakdown with such a short window) and after I turned the book in to my editor, she emailed me to say that it was a wonderful story and my readers were going to have to read it with a tissue handy because it was a tear-jerker.

Yes, it was, for me as well. But writing it was cathartic and I don’t know if I would’ve been able to get through that painful chapter in my life without Tasha Simmons crying right alongside me. And then, I realized my muse hadn’t really left me, she just encouraged me to tap into something I wanted to run from. Sometimes the muse is the one giving out the tough love for our benefit. Through the gift of words, like a pressure valve, my writing helped the pain dissipate until it was no longer crippling.

So, when people say to me that they can only write when they’re inspired, (i.e. birds are singing, the sun is shining, and there’s peace and happiness in the world) usually I laugh. If I’d waited to be inspired to finish the book currently on the shelves I’d have missed my deadline and I might still be curled in a ball sobbing, lost and wondering whatever happened to that sweet muse who used to whisper lovely stories in my ear from the time I was fifteen until now.
Nope. Like I said, there’s no waiting in my world. I’m the boss and I say back to work. But don’t worry, I’ve learned my muse likes it a little rough. She gives as good as she gets and I’m thankful for it.

What do you do when you find yourself staring at a blank page, wondering if you’ll ever be able to write anything worth reading? How do you inspire yourself? And lastly, have you ever found the courage to write through something painful to come out the other side, feeling better because of it? I’d love to hear your stories, comments, and thoughts on the subject.

Reimagining Myself. . . or Life as a Mad Scientist

Okay, I've already confessed in a small way that I've read and appreciated the book The Secret and I promise this won't be one big commercial for the book and method that some scorn as overly simplistic and others label a mind-cult.

But, it's started me thinking. It's an interesting proposition: Consciousness, the mind is the most powerful thing in the Universe. And we humans are only now beginning to understand the power of it. The reason I'm so drawn to it is that quantum physics actually backs some of its basic premises. Strange but true. There is provocative evidence to say that matter conforms to our expectations. That in certain instances, particles arrange to be where we look for them instead of where they statistically should be. Does that sound weird? Yeah, well, it's a weird world, Lambchop. Weirder than we know.

It seems that thought is more than just insubstantial mind-winks. Matter is interactive with thought and intention. Even if this is only at a quantum (super sub-atomic) level, it's a provocative notion. I don't know quantum theory well enough to lay it all out for you here (I can hear those sighs of relief!) but I do know that staid, mathematically-fanatical, particle-parsing physicists really believe this and have experimental evidence to back it up. Human expectation interacts with nature in a way that causes nature to respond. The human mind is powerful in a way we never expected and are only beginning to explore scientifically.


Back to the Secret: their whole premise is that the universe operates on a "law of attraction." That the universe arranges things according to your mental pictures and mental state: ergo whatever you're thinking, it sends you more of the same. So, if you're having positive, energized thoughts you get positive, energized events and substance coming at you. It you're depressed and dark in outlook, you'll get more of the same in your life. Now some of this just makes psychological sense: positive begets positive, negative begets negative. We've all seen this in operation in people's lives.

This is what the whole "affirmations" thing is about. And that's why the statement "Reality forms around a commitment" is cherished by so many writers. But most of us wouldn't bet the farm on it. It remains more of a wish than a solid, actionable philosophy for most of us. The idea that our wishes, our thinking, our intentions can influence the course of events in our lives seems a little too optimistic, unrealistic, even juvenile. But how many of us have really tested the limits of our minds? How many of us have really done experiments with our thinking and stuck with the program long enough to see results or not? In the interest of "being practical" we often let those new habits-- "I will be positive about my career and my life"-- lapse at the first sign that real effort will be required or that we may be just "wishing on a star."

I think what really got me is The Secret's assertion that LOVE is the highest and most powerful state of mental being. That in LOVE all things are possible. Okay, treading on unexpectedly familiar ground here. This is something I used to hear in church all the time. Still occasionally do. Love, a state of true, transcendent, unconditional acceptance and communion can and does have a transforming effect on us. We've known that for a long time. Whole religious faiths are based on it-- like Christianity. But is there more to it? Does the religious talk and theme mask an even deeper and more profound reality?

Is love an altered mental state that reaches out into the universe and makes things change and happen? Is it the ultimate mode of creation/re-creation in the universe? It is a potent feeling, a very dynamic emotion that can move us to reach out to each other and to the world around us to do unexpected and generous things. Is it possible that LOVE can move more than just hearts? Can it move events and change our lives? Isn't that what our books are about?

Another thing The Secret proposes is that GRATITUDE is also a powerful thing. That understanding how fortunate we are and having and "attitude of gratitude" for the many good things in our lives sets us on the plane of love and makes it possible for us to do great things with our hearts and minds. The author suggests that to cultivate gratitude, begin at the start of your day: when your first foot hits the floor in the morning, say "Thank" and when the second foot hits the floor say "you." Then with each step throughout the day let "thank" "you" go out to the universe. It puts you into a different frame of mind and into a great positive-attracting place. Hmmmm. I've tried it. It's kinda neat. But I'm still having to work on the "all day long" part.

So, all of this is the long way around to say: I'm experimenting with my life. I'm being positive and "faith" full and I'm trying to be as loving as possible in all circumstances. I'm being creative and open to new experiences and to new thoughts. So far, I've broken a writing dry spell and have one (and soon, possibly another) new publishing contract to show for it. . . in an area I've never done before. And I'm thrilled.

I'm re-imagining myself. Reinventing myself from the mind out. And I have no clue whether I'll turn out to be a Nobel prize-winner or a freakin' mad scientist.

But it's interesting. Experimenting, playing with my life and the focus of my mind. Deciding what I want to be and do and trying to make it happen. Interesting.

Remember that saying: "BE the change you want to see in the world." And the other saying: "What would you do if you were certain you could not fail?" Maybe there are more hints of our mind/spirit power around us than we realize.

