Desert Places--the movie!

Awesome news for Blake Crouch--his first book, Desert Places, has been optioned by a very savvy, award winning, young director, Marc Wilkins. And Marc has hired Blake to write the screenplay.

This book is soooo dark, I had to keep putting it down--just to catch my breath, and keep my sanity. (Guess that part didn't work.) The movie promises to be deeply disturbing , but classy--how can it be anything else with the team of Blake and Marc? And I'm excited, because they're planning to film it in the Four Corners Area. I told Blake I'd love to be a go-fer, but forget about Kraft Services.

Hooray Blake!!!

Abandon

Wow...just realized my last blog was almost exactly like what I wrote ten months ago...have I been in a time wharp. Maybe a black hole. In any case, Blake Crouch came out with a new book, Abandon, a thrilling twisted story that takes place in the Four Corners in and around Durango, Colorado. Read it. Blake not only has one of the sickest imaginations I have ever come across, but the man can really write.

MOTA 9

My short story, Rock Bottom, will be published in the MOTA 9 anthology published by Triple Tree--currently downloadable at Amazon. The collection focuses on additions. I call the story fiction, but I have to admit I did a lot of research. Won't go into that here--that's why I'm in therapy. Not that I've ever been addicted to anything (or anyone) but some of my best friends... Okay, enough about that! Anyway, check it out: MOTA 9

Addicted to icecream, love and writing

Good news: my short story, "Rock Bottom," has been accepted for the MOTA 9 anthology. The topic is addiction. Never knew I was an addict till I wrote this story. Now I realize I'm hooked on icecream and love. What's the difference?

Lately I've been back to working on a novel--my fourth (or fifth). This one is contemporary psychological suspense. I done hours and hours of research--mostly by dating. Through dating I have learned just how insane I am.

And now I'm on facebook which is what spurred me to write this post.

Dark Night of the Blogger's Soul

This is blog, so once again I'm procrastinating instead of doing a rewrite or plotting a new novel.

I've been searching for my soul--which took a detour from the highway of my life about three years ago. Before my divorce, I knew where I was going, but my GPS leads me round and round on these back roads.

The first year I spent lost in ancient Rome while I wrote a romantic suspense novel entitled, Vestal Virgin, preferring to imagine being tortured and buried alive than face my current life. The feedback: good writing, but too dark. Too dark for the Roman Empire and Nero? Does that give you some insight on my divorced state of mind?

Then short stories started popping out. Dark (imagine that) comedies about the breakdown of my marriage and my attempts at dating after being with one man for twenty years. Six months of Match.com provided me with plenty of material.

The back roads turned to dirt and mud, then disappeared. Dragging myself from the bog, I clung to words of poetry. I wrote this while I was there:


How many noes?

How many noes
will be required
to dismantle our friendship?

How many questions
must be left hanging
in the night?

I remember making pasta,
kneading dough
as smooth as skin.

Water coming to a boil,
steam beading
on our foreheads.

Rivulets running
down my chest, your back,
as the pasta cooked.

Even in that rising heat
you never let me
quench your thirst.

How many noes
before we say goodbye
and really mean it?

Standing here,
in this Zen emptiness
I search the dark for yes.

"City of Joy" a poem

My driver wears a turban
and white gloves.
I stare out of the window,
sipping bottled water.

Fumes from burning tires
sting my lungs.
Through smoke,
an elephant appears.

People walk barefoot
along the highway
avoiding mud-holes
and construction.

Others peer from hovels,
plastic bags for rooftops.
Family and ancient gods
shield them from the elements.

A cow wanders
along the overpass
past billboard gurus
and Bollywood smiles.

Motorcycles, rickshaws, bikes,
women wearing rainbow saris,
beggars, dogs and businessmen,
no one stopping for red lights.

Back home in Colorado,
cars zoom along an empty road,
people locked inside,
buckled-up in safety-belts.

I press my nose
against the glass
attempting to get
closer to this life.

Craft Services: a great career for masochists in the movie industry

If you've been wondering what I've been up to (I know I've been wondering), I've been working on a movie called The PowerHouse Kids. It's a series of short webisodes that, strung together, form a half-hour movie to promote the Durango Discovery Museum at the PowerHouse--soon to be the home of an awesome science museum, for kids and adults. Very cool. Anyway, I wrote two of the episodes, so naturally I've volunteered to do whatever it takes to help this movie get made.

That's how I got roped into "Craft Services." Craft Services isn't basketweaving for the crew (although that might be appropriate), it's making sure that 40 people are fed for a week on a budget of $200 bucks. Did I mention I'm insane? Fortunately, Durangotangs are incredibly generous and the Discovery Museum is non-profit, so although begging for free meals takes time, it's do-able. I didn't realize, however, "Craft Services" is synonomous with SLAVE. Eight-year-olds demanding non-organic iced tea! (Sure, kid, I'll spoon in some fertilizer.) Adults throwing temper tantrums if their (FREE) lunch is a minute late. If you enjoy abuse and stellar egos, if your idea of fun is running to the supermarket a dozen times a day or spilling an entire carafe of coffee in your car (who needs aroma therapy?) or lugging around tables of food from one set to another(and then lugging them back again), Craft Services might be the ideal career for you.

Gotta go. I see that eight-year-old digging into the cooler in search of his second Rock Star.