odd Sunday

I watched The Picture of Dorian Gray this afternoon. George Sanders is really good at the snobbish sarcasm. It's classified as a horror film, but really, it's a horror film with aristocratic manners. I've been grubby all weekend due to spring cleaning, furniture rearranging, and bookcase building, so the vanity-will-get-you-in-trouble message went right past me. Sooner or later, I'll get around to reading Oscar Wilde's original book, to see which I like better.

Then, I came across this in the newspaper. Somehow, I wouldn't have thought fairies would like Michigan, but what do I know?

solvitur ambulando

My co-worker and I have started walking around the nearby lake on a daily basis. It will be getting hot soon, so we've switched our afternoon walks to morning walks. We keep a good pace (finally, there's someone who walks as fast as I do!), and our record so far is 2 miles in 38 minutes. Having the lake so close to the office and not making frequent use of it is stupid, I think, especially since this morning, we not only saw two herons flying across the water, but we also came up close to one (as in, within 5 feet or so of it) while we were walking.

I am determined to stay out of double-digit clothing sizes. I am determined to look decent in a sundress for my father's wedding in July and in a formal dress for my sister's wedding next April. I am determined to not be ashamed to be seen in a bathing suit this summer or during my trip to Australia in December (it will be summer there in December). I am determined to get more decent sleep on a regular basis instead of waking up several times a night and feeling fatigued during the day. I am determined to control my temper and my mouth at work. I am determined to stop turning to food when I am stressed or depressed. Walking seems to be helping with all of these things. St. Augustine had the right idea.

And then I read this morning that Neil Gaiman's Stardust goes into film production today and that Rupert Everett will be in it, and I've remembered that I have Monday off, and my bookcase did arrive finally, so it all puts me in a good mood.

April is National Poetry Month

Very pretty e-cards here. I like today’s poem by Neil Gaiman. If you click on the link just below the excerpt, you can read the whole thing.

happy easter!

In honor of Easter and Sally Forth, I have eaten the ears off of my dark chocolate easter bunny first. Was there such a thing as a dark chocolate easter bunny when we were kids?

I've had an egg-white omlette for breakfast, not necessarily because it's Easter, but because I was craving one.

And as if that weren't excitement enough, my mom sent some lovely yellow tulips and pink daisies, which I found on my doorstep yesterday. See? Even Wilhide's can leave things and not expect people to be home 24/7 to sign for packages.

I've noticed that there weren't any Jesus movies on TV this year, unless they were on cable stations. Only the Moses movies were on - the old Charleton Heston version, and the new version. Interesting. I like the Jeremy Sisto Jesus movie, even though it portrays Mary Magdalene as a prostitute, which she wasn't. There was a Mary that was a prostitute, but it wasn't Mary Magdalene. I wish at least one of these film versions would get it right, and why hasn't she had a film all to herself? (Is there one, and I've just not seen it?) Hopefully, everyone reading and seeing The DaVinci Code will finally correct things.

I hate UPS

Right. I ordered a bookcase because my built-ins are overflowing with books. I left a note on my door for UPS that says "please leave package." They recommend doing this if you don't want to receive the InfoNotices (though this instruction is rather buried on their Web site). Yet not only did they not leave the package, they didn't leave any notices that they were trying to deliver a package, and then yesterday, I get a postcard in the mail that says I have to go to the pick-up center to get my bookcase because they supposedly made three attempts to deliver it.

I say that's BS because where are my notices, hmmm? (cross arms, tap foot) It must be having to climb the stairs that is so off-putting to UPS drivers. Yes, it must be hell to climb stairs and attach a note to a door. And I assure you, I have a perfectly ordinary door. Nothing to be scared of at all.

So I call the number on the postcard to reschedule delivery for today. I'm given a time frame for when they'll arrive. I race home a bit early from work. I set up my computer near the front window so I can keep working and keep an eye out for the tell tale brown truck. I'm even willing to help carry the thing up the stairs. How much more accomodating can I be?

5 pm - no truck

6 pm - no truck

7 pm - no truck

I call the number again. They tell me it should be delivered before 9 pm.

8 pm - no truck

9 pm - no truck

I call yet again. Their computer says that delivery was rescheduled for Monday. "It'll be delivered by the end of the day." So I think this means I have to be home for the latter part of Monday, yes? And why Monday? Why not tomorrow?

Any bets on whether or not my bookcase will actually arrive on Monday?

All of this nonsense could have been avoided if the UPS driver had either left the package or left a note. And here's an odd thought - seeing as most of the world works away from home for the better part of the day, why all this ridiculousness about having to sign for packages instead of just leaving them, like, dare I say it, the US postal service does?

