Author Archives: dianawilderjottings

Celebrating, 11 March, 2016


11 March, 2016 Celebrate The Small Things

Welcome to this lovely blog hop, started by VikLit, bless her!
Lexa Cain and her two wonderful co-hosts L.G. Keltner @ Writing Off The Edge and Tonja Drecker @ Kidbits are presiding.

Check them out and be prepared to smile!


 What am I celebrating?  Well, changes, comings and goings. I spoke of Jesse James (my darling old dog) earlier.  He’s left quite a hole in my household, but lots of smiles, as well.  And it appears that we may be having a new little presence in a couple months in the form of a puppy.  Jesse’s wisdom and humor linger.  We learned a lot from him, and the puppy will benefit from the years we had him.  Meanwhile, we’re remembering and smiling.

 On another front, I am finishing two stories, a full-length novel set in Paris and a fable that I’ve mentioned before…  Or, I will be once I start up again in April.  I’ve been beta-reading (VERY enjoyable!) doing this and that.

 And fiddling with things.

Large male saltwater crocodile, Australia


Which brings me to my celebration.  I have a cover nearly finished for the fable.  I’ve posted a version of it before.  It prominently features a magnificent crocodile that is a major force in the story.  The photo I found was perfect…  It had been printed in a newspaper.  If you are using photographs or other images, you must, if you are honest, verify that they are in the public domain and, if not, secure a license to use them.  As an amateur photographer, I understand what goes into taking what your eye sees and turning it into a work of art.

So, the crocodile.  I searched for the photographer…and I finally found him.  Or, rather, his name.  I looked him up by name and located his website.  At his website, I swallowed hard and took a deep breath.

 The man was a superb photographer.  He did work for the National Geographic Society.  He was as good as Galen Rowell (if you know photography, you will know the name).  I couldn’t possibly afford him.

 But one must ask.  I wrote to him, told him what I wanted the image for, explained how I had tracked him down, and inquired whether I might purchase a license to use the photograph.  Knowing his quality and my budget, I also started looking at stock images…

 And I received this response:

Hi Diana
Thanks for your enquiry. I can confirm that the image of the crocodile is one I took in 2005. The Courier Mail published it without my permission (which is far from unheard of). I have full copyright over the image however I preference how I license images depending on the status/capacity of the use, and the user etc.

I would like to provide you use of this image as a courtesy, since I appreciate the demands on writers in bringing their work to completion. I also appreciate the obvious effort you have gone to contact me.

I have attached a higher res version of the image to assist you.

If you are able to publish your work it would be great to receive a copy.
Good luck.

Kind Regards
Kerry

I looked at the image he had attached and reread the note.  The book will be published and he will receive a copy as well as credit for the image.


…and I am celebrating the nearly finalized cover that I can use now that I have cleared permissions:

(Stars are very important in the story)

What are you celebrating?

Jesse James – To All Good Dogs


Today I said hail and farewell to my dog, Jesse James, who lived to the grand old age (for a large Lab) of nearly fifteen years.  It was hard to say goodbye.

Jesse James  August 9, 2001 – March 5, 2016

What purpose did they serve, all the good dogs that once ran through the world and wait now in the shadowy quiet of the past? 

 They lightened our burdens and drove away our enemies and stayed when others left us. They gave aid and comfort, protection and security. They held a mirror wherein we might see ourselves as we long to be. They gave us a glimpse of the world beyond the narrow confines of our own species. 

Although we make dull students, slowly they help us learn how to command and to protect with wisdom and justice and imagination. 

They taught and still teach us the joy of giving generosity and kindness and love – without the thought of gainful return. 

And now – all the fleet hounds, the staunch mastiffs, the loyal shepherds, the dancing toys, the fumbling puppies, pets on silken pillows, workers plodding at their tasks, the special ones you loved best, those of ours we still miss. 

