Category: Writing Inspirations

S is for Suck

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Hey, all you writers out there. And readers. And people….
Take a look/listen to Maureen Johnson (fab YA author of THIS that I love) and her “DARE TO SUCK” pep talk…..
And, believe me. 
I suck. 
I do!
I suck so bad. 
But then, I rewrite for a thousand hours.
And suddenly, I don’t suck so bad.  
But then I totally suck again. 

How badly do you suck at whatever? Pray tell.

 

S is for Suck

2 Comments
Hey, all you writers out there. And readers. And people….
Take a look/listen to Maureen Johnson (fab YA author of THIS that I love) and her “DARE TO SUCK” pep talk…..
And, believe me. 
I suck. 
I do!
I suck so bad. 
But then, I rewrite for a thousand hours.
And suddenly, I don’t suck so bad.  
But then I totally suck again. 

How badly do you suck at whatever? Pray tell.

 

H is for Harvey

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Let’s take a moment to celebrate everyone’s favorite “pooka,” that six-foot, three-and-one-half-inch invisible white rabbit, Harvey.

All these marvelous word were written by Mary Chase (play & screenplay): 
 

 “Years ago my mother used to say to me, she’d say, ‘In this world, Elwood, you must be’ – she always called me Elwood – ‘In this world, Elwood, you must be oh so smart or oh so pleasant.’ Well, for years I was smart. I recommend pleasant. You may quote me.”


“‘You have the advantage on me. You know my name and I don’t know yours.’ And, and right back at me he said, ‘What name do you like?’ Well, I didn’t even have to think twice about that. Harvey’s always been my favorite name. So I said to him, I said, ‘Harvey.’ And, uh, this is the interesting thing about the whole thing: He said, ‘What a coincidence. My name happens to be Harvey.'”

“I always have a wonderful time, wherever I am, whomever I’m with.”

Clicky HERE for a wee taste of this charming Hollywood classic, which also happens to be my father’s favorite movie.

H is for Harvey

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Let’s take a moment to celebrate everyone’s favorite “pooka,” that six-foot, three-and-one-half-inch invisible white rabbit, Harvey.

All these marvelous word were written by Mary Chase (play & screenplay): 
 

 “Years ago my mother used to say to me, she’d say, ‘In this world, Elwood, you must be’ – she always called me Elwood – ‘In this world, Elwood, you must be oh so smart or oh so pleasant.’ Well, for years I was smart. I recommend pleasant. You may quote me.”


“‘You have the advantage on me. You know my name and I don’t know yours.’ And, and right back at me he said, ‘What name do you like?’ Well, I didn’t even have to think twice about that. Harvey’s always been my favorite name. So I said to him, I said, ‘Harvey.’ And, uh, this is the interesting thing about the whole thing: He said, ‘What a coincidence. My name happens to be Harvey.'”

“I always have a wonderful time, wherever I am, whomever I’m with.”

Clicky HERE for a wee taste of this charming Hollywood classic, which also happens to be my father’s favorite movie.

the master .

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As I’ve gotten more into the scene of blog-writing, -searching, and -creeping, I am left with one very important question. . .  

Why doesn’t Marian Keyes have a blog?
Seriously, it breaks my heart because I love her so much. Her words, her stories, her perfect chick-lit voice. The way she organically combines tragedy and comedy. I’d trade my right pinky nail for that kind of talent. (And believe me. . . my right pinky nail is my BEST nail.)
She doesn’t “tweet,” either. So I’m left with nothing.

I just want to hear her voice. Okay? Is that so wrong? Or weird? Reading her stories and books and even listening to them on audio isn’t enough anymore.

For those of you who know me, know that I quote MK practically every day. (See: Feathery Strokers.)
My sister and I were planning a trip to Ireland this summer. Secretly, I was hoping we would somehow run into MK on the street somewhere. Like maybe in her favorite chocolate shop; we’d both reach for the last caramel truffle, and then laugh nervously (wondering which of us would give in first), and then become best friends. She would confide in me all her secrets about writing the perfect novel, and then maybe she’d share with me the contents of her handbag–which is the truest test of friendship.

