Author: Becky

Who knew…

….that it was sort of cold outside? I realize that’s relative, considering the snow and ice being dumped on much of the rest of the country, but it was a surprise to take a little walk to my mother’s and find out too late that a jacket would have been a good idea.

…that just as chilling would be Publishers Weekly snubbing one of our novels for the first time ever? No review? What’s up with that? Are we chopped liver?

…that I’d have a reason to think of chopped liver today? What the hell IS chopped liver? I don’t even like liver, and chopped liver sounds worse.

Random Thursday

I won’t be watching any television today, and I have a feeling my friend Nora won’t either. I had no idea that she took the election so hard until I saw her at our booksigning. I love the way friends can still surprise you (in a good way) after—eek!—I’ve known her thirteen years. Doesn’t seem possible.

I’ve got so much e-mail to catch up on since emerging from the writer’s cave I lived in for the last year. All my business stuff is organized and under control, but my personal correspondence fell by the wayside. Plus I have phone calls to return. So…here I am, writing in my live journal and wondering what CDs I put in at four in the morning in preparation for today. Sounds fairly mellow so far; I’m still in decompression mode.

The writers’ meeting went well. Grievances were aired without whining or casting blame. Everyone seemed to be in good spirits, personal relationships undamaged, and writing relationships a little more seasoned. There are still things that vex me, but I’m just going to have to live with that and move on.

No sleeping in

I guess I’ve gotten too accustomed to getting four to five hours of sleep. It was the first day in a long time that I was supposed to be able to sleep in, and my eyes opened wide at eight a.m. Dammit.

But it turned out to be a good thing, because James unexpectedly called and asked me to go to breakfast with him. We went to Baby Barnaby’s, one of our old haunts when he lived here. I’ve probably been there only once since he moved away years ago, and it looks great! Still tiny and cozy, but new paint (the ceiling is painted very creatively in stripes; I love it), new booths… Just much tidier and crisper overall, without losing any of its old charm.

I love seeing James and talking. He may be a decade younger than I am, but we are on the same soul level and have always shared an unspoken language that makes actual talking easier. What a great person he is.

My Writing Partners

I can’t wait to see Jim and Timmy when they get here tonight. It’s been nearly two years since Tim and I saw Timmy, and nearly a year and a half since we saw Jim. Not only will we have the personal enjoyment of a reunion, but this is where ideas are born for Timothy James Beck.

Of course, Timmy’s flight was delayed. It’s always an adventure when he flies here. But still, by midnight tonight, the four writers will be together and entertaining Tom and the dogs.

James wisdom

I love my friend James so much. Yesterday we exchanged e-mails most of the morning, and the subject of some of our shared memories came up. I mentioned the “bittersweet” feeling I had when looking at old photos and he said, “Bittersweet… yeah, I use that word a lot. It’s such a complicated feeling.. sort of a comfortably sad memory moment… an unexpected perspective and yielding to the inevitability of the loss of everything we have loved. Sometimes I really hate how it makes me feel, kind of like the way I hate surrendering the day to sleep.”

I just have to love a man who expresses himself so eloquently and ALSO understands my tendency to resist going to sleep at night. I wonder if this is why Tim finds it hard to say goodbye to the day, too.