So my entire evening has been wasted, and my cat and my dog are upset with me because they didn't get the attention they're used to getting in the evenings. Even though it's 9:30, I think I have to get on the treadmill and walk out my frustration or I'll never get to sleep.

Yes, I hate UPS. Heaven forbid if I should need to order another bookcase.

the gardener behind The Secret Garden

I loved reading this book when I was a kid. Particularly because my mother and my sister are allergic to flowers, so we had no garden to speak of. This book was as close as I could get.

Here's a link to a commentary about the author - Frances Hodgeson Burnett.

Again, I don't know how long the link will be active due to how fast the BBC retires Web pages.

Enjoy.

my literary world is upside down

First, I normally read Persuasion in the autumn. That's the seasonal setting of the novel anyway, and the story and atmosphere are suited to that time of year. However, I've felt a strong pull toward it right now, in the spring. I've no idea why. The only thing I can think of is that I read The Ice Queen by Alice Hoffman recently, so perhaps I've thrown off my literary thermometer. I may be reading Persuasion either too early in the year, or too late from last year. The rainy, cold weekend may have something to do with it as well.

Second, the novel prep I'm doing is coming out sounding very strongly like a children's book. Part of me feels resistant to this. Although I love reading Harry Potter and Artemis Fowl and the classics - Wind in the Willows and Beatrix Potter and C.S. Lewis and all that, I've never thought to attempt to write for children. Another part of me embraces it and is curious to see what I make of it.

I keep coming across clear images of my sister and me at my grandparents' house in the summer. That seems to want to be the setting. Long-forgotten details of the place are surfacing at an alarming rate. The property backed onto woods, and I think that's where the antagonist is.

A lot of my reading lately has been very atmospheric - The Woman in White by Wilkie Collins, Lyra's Oxford by Phillip Pullman, and Jane just gave me an Anne Perry book set in Victorian London. Interesting. Am I becoming an atmospheric writer?

novel prep

I may not be blogging much this month or next as I'm about to start writing my second novel. The first is deep in the revising/editing stage, and the girl needs a little break from it because it's starting to feel more like a chore and less like a creative endeavor, which is never a good sign. So the first one will simmer a bit more while the second one is in the mixing bowl.

This month is all about prep. I got smart and started keep all my Fleeting Ideas in one notebook rather than scattered in e-mails, on post-it notes, or in my day planner, so I've got a ton of ideas to choose from, which is a new experience for me. Usually, I have the desire to write and no ideas, and this time, I've got both. I'm hoping that works in my favor.

I find novel writing to be very like one of Mrs. Coulson's art lessons. She projected an image on the screen, and the image was deliberately out of focus. We were to draw what we thought we saw. After a few minutes, she'd focus the image slightly, and you adjusted your drawing accordingly. This adjust focus, adjust drawing process would continue until the image was in sharp focus on the screen. It was amazing to see that the fully focused image was not what you thought it would be when you started drawing. I used to think that there was something wrong with me because I didn't have a fully formed story idea when I started writing, so how would I know if I was telling the right story or telling the story right? It took awhile before I figured out that any glimmer of an idea should be noticed and followed to see where it goes, and it was only my ego that had the arrogance to assume I should be presented with the entire story before I wrote it. How's that for logic?

I wonder if second novels are like second CDs. You want to do something better and more original, but you know that everyone will be comparing it to your first attempt and discussing the merits and faults of it being either too much like the first one or too deliberately dissimilar. Why not focus on the fact that you even made a second anything? Isn't that the greater achievement?

So it's on to character sketches and backstories and plot outlines for a month (that's how I start focusing), and then May will be Really Bad First Draft Month. Wish me luck, and I'll see you on the other side of the story.

what I really needed

I was supposed to do this thing last night, because Heather and Gwen said I must, and I may yet attempt it at some future date, as it sounds like fun (I can't wait until the metro has a stop in Columbia and goes through to Baltimore, so treks to the Big Cities will incur less road rage and near accidents). However, after a solid week of everybody and their brother ordering me around and working on slides until I'm bleary-eyed and dealing with piles of drama at work and worrying about Louise (who seems to be doing okay for the moment) and trying to figure out how I'm going to finance a Christmas trip to Australia to see my mom without depleting my savings, it occurred to me that entering into yet another high-pressure, all-night situation with a bunch of people I don't know would not be the best prescription (it sounds snobbish, I know, but I find that being around people for great lengths of time is draining rather than energizing - doubly so if I don't know them).

Better medicine was going home, eating rice noodles, making a pot of tea and curling up with the cat to watch Bringing Up Baby. Solitude and quiet to drain out the chatter in my head and slough off everyone's hands in my life was way more important.

I'm sure I've got a play in me somewhere, but it's going to have to wait until next time. And if anyone knows anything about writing plays, please let me know how to go about it.