Tonight

I think I'm going to try some live-blogging while watching the Oscars. I may get bored after five minutes but whatever. Lisa did it once and I was vastly entertained. So I'll put on a pair of fancy earrings and give it a try.

See you later.

Mamas don't let your babies

grow up to discover Kookaburra licorice from Australia. Because even if they don't really like licorice--especially green apple licorice--they may become obsessed. And even though it's snowing outside, they may feel compelled to go to the nearest 7-11. While wearing flip-flops. Even though it's snowing. Because their running shoes are still wet. And their church shoes would look stupid with sweats. And they can't find their other shoes. Or at least they don't want to take the time to FIND their other shoes. Because you know what? They NEED that licorice.

Right. This. Very. Minute.

(Can you guess what I did yesterday?)

Words to live by

For Christmas Sara Zarr gave me a lovely, inspiring little book called THE POCKET MUSE by Monica Wood. The bit below really speaks to me because I think it's so wise--and also because I love poetry, although I don't write it. I especially love the poems of my friend of many fabulous years, Lisa Bickmore. I always tell her she's my favorite poet in the history of the universe, along with W. B. Yeats. (She's cuter, though. Funnier, too.)

"There is a special throne in heaven for poets, who labor in obscurity. The rest of us harbor an unexpressed hope for fame and glory. You might be tempted to write for a market. You might be tempted to ride the crest of a trend. That kind of writing is about as stable and fulfilling as day trading. Write what interests you. Write what frightens you. Write what thrills you. Take a cue from the poets, bless their underfunded little hearts."

In Loving Memory of

Emma Rebecca Brown Thomas
April 23 1956-March 4 2004

I don't really like

Green apples. Or licorice. So why did I just eat a whole bag of green apple licorice? There is just something so so so wrong with me.

In other news! I finished the Dresden Files book. It was fun but I'm not sure I'll read another. Loved the concept--Mickey Spillane Meets Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I just think the author could have done so very much more with the great Chicago setting.

I myself have an idea for a mystery series kicking around in my head. I don't know what stops me from giving it a try. Slacker-ness for one thing. And also the sense that maybe someone somewhere would end up writing posts like "I just think the author could done so very much more with the great southern Utah setting" . . .

Slackers

Last night at the Richard Peck event (he was thoroughly divine btw) a few local writers and I had a chance to chat and do you know what these talented women did? They berated themselves for being SO LAZY!

Okay. These are first-rate writers who have published extensively and STILL all they could talk about was what slackers they are.

Have you heard people talk about themselves this way? Do YOU talk about yourself this way? Why? Discuss, please.

On the food front I drove up to Park City and ate an omelet for breakfast with Kim. You can't be unhappy when you start a day off like that.

THE HURT LOCKER

Geoff asked me to post my reasons for liking THE HURT LOCKER, so here goes.

1. I was in awe of the film's ability to create and sustain suspense. As a writer I'm always interested in how to accomplish this. Frankly, the lessons of film don't always generalize to the printed page. I suspect camera work had A LOT to do with generating tension, but still. The sense of conflict was so real and urgent, it left me breathless.

2. I cared about the characters. Would they survive? Would they survive with body parts and humanity intact?

3. I think I better understand how it must feel to be there in the thick of action, which gave me a renewed sense of respect for our servicemen, including my daughter-in-law's father, who was in Baghdad for nine months. THE HURT LOCKER doesn't have any political message. Our decision to be in the Middle East--for good or bad--isn't the point. The point is what it FEELS like to be there. To this end, the film is graphic. Lots of real bombs. Lots of f-bombs. And that's exactly the kind of thing that folks get their undies in a twist about. But do you know what? I don't think any of it was gratuitous. And the film would NOT have been anywhere near as effective without the gritty look and language.

4. And because I'm shallow, I liked the full hit of testosterone I got while watching it. Which is one of the points of the movie, actually--how that rush of adrenalin one feels in the face of danger can be its own form of addiction.

Anyway. Wow. I'm glad I watched it.