To all the good dogs, goodbye
Until on some brighter day, in some fair place, 
You run out to greet us again

     George and Helen Papashvily 

IWSG March 2, 2016 – Admitting That You Are Good


Today is IWSG day. Come join Alex J. Cavanaugh and all the other writers who support each other, make us all smile and think in this monthly hop. No one is mocked or sneered at. All are welcome. We have all been there:

http://www.insecurewriterssupportgroup.com/

 The awesome co-hosts for the March 2 posting of the IWSG will be Lauren Hennessy, Lisa Buie-Collard, Lidy, Christine Rains, and Mary Aalgaard! 

The 2016 Ossian award, named for the legendary Seannachie of Finn McCool, will be awarded this night to one of the finalists in the year-long contest.

It is the night everyone has been awaiting. One hundred and twenty-five authors have gathered, along with two thousand people, to learn who will be the winner…  You see the happy fans crowding at the border of the red carpet…  The flash of cameras…

The Ossian Award

Who will it be?  The entries have been read and shared and judged.

The Master of Ceremonies, resplendent in an Irish kilt with the O’Shaughnessy tartan (Shaughnessy being the Irish name for ‘Seannachie’ or ‘Bard’)

The name is announced…  The sudden silence is shattered by waves of cheering as the winner steps up to the podium.

She exchanges a ceremonious embrace with the MC, takes the award, a bust of the Seannachie, Ossian, looks at it, sets it down, and steps up to the microphone.


“Ladies and gentlemen.  It is with great pleasure that I accept the Magical Words award!” she says as a wave of applause fills the amphitheatre.  

She continues, “There were so many entered in this contest, seeking this prize, so many years of dreams and endeavors, reams of printer paper and gallons of ink, ballpoint or otherwise…   The sheer work that lies behind all those who entered this contest, whether or not they made the final few…”  

The audience murmurs appreciatively as the winner takes the award between her hands, looks deep into its eyes, and says, “And it’s about time that you came to me!”   


She said What???


The murmurs stop as though they have been cut off.   People stare, papers rustle, frowns begin to deepen.   …And she stands, the statuette in her hand, smiling imperturbably while various people resolve never to read a thing she writes, ever again.

So… what’s wrong with this picture?  Too brassy?  Demeaning?   In what way?   Was she speaking the truth as she knew it?  And if she did, what was wrong with that?


Well, there are ways and ways of saying things.  Arrogance is  never a good idea, but it is as big a lie as overdone modesty of the ‘Gee, it wasn’t any good at all’ sort.

I remember once hearing a talk that moved me profoundly.  When next I saw the professor who was the speaker, I told him, shyly, that his talk had meant very much to me, that it had given me much pleasure and comfort, and made me think of things in a different way.  All of this was earnestly sincere.

I remember that he stared and said, “Well, it really was not one of my better presentations…”  (Did that make me a liar, or simply tasteless?)

This is my thought for this month’s IWSG:   Are we wrong to acknowledge our own abilities?

I don’t think so.  We shouldn’t be shouting about how great we are, but by the same token it is fine to admit that maybe we are good enough for someone to entrust hours of his precious time reading our work.  


And it isn’t such a bad thing to be happy with ourselves even as we continue to try to improve.



Right?


Buying Books – Reading List


I have been on my repairing lease for a month now, and it was the wisest thing I could have done.  No composing.  No wheel-spinning.  Catching my breath.  Catching up with people who mean a lot to me.  I will be phoning my oldest friend tonight and engaging in a long chat.  It has been too long since I have done that.My current project is a Beta-Read that is disgracefully overdue (dear Author: expect it Sunday) involving an author I love and a book that I want to review once it is published.

…and I have been catching up on books (remember reading them?  I’d forgotten).  I just ordered a copy of a book from the 1930’s, J. B. Priestley’s The Good Companions.  That should be arriving shortly.  A nice, fat hardback book to replace mine, which, having turned Australian, I believe, has ‘gone walkabout’.
At loose ends, but pleasantly so, I started looking at books.
And then, I must confess, I went a little crazy and ordered four of them:

In downtown Milwaukee, Wisconsin, Lou works tirelessly to build her beloved yet struggling French restaurant, Luella’s, into a success. She cheerfully balances her demanding business and even more demanding fiancé…until the morning she discovers him in the buff—with an intern.

