sign up for Hope’s newsletter to receive news and updates
I’m blogging today at FreshFiction. The topic is one that seems to resonate with a lot of us: The One Who Got Away, so if you have two ticks, please stop on over and say hi. I’ll be giving away three signed copies of Strokes of Midnight to three winners who post.
Hope
Okay, it’s officially spring in New York, which is to say gray, windy, and cold
–still. Despite the scrumptious array of spring clothes on tantalizing display in the storefronts of West Village boutiques and the designer chains on Fifth–think crayon colors, bold geometric patterns, and belted waists–like most of my fellow Manhattanites, I’m still tooling around in turtlenecks and wool.
Still, it’s spring, the pollen is in full bloom, and all in all people including Yours Truly are walking the streets with a uh…spring in their step. (Sorry, couldn’t resist).
Tomorrow, Saturday, I’m the guest speaker at the Romance Writers of America/NYC chapter brunch at PJ Clarke’s. I’m still working out my presentation, but it’s basically a not so shameless take-off on Donald Trump’s THE ART OF THE DEAL. In my case, I’ll be speaking on the ART OF THE RE-DO, both in writing and yes, in so-called “real” life.
PJ Clarke’s is on the waterfront, so here’s hoping its warm-er. Afterward I’m on tap to meet a friend and hit a couple of the Chelsea art galleries having receptions. I doubt I’ll buy any art but hey, someone has to help out with all that free wine. 😉
Like my Strokes of Midnight heroine, Becky Stone, I check my online horoscope and yes, tarot readings just about every day. It’s a big world out there, make that a big Universe, so I like to cover all my bases. I’m happy to report the Hanged Man, Hermit, and Death card (yikes) are no longer showing up in my Love & Relationship sector!
See, it really must be spring…
Happy Weekend,
Hope
Whether you ring in the New Year clinking glasses with friends and party music pumping or at home watching the televised Times Square ball drop with Chinese carry-out and a cat curled on your lap, in the words of my STROKES OF MIDNIGHT heroine, Becky Stone, I wish you a 2008 chockful of “fresh starts and “dazzling opportunities.”
Happy New Year,
Hope
I’m feeling a little bit proud today–and a lotta bit sore. Yesterday I ran the U.S. Marine Corps Marathon in Washington, DC along with about 30,000 other like-minded folks (that’s folks, not fools). It was my third marathon, my second Marine Corps Marathon, and overall just a lovely fall day.
Oh, by the way, yes, I did finish. 🙂
My time, 4:22, isn’t record-setting, but it is respectable. Despite spotty training and a pre-race fall up some concrete steps crossing U.S. Route 50 to the Start point, I shaved off a minute or two from my time thirteen years ago–a particular point-of-pride because well, Girlfriend’s not getting any younger. 😉
Though the wonderful spirit of the event is alive and well, a lot of other things have changed since my first marathon. Back in 1994 there were no cell phones on the course. Hooking up with cheering family members and friends at the various mile markers, and yes, finish line, required more ingenuity and a goodly dose of luck. There was also no GPS tracking based on a clever little clicker affixed to one’s shoelaces. Today thanks to technology each runner receives his or her true finish time, no need to guestimate the minutes lost waiting to cross the Start line–and yes, with thousands of runners, you don’t all cross when the gun goes off.
There were a few wheelchair entrants back in ’94, mostly graying Vietnam vets with shorn off legs, massive arm muscles, and shoulders as wide as the proverbial football field. Yesterday, there were a lot more, beautiful young men and women from the current conflict with legs missing but hearts whole. Everytime my aching body suggested it might be okay for me to slow down, to if not quit at least walk it in, one of those brave former soldiers invariably came into my view (when Marines call out “make a hole,” I now know to get to the right or left–fast!), and I knew being a slacker simply wasn’t an option.
Today I’m sore. No, not pleasantly sore, but sore-sore, hopped up on Motrin “as we speak” but in a good mood nonetheless. The pride of accomplishing my goal more than makes up for some stiff limbs and blistered feet. If running 26.2 miles was easy, then everybody would be doing it, right?
What’s your big “It” with a capital “I”? Whether your It is completing your first marathon or one-miler, typing The End on your first manuscript or your fiftieth, wracking up yet another milestone for success or picking yourself up and trying again after the Universe has dealt you that really big, brutal Boot in the Face, if you haven’t already done so, take a moment to brag on yourself, even if the voice saying “You go, girl” is silent except for inside your head.
And in the words of my Strokes of Midnight heroine, Becky Stone, here’s wishing you an autumn filled with “fresh starts and dazzling opportunities.”
Hope