What do you think? How powerful are our thoughts? Do you think there's more to the religious principles we've been taught than just the outward notions? Do you think ESP is tied into this somehow? Is ESP/mind power something we all have? What do you think would happen if we all began to think the same positive thoughts and focus on the same important goals for our country and our world? Are we on the right path in investigating this? Have any opinions or experiences to share?

Helen's Dead Cat Walking

About two years ago, my cat Chester was diagnosed with acute chronic kidney disease. An x-ray showed one kidney shriveled and gone and the other fast losing ground. He’d lost several pounds, had no appetite, and would’ve died within a week or two had the vet not offered a treatment whereby he gets subcutaneous (under skin) fluids three times per week. She said with the fluids flushing toxins out his body he might live another year to a year and a half.

Always the softy, I agreed to do the treatments. Knowing that driving him into the vet’s office three times a week would not be an option, I learned to administer the fluids myself. He also needs canned food, which involves separating him from my other two cats because they still need dry food at least once a day for their teeth. Oh, and I give him a quarter of a stomach tablet each night because the kidney disease causes excess acid. I figured I could do just about anything for a year and a half, right?

Well, it’s now been two years since his original diagnosis and Chester has not only gained several pounds (he’s a fifteen plus pound bad boy) he show no signs of succumbing to kidney failure any time soon. After a check-up last Friday, the vet thought I could drop his treatments down to twice a week and she wanted to do a blood test to determine the values of various indicators of kidney disease.

This brought up an emotional dilemma. If his condition had worsened, I knew there would be additional medical treatments available. Without getting into the tedious details, suffice it to say it’s an additional expense and involves more care-taking. I’m feeling as though I have to draw a line somewhere, sometime.

And there’s the rub. I have to draw the line.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not complaining. For the most part, I’m glad I’ve been able to do what I can to extend Chester’s life and what I do is nothing compared to what many people go through in pet care. Chester’s quality of life has been wonderful, and, by looking at him, no one would guess this cat was supposedly dying. But two years ago, in making the decision to provide this medical treatment, I didn’t realize I would be setting myself up for having to, at some point, decide to stop.

This is probably too heavy a topic for a Monday morning, sorry, and I realize I’m talking about an animal, but people run into the same issue with loved ones who happen to be human every day. How far should medical practices go in saving a life? Is every life worth saving? When/where do we draw the line? Should we be the ones drawing the lines? And why does death, something inevitable for all of us, seem like such a terrible thing?

A detour...

Cruise on over to my blog, Dusted, if you're interested in following my book-in-a-month journey. Just started posting yesterday and will continue through Feb. It's not a full-length book, but a novella. I thought it would be interesting to blog the process of getting the idea (fast) and the rest of the creation process.

M

A little knowledge – not always a BAD thing

We’ve posted several blogs lately about stress and fear and obstacles that get in the way of our productivity. All of us have different answers for dealing with these very real problems. Many are traditional concepts - some not so traditional. To that end, I thought I’d interject a little Feng Shui into the mix as another alternative. No. I’m not an expert. No. I’m not a died in the wool believer – that’s not to say I couldn’t be if I were to delve a little deeper into the art. But, I’m a bet hedger – so I figure, why not give it a try.

Armed with that dedicated attitude (ahem) when I set up my new office a couple of years ago, I did a little digging, read a few articles and did my darnedest to employ some basic Feng Shui techniques. For your reading and considering pleasure, here is some basic information that might help your productivity, creativity, and stress level.

Concept: With Feng Shui the main goal is to direct the Chi inside the space in which we live or work so that it nourishes and supports a good flow of energy inside our body. Chi = universal energy, or the energy that permeates everything around us including inside our body, home, office, etc., as well as outside. Good quality Chi is vibrant, alive, fresh. Bad Chi is sharp, attacking, depressing. Shapes, colors, intensity, furniture placement, etc., etc., can all help achieve good Chi. Here are a few tips I’ve picked up and try to employ.

1) Practice the Wyatt Earpe doctrine: Never sit with a door or a window behind you. A solid wall at your back and behind your desk chair will ensure that you have support in your life, which will equate to support in your work. Additionally, try not to directly face a wall either. If you must, then use feng shui to make the wall ‘disappear’ with vibrant art work, plants, anything to make you breathe deeper, smile, keep you calm.

2) Arrange other furniture in harmonious positions so that chi is able to flow smoothly. The last thing you want to do is trip over a table every time you enter the room or leave your desk. Breaks the flow of good chi.

3) Never have the main door opening into your desk as the chi coming in will hit at your face causing more obstacles and problems. Also, try not to look directly at window when you enter your office. In my office I do have a window that I see immediately so I’ve created a ‘wall’ with a colorful glass wind chime that hangs in front of the window and directs my attention there.

4) The chi from the main entrance of your office should not first meet a wall inside the office. For instance, in my office, I positioned a small table with a plant and the corner of my loveseat in the path to break the direct connection with an opposing wall - but not enough to break the energy flow.

5) Place your home office as far from the bedroom as possible. I know. Not always doable but if you can, do. If you can, have a separate entry to your office, even though it’s in your home, that a real plus. I got lucky and I do have a separate entrance should I choose to use it.

6) Plan your home office with your well-being and productivity in mind. Use colors and images that make you feel happy, appreciated, successful and creative. And trust me on this – looking into what colors represent in Fung Shui is fascinating but that’s an entire other blog.

7) Make sure you have good air quality and plenty of natural and artificial light. This just makes sense. We all know that if our brains are starved for oxygen and we don’t get enough light, we don’t enjoy working no matter how much we love what we do. Air purifying plants can help with the air quality issue. No spiky leafed plants though – bad chi :o)

8) Use feng shui to deal with clutter in your home office on a regular basis as clutter drains your energy. Empty waste baskets daily, mark a day each week to declutter, etc.

Okey Dokey. What else? Oh. When you consider furniture placement also keep direction in mind. Ba Gua is an energy map to help guide you on creating the most harmonious energy flow in your space. North: Career/Path in Life, East: Health and Family, South: Fame and Reputation, West: Creativity/Children. The nuances of Ba Gua are many – including elements and colors – again – another blog.

