The 80’s Are Coming
October 26, 2007 by A Slice of Orange in category Archives tagged as Pop Cultureby Sara Black
Sitting behind the register at my work I often know what it is to be a fish in a bowl. Only I get too see a lot more than the same boring family day in and day out. Passing by my window is an eclectic bunch of people, men holding hands, women holding hands, little old man in black suits with long curly locks, trendy young women on their way to eat, men who dress far better than me talking on their cell phones, and tourists in sandals and shorts with backpacks slung over their shoulders.
Lately I’ve been noticing the trendies, including the workers at the techno-beat filled hair salon next door, have a familiar style. Over sized T-shirts with metallic prints, leg warmers, leggings, large dangling earrings, and pointy boots. I haven’t seen any power suits or shoulder pads, but this may not be the right area of town. The 80’s appear to be on their way back.
I was too young during the 80’s to really accrue any humiliating pictures. I think you need to be a teenager to really emberass your later self with fashion choices. I do remember in about 3rd grade wearing some kind of ensemble that involved high tops, short green leggings, and a pink hair band and thinking that I was really cool, but this didn’t last long. A lot of people view the fashions of the 80’s with a horror normally reserved for the moment you spill a hot drink on your mother-in-law. They were a little, ridiculous, weren’t they?
Then I think about bustles, and corsets, and removing a rib or two for that perfect waist, or wearing a giant, white powdered wig, and really, leg warmers with high heels are relatively innocent.
Still, fashion remains mainly a spectator sport for me, something I observe from my fishbowl. I’m more into 70’s styles anyway.
Sara Black has a degree in Cinema/Television from USC. She watches far too much television, eats way too much sushi and is always writing a romance novel. This is the seventh in a series of posts on Pop Culture.
She will not be found in a pair of leg warmers anytime soon.
ROLLING ON AN ACORN
October 24, 2007 by A Slice of Orange in category Archives tagged as Wisdom from Writers RockBy Jann Audiss
For the last several years, I have been fortunate to spend time a few terrific days with close friends in a home on the north shore at Arrowhead Lake. We read, discuss our writing, watch movies, take walks and generally chilling out from our hectic work schedules and life in general.
Our days start at just before sunrise. Clad in hats, coats, gloves and wrapped in blankets, we sit on the deck sipping coffee from steaming mugs. Every morning we hope to see the local beaver swim by. It’s a quite time. We look out over the lake whose mirrored surface is broken only by the ripples of the occasional fish as it jumps to catch a bite for breakfast, or by the small wake left by paddling ducks. It’s paradise.
We usually take our retreat in October. On daily walks through the neighborhood we revel in the leaves as they start to turn the rich, vibrate colors of autumn. The oak trees drop acorns by the bushel. This time, one such oak tree dropped two particular acorns that found their way under my right foot. My ankle turned painfully and down I went. Needless to say, I let out several unladylike words to the astonishment of the local squirrels watching from near by.
After I crawled on my hands and knees to bed that night, I decided that a trip to the local ER was in order. While I sat in the examining room waiting for the doctor, my imagination began to work overtime. I must have dreamed up at least five or six different scenes between hero and heroine. There was the “can’t get out of the bath†scene. The “ER doctor who makes an after-hours house call to check up on his patient†catches her in a very provocative position after she drops her crutch. The “local Ranger finds the heroine crawling along the trail on her hands and knees.†The hero who…
I think you get the idea. It vividly showed me how a writer draws from her experiences. Although I can’t recommend spraining an ankle, I can advise that you take advantage of your adventures for everything they are worth. There’s nothing like “writing what you know†from first had experience.
In a special note – my heart goes out to all the residents in Lake Arrowhead and throughout Southern California who have been devastated by the fires. To the men and women who are on the front lines fighting to protect lives and property and those working in the evacuation centers – God Bless.
The Lone Writer
October 24, 2007 by A Slice of Orange in category Archives tagged as The Lone WriterA World in Flames
I realize this is a writer’s blog. I like to think it’s more about a writer’s life then just about the act of writing itself. Otherwise, this would be a pretty boring place and OCC/RWA is never boring. As such I decided to take this opportunity to blog about something I am a little too close to: smoke and flames.
On Sunday night, my family and I left the Orange hills in search of Chinese food. As we were driving we saw big plumes of smoke in the distance and thought “Oh no! Something is on fire.” On our way back from dinner it was dark and we could no longer see smoke. But we did turn on the TV to see what was going on. Malibu fires, San Diego fires, Agua Dulce fires and (as if that wasn’t horrifying enough), Santiago Canyon fires. I stayed with my parents and watched the news as towns where old schoolmates once lived fought for survival. My parents’ house is on a hill on one side of a valley. On the other side we can see Santiago Canyon Road, and parts of the 241 freeway. There are mountains, some closer then others. At around 9pm my sister shouted “look out the window” The entire right hand side of the mountain nearest ours was aflame. I’m not talking about smoke, I’m talking about bright orange flame.
After some debate my years of education paid off and I won an argument against my mother!
Her logic? It’s pretty far away.
My logic? You are about to sleep for eight hours. That fire has 40 mile-an-hour winds behind it, there is NO WAY that fire is eight hours away.
My father, a doctor, headed to the hospital just in case he was needed on hand. The rest of us evacuated to my apartment further north. As we drove away, two cars full of people, papers and clothes I could only be grateful
It wasn’t until we reached safety that we started thinking about all the things we hadn’t packed. A portrait of my grandmother, childhood momentos, irreplacable things that we could have packed quickly if it had occurred to us.
