June 04, 2005

Shamelessly blogging

My life slides through the cracks as I traipse around the countryside “shamelessly flogging my book”—as my mystery-writer friends, Kent Krueger, K J Erickson and Erin Hart, like to call it. I’ve had seventeen gigs (I like to call them that because it makes them sound musical) in the last eight weeks, with two to go in June before I have a break. Or before I break. Of course, the trade-off is that I have no time to write. And when I do have it I don’t know where to begin. It’s true that every day away from work requires two more days to get back into it. At this rate, I’ll be ready to finish the last half of my novel around October 5th. Ha! I do still have time to read, though. Just finished a terrific biography of Patricia Highsmith by Andrew Wilson called Beautiful Shadow. He does such a fine job of capturing her without making any judgments. Her work has fascinated me ever since I first read The Talented Mr. Ripley. She is one of a kind, as is her anti-hero. Imagine writing five novels about a character who kills people because he simply can’t find another way to deal with them, and yet is thoughtful, worldly, even gallant at times, and eminently likable. It was an amazing feat. Michael Tolkin calls Highsmith "one of the best writers in the world" and adds "I don’t think I could have written The Player without her." Interesting, as I have recently seen the movie based on Tolkin’s book, and Tim Robbins’ character does remind me of Tom Ripley.

There, now. I’ve managed to fritter away an hour "shamelessly blogging." Who says I don’t have any time to waste?

Posted by Judy Guest at 04:46 AM | Comments (0)

April 14, 2005

It's Spring

Above my desk is the saying: The universe rearranges itself to accommodate your picture of reality. I’m not exactly certain what this means; at the same time I’m absolutely certain it’s the truth.

Today the universe is looking huge and healthy and benign. April is the month of budding trees in Minnesota, of tulips breaking ground and the grass turning from brown to green in a matter of hours under a spring rain. Three years ago my friend, Sally, died of cancer and my friend, Margaret bought up about a million red tulip bulbs (Sally’s favorite flower) and dispensed them to her friends across the country saying, “Plant them in your garden and when they come up, think of Sally.” Which is what we do. We keep each other posted about how things are progressing. Ten of mine popped up the same day! Mine are all budding now! Mine have bloomed and they were spectacular! It was the best idea in the world and makes us feel close—not only to Sally but to each other. Makes me feel like I’m back in college, too, when I first met these women in a sorority that we founded all by our little selves some fifty years ago. Holy buckets, how can I be that old? My picture of reality is that I’m about eighteen (maybe nineteen) with my whole life in front of me still. So how come I have these kids in their forties and grandkids who are teenagers? It’s a mystery. It’s that old pesky universe rearranging itself again. It’s Spring.

Posted by Judy Guest at 11:01 PM | Comments (0)