So. Wha’da ya think? Is it phooey? Worth considering? Anyone out there practice elements of Fung Shui? If so, do you find them helpful? Anyone have other methods of making the most productive, happy, creative you there can be?

Debra - MONKEY DO; MONKEY SEE

Lois’ post about stress and Christie’s comment about her mantra made me think it was time for me to review some simple questions. Simple but hard. Why? Because I have recently adopted a mantra from one of the three famous Monkeys—See no evil.

What’s the evil? Time slipping away from me. Valuable minutes and even ::gasp:: hours have slipped away from me and I’ve looked the other way. That’s so much easier than facing the problem. Well, no more! It’s time for me to shape up in the time department.

All of you know how generous...ahem…I am, so I’m sharing my little chat with myself with you. I thought you might as well suffer…ahem…benefit from this review as well.

Dixon’s Responsible Self: “Yo, dude. When did you stop jotting a list of tasks and goals for the day? You’ve got paper squirreled away everywhere. You’ve got one-hundred and forty-two pens. Thirty-seven mechanical pencils, crayons and umpteen computer programs.”

Dixon’s Monkey Self: “lalalalalalala I’m not listening. Can’t write goals. That’s dangerous. If Monkey see, then Monkey do! Where’s the procrastination in that?”

Dixon: “Don’t you know that folks who write down their goals are more likely to succeed?”

Monkey: “That whole Yale story about the 5% of the class who had written goals ending up with a net worth more than the other 95% of the class put together is a myth.”

Dixon: “Ah, I see you’ve had time to Google and go to Snopes.com where you can get confirmation and details on all the internet and urban legends. Do you really have to Google every thought that comes into your head?”

Monkey: “I’m a writer. Information is how I expand the muse. I need to know what’s out there. I’ve got to stay in touch with popular culture.”

Dixon: “Oh, please. Don’t pretend Britney’s plight or the industry gossip out there is so vital to your career that you need to spend an hour a day visiting blogs and websites. Gossip and intrigue are a great time waster. Even hurtful maybe. Do you really have to read it all?”

Monkey: “No. And to prove it, look…I’m exiting Mozilla Firefox, my browser and…wait! Go back! Look! Harlequin just bought the Empire state building and they’ve hired 16 more editors from two other publishers that closed six imprints. Christian paranormal erotica is suddenly big, and Nora just got a gazillion dollar contract. See!! I told you this is important stuff.”

Dixon: “You wouldn’t know important it if bit your monkey’s uncle. Seriously, just stop piddling right now and do one task. Any one. Something small just to get you started.”

Monkey: “Just one? Okay, that’s easy. I can write this check for dues.”

Dixon: “Excellent. Write faster. It doesn’t have to be perfect. Really. The world isn’t going to end if you complete tasks without worrying about what everyone else will think. Just get it done.”

Monkey: “Well. That was easy. Maybe I’ll do my email now.”

Dixon: “Arrgh!! No! And while we’re on that subject, use the #!$@! delete key for a change. Do you REALLY REALLY have to send one more email to respond to someone by saying, ‘Thanks again!’ ? For the love of chocolate, woman, cut the cord.”

Monkey: “But—“

Dixon: “No buts. You will never get your time back. Ever. Give yourself a chance to enjoy life. Get things done. Play later without guilt. It’s all the rage. Trust me.”

Monkey: “Well, you are me.”

Dixon: “Ha! You used to be me. The me that used to tackle the hard things and get them out of the way for the day. Everything else was a downhill slide. Let’s do that again. That was fun.”

Monkey (pensive for a moment): “Hmm. Monkey do; Monkey see movie?”

Dixon: “Now you’re getting it!”

SO…have you spoken with the Monkey on your back lately? Mine has a new mantra: Today I can accomplish many things with ease because I’m focused on seeing a movie later.

What’s your monkey? Or your Mantra? (And then get back to productive work!)

Christie Asks: Are We Scared Yet?

Friday night, Surfer Guy and I went to happy hour with some new friends. (At a wine bar! I had never done “wine flights” before. Very cool.) We left Son 2 home alone with the ever-faithful, but now deaf yellow lab. Son 2’s best friend and family lives across the street. We know all our neighbors, well. Before leaving, when it was still light, I turned on several lamps downstairs, so that it would never be dark in the house. Son 2 has actually babysat other people’s kids!

But an hour after sunset, Son 2 called and wanted to know when we’d be home. Surfer Guy reassured him (Surfer Guy didn’t exactly tell me all Son 2 had said until we were in the car heading home) and we continued on with our evening. But I phoned as soon as we left the wine bar and found out that Son 2 was sure there was someone in the house besides him and the deaf dog! But he wasn’t about to investigate (much smarter that those too-stupid-to-live book and movie heroines who head off into scary spaces) and so confined himself to the upstairs until we walked in fifteen minutes later.

Mystery was solved right away, as he’d heard the doorbell ring, but when he looked out from upstairs, no on was there (so he thought they’d come in). In reality it was just a book delivery from Harlequin (a copy of one of my books in French, Une Exquise Vengeance). The Fedex man had rung the bell and then continued on.

We all had a little laugh about it, especially since Son 2 was now brave enough to go down to the kitchen where I made him something to eat. And hey, who hasn’t spooked themselves when they’re home alone? I remember babysitting for the Brights, a wonderful family, but if it was night, I wouldn’t walk into their kitchen from a certain direction because I’d have to pass the door to their basement.

I still quickly change the channel on the remote if I’m home alone and a scary movie is advertised.

Do you have anything you do to stop from scaring yourself? Will you read a scary book at night if you’re home alone (I won’t)?

