Running for My Life — the movie

I was surprised and awed when Jennifer Wolf a writer and video magician showed me the book trailer she made for Running for My Life. It’s wonderful.

To top it off her daughter, Sabrina, loves Running for My Life. That means the world to me. While I know there will always be people who don’t like what I do, and what I write, still a sharp negative review like the one I received on Amazon (One negative out of 16…so it’s not like I don’t have plenty of good to counterbalance.) stuns me. But, my floundering in that negative pool was short lived because Sabrina loved Pedro and the story and she matters more to me than the negative, anonymous, critic of my book.

Anyway, check out the trailer…it’s awesome and I’m grateful:

Running for My Life

Revision number three

Okay, I’m getting close. I ran into a problem where I revised my revisions so often that I lost track of my main character. So, I spent several days listening to her remind me what the story is about and what it is that she wants to say about it all. In essence, I stopped revising from some sense of “correction” and allowed the main character to address the issues my agent was concerned about. Sarah, the main character, she’s quite smart. I’m not sure how she puts up with me. I know she’s restraining herself from a long diatribe of “I told you so”s.

What I’ve learned? Let the narrator handle the revision. Share the revision letter with the main character and let him or her suggest solutions. I wish I’d done it months ago, but there’s no time for regrets…I’ve got a novel to revise, and a main character who is dying to revise it.

This manuscript has to be complete by November 1…because Nanowrimo is just around the corner. I’ve got another main character who has a whole other story he or she is eager to tell. (I’ve got two…one by he and one by she. Any suggestions on how to figure out which novel to tackle next? Flip a coin?)

I hope you are all writing well and enjoying yourselves. In Seattle, most of us are eager for some rainy writing weather.

A free and independent press no longer

Let’s face it — journalism is dead. It started to fail under the Bush administration and its last breath was taken sometime during 2007. I’m worried for our democracy and all democracies. Campaigns and elections will never be free and fair without an honest and independent press.

Consider it — do we know what is happening in Iran? How can we? Who won the election?

Secretary of State Clinton and President Obama went into the Democratic convention essentially tied for nomination. Obama led in pledged delegates and Clinton led in popular vote. And, considering that Obama’s delegate lead was obtained by disenfranchising FL and MI, Democrats should have gone into the convention with an opportunity to pick the best candidate for the presidency. If the press hadn’t made the decision that Obama was to be the nominee and repeatedly portrayed the nomination battle as a landslide victory for Obama, we would have. Instead, we were told that the nomination selection was obvious, and clear, and unanimous, and overwhelming, we were told that Obama won before the votes were even counted.

Is that any different from what is happening in Iran, or what has happened in any number of democracies in recent years?

Without a free and independent press there just elections are a challenge and accountability impossible. Without accountability democratically elected leaders become despots and there’s nothing we, the people, can do about it.

We need the press…we need a renaissance of journalism. That’s the hope and change we desperately need.

It’s the community of writers that make it worth it

There is no way any rational person would take a job where for every 1000 reprimands and criticisms of his work he received one, however faint, “nice job.” That’s a writer’s professional life — rejection after rejection after rejection, with the acceptances typically tossed in at the point just before you give it up for good.

I’m convinced there wouldn’t be any writers if it weren’t for the community of writers. I for sure wouldn’t be able to handle the isolation, and the challenges of the profession, if I didn’t have the benefit of knowing, and being a part of, a group of people that awe me with their talents and great hearts.

Maybe it’s simply that they know what it’s like. When I need it most, it’s a writer who will listen a little more attentively, crack a joke that gets me laughing despite the knot in my gut, or who will tell me a story of her own struggle, to reassure me that I’m not alone.

It is my sincere hope that I am able to be to others, in the writing community, what they are to me. Because without them, I would be driving a truck and wishing, above all else, that one day I could write.

Toasting the nano novel

Well, I didn’t make 50,000 words, but I did complete a novel. (My work always gets longer on revision so I expect the revised manuscript to finally reach 50,000 or so words.)

It took me almost 2 years to write my novel Snared, and 30 days to write the nano novel Blindfold. The honest truth is that Blindfold has more heart and energy in it than the one I worked on for 2 years. There’s something to be said for entering a story and writing non-stop until the main character has expressed every last detail of his or her story.

The wonder of nanowrimo, for me, is that it allows me to enter the main character’s world and hear her tell her story without distraction. My family may not like it so much, because they are the distractions I don’t allow…nevertheless, it’s the blocking out of everything that isn’t of the story that makes the story so visceral and successful.

I’ve sent the first chapters of Blindfold and Snared to my agent to see which one she thinks deserves more of my attention right now. I fully expect her to say, “Blindfold” because it is my nano novel and it is simply better.