Witty yet gruff British transplant Al is keeping himself employed and entertained by writing scathing reviews of local restaurants in the Milwaukee newspaper under a pseudonym. When an anonymous tip sends him to Luella’s, little does he know he’s arrived on the worst day of the chef’s life. The review practically writes itself: underdone fish, scorched sauce, distracted service—he unleashes his worst.

The day that Al’s mean-spirited review of Luella’s runs, the two cross paths in a pub: Lou drowning her sorrows, and Al celebrating his latest publication. As they chat, Al playfully challenges Lou to show him the best of Milwaukee and she’s game—but only if they never discuss work, which Al readily agrees to. As they explore the city’s local delicacies and their mutual attraction, Lou’s restaurant faces closure, while Al’s column gains popularity. It’s only a matter of time before the two fall in love…but when the truth comes out, can Lou overlook the past to chase her future?

This sounds delicious, with most of the elements I love in a story.  Naturally, I ordered it in paperback.  Beware when you are browsing, whether online or in a brick and mortar bookstore.  You find other things that look good.  Like this:


Http://bookgoodies.com/a/B00LEYI3PKLittle Beach Street Bakery

A quiet seaside resort. An abandoned shop. A small flat. This is what awaits Polly Waterford when she arrives at the Cornish coast, fleeing a ruined relationship.

To keep her mind off her troubles, Polly throws herself into her favorite hobby: making bread. But her relaxing weekend diversion quickly develops into a passion. As she pours her emotions into kneading and pounding the dough, each loaf becomes better than the last. Soon, Polly is working her magic with nuts and seeds, chocolate and sugar, and the local honey—courtesy of a handsome beekeeper. Packed with laughter and emotion, Little Beach Street Bakery is the story of how one woman discovered bright new life where she least expected—a heartwarming, mouthwatering modern-day Chocolat that has already become a massive international bestseller.

Well, I have never read Chocolat, but this sounds very interesting, touching, and amusing, as did this one:

A. J. Fikry’s life is not at all what he expected it to be. He lives alone, his bookstore is experiencing the worst sales in its history, and now his prized possession, a rare collection of Poe poems, has been stolen. But when a mysterious package appears at the bookstore, its unexpected arrival gives Fikry the chance to make his life over–and see everything anew.



Bakeries and bookstores are somehow connected in my thoughts.  I don’t know whether it is because I view shelves overflowing with potentially fascinating, enjoyable, sob-worthy and laugh-inducing books as akin to a glass-front bakery counter that contains (at any given time): Italian pastries, French pastries, gorgeous loaves of golden-crusted handmade bread braided (like Challah), slashed (like baguettes), overflowing with butter (like croissants), filled with herbs or cheese or…  Well, you get the idea.  I have a terrible time leaving bakeries.

And true to form I saw this as I finished my order.

Heroic bookseller Laurent Letellier comes across an abandoned handbag on a Parisian street. There’s nothing in the bag to indicate who it belongs to, although there’s all sorts of other things in it. Laurent feels a strong impulse to find the owner and tries to puzzle together who she might be from the contents of the bag. Especially a red notebook with her jottings, which really makes him want to meet her. Without even a name to go on, and only a few of her possessions to help him, how is he to find one woman in a city of millions?

Ah, Paris…  What’s not to like?  I added it to the list.  I’ll consider it part of my Repairing Lease…  AFTER the beta-read!

…Which brings me to this lovely blog hop:Lexa Cain and her two wonderful co-hosts L.G. Keltner @ Writing Off The Edge and Tonja Drecker @ Kidbits.

Check them out and be prepared to smile!

Celebrating the Small Things February 5, 2016



This is the Celebrating the Small Things blog hop, run by Lexa Cain and her two wonderful co-hosts L.G. Keltner @ Writing Off The Edge and Tonja Drecker @ Kidbits.
Check them out and be prepared to smile!



Today I am celebrating the fact that I am at home at this moment and watching the snow shift down.

I started out heading for work with the snow falling all around me like miniature stars speckling my windshield.  Snow is so pretty, but you have to understand and respect it if you are in an automobile.

