Hmm

[joegoda]

Magic Eight Ball overdraft charges tell me I have been having way too much fun. Or... did I have just enough?

I'm wondering... do I have enough of an imagination to pull a novel entitled "Seven Miles to Normal" outta thin air?

I guess you could say I'm imagining if I have enough of an imagination. It seems odd to me, because this would be a 'whole cloth' type of book. Not based (much) on folks I know. Maybe. I dunno. This title seems to me to NOT be the type of book I normally write. You know... magic and fluff and stuff like that. The title tells me that it wants a semi serious look at a dysfunctional family, ala "The Royal Tenenbaums". A son, a sis, a mom, a dad, a dog. Probably a cat. Living in the sticks of (ahem) some repressed state, not exactly scraping by, but not expiring either. A drama free family, who get by on their wits and wiles, their humor and oddity.

Yeah. And then a stranger comes to call.

Yep. I guess I have the imagination, at that.

Edit: You know, it's just kinda neat when I get really good suggestions from my Family. Frankly, I likes 'em, I do.

Comments

[rowangolightly.livejournal.com]

Nope, she was about 70 which seemed immensely ancient to me back then. I was about 6 and she was simultaneously homey and fascinating. She was arthritic and so bow-legged that when she put her feet together, her legs shaped into a diamond and it must have been painful but she never once complained. She gardened avidly and cooked and baked; my first cooking lessons were at her house and that was where I first tasted rhubarb. I'd pick green peppers right off the vine in her garden and eat them right there.

What lovely memories...

[joegoda.livejournal.com]

Ahh... she sounds like a wonderful character! Do you think she'd mind if I borrow her for a bit?

[rowangolightly.livejournal.com]

I think she'd be delighted. She was such a hospitable soul and never minded me hanging around, which I did many days after school. She had lovely gray hair pulled back in a bun and wore old-fashioned gingham dresses that buttoned down the front, a bib apron and then usually a cardigan sweater over that. She was an absolute classic; gentle but strong, quiet but not meek, hard-working but not driven, smart but not froward. *grin* There's a word you don't hear used much any more.

And she had the picture of the old man praying up in her dining room, this one: http://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://www.gracebyenstrom.com/images/1grace_color.jpg&imgrefurl=http://glimpsingminnesota.blogspot.com/2007/09/culture-hidden-in-pines.html&h=281&w=350&sz=19&tbnid=D6Ga10uad82oIM:&tbnh=96&tbnw=120&prev=/images%3Fq%3Dold%2Bman%2Bpraying%2Bpicture&usg=__YYgew-7gAiqTejHJlVEIz1gPTZQ=&ei=cMrdSqzVAovcNY2i4fYN&sa=X&oi=image_result&resnum=4&ct=image&ved=0CBUQ9QEwAw
And I asked her if that was her husband, me being very young and naive. She chuckled and then patiently showed me that it was a print, not a photograph.

I learned a lot from that dear woman. Wish I had a picture of her.

[joegoda.livejournal.com]

I know that picture well. Thanks, Sis!