Archive for December, 2005

December 16, 2005 | Tennis

All writers would love to spend hours, creating, working on our craft – uninterrupted. Just as we’re getting a scene to work, the dialogue is kicking, and the characters are telling us what is happening to them – our kids need to be picked up, or a fever is raging and they need to go to the doctor, or hubby and the kids no longer want take out, they want a really home cooked meal. Preferably in their own home. It’s holiday season and there are parties you have to go to, decorations that must be put up. Well, here comes my weekend. My daughter returns from college today, on her 22nd birthday. When did she turn 22? This is a tennis weekend. I’ve practice today, Saturday morning, and a match Saturday evening. I’m playing singles Saturday, second position, not first. I’m good, not stupid. Remember I said writing was like tennis? Well, here I go, putting myself out there in front of people, demonstrating my expertise. I have to focus on what I’m doing, not allow interruptions to distract me, and try my best to win. This match is especially lonely, because the club we’re playing at, makes the second singles players, play on one side, while the other players are on the other. So, it’s just me, my opponent and hopefully my daughter who is coming to watch. Not much dialogue, unless you count our talking to each other about if the ball was in or out and we’re ready for the next point to begin. Lots of screams, not from passion, but from me for missing a shot. After I recuperate from this, we’re going out for a family dinner Sunday to celebrate her birthday. Then comes Monday morning – I’m free to work on the next few chapters of my book. Christmas Break will be in full force. I don’t have to worry about Santa, buying toys, but I do have to worry about hiding gifts and remembering where I hide them. A few events, but a relatively easy two weeks. So wish me luck, some of you know where to find me online, and I’ll be back Monday.
Oh, I did post my rejection letter on Writing Humps, Dumps and Lumps. If you decide to share yours, don’t worry, no real names will be used.

December 15, 2005 | Writing

I’m definitely in purge and writing mode. Purging all old papers, filing workshops, important emails, Sloane’s recipes, that kind of thing. I’m also line editing my romance. I had to take a 48 hour break from that. Beth, Sharon, and I met Tuesday evening, it was a late night but we worked through my chapter, an article Sloane is writing, and as usual, our Two By Four Leader, was our greatest cheerleader. I invite you to join me in purge mode. I’ll be posting on my Writing, Humps, Dumps and Lumps page, rejection letters writers have received this year. Send yours to YasminePhoenix@aol.com and I’ll post it this month. Make it brief, and include your response, your positive growth response, people. I’ll go first and post my favorite later on today.

December 13, 2005 | Writing

My horoscope for Tuesday December 13 states: You know you need to get back to business, but you can’t help being distracted by what you’d rather be doing. Hey, you’re only human. Bribe yourself with something special – if, and only if, you finish your work.

Well duh, I guess that says it all. I attended my Chicago North monthly meeting last night. I really like these women. I’m the only ‘dark woman’ of color in the group and they’ve always made me feel a part of the group. One in particular, doesn’t really know me, but damn if she isn’t always pushing me to succeed, to not settle for okay, go for the best. It’s like she sees something I don’t see as clearly. It’s also probably got something to do with the fact she shares my daughter’s name. So far, everything she’s told me has been correct. Guess I should listen to her, huh? The President has a lot of potential and quiet energy, could be wrong on the quiet part. She’s going to be published next year. There is inspiration and success in this group. Between them, my online fellow writers and friends, and my critique partners, I suppose my horoscope is on target. So back to work, I can think of a few things I want to reward myself with. And no, I can’t bribe myself with tennis this time, that’s part of my life.

December 11, 2005 | Inspiration

Richard Pryor died this past weekend. I was sadden hearing about his death. For me, he was a great comedian. Not like Bill Cosby, although one could argue Bill’s kinda moving in Richard’s direction as he gets older. Richard was raw, his humor biting, but he hit the truth every single time. Raunchy yes. But not the way other comics tried to imitate him by using profanity for profanity’s sake. Chris Rock comes close to being a new Richard Pryor. Racism, poverty, drug and alcohol addiction, Richard could dig out the pain, mine the humor and make one laugh and think. Richard had many movie roles, but as Piano Man in Lady Sings The Blues, he was awesome. When his character died I remember holding my breath and crying. When he almost died in real life from freebasing cocaine, and had the nerve to deny his drug addiction to Barbara Walters and then later tell her he lied to her, I cracked up when he took his addiction and turned it into standup that demonstrated how powerful drugs can be. In Richard Pryor Live on Sunset Strip, his comic genius was in full force. He talked about how drugs made him believe he could fight Jim Brown and tell him where to f**k off. Interesting how the talking drug pipe sounded like Richard Nixon. At the end of the concert he lights a match and tells the audience he knows what people have been saying about him. He moves the lit match around and says, ‘Yeah, there goes Richard running down the street.’ He turned the mirror on himself and saw what everyone else saw. He wasn’t pathetic he was damn funny. I forgave him for movies such as Superman IV(?) and The Toy. His comedic partnership with Gene Wilder was hysterical. I didn’t know he helped write Blazing Saddles. His ability to act out his talent waned in the multiple sclerosis that weakened his body, but the mind still appeared to be active. In 1998, he received the first Mark Twain Prize for Humor. Richard’s gone, but MudBone lives forever.