I made it safely to work and found one other person there.  No one else.  My employer had declared a ‘snow day’ but had sent the announcement rather late.  My coworker and I had a good laugh, I shook the snow from my hair and my boots, settled down at my desk, and started working.

Only a fool would try to drive back during rush hour among a pack of people who forget, from snowstorm to snowstorm, that snow/slush/ice exist and are dangerous.





I accomplished a great many things and then, at lunch time, headed home to enjoy my Snow Day.








Insecure Writers’ Support Group – February 3, 2016


Today is IWSG day. Come join Alex J. Cavanaugh and all the other writers who support each other, make us all smile and think in this monthly hop. No one is mocked or sneered at. All are welcome. We have all been there:

http://www.insecurewriterssupportgroup.com/

This month’s co-hosts are:
Allison Gammons,Tamara Narayan, Eva E. Solar, Rachel Pattison, and Ann V. Friend!

We are The Insecure Writer’s Support Group.

Well, I have a doozie for you:  what do you do with a writer who is not writing?

Not WRITING???  What ARE you, then?



Really, what if the writer isn’t writing?  Does that make him a  non-writer?  I mean, writers write, right?  Right?

At the moment I am taking a break.  I am right now formatting a book.  And correcting the odd issue with style (we do grow and develop) but I am deliberately not composing a thing.  I’m not even reading my several works in progress.  Though I’m checking my blog, and I don’t want to miss the IWSG, I’m not doing a whole lot else writing-wise.

I burned out, writing’s a chore right now, and I really need the break.

Am I a writer?

I certainly am.  I think I was born to tell stories.  It fulfills me, it gives enjoyment to others (generally), it’s a whole lot of fun, and I love it.

So, for right now I’m a writer who is resting.  Banking the fires, if you like.

I suspect we worry too much about whether we fit this mold or that.  We are what we are, and I’d say you all are pretty fantastic.

Back to resting and reading other things not my own.  I’ll do more formatting tomorrow.

Write on, everyone!

A Repairing Lease


If you read Regency novels (not just romances) you will run into the term ‘Repairing Lease’.

As in, “I saw Dick Rackham yesterday.  He told me he is going on a repairing lease.  He’ll be back when The Season starts.”

The term means that the subject is taking rest and relaxation in a quiet place. Perhaps it is because Mr. Rackham gambled too much and his pockets are to let.  Perhaps Mr. Rackham was jilted by the lady he wished to marry, and his heart is broken.  Or perhaps Mr. Rackham is simply worn out by times, events, worries, concerns and projects and, in modern terms, has realized that he is spinning his wheels and needs to rest.
Whatever Mr. Rackham’s reasons for the move, Miss Wilder begs to inform all that she is going on a ‘Repairing Lease’ for two months.  She hopes to be back in April.  She will try to participate in IWSG. 
She hopes that her absence will not offend, worry or puzzle anyone.  She has simply realized that her strength has run out for the moment and she needs to catch her breath and close her eyes.


Celebrations, January 15, 2016 – Finding Favorite Music…and A Bouquet


This is the Celebrating the Small Things blog hop, run by Lexa Cain and her two wonderful co-hosts L.G. Keltner @ Writing Off The Edge and Tonja Drecker @ Kidbits.


Quite a few years ago, in a late afternoon on a Friday, I was driving along an interstate highway and minding my own business when I noticed that a vehicle behind me kept coming awfully close and once or twice nearly did not stop when traffic slowed down.  He was in a hurry, and while he was not ‘tailgating’ me, he was staying very close.  Two times, three times traffic stopped and I held my breath, watching in my rear-view mirror as he closed the gap and stopped…but just barely.
The drive continued, traffic stopped – and the fellow behind me crashed into the rear of my car.  It was a heavy hit, and I was stunned for a moment.  I collected myself reached shakily for the papers in my glove compartment.  Documents that you fill out in the event of a crash.  My car was up against a cement divider.  I had not yet unbuckled my seatbelt.  I reached for the papers, turned toward the door with my hand at my belt’s buckle-
And the divider jumped at me and jerked sideways just as I was about to open the door.
What had happened is that we had stopped, and another vehicle, coming along behind us, plowed into both of us, slamming my car forward and to the side.  If I had stepped outside, as I had intended, I would have been killed. 