Until that wonderful day, please, allow me to share. . .

“I never wear flats. My shoes are so high that sometimes when I step out of them, people look around in confusion and ask, “Where’d she go?” and I have to say, ‘I’m down here’.” —Anybody Out There?
“You know what it’s like. Sometimes, you meet a wonderful person, but it’s only for a brief instant. Maybe on vacation or on a train or maybe even in a bus line. And they touch your life for a moment, but in a special way. And instead of mourning because they can’t be with you for longer, or because you don’t get the chance to know them better, isn’t it better to be glad that you met them at all?” —Watermelon 
“They say the path of true love never runs smooth. Well, Luke and my true love’s path didn’t run at all, it limped along in new boots that were chafing its heels. Blistered and cut, red and raw, every hopping, lopsided step, a little slice of agony.” —Rachel’s Holiday

“What is life but fleeting moments of happiness strung together on a necklace of despair?” —This Charming Man

the master .

3 Comments
As I’ve gotten more into the scene of blog-writing, -searching, and -creeping, I am left with one very important question. . .  

Why doesn’t Marian Keyes have a blog?
Seriously, it breaks my heart because I love her so much. Her words, her stories, her perfect chick-lit voice. The way she organically combines tragedy and comedy. I’d trade my right pinky nail for that kind of talent. (And believe me. . . my right pinky nail is my BEST nail.)
She doesn’t “tweet,” either. So I’m left with nothing.

I just want to hear her voice. Okay? Is that so wrong? Or weird? Reading her stories and books and even listening to them on audio isn’t enough anymore.

For those of you who know me, know that I quote MK practically every day. (See: Feathery Strokers.)
My sister and I were planning a trip to Ireland this summer. Secretly, I was hoping we would somehow run into MK on the street somewhere. Like maybe in her favorite chocolate shop; we’d both reach for the last caramel truffle, and then laugh nervously (wondering which of us would give in first), and then become best friends. She would confide in me all her secrets about writing the perfect novel, and then maybe she’d share with me the contents of her handbag–which is the truest test of friendship.

Until that wonderful day, please, allow me to share. . .

“I never wear flats. My shoes are so high that sometimes when I step out of them, people look around in confusion and ask, “Where’d she go?” and I have to say, ‘I’m down here’.” —Anybody Out There?
“You know what it’s like. Sometimes, you meet a wonderful person, but it’s only for a brief instant. Maybe on vacation or on a train or maybe even in a bus line. And they touch your life for a moment, but in a special way. And instead of mourning because they can’t be with you for longer, or because you don’t get the chance to know them better, isn’t it better to be glad that you met them at all?” —Watermelon 
“They say the path of true love never runs smooth. Well, Luke and my true love’s path didn’t run at all, it limped along in new boots that were chafing its heels. Blistered and cut, red and raw, every hopping, lopsided step, a little slice of agony.” —Rachel’s Holiday

“What is life but fleeting moments of happiness strung together on a necklace of despair?” —This Charming Man

Writing Inspirations – starry stars

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Why I love Don McLean:
(“The Starry Night,” by Vincent van Gogh)
(clicky-click here to play pretty song) 

Vincent (Starry, Starry Night) 

“For they could not love you
and yet your love was true
And when no hope was left in sight
on that starry, starry night
you took your life as lovers often do
But I could have told you, Vincent
This world was never meant for one as beautiful as you.”

Writing Inspirations – starry stars

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Why I love Don McLean:
(“The Starry Night,” by Vincent van Gogh)
(clicky-click here to play pretty song) 

Vincent (Starry, Starry Night) 

“For they could not love you
and yet your love was true
And when no hope was left in sight
on that starry, starry night
you took your life as lovers often do
But I could have told you, Vincent
This world was never meant for one as beautiful as you.”