Showering with Barbra

By

C. Neuroticus Absolutus

My oldest and dearest friend used to tell acquaintances that he “showered with Barbra Streisand every morning,” adding a chuckle and a mischievous smile that underscored his charming character.

Upon retirement, I took up pen and joined myriad writers working on the Great American Novel. Under merciless critique, I endeavor to choose appropriate verbs and nouns to best described the object, emotions and actions of my protagonist and antagonist and to do so with an economy of words. In addition, my mentors incessantly warp my mind with the latest affectation of the pundits of the trade: “Don't tell, show.”

These things merged in my mind this year as I listened to Streisand rip through her hectic version of Jingle Bells, waiting for, begging for her to take a breath. The feverish musical arrangement beautifully reinforces the tone of the lyric, especially the verse, which begins with, “Dashing through the snow...”

You see? There it is! A single word: Dashing! I began to wonder if composer James Lord Pierpont realized in 1857, when he wrote the song, how precisely he captured the substance of the scene, the actions and emotions in that single word. I considered possible alternatives. Running through the snow? Sliding? Flying? Gliding? Racing? Sprinting? Crashing? No, those wouldn’t do. Dashing, the first word of the phrase, captures the essence of the entire song.

Dashing expresses exhilaration. Exuberance. It illustrates a youthful, reckless regard for life and limb. And fun. “Oh, what fun it is to ride. . .”

I’ve heard Jingle Bells hundreds of times, the first time over seventy years ago as a child in our living room, my father playing the piano, my mother singing along. But each Christmas season, it is always my old friend's remark that comes to mind each time I hear Barbra sing Jingle Bells. I remember his chuckle, the impish glint in his eye and the upturned corner of his mouth as he says, “I shower with Barbra Streisand every morning.”

Work in Progress Update

By

C. Neuroticus Absolutus

I last reported that I had 70,000 or so words already written and could do 1,000 words a day for the next 20 days and I would be close to finishing my WIP The Back Nine. Well, a thousand words a day is perfectly achievable if you can lock all the doors, unplug all electronic distractions and keep your wife off your computer. It seems that Spider Solitaire is addictive. Hmmmm. Anyway, I managed to make it to 77,381 words this week and figure I've got another 8,000 to13,000 words yet to go. Not that it matters how long an eBook is. They certainly aren't priced by the word. In this same time frame, I've read James Patterson's Kill Alex Cross, kept up on my emails and posted a couple of blogs.As any writer will attest, we go through periods of production and then periods of not so much production and hope to achieve some positive balance at some point. I'm still hoping.

Work in progress

Seventy-thousand words awaiting another twenty-thousand or so and closure of this action thriller eBook with a working title THE BACK NINE, an obvious reference to a the back nine holes on a golf course where the story begins. That's about 20-days worth of work for me. I write everyday, weekends included, and write about a thousand words each day. That's unedited, of course. I like to edit the entire book at one  time. And re-edit as often as I feel necessary. Gives me an idea of flow and continuity. Also, that's when I finalize formatting for acceptance as an eBook. Then I'll add a cover and a table of contents, acknowledgments, and copyright info. The end is a great place to include references to my previous works as well as a picture of the author. Then, after I upload it all to Smashwords and Amazon.com, I can sit back and shout, "Author! Author!" and glow in my accomplishment for a second or two. Not much time for self-aggrandizement. Have to market! market! market! and move on to writing the next book, already germinating in the back of my well-fertilized mind. Anyway, I plan to have The Back Nine available this fall, and I believe that's a reasonable target.

Adverb Adversaries

C. Neuroticus Absolutus

Scribes and scribblers

Paragraph nibblers

Went out for a working lunch.

They parsed and deleted

And finally succeeded:

Not an adverb

Escaped the bunch.

Throughout the land

They had adverbs banned

From sea to shining sea.

When they took to their beds

And had their last rites said,

They left this world

Quietly.

Book Review

By

C. Neuroticus Absolutus

      I just finished reading Porch Lights by Dorthea Benton Frank, another story about life on the barrier islands of South Carolina. They say write about what you know best. Ms. Frank was born and raised on Sullivans Island and weaves a treasure trove of knowledge and experience into one story after another about the South Carolina Lowcountry. I’ve read eight of the dozen books she has written, each with charming, lovable characters who draw the reader into real-life predicaments where Ms. Frank lets the characters lead the reader to happy endings. She writes feel-good books that go well with sun block, sand, seashells, colorful beach umbrellas and pitchers of Margaritas. She has mastered the art of storytelling with an occasional twist of humor. Moreover, whereas the average chick-lit authors write to fit the formulas of the Harlequin ilk, Ms. Frank skillfully constructs entertaining narratives outside the constricting formula mold.

      Porch Lights features Jackie McMullen, an Army nurse with multiple tours of Afghanistan who is widowed when her firefighter husband dies in the line of duty. She comes home to a ten-year-old son Charlie who is devastated by his father’s passing―as is she. The boy’s depression leads her and her son from New York back to Sullivans Island and her long-separated mother and father. Jackie refuses to believe that she will ever love again and plans to return to Brooklyn before the next school year begins. But Charlie develops a relationship with his grandfather and the kind bachelor doctor next door and refuses to leave the island. An approaching hurricane provides the impetus for Jackie to leave Sullivans Island quickly, but Mother Nature moves in to put the kibosh on all human plans.

      Oh, did I mention that Steve Plofker, the handsome doctor next door, eyes curvy nurse Jackie from the moment she arrives home. Before you can say Bob’s your uncle, he develops longer-range plans for Jackie than she is willing to consider. As they say, love will find a way. Or will it?

      Each chapter in Porch Lights is preceded by a quote from Edgar Allen Poe, whose work The Gold Bug captures young Charlie’s imagination and leads him to discover the marvelous history of Sullivans Island, which Ms. Frank skillfully intertwines in her story. What’s more, each chapter alternates the point of view between Jackie and her mother Annie - an unusual approach considering that most agents, editors and critics say never switch points of view. However, in Porch Lights, Ms. Frank accomplishes this with a story that changes POV effortlessly and seamlessly, a credit to her mastery of her craft.

      I like action/adventure Uzi-toting bad guys and all-American, Glock-in-hand heroes who look like they stepped out of a WWII Army recruiting poster. Still, with all that tiring action, I occasionally need a laid-back story that tugs at my heartstrings and lets me unwind. That’s when I turn to Ms. Frank’s creations, books guaranteed to warm your heart and let you relax.

      I admit that Ms. Frank’s books are getting more predictable with the printing of each new novel. I believe her best work lies in her earlier books.  Nevertheless, I like her stories. I know pretty much what I’m going to get when I take one of Ms. Frank’s novels to the cash register. No disappointments.

      Bedtime or beach time, poolside or plane ride, Porch Lights is a good read.