A lucky shift in the wind saved my childhood home, and I am grateful. But if there is one thing I’ve learned, there are two kinds of pain. There is the pain of the physical loss of a loved one, and also the pain of the emotional loss of a cherished memory.
In the days ahead, many people will face challenges. I urge you, and your families to think of what you cannot live without. Make a list, take pictures, do whatever it takes, but don’t leave yourself vulnerable to a double loss. Your home can be replaced, you and your memories, cannot.
Be safe, be well, and be careful.
-Dana Belfry
Dana Belfry is an aspiring author and a proud member of the OCC/RWA. She happily lives near the beach, rollerblades as often as possible and constantly comes up with story ideas. She is currently working on a contemporary single-title. Visit Dana at her blog at http://www.danabelfry.com/blog/
Bookseller’s Corner
October 20, 2007 by A Slice of Orange in category Archives tagged as Bookseller's CornerHey there bibliophiles,
This is the strangest fall, because for the first time in 25 years I haven’t been planning my Autumn Book Sale. Weird, unsettling, a little crazy making and( because I usually use the “extra” money to pay my property taxes) sorta scary. I told someone the other day it was like divorce. I was really glad to lose the cranky customers, fighting about money and property maintenance with the landlord and the day to day sameness of it all.
What I miss are my wonderful customers/friends, the freedom of working for myself, the tingly feeling of got when a really rare book came in and just getting to touch it.
I’m still grieving my loss, I know this is what I had to do do to save my sanity, my health and not having live in a box on the street, but I really miss seeing all those people who loved my books as much as I did. I miss opening boxes all during the week and seeing the new book covers on the racks and calling my author friends to tell them that their books were in and I was had been hand selling them. I miss decorating the store windows for Halloween. Silly, yes, I know, but I JUST REALLY MISS IT!
I got over being married, I’ll get over this. I just don’t know when, but I’ll let you know.
Don’t cry for me Orange County, BUB was supposed to be immortal. I never wanted to leave you but hey *hit happens
Michelle Thorne
www.bearlyusedbooks.com
agreatreadoccrwa@aol.com
1998 RWA Bookseller of the Year
Traveling Member At Large
October 19, 2007 by A Slice of Orange in category Archives tagged as Member At LargeMEMBER AT LARGE
More on traveling…
Some people have asked how I could travel to far away exotic locations and not sightsee more. The easy answer is I plan to return with my husband and will behave more like a tourist at that time. I could also cite time constrictions and the involvement in dog activities. The real answer goes deeper and speaks to my life as a writer even when I’m not writing.
Unless my characters fall into their stories from a group tour or from their long planned vacation that’s about to become disarranged, they’re not going to be spending much time in museums or at well known locales. Far more likely they will be driving along the winding back roads scared spit less but not ready to give up yet. Or they’ll be running for their lives along the walking paths cut through fields all over the country. Hope they don’t trip over the many old dogs waddling along those paths and not likely to step aside.
Thatch roofs cost 20,000 pounds to maintain and have to be redone every so many years, which really reduces any desire to have this sort of roof. Each locale has a particular style of thatching, and it’s a very lucrative profession. Maybe you can find that kind of information on the Internet but did you realize old thatched roofs look like packed moldy straw with chicken wire on the top. Not quite as appealing as the pictures I’ve seen of cottages with bright straw thatching.
In New Zealand, now known as the country where Peter Jackson filmed Lord of the Rings, the opportunities off the beaten path are even more fascinating. In Wellington, there’s a bridge which looks like it was thrown up overnight during a drunken contest. Every section slants a slightly different direction. In fact it is magnificently engineered to look like the set of a Disney cartoon. Crossing to the bridge from the waterfront, I found a large concrete sculpture mounted in the ground, quoting Pat Lawlor, Wellington writer: “And now, as I grow in years, I feel at times like an old violin played on by a master hand. You, dear city, are the maestro drawing the bow over the sensibilities of my mind, echoing the music of my days.”
On the bridge itself I read another plaque: “It’s true you can’t live here by chance, you ave to do and be, not simply watch or even describe, this city of action, the world headquarters of the verb.” Someone had sprayed letters across this message, I suppose in their own statement of action. Later I learned this is a part of Wellington’s Writer’s walk – now I need to go back and take the rest of the walk!
My host felt New Zealanders were dour and often depressed, unlike Americans who always seem positive and upbeat, or even Australians who seem sometimes aggressively cheerful. I had to disagree. How can any people who intentionally build a bridge looking like it was thrown together in the dark, and erect buildings in the shape of sheep and sheepdogs be depressed? Much less people who feel their writers are important enough to have concrete plaques installed. Subtle, perhaps so much so they fool themselves. My host reminded me much of New Zealand was settled by Scots, who tend toward a dour attitude. When I thought about this it made perfect sense. Both peoples live in a country with immense natural beauty and so many creative minds but so far away from most of the world.
More fascinating was the attitude of the current residents, depending on their ancestry and for that matter if they were born in New Zealand or emigrated later. Those who came over as bond servants and made their way in the new world by interacting with the Maori, who preceded them by about 1,000 years, told me about the losses for the Maori when New Zealand was “discovered” by Europeans. Those whose ancestors served as officers in the British army showed me paintings of the forts commanded by their great great grandfather, erected to defend the British against the Natives. Perception really is everything.
Monica K Stoner
