Monday, April 25, 2011

Dating Challenged

I stink at dating – always have.  I sputter.  I hyperventilate.  I fail miserably every time.
I blame a pathetically underdeveloped gene that got little use before I married in my early twenties, then atrophied, gathering dust and rust, until I became single again in my fifties.
 I decided to use this defect to my advantage when I needed to do some investigative reporting a few years back.  While on a newspaper writing assignment on Boomer-aged dating, I sacrificed my dignity and my vanity for the sake of the story (and I got several).

Thank goodness, HoneyBunch saved me from all this when we married.  (He comes up with the best dates.)
I’ve decided I will “show you mine if you show me yours.”  I will swap dating horror stories with you, but you have to promise to play along.
The trick here is to tell about your worst date in 25 words or less.  You must keep it clean and you cannot name names. Our little contest will run only this week and before my next blogger posting.  
Me first: 
The facts:  My mom fixed me up.  He spent the evening licking his lips and leering at my chest.  I never let her forget it.  (Count them: 25 words)
Again:
I once dated six men, all at one time.  It was a Speed Date for 50-year-olds.  Let’s just say, some people don’t improve with age. (Twenty-five again.  Yeeha!)
These are two of my horror stories, one from each end of my life.
Your turn. 

Monday, April 18, 2011

Writing Journey

As a little girl, I made Dick and Jane readers out of yellow scrap paper my dad brought from work. My grandmother helped stitch the books together with a large needle and thread.  For years I begged my parents to change my name from Raquel (which lots of people found difficult to pronounce) to Jane, my little heroine in the first grade text.
When I turned thirteen a godparent gave me a diary, but journaling is a process and my first entries were confessional and exaggerated. When my mother found it, she was appalled at my escapades. Let’s just say my version of what happened between Luis and me behind the garage was well worth being grounded.
Like all true martyrs of the craft, I resorted to “underground publishing.”
Through the years my scribblings modeled poems a la Sylvia Plath or Shakespearean tragic comedies. I blame fluctuating hormones and too many literature classes for that. To my delight, I later discovered Nora Roberts and Janet Evanovich in women’s fiction, and Eve Bunting and Patricia Polacco in children’s literature. It sure beat Dick and Jane.
I have published a few short by-line pieces and even landed a paying job writing a women’s weekly personal column for three and one half years, but it is time to stitch together my own novel with my own voice.
So this is my journey - no more underground publishing; no more writing as a hobby; no more modeling my voice after others.   

Friday, April 15, 2011

Ten Things We Will Chat About:

1.    Men – Facts and Myths
2.   Age and Beauty – Coming to terms with both but not necessarily in the same breath
3.   Boomer – If the 60’s are the new 40’s, who forgot to tell my butt?
4.   Children vs. Grandchildren – All their good traits come from my side of the family
5.   Childhoods – The good, the bad, the years of therapy
6.   Obsessions and Passions – The 12-step program
7.   Friendships – See the “single-ish” listing above
8.   My Writing  Life – Silly to Serious
9.   Exercise and Health – Yeah, right (notice how far down it is on the list)
10. What We Won’t Discuss – Ever!