Archive for February, 2020

A Brouhaha

If money was not a problem, silly if, I would be a sustaining member of PBS and Masterpiece Theater. I especially enjoy their period dramas. Although, recently there has been brouhaha. Yes, it took me twenty-seven minutes in an old college (1966) dictionary to find that spelling. Therefore, it is correct.

Return to subject: you might have heard or even felt the anger and disgust generated from many viewers. Evidently, Jane Austen started a novel entitled Sanditon. Masterpiece Trust hired someone to finish it. The writer appeared in an interview dressed quite informally, short sleeved shirt, shabby, no tie or jacket-good grief. PBS allowed the world to see who had the audacity to write an ending which was so unlike Pride and Prejudice and Sense and Sensibility that many viewers (source: social media) jumped off their couches and screamed, “No, Jane wouldn’t write the ending that way!”

I did as well.

To those who have no idea whatsoever of what I write, but might have an ounce of romanticism in their blood, here’s the deal…a real hotty dumps a cutie for a wealthy witch. Please note the letter w.

To those who have no idea whatsoever of what I write, but might possess an ounce of romanticism, here’s the deal…a hotty dumps a cutie for a wealthy witch.

Not Jane

So, we have options! Aside from not contributing to The Masterpiece Trust, as many have threatened, we could write our own endings. The hotty could come to his senses. The witch could say, “No thanks”, or the cutie could slide over to the handsome town architect and they could start their own business designing the new seaside resort of Sanditon. The exotic Miss Lamb of One Hundred Thousand Pounds could donate her worldly goods to save the hotty’s brother, whom he sacrificed himself for on the flaming pyre of the matrimonial bed.





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Like a small child, I’m excited. It might snow in my swamp! We bought a new white automobile to honor the occasion.  Do you understand how fake news is born? Yes, we bought a new white car and yes there are fourteen snow flakes forecasted.

My WIP (work-in-progress) has my “she-ro” in a 1920’s hospital with a broken arm and ankle. How long should she stay? She’s normally healthy, but in her late fifties. Research is such that as I read, I found out that in the early twentieth century patients stayed a great deal longer than we do today.

In fact, (caution: an approaching anecdote!) when I was seven I had an emergency appendectomy and that entire week of hospitalization was an adventure. I should have been sent home earlier because I was rambunctious enough to throw lima beans over a balcony, attacking a few construction workers.

Now-a-days, no wonder folks are sent home earlier from most hospitals. Yes, I am that important, It’s my fault. More Fake News…sometimes it’s obvious: it was those Lima Beans.





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Stuff and Nuttiness

Where do I begin? Perhaps something non-political: I am sorry. How’s that?

I apologize for not posting jots and jungles (jingles?) from my mind as often as I had planned. Now, I do plan to punish myself. I had promised to post once a month. Now, I will try once a week. How’s that for stuff and nuttiness?

Don’t answer that.

My novel does progress. Heavens, I started with an entirely different title than I have now. I started in a totally different part of England than I have now. My main character has changed from a young lady to a middle aged hurricane ready to take on not just one battle, but there are three in her world. And…her world “progresses” from the UK to Nashville, Tennessee. This journey has been fun. Indeed.

Writers are often advised to keep their “butt” in the chair; to keep writing, obviously.  (Although I’m not a fan of the word, butt, I prefer bottom.) “I yield my time back to the chair.” Now, that quote should sound familiar to citizens who are trying to stay involved and informed. It is stolen from our House of Representatives’ Impeachment hearings. It has become my incentive to return to my creative station.

More about My Nuttiness: I do try to draft a chapter by hand on a yellow legal pad. Later, I draft again onto my Christmas present, this gem of a laptop. Of course, I save my work, but I also follow the excellent advice from my editor in chief, The Hubs, to send a copy to my email.

Don’t tell him. Sometimes he’s quite brilliant.

Enough!  for seven days?



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