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Showing posts from October, 2010

My Muse Appears in Strange Places

The following message is posted on all the dumpsters in my apartment complex:

Make $500 This Week
Call or Text Me Today!

So, if you read my memoir, and you're a smart ass, you're probably thinking, "Jen, don't call!" But, my friends, I'm glad to say that even my younger self wouldn't have called that number. Dumpster advertising has never seemed very alluring to me as a person. As a writer, however, I see it as an opportunity for an interesting short story.

Should I call? Hmmm.... I might inquire, in a highly-distorted voice, out of sheer morbid curiosity. My bet?  The sign's author is either looking for an "actress" or a "good sales person".  Maybe s/he is soliciting an investment with a big, quick return. If I call, the answer just might come up in a new story soon ~

Part II

I admit, it is not out of the realm of possibility that HST had someone answering his mail, shooting off quick emails to crazy fans, but don't tell my younger self such a thing! Actually, I'm pretty sure it was him. There was a precise but rambling cadence to his response that called to mind familiar, published work.

If memory serves, my letter to him began with praise, digressed into my own intentions to become a writer of his caliber and then offered some needless but calculated political commentary, slanted to (I thought) his liking.  (I kissed some serious writer ass, in other words.)  In a desire to sound far more intelligent--or perhaps well-read--than I was, I had consulted my combination dictionary/thesaurus many times during the letter's construction.

I can honestly say, I spent more time and energy on that letter than I did any of my collegiate assignments in undergrad. I toiled! So, when I saw an unfamiliar email with the subject "Your Letter" (spam wa…

One Writer's (Crazy) Beginnings

Part I
When I began my college career, I was placed in remedial English. The fact that I was a high school drop-out probably had something to do with this. Curiously, it was in this first college English course that I realized I wanted to be a writer. What’s more, after passing remedial English, passing the required English courses every student must take, realizing that I actually enjoyed reading (something I had selectively forgotten for quite a few years), and then deciding to major in English, I became rather fanatical about a very selective group of writers I admired.

At the time, there were two writers I idolized above all others: Maya Angelou and Hunter S. Thompson. (Both of whom I would later have some interaction with.) Hunter S. Thompson because I was a drunkard at the time, and he was pretty much the ideal role model for a drunkard; further, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas was probably the only movie I ever bothered to memorize lines from. As my roommate and I cruised for pa…

Show a Ginger Some Love

Even gingers…

Redheads, like any minority, have taken quite a few punches throughout history.  People either love them or hate them (why so extreme?). 

Also, redheads--and this is important if you are one--have a higher chance of suffering certain diseases and ailments (see below--it goes beyond skin cancer, people).
Facts & Rumors
In Denmark it's an honor to have a redheaded child. 
In Corsica if you pass one on the street, you spit and turn around. 
In Poland it's said if you pass three redheads, you'll win the state lottery. 
In ancient Egypt redheads were sacrificial victims buried alive in homage to the god Osiris. 


Robert Rubenstein, Author of GHOST RUNNERS [Insert warm welcomes and niceties here.  Now, getting right to the interview, here's Robert.... the author of an amazing new novel.  I'm going to drill him, so tune-in.]

How did you become involved with the subject or theme of your book? When I was in my teens, I met a girl whom I loved. In her house, at night, I discovered some of the secrets of a kiss. I also heard the sounds of her father moaning loudly in his sleep. Laughing, my girlfriend told me it was just the war and the camps and the memories of death. So, as a teenager, I was introduced to Nazis. Almost thirty years ago, I learned of the story of two American Jewish Olympic runners who were not allowed to compete in the Berlin Olympics of 1936. Had it been German anti-Semitism, it would have been understandable. But it was Americans, not Germans, who took their only Jewish Olympians off the team. The questions plagued me: Why? Could history have been changed, the ensuing Holoc…