It’s Nano Time

Over 100,000 writers have officially started their November novels. I’ve written 1800 words and already I’ve been through an emotional ringer. My character is recovering from the trauma of being kidnapped and held hostage for 8 days…her coping mechanism is to wear a blindfold and to visualize the world as good and beautiful.

As I’ve talked about earlier, this idea came to me after I was diagnosed with Juvenile Macular Degeneration. Normally, I’m a writer who relies heavily on the appearance of things. This nanowrimo will be a great challenge and excellent practice for me. It would be virtually impossible for me to write this novel without focusing on the taste, smell and texture of things. I’m now acutely aware of every reference to the way something looks.

Are you participating in Nanowrimo? It’s early yet, but are you learning anything new about yourself as a writer? Do you like the story you are telling?

Survivor confession

For some reason, I’ve decided after all these to finally watch Survivor. This years version is Survivor Gabon. I attribute my illness for this new, odd fascination I have with the program. I’ve never watched survivor. Not once in all the years that it has been aired. The very first season I turned on the television and caught the tail end of the last program where contestant A told contestant B that if A came across B’s maimed and crushed body on the side of the road, A would spit and kick B before driving on. That moment is probably what inspired the networks to make Survivor an annual event. Human beings treating each other with the utmost disrespect and condemnation. When looking at American politics, it’s clear that American’s love that.

So why am I watching the program now? To be honest, I’m not sure. However, I find the psychology quite fascinating. Even though their clothes are filthy, their hair and bodies appear well maintained for 13 days in an African jungle. I tend to think they’re getting some help with hygiene. Also, when a contestant is sent to exile island but has a camera crew following her around…how much exile is that, really? I think the stripper used her professional skills to find her way to the idol. (Don’t get me wrong, I don’t begrudge her that at all. She’s a lot smarter than she plays, and playing the camera crew would simply prove my point.) Anyway, I just find it fascinating to wonder at the images that are being presented to the viewer and the many moments that aren’t. Are the contestants really sharing a pit toilet? Where are they getting fresh water to drink? To brush their teeth? (Supposedly they came with only the clothes on their backs…no toothbrushes?) Who is doing their hair? It cracks me up to think of 15 people roughing it in the wilds of Gabon while having their hair done by the very best television hairstylists.

I could go on with all the things I think about the program and what I’m seeing and what I’m not. Admittedly I really want Fang to win a contest or two. It breaks my heart that they perpetually lose and they have so little food to eat. (That’s true, isn’t it? They really are starving, aren’t they?) With my illness I’ve been through hell and I’m finding my way back. I guess I feel for the suffering survivors, and am happy to think if they can hang in there, so can I.

Biologics

I haven’t posted on my blog for a couple of days because I’m at the low point of my week health-wise. I’ve been slowly improving ever since I started injecting Enbrel, a biologic which suppresses the immune system. Even so, over the course of a week I have several good days, and a few less good.

Today it’s nausea and pain that have me reeling. It’ll pass, like all things and experiences it is impermanent. Enbrel is a wonder drug. I don’t know how it works but it effectively suppresses the part of the immune system that is malfunctioning without adversely effecting the overall organism. I’m one of those people who react terribly to prednisone, a drug which shuts down the immune system and disrupts many other systems in the body. Not so with Enbrel…except for this nausea, a metallic taste in my mouth, and a minor run down feeling, I hardly know that my immune system is being dampened.

If you notice an ebb and flow to my blog posts you now understand why. I’m not yet cured, but I’m feeling so much better thanks to a new class of drugs called biologics. Let’s hope that the devastation in the economy doesn’t stop medical researchers from doing what they do — finding treatments and cures for the ill among us. 

They’ll never see it, but I want to thank the researchers and doctors and nurses and techs who research, experiment, support, serve and treat aim to restore health to the ill. I know I’d be devastated if it weren’t for you.

Wake up people

I’m a Hillary fan…and proud of it. She embodies grace. And, god forbid we’re ever attacked again, I want a commander in chief who I know, for certain, won’t be reactive. Hillary has proved, time and time again, that she can remain centered, calm and reasoned even under the most stressful of situations.

If people would only stop and think about it — give up on the fantasy that this is a game of American Idol and they can make their favorite Sanjaya president — then they’d know that Hillary is the only reasoned choice for president.

Come on people — this isn’t a game. It’s our lives and our future.

A dream state

I’ve been ill again, and floating in this quiet dream state. There’s pain, but  floating, liquid fog as well. I’m not sure I like it, but recognize it as a stage I go through before beginning the next work. (Not the illness part but the langor in the sea of the unconscious.)

So, I’m working on my next novel, even though it looks like I’m following politics and watching the super bowl.