Category Archives: Celebrate

Magic how new habits take hold

1) My eyes now start to close as 10 p.m. approaches. Stayed awake in bed until 11:30 last night, though, playing with the new electronic toy. Made me remember reading LITTLE WOMEN by moonlight when I was little, while the rest of my family slept. Gorgeous weather and I’m not getting out as much as I’d like, but my office windows open onto our huge live oak so it almost counts as being outside. Still keeping up the garden and doing a few minutes on the elliptical, just not yesterday. Seems like I can do every other day. [Real goal: Health: sleep (lights out at 10:30 p.m.), move (get up from desk every hour, spend at least 20 minutes outside morning or evening, gardening, walking or looking at forest).

2) Worked about 24 hours in the last two days to make the monthly issue deadline while fitting in other work odds and ends. Surprisingly, that left little to do toward it this morning, though I thought I’d be jammed. Happy! Now to get a head start on the Continue reading

Eleven Questions, Illustrated Edition

Prudence MacLeod (the Valkyrie) tagged me in the Eleven Questions game.

Thanks, Prudence!

I have to answer her 11 questions, then think up 11 new questions and invite 11 other people to answer them.

Here are her questions and my answers:

1) What is the greatest thing you’ve found under your sofa cushions? I don’t look. But I did notice that beneath the sofa
is where crickets go to die.
2) Who is your greatest hero? Harriet Tubman, since I was 7.
Second is Roald Amundsen

Some people just won’t leave you alone!

You know the kind. You’re at your desk in your office, deep in your work, suitably harried, and they yell at you to come out. Lock the door and they crawl in through the window. Throw your arms around your computer and they drag you away kicking and screaming, sandals flying, power cord flopping, trackball marble bouncing down the stairs.

Alicia Street, Lynn Kelley and Rachel Funk Heller, I give up! I’ll play the Lucky 7 Meme. Thanks for asking.

These are the rules:

1) Go to page 77 of your current manuscript.

2) Go to line 7.

3) Find and post the next 7 lines, sentences or paragraphs.

4) Tag another 7 writers and drag them away from whatever they were doing—I mean, let them know.

Since I’ve written only short stories in the last year, I had to dig up my novel Continue reading

Overture, curtain, lights? Live it.

One of my greatest pleasures in high school was when I’d go with a bunch of friends to see a Broadway show on a Saturday afternoon.

We’d take the Long Island Railroad in to Penn Station and walk to Times Square, to the trailer in a little grassy area where last-minute tickets were sold. We’d wrangle with each other about which show to see at which price. One of my friends, who now reviews for Variety®, usually had the last word but, as I remember, we usually chose whatever looked good at $2 a seat.

My friends and I went to some of the grand old New York theaters, like the Helen Hayes, the Schubert. The feel of those red velveteen seats and the scent of theater dust alone were worth the $2.

The best moment was when the curtain came up and the lights went on. I always experienced that electric sense of anticipation: something wonderful was going to happen.

The play itself might turn out to be bad, but I always took away that wonderful feeling of anticipation. It kept me alive through the train ride home, through the rest of the weekend and through the long, boring weeks at school.

This morning at seven, I sat on my back steps. The sun came up behind me, shining into the dark forest deeps, highlighting individual tree trunks, vines, branches, the way golden footlights pick out the set on a half-lit stage. The first songbird trilled, another answered, then the valley was full of music.

I felt a wonderful sense of anticipation, the same feeling I’d had just before the curtain came up in the Helen Hayes Theatre.

Do we voraciously consume books, movies, television, music, video games, not for themselves, but for that wonderful feeling of anticipation as the entertainment starts? Are our lives so constrained and boring that we need that artificial jolt to feel alive? This one will be great. This one will fulfill, justify, empower me.

We think the feeling comes from the media, when it really comes from the dawn.

It’s the feeling of a new start. The feeling of the birth of one of the wonderful days of our life.

Take it back.

By S.J. Driscoll

My own little micro-minority.

Phantom Fern © copyright D. Gerard Lancaster

Phantom Fern © 2011 D. Gerard Lancaster

I admire lesbian women. I see them as having a massive kind of freedom that’s been lacking in my life due to certain roles I’ve been locked into since birth. They seem to have the boldness of men without female restrictions.

I admire gay men. Their strength as men, combined with their lack of masculine restrictions, can result in amazing creativity. I’m lucky to have as a friend the immensely creative D. Gerard Lancaster–painter, photographer, composer and fiction writer. (I keep telling him he should go into illustration, but will he listen? No!)

Of course, my view is romanticized. Lesbians and gays have their own lock-ins and lock-downs. But from the outside I admire the the lack of boundaries imposed by a mainstream culture.

What I admire most is the individual, sometimes called the smallest minority. That means each of you: whatever there is of you that’s you alone, separate from society. I admire the ability to see and act independently and without artificial restrictions.

Maybe I don’t admire lesbians and gays. Maybe I’m jealous. They’re independent of mainstream culture to a certain point, but participate in a smaller culture in which they can find people who may be more like themselves.

On second thought, I don’t have to be jealous since my husband and I make up a little mini-culture. Together we’re a micro-minority all our own.

These are the thoughts I’ve been trying to put into words ever since I was awarded two blogging awards last week. (So I guess I’m part of the blogging mini-society, too.)

Liebster blogging awardThank you, Serena Dracis, for the Liebster Award. Versatile Blogger Award Thank you, Prudence MacLeod, for The Versatile Blogger Award.

Thanks for thinking of me. For different reasons, neither of you has to worry about being swallowed up in the mainstream culture. Stay strong!

Each award must be passed on. I pass the Liebster Blog Award on to Kate Spencer, Pat O’Dea Rosen, Asrai Devin, BJ Bangs and Louise Behiel. The Versatile Blogger goes to Mark Lieberman, Soapmarked, Kristy K. James, Jane Myers Perrine and Jean.

As for the facts about myself I should disclose as a requirement for accepting the awards–see above.

By S.J. Driscoll