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Ooh, after the week I've had with babysitter woes, I have really been looking forward to my Friday post where I get to let my hair down, sit back, and ponder the inane, quirky habits of that ecelectic species, writer.

This week's spotlight gelled for me in a dream last night. I haven't had the best luck with working things out in the subconscious before, but man, last night, the stars must have aligned because when I woke up, what I dreamt actually made sense.

You might be a writer if...you swoon for writers like they were rock stars.

I mean the Leif Garrett/David Cassidy kind of swooning, where your heart gets up to some crazy erratic pace and your head feels so hot, you think you might lift off the ground or explode. Yep, that's what great writing does for writers.

Sound melodramatic?

Okay, maybe just a little, but what writer hasn't had that moment when a turn of phrase in a piece stopped them dead in their tracks. Where they sat there, saying it out loud, letting the words roll and bump across their lips as they savored the flavor of great writing.

And then became insanely curious to learn about the person who wrote that. So much so you, say, maybe googled them? Checked out their wikipedia page? Looked for interviews. Driven by the haunting memory of that amazing combination of letters and sounds that became greater than the sum of its parts.

I know. I'm swooning again.

I didn't used to swoon so for writers, not before I became one. I always read a lot, tons, but honestly, I wasn't all that into remembering author names. It was all about book titles, or even more simply, the story itself.

Now that I am a writer, now that I'm constantly working to improve my craft, I've become a closetcase fan of other writers. Then again, it may only be me who thinks my curiosity and interest is secret. I've seen my friends give me that funny look when I start going on and on and on about how I'd love to have Markus Zusak and his family over for a grill party. Kids would be playing on the swing set (I have no idea if he has kids. I do.) Spouses would get along great. And we'd talk about whatever. Not necessarily books, but life. I mean, who wouldn't want to kibbutz a little with the person who wrote:

As it turned out, Ilsa Hermann not only gave Liesel Meminger a book that day. She also gave her a reason to spend time in the basement - her favorite place, first with Papa, then Max. She gave her a reason to write her own words, to see that words had also brought her to life.
"Don't punish yourself," she heard her say again, but there would be punishment and pain, and there would be happiness too. That was writing.

Do you have a lighter lit and are waving it in the air like me? I mean, gees, that's just one line. The whole rest of the book is just as strong.

Zusak is just one example on my ever growing list of authors I'd love to meet and talk with. I don't mean interview talk. I mean Paris, early 20th century, Picasso taking on Modigliani talk. I mean, Hemingway vs. Fitzgerald. You know, arguing and debating, chewing and reforming and rewriting what makes good art in a seedy bar with a good French wine. They argued. They debated. They drank. They lived. They created. They changed the world.

God, what a time that must have been. An unending concert of ideas matching pitch and being reworked into something new and brilliant.

I'm swooning just thinking about it.

*****On a very little side note to rising fame and writer fortune, my book, Dragon Wishes, was an Honorable Mention in the San Francisco Book Festival this week. I feel like a rocker who's finally playing decent venues. Hopefully, one day, it'll be the Met.

No, not toe-tagged. Though that would be interesting, because that would mean I was writing from the grave. Nope, I've been tagged by Rachel to provide five random things about myself. Here we go!

1. In high school, I was an assistant manager at a fast food and as such, I got free food. I drank one milkshake of each of their four flavors every single day I worked. I gained fifteen pounds that summer.

2. I sat on David Cassidy's lap in the 1990s. I hung the photo on my bulletin board at work and told everyone he was my boyfriend.

3. When I saw Brian Regan this September, I made my husband hang outside the stage door with me until Brian came out. Brian gave me a hug, signed my program, and let me take a picture with him. It's all here.

4. In junior high, I signed up for the play just to get out of classes. I was the turkey.

5. I played drums starting in fourth grade. My career ended in eighth grade when I was constantly relegated to the bass drum or the cymbals, while the boys got to play the snares. I'd lost interest by that time, anyway--my drumroll was rather staccato, and those 10 lb cymbals were awfully hard to hold ("Hold them UP, Danette!) at football games.