Stressin' Out

Stress. It’ll kill you. Or so people say… a lot. It seems like there’s a constant dialogue going on about Americans’ sky-high stress load. In the past I tended to believe we weren’t any more anxious than our ancestors. I mean, my parents worked about 22 hours a day, never took vacations, and didn’t exercise . Their diet basically consisted of heavy cream and pig fat and they were farmers, apparently one of the most dangerous occupations in the world. But if you want to go back farther than that…way back to our ancient antecedents, I think they must have been a little wigged out too. I mean, worrying about becoming some passing carnivore’s next meal couldn’t have been exactly relaxing.

Lately though, I’ve been looking at the whole situation a little differently. Cuz…well…I’m a mite stressed myself. I remember talking to Tami Hoag years ago before she was…well, frankly, before she was Tami Hoag. She said people don’t know what writers’ block is until they sit down at the computer and stare at the screen for three hours with their hands shaking so badly they can’t write a single word.

Let me insert at this time that I DON’T BELIEVE IN WRITERS’ BLOCK. I DON’T BELIEVE IN WRITERS’ BLOCK. I DON’T BELIEVE IN WRITERS’ BLOCK. But I gotta tell you, I do believe in pressure. Because despite the fact that intellectually I realize the world is unlikely to implode if I don’t get my current project in on time, sometimes my hands tremble when I’m staring at the computer screen. And sometimes, I noticed recently, I stop breathing. I’ll just be sitting here, searching blindly for my muse (who, by the by, doesn’t show up on a regular basis since ‘83) and think…hmmmmff…shouldn’t I be inhaling every once in a while?

So I did a little research about stress. Here’s some of the information I came across:

Physical Symptoms:
Headaches or backaches
Muscle tension and stiffness
Diarrhea or constipation
Nausea, dizziness
Insomnia
Chest pain, rapid heartbeat
Weight gain or loss
Skin breakouts (hives, eczema)
Loss of sex drive
Frequent colds

Cognitive Symptoms:
Memory problems
Indecisiveness
Inability to concentrate
Trouble thinking clearly
Poor judgment
Seeing only the negative
Anxious or racing thoughts
Constant worrying
Loss of objectivity
Fearful anticipation

Anybody experiencing any of those? Anyone not experiencing any of those?

To reduce stress the experts tell us to: Meditate, practice yoga, have sex, laugh, take a walk, or plant a garden.

I gotta tell you, I do all of those things. Well…expect for the plant a garden thing, but it’s literally about 25 degrees below zero here in the Northland and I just don’t see how freezing into a pillar of ice is going to reduce my heart rate.

So, I’m asking you guys, what are YOUR secrets? What do YOU do to reduce your stress load. To live a normal life in an abnormal world?

Kathleen's Rant on Prescription Drug Advertising

Non Sequitur comic

Are you feeling tired, irritable, even downright sick of TV drug advertising? These are troubling symptoms, my friends. Maybe you need to take a pill. Ask your doctor if Sheepdip is right for you.

The other night Jon Stewart hit the nail on the head with a bit about the ad for a new drug for RLS (Restless Leg Syndrome). Should I say, medical breakthrough? Before I go further, let me say that I know how irritating RLS can be. It irritated me for years. I didn't know to call it, and it turns out that Jon has it, too, and he calls it "The Jimmy Legs." So cool, me and Jon Stew... Anyway, it keeps you awake at night and drives you crazy in the car and it's a nuisance. But it isn't life threatening, which is the only way you could get me to take a drug that might have the kind of side effects this one has. "Tell your doctor if you experience increased sexual or gambling urges." The first time I heard this ad, my jaw dropped. I've been waiting for Stewart or Colbert to get hold of it. Stewart had the same reaction I did. He was, like, imitating me.

Take the Jimmy Leg link and come right back.

Are you back? Can you believe it? What kind of drug targets what I used to call itchy muscles in my legs (word smith that I am), sex drive and the urge to gamble? Wouldn't you be more worried about becoming a sex maniac who loves to gamble than losing a little sleep over achy legs? Remember the your-brain-on-drugs ad? So here's a new one: This is Kathleen with Crazy Legs. This is Kathleen on Requip. I know--your imaginations are having a field day.

Okay, I'll say it. I am offended by prescription drug advertising. I looked it up. The drugs most advertised are for depression, impotence, weight loss, high cholesterol, erectile dysfunction, allergies, bladder control, inability to get it up, and now RLS. The ads don't seem particularly educational, although I can see adolescent males tuning in on the warning: "See your doctor if you experience an erection longer than 4 hours." Life-saving? Maybe the one for plain ol' over the counter aspirin.

Put these ads together with the public service ad that says that the fastest rising drug problem among teenagers is prescription drugs--the ones they find at home--and it seems to me that it's time to do what we did with cigarette advertising. Get it off TV. The pharm folks will counter with "First Amendment violation!" So did Phillip Morris. I don't think everything should be advertised, especially on TV. This hasn't been going on that long--started in the 90's--and all it does is jack up the cost of prescription drugs. They're spending almost 5 billion dollars a year--up from about a bil in 2000--on these TV ads. And you can't just go out and buy the stuff. All you can do is pester your doctor. I say, let the drug companies deal with the medical community. Leave it to the sales reps.

What do you say?

Oh, yeah, this does have a bit of a connection to my March book. (Let's put those advertising dollars where they'll do the most good. Books!) In Mystic Horseman there's a reference to RLS, and the hero kinda makes a joke of it. (I've had it; I can joke about it.) And that's pre Jimmy Legs.

One more oh yeah. What I didn't know until I researched for this post is that, according to the NYT, Congress is debating the issue as we speak. I watch the news all the time. Why did I not know this? Oh, yeah. That's where I keep seeing these ads.

Chemical Free — Fantasy or Possibility?

My goal this year is to reduce the amount of chemicals I intake, via eating, breathing, and/or osmosis. My first goal was actually a diet. Yeah, I can stand to lose a few. And I do want to pay attention to my weight. But I believe diet is an evil word, and I'd much rather achieve health, and then if I can lose a few pounds while taking that road, then bonus.

