What's the world coming to: Entitlement

You see it all the time, a car cuts you off, tailgates behind you, a pedestrian is too busy on the phone to walk across the street or even give you a moment's notice, in today's paper, someone cut down an old revered oak tree, why not they thought, I'm entitled. Whatever people do, is just fine because they're sure that they're entitled. It occurs especially with celebrities, but they're not the only ones, because entitlement has become a global disease. Philandering spouses, lying corporate execs, greedy bankers, conniving polluters, insensitive politicians, religious zealots, Ponzi schemers, dictators of countries, they all have caught the contagion. It's interesting to note about the last; they're finally getting their comeuppance.

I wish I had the answer. I just have the complaint. Complaining, after all, aren't I entitled?

Second draft blues

I'm not sure how other writers handle it, but the second draft of my second novel is so much harder than the first one. The first, for me, concerns story, so you're lay out the skeleton of the book, deciding who lives or dies or loves or seeks revenge. So far, good. But in the second, you're sculpting muscles and tissues, determining memories, adding landscape,charting backstory and future plans, in other words, you're playing Dr. Frankenstein.

My characters keep changing, especially at 3am, when sleep is nowhere to be found and all the mistakes of the day's writing are dancing in my head instead of sugar plums (what are they anyway?). Being open to change is good, but when it continues night after night, is that a sign that I don't know which direction to take? Or does it mean I'm flexible and able to shift when necessary, when the characters demand it? But if they keep shifting, they may steer me right into a padded cell.

God almighty, will I survive to do a third draft?

Writing in Public Spaces

While I really miss having a workshop, an alternative which really spurs the creative juices is writing in a public place, ie a coffee shop. Once a month a writing buddy and I meet and for a couple of hours forget about 2nd drafts that have put me in the doldrums or why-am-I-doing-it-in-the-first-place-blues. You decide on a prompt, time for ten minutes (more, not less) and let your imagination have free reign.

I recommend it to all writers, no matter what their level, or even if you are an absolute beginner. You start writing, keep your pen to the paper (for this I don't use a computer)and don't look up until your time is done. Natalie Goldberg first introduced me to this for a public place, during a writers' week in Taos, but Judy Reeves, The Artist's Way, my former mentor Janet Fitch, all have versions of the same thing. It's the going wild, no holds barred to your mind which makes it all so exciting. Ideas and riffs will jump out that you had no way of knowing lurked in your brain.

Try it, you'll like it.
P.S. All the writers I mentioned have books or blogs which suggest prompts if you need some help.

Yesterday was both sad and hopeful. Debbie Friedman, a force for healing and peace in the Jewish music world died much too soon. Her music brought us comfort, prayer and a closeness to a divine power all set to melodies which caused your heart to cry, to love, to heal. Her negum (melodies) are used in synagogue services all over the world, her concerts brought joy to millions. I only saw her live once, this past Rosh Hashanah, second day, when she joined the services at B'nai Horin. She talked about moving back to the west coast, her energy was so uplifting that you just knew the New Year would be a better one. But, alas, her year did not last past yesterday. However her spirit and her love will be inspiring people for generations to come. Rest well, Debbie.

To follow that news with a rally by Jewish World Watch to show solidarity with southern Sudan in its referendum for secession from northern Sudan, into its own independent country somehow felt fitting. We waved signs, made speeches and tried to rally the consciousness of the world that the vote must be peaceful and recognized after it's completed. Too many people get killed in too many places around the world, especially in Africa, for wanting democracy, the right to independence and a peaceful life. It's 2011, when will we ever learn and be better human beings?

It's a new year and I've decided to start the blog again. This time I won't expect anyone to follow it, it will just be my personal occasional comments on what I see. Sort of like the diary I kept when I was fourteen. I only did it for six weeks, but when I look at it now, I wonder if I've actually advance any.

I stopped my full-time job of publicity a couple of years ago and since then have been waging a one-woman war against the word "retired." If you're not working ( and have not summarily been let go or fired) do you really want that tag of retired stuck to you? I'm a writer, active in politics, involved in Jewish World Watch which supports projects to aid women and children in The Congo and Darfur, do animal observations at the LA Zoo and once a week mentor a schoolgirl in reading. And believe me, there's still time left over.

To me the word retired means you've given up, not participating in life. You can do that at age 20, you don't need to wait until you've stopped working. But why would anyone want to give up? We all get into a blue funk, but there's too much going on in the world that needs us, to stop everything.

The writing of course is the most important. I'm on the second draft of the second novel and feeling unsure about the whole process, but that's a blog for another day.

Susan Boyle, It's All Wrong

I'm a little late to jump on the bandwagon over Susan Boyle, but I'm not interested in talking about how I teared up when I heard her sing, or whether or not she's real or a hoax perpertrated on the world of YouTube. My concern is the cruelty that was extended to her, the sneers, the guffaws that were seen before she started to sing. The Guardian was quoted as saying that just becasue she's ugly, we shouldn't have assumed she couldn't sing, after all we don't hold ugly men to the same standards.

My problem is where do we all get off saying she's ugly, that she needs a makeover before we can applaud her. Even now people are betting on how long before she plucks the eybrows, is lasered, botoxed, cinched in, re-dressed according to our fashion trends. We're all patting ourselves on our backs because we were generous enough to allow this woman to enter our hallowed halls of beauty, even though we're hoping she changes fast enough so we don't have to deal with the chubby figure and over forty (heavens, it's closer to fifty) person of the female gender. Once she does, she becomes just another YouTube clip and we can return to our smug little lives.

Don't do it Susan. And keep those judges away from giving you your first kiss, as if they were handing out food to the hungry at a food pantry.

Birthday by the sea

I'm not quite a Pisces, I'm right on the cusp of Aires, but the ocean (actually any moving body of water) is like a meditation to me. Never learned to swim well, become panicked if my feet don't touch the bottom, but put me next to the surf or overlooking a fast-moving river and I can find my bliss. Given the opportunity and I totally zone out and go catatonic. Even knowing its limits, the ocean gives me the sense of infinity, which even the star-lit heavens can't.

So it's natural to want to see the ocean on or around my birthday (March 22 in case anybody actually reads this). This year it was Santa Barbara over Malibu and to say my spirits were lifted is a major understatement. The sound of gulls, the lap of waves, the deep green-blue color, the soft grey-blue sky, it's why we all came out to California and stay,- despite the traffic, the smog, the drivers who are bent on trying to occupy our lane even while we are still in the lane,- we're here and we're still standing.

Of coure I'm the person who when I lived in NYC, would go to sit overlooking the East River and watch the Pearlwick Hamper sign blink on and off, and think that combo was meditative. I told you I'm a sucker for any body of water that moves, but it does have to be bigger than my bathtub.

Go watch a wave, it's good for you!