In other news, my little mommy is leaving earlier than expected--she and new hubby have found houses on Florida's west coast they like. So, she leaves in the morning, but if all goes well, it'll then just be a two hour drive instead of that 24 hour drive to Michigan!

Hmm, almost forgot . . . who to tag, who to tag? So many victims friends to choose from. TAG! You're it: Courtney, Church Lady, Ello, Charles Gramlich, and Stephen Parrish. You'll still be my friends, right?

Hello LJ Friends, and Happy Valentine's Day! I'm going to get sappy here, because loads of other folks are getting sappy! I freely admit I love Valentine's Day and all the romantic hype. I'm completely and utterly into it. No apologies!

I'm waiting for the heart-shaped cake that I'm making for my children to finish baking before I go out and meet Ever-Supportive for a nice, adult, private, romantic, sans-kids lunch, so I thought I'd post in response to beberly  's question about teen crushes. I'm going to show my age here, but other than the Beatles (who transcend teen crushes), whom I fell totally in love with at age six, thanks to my brother's MEET THE BEATLES album (I still have it—on the original Capitol label), my first celeb crush was on David Cassidy when he played uber-cool Keith Partridge on "The Partridge Family," a megahit TV show in the late 1960s/early 1970s. I collected posters of him out of TigerBeat magazine and never, ever missed the show.

In honor of my first crush, and for any of you out there old enough to remember, here's a tribute to David Cassidy:
Thank you, David Cassidy, for being a perfect first crush. You could do no wrong in my world. Happy Valentine's Day!

I love thinking about love—and writing about love—both the teen kind and the adult kind. I have the fondest of memories of all my major boyfriends growing up, but I reserve all my lifelong love and passion and respect and laughs for Ever-Supportive, aka Carl, my husband of almost 15 years. Carl is the kind of husband every mother hopes their daughter ends up with for the long haul. He's handsome, smart, sweet and easygoing; he's a great father; and he makes me laugh every single day. He looks good in a tool belt and, better yet, he's VERY handy with wood, cars, technology and other things that sometimes need fixing. I can fix things, but I love knowing I don't HAVE to fix things. And did I mention that he makes me laugh every day? That's saying something. For Valentine's Day, so far, he has gifted me with a lovely card, a box of chocolates and a bag of Pepperidge Farm's Brussels cookies. 

[Ever-Supportive, being ever-supportive, is off buying milk and antifreeze for my car—milk for the kids, ha—so I'm editing to add that I also got JEWELRY this year, ha!  A gorgeous pair of yellow and white gold earrings with diamonds. He surprised me at lunch—the aforementioned quiet, sans-kids, romantic lunch. This is the first jewelry since Christmas '05, and it was worth waiting for, yes indeedy. He also got the kids boxes of candy, too. He's the bestest. If you're reading this, honey, I love me some Ever-Supportive!]



Thanks for being the best husband EVER! Happy Valentine's Day, Carl!


I also love my family and friends. I feel like one of the most fortunate gals in the world to have such a wealth of great friends and a nice family, too. We never, ever get trashy and fight on the holidays! A special Valentine's kiss to Susan, my same-age aunt, who has been with me from the cradle, through thick and thin! Here we are in (for me) thinner times:

 

Happy Valentine's Day, Susan!

And my children! Oldest Son, David, has called twice to wish me a Happy Valentine's Day. Jack and Chloe both gifted me with CARS Valentines that had lemon gummy-hearts in them. Those are the things that make life worthwhile!

So, the cake is out of the oven and cooling, and I want to throw on some lipstick and go meet my handsome Valentine for lunch, but I want to send big SMOOCHES out to all my LJ friends! I hope you have a wonderful day.

XXOO 
Candie