But it is possible to actually go chemical free? I mean, if I were to stop allowing all chemicals into my life at this very moment, I'd be naked, starving, and sleeping on some dusty Sahara dune.

Consider: We wake every morning snuggled amidst our chemical-laden sheets on top of a mattress that's been treated with more of the nasty stuff. Most of our carpets contain the stuff, and hardwood floors are polished with even more chemicals. Don't rub up against that wall; more chemicals. The bathroom is a virtual chemical waste dump. Have you read the ingredients list on your makeup lately? (I've switched to all natural products for my face a year ago, but I'm still struggling on the bubble bath.)

We wander into the kitchen for breakfast and the cupboards are filled with non-foods. (More on that later.) Anything that isn't in its natural form or has been processed to either enhance it with nutrients, vitamins or to make it into the shape of a dinosaur is just bad stuff. Don't even get me started on high fructose corn syrup. It's is evil, nothing but.

We inhale toxins from our cars, lawn mowers (and lawns if you fertilize), from our clothing, hair dyes, plastic grocery bags, printer toners, shoes, keyboards, baby toys, barbeque grills, and about every other thing you can look at.

I'm not trying to bum you all out. It's just a fact. The world has changed dramatically over the past century. And while we can cheer on technology, if you think the chemicals aren't killing us, then you need to think again.

I'm a realist; I'll never be chemical free. But I want to give myself a leg up as I'm only getting older, and this body certainly ain't what it used to be. Heck, I've begun buying as much organic as I can. I reduce, reuse and recycle. I've already gone cold-turkey on the hair dye. It's killing me to stare at that gray stripe every morning, but I am determined. (Though I will warn you all, that'll be the first thing that knocks me off the wagon. I like how I look with dark hair. Strength, please!)

Has anyone read Michael Pollan's The Omnivore's Dilemma? What about his latest, In Defense Of Food. Both excellent reads if you want to learn more about how our foods are created, grown, modified, processed, and sold to an unwary public. Pollan's latest has become my new diet book. He's not a nutritionist or scientist, nor does he claim to tell us how to eat, but he has done the research and is concerned about his own health and wants to spread the word. His philosophy on how we should eat is simple: Eat Food. Not Too Much. Mostly Plants.

Sounds simple, doesn't it? It's that one word up there that makes it all so difficult, Food. Because we're talking real food, people. Not anything that resembles food, yet has been processed, enchanced, enriched, shot through with additives, antioxidants, or vitamins. Food is basically the stuff you can pluck off a tree, out of the ground, or take from an animal that also hasn't been shot with antibiotics or fed chemical-laced feed. If we all glanced in our fridges and cupboards, about 90 percent of what we think is food...really isn't.

Can I do this? It would mean changing my mindset completely. I enjoy the easily-made meals in the microwave. I'm not a big gourmet or chef. The process of creating meals will have to slow down, become as it was when I was little and used to watch my mother create meals from scratch using veggies from the garden and very little things from a box. Pollan's suggestion is that we don't eat anything our great-great grandmothers wouldn't have recognized as food. (Which rules out Twinkies, yogurt in a tube, and ba-gillions of other things.) Honestly? I can tell you right now I'll never part with chocolate! :-)

So I'm beginning. I'm not calling it a diet, but not sure what to call it. New outlook? Life makeover? Moving forward smartly?

What about you? Are you concerned about the world we live in and raise our children in? What steps have you taken to reduce the toxins and chemicals in your life? Any suggestions for me?

I'm going to do monthly updates on my progress. Like a diet, I'll measure my success by improvements in health, outlook and well-being. Here's to a cleaner new year!


ps: This is my favorite website to check cosmetics and toothpaste and shampoos. They rate the product on a scale of 0-10 for toxins and chemicals and list ingredients. I just checked my Burt's Bees toothpaste, it got a 1, which is great. Whew! Bookmark this site! http://www.cosmeticsdatabase.com/index.php

Also, here's a great list of the top 12 most harmful chemicals that are found in our daily lives, The Dirty Dozen.

Betina's Bucket List

Yes, I went to the movie last Friday.

I saw "The Bucket List" with Jack Nicholson and Morgan Freeman. And I LOVED it. True, it was a little raw in places and painfully accurate about what happens to most people during chemotherapy. But it was also wonderfully hopeful and funny. It's not often you go to a movie and laugh your ass off while you have tears in your eyes. In fact, I can't recall a single other movie where that happened to me.

Now, you might think that this movie touched me because of my peculiar history with illness and disaster and death. And in some ways you'd be right. But I didn't check my brain and 20+ years of storytelling at the door when I entered the theater. The movie has whip-smart writing and terrific characterization and dead-on casting. And the cinematography is great, too. People applauded when the movie was over. When was the last time you heard applause in a movie theater?

More importantly, the movie almost demands that you think about what things are most important to you and what you'd love to do before you kick it.

Do you recall that book "1,000 Places To See Before You Die"? I have a copy. I was surprised and pleased to find I'd seen quite a few of them. But there are also quite a few (many here in the good old USA) that I haven't seen. The list Patricia Schultz put together is a traveler's list, places to visit and things to see.

What was interesting about The Bucket List was that there were lots of things on their list that were experiences. . . like kissing the most beautiful girl in the world. (Which Nicholson did. And it warmed me to the ends of my toes.) And laughing until he cried. (Which Freeman did and the theater audience joined in!) And they went sky diving-- which was a hoot!











Predictably, it all started me thinking. I started working on my own Bucket List. In four days I haven't gotten very far. . . mostly to family things. I know this is a personal thing, but I'm looking for nominations for my list. And I'm suggesting that you start one for yourself.

Something about recognizing the finiteness of life makes me want to enjoy and make the most of the rest of the time I have here.

And nothing says such a list has to be written once and forever, then completed before death. I like the idea of a rolling list. . . adding a new sight or experience every time you cross one off. So, what would you put on your Bucket List? What would you suggest I put on mine?

