Lovely day, crazy weather, and chocolate

Yesterday it was shirt-sleeve weather--in the seventies; today it was in the low fifties with a cold wind in spite of sunny skies; tomorrow it will be in the seventies. Welcome to North Texas. Still it was a lovely, lazy day--grocery store, household chores--including changing linen on the guest bed. I hate to make beds so I do it by stages--put pillow cases on, several hours later, put sheets on. Still have to put the comforter, pillows, and decorative blanket in place.
No news to anyone but dieting sometimes makes you very hungry. I fixed myself a lovely lunch of one deviled egg, hearts of palm, and brown rice and flax crackers with hummus--healthy, no? But I went back and had a banana, and then, because I was writing a guest blog about chocolate, I had some chocolate--third piece I've had since New Years. Tonight I had two small new potatoes, a bit of spinach and a half hamburger--still hungry. Had blueberries. And I'm still hungry! Discovery: when you cook hamburgers in salt, as I do (my mom taught me that) blue cheese makes them too salty.
But I had fun this afternoon researching a blog on chocolate and writers--actually didn't come up with as much as I expected, but chocolate, for all its possible negative effects--obesity, migraine, etc.--is a "feel good" substance. Debate rages: does it make us feel good because of it's so rich, sensual, creamy, gratifying, dense, and silky smooth--or because it has flavonoids and caffeine and actually gives us a chemical boost? Now to apply that to writing--in 500 words.

Watching Cinderella

Yesterday in the car Jacob and I watched Cinderella. Surely I saw the same Disney verison when my kids were young, but it struck me as all new, somthing I had never seen and was charmed by. The characterizations are great, and you can't help but be fascinated even by the wicked stepmother. And when Cinderella's dress for the ball is torn by her wicked stepsisters, you ache for her. But the character I found most fascinating was the good fairy godmother, who creates her ball gown and pumpkin coach. The good fairy is a bit ditsy, forgetful, wondering where she put her magic but oh, so good hearted and kind and motherly. Watching it with more fascination than Jacob did I thought this is how you get characters for novels. You could transform the tired, time-worn Cinderella theme into a modern romance or even throw in a murder (the wicked stepmother?) and make it a mystery. I probably won't try that, but I do plan to work the fairy godmother into a book sometime, probably without the magic powers but still ditsy and loving and comforting and maybe solving all problems. I remember one of my mystery manuscripts that went nowhere, and it had a character much like that. I always loved her and was charmed by her, so I think I'll bring her to life again somewhere, sometime. To me watching Cinderella was a classic example of where authors get ideas for characters. And, hey, I was really into that movie. Monsters I didn't like to much, though the premise is pretty cool.
Today I went about the business of getting back to routine--lunch with my friend Fred to give him a manuscript to read. We ate at Cafe Aspen, a favorite restaurant that has recently changed hands, and I was interested to see the new layout and menu. I had sliders of a beef/pork/game mix, and Fred had crab cake sliders. Both good. But I missed David, the former owner and a good friend. Then next door to get a haircut, and on to Central Market, which was a zoo of people shopping for New Year's.Tonight I finally unpacked my suitcase and a paper sack of Christmas presents, wrote thank you emails to my children, and began to get a handle on being back in the routine.
The holidays are a time to gain weight, and I don't want to crow prematurely, but I actually lost about 3-4 lbs. I did watch what I ate but there are times on a trip when you just can't be careful. I expected to have gaied 5 lbs., so imagine my joy when I stpped on the scale this morning! Tonight I had a great dinner with few points--sauteed mushrooms, snap peas, and scallions, mixed with lightly floured and sauteed bay scallops. But I had to eat a bit of all that chocolate given to me for Christmas. Why did my kids fill my stocking with chocolate?

Rejection and chocolate

aSisters in Crime has a subgroup known as Guppies (Going to be Published) with a listserv called AgentQuest. Getting an agent to represent your work is as big a deal or maybe bigger than writing the darn thing. Well, I've been writing away, making a few desultory marketing attempts--got two requests for what are called partials (30 pages) but no more response. So when one agent was favorably discussed on Agent Quest, I decided to query her last night. Through a mail mix-up and the limited system I have at home, it was this morning before I sent the query. I had a gracious, lovely rejection within less than two hours, mostly based on the fact that a realtor was not a compelling enough figure to attract an editor. Gulp! I've written a book and a half about this realtor, and I like her.
So I told the story on the listserv and got comforting replies, most of which said don't jump ship. The Guppies standard reaction to rejection is "Eat chocolate" so I mentioned that I had eaten some chocolate (with jalopenos and ground peanuts) and a couple of them said if the novel was as interesting as the chocolate I should have no problem. I know it's early in the querying game--some of these ladies have 50 or more queries out but a lot of times you get no reply. Still I was really let down. Tonight I'm resisting having more of that chocolate--after all my stash has to last the week until I can get back to Central Market.
You can't be a writer if your skin is thin. Tonight I'm also going to work on a new blurb that begins, "Kelly Jones is no ordinary realtor." That seems a bit trite, but it's a starting point. As I've said over and over, writing mysteries has a real learning curve--maybe I should say "marketing mysteries."

Love and chocolate and other matters

Paula Dean said on a recent show that the feeling you get from eating chocolate is the same feeling you get from falling in love. Hmmm--food for thought, especially for a chocaholic. But I'd been thinking about love the other day and the fact that in my life there've been three men I was really in love with. Okay, one is my ex, but one of the others was before and the other was after and both of them stand out more in my memory now than the good days with the ex. Doesn't take a genius to figure out that bad times cancel good. But I was thinking, without a lot of regret, that those days are behind me, that kind of passionate, all-consuming love doesn't come when you're seventy. And maybe that's okay--my hormones aren't raging any more, and I have some wonderful memories. And I can always eat chocolate and test the theory.
I'm supposed to be proof-reading but I have managed to kind of piddle away the day. I did have a yoga lesson and Elizabeth, my student-turned-teacher, said frequently, "Very nice. You've been practicing." And indeed I have. My down dog was good today. I can't remember the other thing that elicited that practicing comment, but I was as proud as a third-grader who brought home an E for excellent. But I've spent much of the day with a Lillian Stewart Carl Scottish mystery, The Secret Portrait. It's basically about an American who has deluded himself to think he's the inheritor of Bonnie Prince Charlies' claim to the throne--and it's none too complimentary about Charlie's delusions of grandeur which cost many Highlanders their lives. I did a quick bit of research and found that my clan, the MacBains, were among Charlie's supporters. I presume a bunch of them died on the field. I'll have to go back and look because I know there was one MacBain (Red MacBean?) who covered himself with glory but I think it was an earlier battle, perhaps Stirling Bridge. Then I got a mailing from Clan MacBean today and it occurred to me I ought to enroll my oldest son in the clan. He, who wants to go to Scotland with me, is the obvious inheritor of the Scottish tradition in the family.
I also whiled away the time taking an appetizer to Jeannie, so we could sit on the patio over wine. She's one of the few people I know who appreciates pickled herring like I do. I bought a jar on impulse this morning in Central Market and we sat there saying, "That's so good!" I left the jar and crackers, so I can go back tomorrow and have more, when I take them dinner. I came home tonight and fixed myself Dover sole--the most delicate delicious fish I know. I floured it lightly sauteed it and then dressed it with a butter/lemon sauce. It was lovely, accompanied by fresh asparagus.
But now I ought to get to proofing. You know what? I have to finish that mystery first.