EXPOSURE

"Avoiding danger is no safer in the long run than outright exposure." (Helen Keller)

Maybe I'm a bit old to think of being brave and bold. But as far as my writing is concerned, there are no limits--or there shouldn't be.I want the exposure it takes to grab the attention of an agent. I need the exposure of book faires to get my writing into the hands of readers. But those opportunities are not as forth coming as I suppose they should be.

Is it because I'm fooling myself with the thought that I am truly a writer? Are my expectations pie in the sky? Am I worthy of having a name readers will remember?

I need to trust myself. I should remember how successful I have been with this craft I love. I lost count at the 300 mark of short stories, personal essays, articles and poetry published. I know some people are well-known, are making a lot of money, and spend their every hour writing on a computer or in their head. I haven't done that as I have a personal life that is as important to me as my writing. I love words and making them sparkle and reach out to grab readers. But I love my hubby, too, and there is so much more I enjoy in life.

What I do, whom I love, and where I live is part of the development of my whole life. I have always had highs and lows--great moments of discovery, wonderful spells of happiness, or others of depression, and long spells of contentment--and now realize how happy I am with my life in general as it is today. I am attempting to have this same contentment out weigh the down times in my writing.

No matter how old I am, I want a well-rounded life as long as we are able to sustain it. I have new concerns about my husband who is fifteen years older than I; his age is working against him in a few areas. But he is so "up", ready to travel, willing to tag along with me to my writing functions (or go play pool while I mix with other writers and readers), and maintains his same teasing, funny self. I want us both to continue to pack "life" into our remaining years together.

I hope to pack this same life into the writing I yearn to do. Even though the economy has tanked, all but six big name publishers have drown in red ink and closed shop, and few agents want to represent anyone that doesn't have a famous name and a bizillion books sold under their belt, I am still working on a manuscript, a chapbook of poetry, several articles, and dreaming of discovering the next great idea.

Under the circumstances, does this make me brave and bold?

WRITER CRITIQUE SITE

I continued to read the ads for this writer site in all the major writing magazines. I thought I would take a look at it, see what it was all about, maybe even post some of my writing and see what kind of feedback I received. That may have been a mistake.

There are interesting genres--short stories, books, poetry of all kinds, and I spent hours sampling them all. I read and commented, added what I thought was great about the work and, if noted, gave suggestions for editing the work.

I submitted the first, then the second, chapter of my novella, "Trusting Strangers" and had some good critiques. Several really good writers/readers picked up on a couple of goofs and made a suggestion or two. I appreciate it and learn from each one who does that.

The mistake is that I could very easily get hooked on this writing/commenting/submitting thing and never get any other writing done. So, readers, will you keep me in your thoughts, try to remind me that obsessions aren't allowed for women who have much too much on their plate already? Help me stay on this writing path and be serious about it. There is no time to allow a critique site to become too much fun. I must show restraint.

I guess I could not sign on, couldn't I?

THE LOST VALENTINE

I have meant to write about this movie for television earlier but that Nook is addictive and I have been filling my extra time with researching a nonfiction inspirational book that has been hovering in my mind for several years. It may get off the ground--at least the beginning--soon.

Last Sunday I proved to myself once again that I'm a sucker for down home, sentimental, cry-at-the-end movies. I also confirmed my love for Betty White as an actress is not misplaced. She may be 88--or is it 89?--but she hasn't slipped a bit.

I always enjoyed her for years when she was a panelist on a rather silly game show. She kept me in stitches as the homemaker/cooking TV lady on The Mary Tyler Moore show, and dingy Rose was a perfect character on the Golden Girls. But too many of us remember those hilarious parts and don't give her credit as a serious actress.

"The Lost Valentine" was predictable, to a point, I will admit. Parts of the story were standard but Betty White's portrayal was anything but. As the widow of a WW II soldier, MIA in Asia for over sixty years, her character was very real-life and touching.

I won't spoil the story, or the ending, for anyone who might watch the reruns of this movie, but I will urge anyone who likes a "feel good" story to see it. "The Lost Valentine should become one of the classics, shown every February to prove once again that true love never dies. Heaven knows, we have seen enough of those Christmas movies shown over and over each season; let's have some favorites for other seasons, too.

Betty White's smile isn't the only thing that shines through the screen. Her heart is right there for all to see.

LACE

My creative writing class tomorrow will get the word lace as a prompt to write in class. When I started them writing in class the first Wednesday of each month, there were some grumbling comments from more than one. Now it is one of their favorite classes of the month.

Last February we wrote using the word hearts; that was fairly easy for all of us. I wrote about the time we were living in a townhouse-type apartment while a new home was being completed. One bedroom was filled with extra furniture and one side of the garage was stacked eight high with boxes. We vowed not to buy each other anything for Valentines, not even a card. So I didn't. He didn't either. But he spent a lot of time secretly cutting out and coloring hearts which I found strewn all oer the living room, dining area and kitchen on Valentine's Day.

This year I thought my students needed something a little tougher. They've progressed quite nicely with their spontaneous writing and I think they can handle this one. The word I'm giving them can be lacy anything: trim on Valentines, a lace-trimmed wedding dress, a favorite piece of heirloom lace from a relatives blouse or bonnet.

Or maybe someone will write about one of their favorite movies, Arsenic and Old Lace."