Here's my start:

1. Climb to the top of a Mayan pyramid.

2. Take a special trip with each of my grands when they're 12 or 13. They choose the destination.

3. Meet the Dalai Lama.

4. See a miracle.

5. Have a #1 NYT Bestseller.

6. Build a dairy in Cameroon. (Heifer Project)

7. Visit a volcano up close.


Any suggestions? I'm open. And what would you like to do yourself? Say-- what would be your top three?

Debra - A LESSON IN LISTENING

We all have special children in our lives. To save time I’ll just stipulate that they are all brilliant, gorgeous, funny, and adorable.

Currently my special wee one is named Camden. He’s my sister’s grandson, and she’s raising him. Has been since he was born. We wish circumstances had been different for him, but they weren’t. They aren’t. His mother still isn’t in the picture, so we have Camden in our lives.

As soon as it became clear that my sister (in her late 40’s at the time) was about to inherit a baby, my mother and I both told my sister we’d help. We have. Happily. For the first year of his life I kept him one or two days a week. My mother kept him all the other weekdays. My sister had nights and weekends.

He’s almost four. (The beach picture is just before he was three.) We’re breathing big sighs of relief that we’ve made it this far. He’s unbelieveably verbal. Scary really. Especially if you aren’t prepared for it. When his pediatrician retired last year, she wrote notes on all the charts for the doctor taking over her patients. The new doc hadn’t looked carefully at the chart the first time he saw Camden. After a few exchanges with Camden, he looked sort of shell-shocked and started to ruffle through the file. “Did Dr. Judy know about this? Ah. I see she did. Her note says, You watch this one.”

To us, the conversation is routine. We don’t think much about it anymore until people stop in the middle of store aisles or restaurants to ask how old he is. But Saturday night I was the one wondering how old is this kid?! We were at a small, casual party in the home of a family friend. Camden was the only child there. (All his babysitters were attending the party.) A group of us had congregated at the kitchen table to eat our food. Camden wanted to sit by his Aunt Debi. We were laughing, leaning on the table. Talking. Talking over each other. I said something that wasn’t heard because of the commotion, so no one responded immediately.

I suppose to Camden it looked as if I were being ignored. He announced, “This table is much too busy.” He put his little hand on my forearm to get my attention, waited for me to look directly at him and then he said, “What?” And he waited. Not moving. Not talking. Simply sitting, with his little blond head cocked, with his hand on my arm (for encouragement) and waiting for me to say whatever I needed to say.

Imagine what the world would be like if all of us took a moment out of our lives to listen.

Big lessons come in little packages. Where have your lessons come from lately? Those reminders of things we know but forget? If someone you loved put their hand on your arm and said, "What?" What would you say? What do you want to say?

GUILTY PLEASURES

No, I'm not talking about the stash of chocolates I hide from my children. Or any of the other slightly naughty things that make life worth living.

But, you see, my favorite basketball team is miserable this year. Rock bottom, maybe the worst team EVER miserable.

Enjoying a game now and then is hardly a guilty pleasure. The problem is, it's affecting my mood.

I know it's ridiculous. I know it's only a game. I've always felt vaguely befuddled and well, a bit sorry for, those who live and die by their local football team. In the grand scheme of things, it's just not that important, is it?

Somehow, though, I can't quite get past it. I miss having that game to look forward to a couple of times a week. I try and avoid it, but get glum everytime I catch a glimpse of the sports page and last night's score. In the past, even if we lost, I'd at least get to enjoy the exuberant basketball love that is Kevin Garnett on a court, or the essential man-prettiness of Wally Szczerbiak. No more. Yeah, I can watch the Celtics, and often do, but it's not the same. No pride of ownership.

This is not entirely new territory for me. In college, I was perhaps a bit too caught up in partner-swapping on General Hospital. Never could figure out why I cared so much, but oh, I did. Maybe even (shh!) skipped a class now and then so I didn't miss anything important. And now, I admit to checking out online gossip sights every once in a while, despite the fact that I know perfectly well I shouldn't care at all how many times Lindsey Lohan goes to rehab.

So who's gonna admit their secret passion? The thing they know is not really as important as their heart keeps insisting it is?

Susie

Weird Politics

Lois Greiman

Okay, I admit it…I’m intrigued by politics. Not the who will win and who will lose part…well, that too, actually. But even more I’m fascinated by what makes us vote. It seems such a nebulous thing. I mean, I would think we would unerring chime in for the candidate who addresses the issues that most stir us: education or health care or the environment or defense…or whatever. But I increasingly feel that, instead of those things, Americans vote for something more personal. Something visceral and kind of indefinable. Like likability.

Remember just prior to the 2000 elections when they showed vice president Al Gore dancing with his wife. He was, reportedly ‘stiff’ and ‘unromantic.’ The world was aghast, and I actually believe he lost votes because of it. Hilary, on the other hand, saw her numbers rise when she got teary eyed during a recent interview.

I was told that generally speaking the man with the most hair wins the election. Seriously? Not the guy most likely to reduce the deficit and/or green house emissions? Hmmmfff.

And what about looks? How big a role does the candidate’s overall appearance play? I think John Edwards is just as cute as a button, but his numbers in the caucuses aren’t great. Mitt Romney is a good looking guy. And he’s like what…a gazillionaire so that can’t hurt? Can it?

On the other hand, Hollywood’s only offering, Fred Thompson…not so great looking. How much will that affect his numbers. On the other other hand, his wife, his junior by 25 years, is pretty hot. What will that do for him?


Rumor has it Hilary got a face-lift sometime during the past year. Assuming that’s true, what does that tell us? That she realizes the importance of eye appeal, especially for women? Or do we chalk it up to simple vanity? Then there was the cleavage scandal. Oh my gosh…women have cleavage!! Even if they’re presidential candidates? Notice these two photos of Senator Clinton. If your knowledge of her were unchanged and only her picture varied, which version would you be more likely to vote for, the hippy Hillary or the no nonsense Hillary?

Then there’s Mike Huckabee. Apparently he lost over 105 pounds in the past year. That’s a butt-load (literally :) of weight. Would he even be in the running if he tipped the scales at 300 pounds?

