Tuesday, July 24, 2012

A PICTURE TELLS MANY STORIES

Raymond Avenue Bridge, St. Paul, MN
So . . . I'm in the throws of marketing my novel, The Delilah Case -- which of course, is a full time enterprise -- and I'm writing far less than I'm used to. FAR LESS than I should be!  But I have found ways to keep the Creative's Way of Life fairly intact.

This month it's Instagram.

I've become a total addict, sitting down for eight hours at a time shuffling images from my phone to my computer, and back, and back again. This may be the most fun I've had creatively, ever. At least in photography. Years ago, I was a professional photographer working for a studio, and creating and marketing photo-art cards to gift stores in Minnesota and California. Then I jumped to filmmaking, screenwriting, writing memoirs, writing novels.  Before all of that, I traveled across the country and parts of other countries; also, dabbled in two-dimensional design. Then I decorated my house, planted, and gardened. I reared a bright and lovely, female human being -- I'd like to say that she was my best creation of all-time -- truth is, she mostly created herself, and to herself gets the credit.

Daughter - College Graduation
It sounds like I never had a plan. Doesn't it? My kid tells me that and so does a dark side of my brain, one that I can, thankfully, shut off most of the time. So what is it?  Writer for life? Photographer? Filmmaker? (The last one may have lasted longer if it didn't cost gazillions to make moving images.) What is my profession?  Does it matter? I get bills paid. The real-er question would be, what is my passion, where is my fire? Not really, truly sure, but somehow my brain and heart always lead me to a place that is filled with wonder, innocence,  and mostly, random magic. When I can see the ordinary world transform into an extraordinary experience, where I can look into a mirror that reflects the past and the future neatly folding into each other, I'm there - that's my XANADU. 


Am I irresponsible, have I neglected the things we of a certain age are told we need to have: a savings, a retirement fund(s). No and yes. But, using the recent words of my friend's eight-year-old daughter after she baked something: "in retrospect", I have always, even if unconsciously, found jobs that were easy to do, with flexible schedules -- often out of the mainstream of working society -- so I could keep a house, eat, support my child, and always have enough time to delight and feel astonished in Xanadu.

It may seem like heresy to some, but my feelings of uplift and joy come from multiple media. While I wait for one book to sell, and another one simmers before it gets uploaded to electronic and physical shelves, I play with Instagram. This program that sits on my smartphone and makes me feel child-like and brand new again.

I hope you enjoy the Instagrams!

Click on images to enlarge.

BF Nelson Park, Minneapolis, MN
Coronado Beach, CA

San Francisco, CA

Jamaican Bus

Sisters
White Branches (Location: not a clue)

Portrait Study


Jamaican Cottage

Sunday, July 15, 2012

HURRICANE KATRINA

It's been seven years, but the images of Katrina and its endless swath of damage still haunt my memory. I'm almost finished reading Joshua Clark's Heart Like Water -- and there will definitely be an article on this raw and moving memoir -- but it brings to mind a short piece I wrote about the first Mardi Gras after the disaster.
Heart Like Water
           
THE GHOSTS OF MARDI GRAS

            Rex floats along familiar passageways, past curious faces, in a city that begs to be reborn. Once bold and bawdy, this self-conscious parade looks out into the adoring crowd and turns away. We ask, who are these tiresome crashers, always spilling beer and crying out for beads?
            It wasn’t always like this. We used to make room for the strangers. And we sure showed them a good time. But then we disappeared. In the night, carrying nothing more than our parts and pieces, we fled into darkness. Now banished from the open shelter of the nation’s biggest party, we are traveling on.
            Here, it’s your turn. Dry your cheeks and throw down that tissue. Make merry, fearsome reveler! Slip on a party mask, and raise your go-cup. 

Friday, July 6, 2012

CRIME ALERT

Check this site out!  So much great stuff to learn about the newest and oldest in crime writing.


https://www.facebook.com/crimeHQ

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By crime fans for crime fans, 24/7. Books, TV, comics, and movies. Soft-boiled to hard-edged, serving mystery, murder, and mayhem daily.
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By crime fans for crime fans, 24/7. Books, TV, comics, and movies. Soft-boiled to hard-edged, serving mystery, murder, and mayhem daily.

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