Saturday, April 24, 2004

Waxing Moon
Mercury Retrograde
Pluto Retrograde
Jupiter Retrograde
Sunny and warm

Pat Tillman was killed in Afghanistan.

Football may not be my sport, but Pat Tillman and his brother Kevin (who plays baseball) caught my attention when they walked away from their sports careers to join the military. It felt personal, although we’d never met. It felt like they were going over for me. They weren't just sitting around mourning 9/11. They took action.

So often, we become detached from war because we hear about “soldiers.” They’re people, and each and every one of them matters.

The Tillmans served in the same unit. Hopefully, Kevin is okay. There was a mention of several wounded in the firefight that killed Pat. I hope Kevin wasn’t one of them.

I have a candle burning for them.

Up and down writing week. I don’t know why I assumed that because I resumed my yoga practice, the writing would flow. It definitely keeps me more clear-headed, but, this week, also sore.

Got six episodes of the horror serial done, and two each of the mystery and western – I think I mentioned at least some of that in earlier posts. Polished three short stories and submitted them. Created a new pseudonym for one of them, because it is so far removed from anything else I’ve done. The protagonist is quite flawed and has a lot of room to grow, if her story flies.

Worked on my mailing list, got more copies of the newsletter out, bought supplies, scoured the job boards. I have an idea for a series of articles on the Triple Crown, but it may be too late, if the deadline is, like, Monday.

I worked on some more pieces for Wild Child. I’m going to do some more piece from Edge, and also take some scenes from Moon Tribe Tales (the ones that belong exclusively to my collaborator and I) and submit those, too – under both our names, of course.

I heard from a book packager who is interested in seeing samples of picture books. I spent a couple of days working on three new pieces from that, plus submitted Jill Moves and Elsa’s Sweater. The latter are appropriate for the younger end of their spectrum. I have a feeling that Mina’s Test may end up being a chapter book for 7-11 year olds, though.

I need my books from storage.

I’m savoring every moment of ice hockey, knowing that soon the season will be over, and who knows when we’ll have a new one? I hope the Players hold the line and don’t cave to owner pressure. Certain owners created the situation in the first place, acting as though they could buy the Stanley Cup. There’s so much more to it than money, which is why it remains “the most coveted trophy in sports” as one hears time and time again. The owners need to police themselves, not punish the players and call them “greedy.” All they have to do is not sign players to obscenely high contracts. The ones who don’t want to play for less than tens of millions of dollars will fall away, play somewhere else, or – hopefully – start their own teams -- and the ones who do, who are young and hungry, will go out there and give it everything they’ve got. There’s no need to put a salary cap in the contracts.

Okay, now, step away from the soapbox!

Last night, as I read a book I was sent for review, I was surprised, pleased, shocked and flattered to find one of my Llewellyn articles quoted in it! I can’t review the book now, of course – it would be a conflict of interest – but – wow! My work has made a positive impact – too funny!

And, I have to get on the stick with Periwinkle. That should write itself fairly quickly, and stretch me in a new direction as far as romantic comedy.

Visiting the beach several times this week, I became re-obsessed with a photograph in a small, local museum that caught my attention. It is of five women who worked in a local amusement park. I’m determined to track down their stories – both as an article, and as an inspiration for a novel. I’ve contacted the park, I have to go to the library, I searched the internet. I also went to the county archives – which was supposed to be open – and, after driving cross county, found a hand-lettered sign saying it was closed.

Can’t wait until both Mercury and Jupiter go direct. They’re tough!

Ironically, just hours before I learned about Pat Tillman’s death, I was playing with the idea of an epistolary novella set in the Vietnam era. Now, it seems even more important to get that done


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