This voting thing seems to be a really gut level thing, not something easily defined or understood. So I’m wondering, what makes you vote? Is it really just the issues? Or is there something much deeper, something that we, as human animals, can’t quite put a label on. And if so…is that a good thing? Do women have to look better than men to compete in the same arena? Do we want to like our candidates? Or do we just have to agree with their policies?

Guest Blogger: Andrea Campbell

Whacky Business This

My book idea is whacked. You know how authors always say, “There’s nothing like my book, it’s unique”? (They usually say that when pitching to agents who roll their eyes up into their heads, or when trying to get media attention—the whores.) Well, in this case it’s true. I’ve written a romantic-intrigue and the characters are monkeys who drive cars, hold jobs, and do all the things that humans do, (sometimes better! I’m also sure that they ride in cars with the top down too, come to think of it.) I think the closest title to mine in kind has been Lives of the Monster Dogs, about a race of super-intelligent dogs with artificial hands and voice boxes (nearly a NYT bestseller), and Eric Garcia’s mystery series featuring mafia dinosaurs (I kid you not,) who disguise themselves as humans by wearing latex suits. But here’s the difference between those books and mine: my characters are real monkeys.

Okay, let’s drop back for some how-did-you-do-its. Way back in 1986 I was having a miserable time because of a series of jaw surgeries (ugh, tumor) and spent about four years bouncing around, life out of control, seeing doctors. Since my mouth was wired up a lot (yes, it’s a good way to lose weight), I started writing things down (although it’s hard to yell at your kids on paper so they got away with a lot of mischief for a long time, and if you meet them, that’s why they are like they are, a little bratty and over-confident). Anyway, that led me to writing trade magazine articles, which segued into books.

I wrote a career piece about the lady who started Helping Hands, an organization that gives trained capuchin monkeys to quadriplegics. (I had to know whose brainy idea that was!) Anyway, I got so caught up in the story, I wound up putting in an application to be a mom for a monkey—and, yes, it came to pass. I was passed a five-week old baby capuchin monkey straight from Discovery Island in Walt Disney World and we christened her Ziggy (after the cartoon guy with the pin-dot eyes).

Turns out this seat-of-the-pants adventure—we had her for thirteen YEARS—(okay, more data: they live about 46 years long), led to some strange, horrible, and wonderful situations that became a memoir entitled: Bringing Up Ziggy: What Raising a Helping Hands Monkey Taught Me About Love, Commitment and Sacrifice http://www.andreacampbell.com/html/Ziggy.html. And Zig also got me on more than a few television shows; I was featured on To Tell the Truth and, John O’Hurley, (yes, he is that handsome,) well, he said: “Will the real Andrea Campbell please stand up!” Soon those appearances led to booksignings where people with monkeys kept showing up. (How’s that for getting attention!)Before long I had lots of primate and nonhuman primate friends (and a silverback gorilla who is mad for me—another story for another day…)

… and, I joined the Simian Society—private individuals who own monkeys—and wrote a column for their newsletter (still do) and then the day arrived when Ziggy went to college.

Oh, we knew what the end result would be and we’re happy that she is such a loving, brilliant and helpful companion for John but I pine for her just about every day. My husband always tells people it was harder to let go of Ziggy than to send our boys off to college and he’s right. She will always be about five years old (yes, that is smart!).

So, in order to ease the pain, I found another monk mom who lost her kid, and we decided to do a labor of love, a book! First we: put out the word to our friends and got photos of their monk kids, then I wrote a real, bona fide mystery, and later my collaborator photoshopped the monkeys into characters. I described the scenes in-depth and we went through hundreds of digitals until we found just the right combination and the effect is genius. You’ve never seen anything like it. And that is the genesis of our whacked idea, our book, Love Monkey: A Tale of Desire, Romance & Intrigue.

Now if you’d like to see a few characters, download a “sell sheet,” get a copy of Author’s Notes or buy the book securely on PayPal just visit: http://www.monkeyromance.com

And, of course we’d love to hear from you—and that’s the truth.

What's in a Name?

While I was growing up I absolutely hated my first name. Since the only Helen I’d ever heard of was the actress Helen Hayes, the name always said to me “old lady.” Sweet, frail, gray-haired mum, that was me.

Admit it, that’s the same image that pops up for you, too. Look at that picture. Is that the quintessential Helen or what?

Eventually, I came to terms with the name, and now I actually like it. It’s different, simple, kinda pretty. I guess my folks did okay.

Some parents don’t do so good. I think about some of the names celebrities have given their kids and I alternate between cringing and laughing.

Calico (Admittedly pretty tame for Alice Cooper’s daughter.)

Apple Blythe Alison Martin (What do you expect from a mother named Gwyneth and a grandmother named Blythe?)

Fuschia (Sting – you’d think such wonderful poet/song writer could come up with something more lyrical.)

Hopper (Boy? Girl? Farm equipment? Sean Penn and Robin Wright)

Sage Moonblood and Seargeoh (Sylvester Stallone, who shouldn’t be allowed to name any more children.)

Kyd (Honestly, this one makes me chuckle - David Duchovny and Tea Leoni – figures.)

Brooklyn (David and Victoria Beckham, parents also of Romeo and Cruz - somebody please stop these two.)

Moon Unit Zappa (Guess who?)

But then there’s Suri, (Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes). I love that name.

And Destry (Steven Spielberg and Kate Capshaw). I don’t know what the name means, but it conjures up all kinds of wonderful images for me.

Anyway, one of the first things I have to do when I start a new book (which I’m doing this week) is to figure out my characters’ names. It really messes me up if I have the wrong name for one of my people. So I search and search through my baby name books and the phone book and websites until I come up with what feels right. I think it pretty much comes down to a combination of stereotypes and nationality. But what I find interesting is that other writers pick names that I don't like. So our stereotypes must be fairly personalized.

