Tag Archives: Writer

And Celebrate, We Did.

Thalia and Sean laughed lightly together as they hung the NQAC banner on the back wall of the Overlook second-floor patio for our One Year Anniversary Party. Sean was balanced on a chair and Thalia was unspooling wire to him as he fastened it around the nails they’d pounded into the wood.

Marlie and Bea chatted amiably at one of the tables. Marlie was folding the table-tents that Thalia had created which displayed our specialty drinks and announced our prizes. The graphics looked so professional and perfect, it made me shake my head in bewilderment. Bea was unfolding the white paper flowers which were to be placed in the pink cubed vases that would then be set out on the ten or so tables that scattered the space.

Jack and his team from Solerno and Lillet were calmly setting up the the two reception tables. White table cloths floated in the breeze and they weighed them down with their cute tote bags, which were to be gifts for all our guests. They then set up a red-framed chalkboard on which one of the girls carefully wrote out the drink specials.

The mood was serene yet festive, and filled with measured anticipation.

Clearly, no one but me could see the obvious:

WE WERE IN CRISIS MODE.

Continue reading And Celebrate, We Did.

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August 9th, 2013. Part Two.

“What?” I asked.

“You should…,” Floyd said slowly, as he adjusted our soundtrack. He then looked up at me. “Start a blog.”

“But…why?” I said.

“Because you can build an audience through it and then market the book to them. You’ll already have a set of readers when you publish it,” he answered. He then reached for another cookie.

“That’s the way a lot of writers get started these days,” Emily said, nodding.

“But…but what would I write about?”

Tara¬†took a sip of her large Starbucks. “Write whatever. Write about your life.”

“Hmm,” I said. And then I remembered. “I did have this idea, a long time ago, about starting a blog about dating in your late 30’s in NYC? You know, never been married, no kids, late-in-life dating adventures? Something like that. I was going to call it ‘Not Quite A Cougar’.”

Lux laughed. “That’s funny.”

“I know,” I sighed and gave her a small smile. “Who would want to read that?”

“No,” she corrected. “I mean it’s funny. It’s a really good idea.”

Continue reading August 9th, 2013. Part Two.

I Went to Venice. And Amsterdam.

“This trip will change you for the better,” Sheri emailed me the morning of my departure. “I just know it.” Her comforting words were not having the desired effect. My hands still shook as I pulled out the pill bottle from my carry-on and we taxied to the runway at JFK.

My Practice Xanax Session the previous night had gone well. Although, I’d forced my friend Veronica to stay on the phone with me an hour after I’d taken it to make sure I wasn’t having any sort of adverse reaction. This made no sense of course, as she lives in Portland and there wasn’t much she could do if something did occur. But I’d procrastinated until around 10pm my time because I was so scared, so it was too late to call anyone locally.

I had come up with a number of excuses of why I couldn’t make this trip. I was getting sick, The Cat would miss me too much and stop eating, The Fun Committee was hosting their first event without my expertise. But I knew none of these would be accepted by my writing partner. He had spent a lot of money on this trip, we needed to get this work done for the book. I had to go. So after I downed the Xanax, I looked out the window as the tarmac sped by and then fell out from below us, settled into my seat and said to myself, “Let’s do this.”

And then I went to Venice. Continue reading I Went to Venice. And Amsterdam.

I Have To Go To Venice. Part Two.

“Ah, Venice,” said Dr. Shay in his slow, measured tone. He moved to retrieve his stethoscope. “Beautiful city.” Dr. Shay is in his early-fifties and has been my doctor for many years. I like him because he never makes me feel rushed in my appointments and lets me spout out my various theories on the roots of health problems without becoming annoyed.

“Yes, I know,” I replied, nodding. “I’ve been there.” That was part of the problem with this whole trip. I was being forced to take vacation time for a location that I’d already been to. It pissed me off.

“You don’t sound too thrilled,” he said as he wrapped a blood pressure cuff around my arm.

“I’m not,” I said. “I couldn’t be less thrilled.”

“And why is that?” Continue reading I Have To Go To Venice. Part Two.