I stepped out of my car and saw both men emerging with cellphones plastered to their ears.  They were talking into their cellphones.  I took mine from my purse – where it belonged while I was driving – and called the police.  “Can you see police lights up ahead ma’am?” the bored voice asked.  I said that I was the front vehicle in a multi-car pileup (‘you unmitigated nitwits!’) and they needed to send someone quickly.

So, the accident.  My car was a total loss.  It was a heavy, full-sized sedan, the top of the line.  And its safety ratings were very high, one reason I had bought it.
Well, I wasn’t hurt badly, thanks to seatbelts, the Ford Motor Company and my delay in exiting my vehicle (one reason why I am posting this in the Celebrations Blog Hop).  But one very bad thing did happen: most of my prized CDs were splintered.
A family member gathered them in a bag, and there they sat, in my garage for years.
Recently, I was getting ready to take a long drive up into what the U.S. calls “New England’.  I saw a pile of CD cases sitting on a shelf, and went over to them.  Well!  It appeared that not all my CDs were destroyed.  In fact one of my favorite musical CDs was there, a group of performances by  pianist David Lanz. 
As I drove along, I remembered the CD and put it in the player.  The first was called Christophori’s Dream (Christophori being the inventor of the piano) and the second being a piano rendition of Procol Harum’s Whiter Shade of Pale.

I listened and smiled. The magic was there.  It being celebration time, I will share with you.

 Christophori’s Dream, performed by David Lanz:

A Whiter Shade of Pale:



 They certainly livened my drive, and I’ll be delving into that bag again.

 And the Bouquet:  I happened to see this on a sponsored forum on a vendor of my books:

Does anyone know anything about the next Memphis book – I was told the title was to be KADESH?

How could I not answer?  I wish I had seen the query sooner:
I apologize for the lateness of this response, but I saw your question just now and owe you a response.
Family issues delayed the release of Kadesh. I am working on it at this moment with a projected release date the end of this year. I will be releasing another Egyptian story, set a little earlier than the Memphis Cycle, within the next two months. This is a fable, and is a shorter story. The title is THE THIRTY CUBIT CROCODILE, and you can find information about it on my website, which is www.dianawilderauthor.com



And you can imagine my smile when I read this response and saw that someone had ‘liked’ my post:

Thank you. I’ll be waiting eagerly. 

What are you celebrating?

Insecure Writers Support Group January 2016


Today is IWSG day, the first of 2016.

 

You can join Alex J. Cavanaugh and all the other writers who support each other, make us all smile and think in this monthly hop.
No one is mocked or sneered at.  All are welcome.  We have all been there: 

http://www.insecurewriterssupportgroup.com/

First of all, congratulations to the writers selected for the anthology!  It should be really good! 
And…using this as a segue to my Insecure Writerly post…you are all so very very lucky that I didn’t submit for it because I am such a truly fabulous writer, one of you poor folks would have been bumped out of your slot! 

I would never say that, of course.  Based on my observations, it would not necessarily have been true.  But the notion does touch upon a strange contradiction I’ve seen in myself and in other writers.  I’d call it the ‘Rather Odd Dichotomy of Abyssmal/Sublime’.

Don’t we all think, in our heart of hearts, that we are really good, heartfelt, talented, gifted, sincere and dedicated creative writers?  I don’t know if I’d phrase it that way, exactly, but I think somewhere deep down we all think we’re really good.  We have The Gift.  We can Tell Stories That Enthrall.  (Well, they enthrall me, at any rate). 

But, really, think about it.  You all know you’re good and gifted. 

And yet at the same time, we just know that if we put our precious creations out there, they will be ripped to shreds and somehow, in some weird way, we think that maybe, just maybe, we deserve it.


Wha–?


Okay, that’s weird.  But – and here is my deep, dark secret that I am offering up – I find myself goofing off, checking eBay, looking at the news, following links to interesting places, fiddling with Pinterest—


Hold on, you say, what’s wrong with that? 