What does Emily say to you? Elijah, Alexander, Grace? Wilbur? Yeah, that’s my grandpa’s name. I loved him, but the name always made me think of that talking horse sitcom … what was the name of that show?

According to one of the websites I visited during my search for names, the top five boys names of 2007 were Aidan, Braden, Kaden, ( I kid you not), Ethan, and Caleb. The top five girls names were Ava, Abigail, Cailyn, Madeline, and Isabella.

Could you imagine naming the kid in this picture Albert?

What I really what to know, though, is how important are character’s names in books to you? Can it end up meaning the difference between liking and not liking a story?

What about over used names. Do you have one that you’re sick of, one that if you see it again you’ll want to puke?

I apologize if I've offended any Alberts, Wilburs, or Moon Units.

New Product Announcement

I was browsing the web for a topic for today’s blog and ran across this utterly ingenious device. Thoughtful person that I am, I just had to share. I hope you find it as fascinating as I did….

Announcing the new Built-in Orderly Organized Knowledge device, otherwise known as the BOOK.

It's a revolutionary breakthrough in technology: no wires, no electric circuits, no batteries, nothing to be connected or switched on. It's so easy to use even a child can operate it. Just lift its cover. Compact and portable, it can be used anywhere -- even sitting in an armchair by the fire -- yet it is powerful enough to hold as much information as a CD-ROM disk.

Here's how it works: each BOOK is constructed of sequentially numbered sheets of paper (recyclable), each capable of holding thousands of bits of information. These pages are locked together with a custom-fit device called a binder which keeps the sheets in their correct sequence. By using both sides of each sheet, manufacturers are able to cut costs in half.

Each sheet is scanned optically, registering information directly into your brain. A flick of the finger takes you to the next sheet. The BOOK may be taken up at any time and used by merely opening it. The "Browse" feature allows you to move instantly to any sheet, and move forward or backward as you wish. Most come with an "index" feature, which pinpoints the exact location of any selected information for instant retrieval.

An optional "BOOKmark" accessory allows you to open the BOOK to the exact place you left it in a previous session -- even if the BOOK has been closed. BOOKmarks fit universal design standards; thus a single BOOKmark can be used in BOOKs by various manufacturers.

Portable, durable and affordable, the BOOK is the entertainment wave of the future, and many new titles are expected soon, due to the surge in popularity of its programming tool, the Portable Erasable-Nib Cryptic Intercommunication Language stylus [PENCIL].

Well – what thinks you? Will it catch on?

In the meantime, here are some Books on Tape We Don't Want to Hear:

How To win Friends and Influence People as read by Dennis Rodman

Europe on $10 a Day as read by Steve Forbes

The Godfather as read by John Gotti

Moby Dick as read by Jonah

Crime and Punishment as read by OJ Simpson

A Tale of Two Cities as read by Ed Koch and Rudi Giuliani

Feynman's Lectures On Physics as read by Dan Quayle

The Joy of Cooking as read by Hannibal Lecter

Seriously, in this technological age, is anyone else old fashioned, like me, and simply loves the feel of a book in your hands? Or have you gone the e-book route and enjoy it every bit as much? I’d love to hear your comments since after reading Michelle’s wonderful review on Kindle a few weeks ago, I’ve been considering jumping on the tech wagon. What are your thoughts? Pros for e-readers? Cons?

Kathleen On "Atonement"

I've been waiting for this one. The limited release dragged on, and I was afraid I was going to have to drive tona (that's many in Lakota, pronounced dona) miles to see it. Finally this weekend, it's in general release. What took so long? So many weekends, so few movies worth $8.50 a ticket. Atonement is that, and then some.

I haven't read the novel by Ian McEwan, but the movie feels like a novel. It's rich with detail. It's gorgeous cinema, but beyond that, there's the exquisite selection of detail--the sensory detail, the period detail, and the literary imagery. Every shot makes a lush impression. Impressions collect to create sense of place, time, mood. All the stuff you get from a novel, the stuff that engages the imagination. McEwan must be pleased. Here's a movie that engages the imagination by using point of view to drive the story. It's a must see for writers and fiction lovers. (Sorry. The"must see" claim usually turns me off--don't tell me what I must see--but seriously. Must see.)

It's a hot summer day in 1935. The Tallis family, living their privileged life on their English country estate with its rambling Gothic mansion, is entertaining guests. 13-year-old Briony has just finished writing a play, and she wants her cousins to help her present it tonight. Older sister Cecilia and Robbie, the housekeeper's son, are doing a poor job of hiding their undeclared passion for each other. Restlessness abounds. War is imminent.


Briony has a crush on Robbie. She adores her older sister. Like all writers, young Briony is an imaginative observer, and on this day she witnesses three incidents and comes up with a story that will forever changes the lives around her. Story is life and life is story.

And this one is masterfully told through various points of view, but the identity of the viewpoints is part of the unraveling, part of the surprise.
The unique narrative unfolding, which is neither linear nor flashback, also contributes to the surprise. Kiera Knightly and James McAvoy deliver fine performances, as do all the actresses who play Briony.

The contrast between the opening scenes in rural England and the war relies on mood as much as drama. We don't get battle scenes.
We see the British troops desperately waiting at Dunkirk. We see London hospitals. We see Londoners taking shelter in anticipation of an air raid. We see the discovery of murdered innocents. Fascinating choices make for a very different movie experience, one sure to make the storyteller in us sit up and take notice.

Yes, this is a Romance, and, yes it's tragic in the classical sense. (And you've heard me say it before, but I'll say it again, happily-ever-after does not define Romance. But we may have to agree to disagree on this.) BUT the viewpoint character is a writer, remember. I'll say no more, lest I spoil it for you. This is a good 'un, guys. Don't wait for the dvd. Big screen entertainment.

As we left the theater, we passed a handsome couple waiting for the next show. The woman stopped Clyde. "Sir, did you enjoy the movie?" Clyde said, "Yes, very much." (You could tell he hadn't expected to.) She smacked her guy's chest with the back of her hand. "See!"