Just remembered the day my kids got a video camera, maybe a decade ago. (As our read-aloud bedtime book we had just finished Lord of the Rings.) They began to plan the filming of an epic, and stitched felt into a fetching, jerkin-style vest for our most easy-going cat. The movie was entitled “Fellowship of the Bug”.
Much planning ensued, although I believe an actors’ strike immediately terminated production. I’ve got the storyboards somewhere. I’ll post if I find them.
The star of “Fellowship of the Bug”.
I loved the days when my kids could take just about anything and convert it to something fun to do. For example,
giant-boxes-on-board-screwed-into-two-sets-of-skateboard-wheels + gentle-incline => tandem go-cart race
On your mark…
And awaaaay they go…
I probably thought this was horribly dangerous. If only this had remained the pinnacle of risks that my now 19-year-olds would ever undertake.
My novels apply a filter, sieve, microscope, and paintbrush to my life, with the occasional fun-house mirror or handful of feathers thrown in.
Scar Jewelry evolved through disparate experiences and observations that gradually connected inside my head:
- When my twins were toddlers, a friend would look to incite reaction in me by stage whispering to them, I know things about your parents.
- A decade later, I was hanging around with other parents at our kids’ track practice, when one mom came over to introduce herself. Her husband had pointed me out and said, She’s wearing a Billy Zoom t-shirt. Zoom was the guitarist for an obscure but legendary punk band, X, which we had all loved long before. From that point we became friends – and I looked at the other parents differently, wondering who they were before they were parents.
- We set aside so much of ourselves to become parents. Some of us never regain those set-asides. Most children don’t much care about the non-parent parts of us and can be so dismissive of what matters – or used to matter – to us.
- As parents, we don’t always appreciate what matters to our children. We make decisions that can dramatically and permanently change their lives, yet we rarely consult them as we decide what’s best for them. Hey, we’re the grown-ups, right?
- I am adopted. As an adult I was lucky enough to be contacted by my birth family. It turns out that after I got adopted away, my birth parents married each other and had five more children. Meeting them transformed my views on many things and they’ve been a part of my life ever since.
By the way – though it may seem otherwise – nothing I’ve said here gives away Scar Jewelry‘s secrets!
Cover art by Lars Huston.
So. I’m a writer who didn’t write for a couple of decades. Life is short and I’ve squandered a lot of it. But let’s just say I went in other directions. I tried other things. Certainly the hiatus was worthwhile. I became the mother of twins and completed graduate school in earthquake science. Bu the reality is that I fashioned a life where writing fiction became well nigh impossible, and for a long time I didn’t even try. At the beginning of that long hiatus – before I admitted defeat and succumbed to all the non-writing demands of my existence – I wrote a novella, envisioned as the first book in a detective series. I wrote it, and I shelved it, and I mostly forgot about it. Rhetorical Q: What kind of writer doesn’t even try to get a book published and/or read?
The thing is that I really liked the characters and they kept poking me for attention. So, now that I have resumed writing, I have also unshelved the first book in the series C.R.I.M.E. Science, about a misfit group of scientists and techno whizzes who solve crimes and right wrongs. As of today, it is available on Smashwords in every common ebook format. Coming soon to additional venues.
My blog. I’ve been at it well over a month now. In addition to posts I’ve actually posted, I’ve got posts I’ve thought about posting, as well as posts in progress. The distinctions are fuzzing up and I realize it’s inevitable. At some point I’ll inadvertently repeat myself. I don’t want to do that but don’t see how to avoid it. Maybe I could convince my kids to read each post before I publish it. They’re so good at detecting my repetitions. We know, Mom. (Is eye-rolling allowed in the blogosphere?)