Well, because I have sat down (hundreds of times) with an idea for a scene that I am going to write, by golly.  Most recently, it’s two chapters, to be salted in my WIP, that introduce a new angle to the conflict that the character is having, and heightens the element of danger.  I jotted my thoughts, blocked some things out, got some feedback from a friend who is perhaps the best, most honest editor I’ve ever had.  It’ll make the story flow, it had scope for humor and danger and a touch of intrigue – Who IS that fellow??? – and I sat down, fiddled with Pinterest and GOGMSITE. (I digress here for a moment: anyone who writes historical fiction with a European slant and is interested in researching female costume/fashion should visit www.gogmsite.net/  It is a wonderful resource, full of images and run by someone who needs to be awarded something. Perhaps being named ‘Dame of the Empire’ or something.)


So…  Did I write the scene?  Well, I did crank out a page once I looked at the clock and squawked.  But I could have written the whole thing and fiddled with it the next day.  And I didn’t.  Why not?

Well, maybe because that would bring me closer to finishing the thing and having to show it to people who might laugh at it or pull it apart or sneer at it, or something.  …and maybe they would be right?

Does that lie at the bottom of our shyness?  That while we know we have The Gift, we fear that it won’t be obvious to others.  Or they will rip us to shreds?  Or sneer at our work?

 But, truly, how often has that happened?  How often have we done our best and had it destroyed by criticism?  For me, at least, not often.  I’ve had some pointed suggestions, some observations ‘You know, you use a lot of sentence fragments…  It does tend to divert the reader from the flow of the story…’


I don’t do that to others, and I only had one person do that to me.  She was in Preditors and Editors as an ‘Avoid at All Costs’.  Based on my information from the post office, she opened my envelope, scrawled a note on the manuscript I’d sent for her review, and stuffed it back in the mail within half an hour of receiving it.  Everyone else has been constructive, if somewhat stern.  Stern is nice.


I’ll be on the internet this evening reading Insecure Writer Posts.  Then I’ll spit out that chapter, which will bring me closer to finishing the WIP.  I will start sounding people out for beta-reads.

There.  That wasn’t too hard.   (I feel so much better!)

Celebrating the Small things – the first of 2016


This is the Celebrating the Small Things blog hop, run by Lexa Cain and her two wonderful co-hosts L.G. Keltner @ Writing Off The Edge and Tonja Drecker @ Kidbits.



It is hard to believe that (at this moment) 2015 is winding down and 2016 is about to begin.

I remember for many years there was always a depiction of a baby getting ready for the year, sometimes as an old man crept out the other side of the image – the old year leaving for the new year.  I didn’t like the ones I found, but this one makes me smile.

My family always sat up together to watch the ball drop in Times Square, and we would sip a glass of champagne or, sometimes, Cold Duck, which we kids liked a little better.  Grandparents would get misty, I would get sleepy…

On New Years eve 1999 (turning to the year 2000) we all got together and watched New Years all over the world.  It was wonderful, though there was a video of a Jordanian baptism that just wouldn’t stop. 

“And now we take you to Paris!” 

And the baptism would show again.  We all began chuckling.  Everyone looked happy, we were happy, it was all good.

So what am I doing?

Well, I’ll be sipping Perrier-Jouet Grand Brut, whichI received as a Christmas gift.  I’m always happy to drink Champagne.

It’s a happy drink.  I remember one summer where a burgeoning case of depression (job woes, employers moving, ailing loed ones) was nipped in the bud with a glass of champagne drunk with family.

I’ll probably be sitting and watching the fire with a cat on my lap.  My money is on Little Miss Mess, a/k/a Frida, who has appeared in this blog a time or two.  She’s peppery, sweet and very affectionate.  Unlike a long departed darling, she does not like Champagne, so there will be more for me.

…and maybe I’ll break out my current work in progress and pick away at it.

Tomorrow, early, I drive to my mother’s to spend the weekend.

I hope you’ll all be with those you love, who love you.

And I’m ending with something pretty to look at:

Happy New Year!