Vesuvius in YOUR Home

I've told ya'll about the new e-book publisher, SheBooks, right? They'll be publishing a bit of my writing in the next few months, but right now, right this instant, they've published my dear friend and writer extraordinaire Brittany Tuttle's (of Vesuvius at Home fame) novella. It's called Stone and Spring, and I have already downloaded it on my Kindle and read about half of it last night before finally having to go to sleep Like everything Brittany writes, it's gorgeous, tight -- lyrical and intense. And like nothing she's ever written (that I've read) or that's been written, maybe, by anyone, it's at once deeply feminine, childlike and just this shy of brutal. I felt, reading the first half or so, like I was unwinding a spool of film -- black and white -- the images transparent and haunting, an undercurrent of violence. But, hey, I'm not even finished with the book. I can't wait for tonight when I'll climb into bed and finish it, come up for air.

Go over to Shebooks.net and order yourself a copy.








P.S. That film analogy was a careful one -- I can imagine some unwitting person reading it lightly and then realizing that they're holding the next great independent film.

Stand in front of the mirror naked and admire what you see. Whatever you see. This flesh that curves and rolls like the earth. This decorated canvas upon which the world has painted the story of your life. 

from Sing Your Body by Brittany Tuttle 

The other evening when I sat and talked for hours with Brittany of Vesuvius at Home, at some point I lamented my lost girlhood, my aged-over beauty, the weight I'd gained, something dull and self-absorbed to that effect. Brittany was quick to chastise me for denigrating my body, and then we spoke of the brilliant piece she wrote a while back on her blog called Sing Your Body. Go read it now if you haven't, yet, and then come back. Brittany told me that I reminded her of a Bouguereau female. Bouguereau is a late nineteenth/early twentieth century realist painter of whom I knew nothing. Tonight, I remembered Brittany's comment and looked him up, found a series of beautiful paintings -- lush women, lovely children, portraits of great serenity and sometimes amusement. The first painting that I pulled up was this one:

What struck me was not my resemblance to the woman pictured (there isn't much) but the title of the painting which is Pleasant Burden. I thought, of course, of Sophie and my life with her, the paradox of burden and honor in the carrying of it. I then noticed this painting and thought of Sophie again:

When I saw the following painting, I thought that maybe, just maybe, I might have been a Bouguereau in another life, when flesh was exalted and burdens honored. This year I might just possibly exalt my own flesh, and at the very least, be amused by it. I will also honor my burdens more, recognize and reaffirm the dignity of carrying them lightly.

Day Four of Wringing Out the Gratitude

Today was an easy day to feel grateful because I personally met one of my favorite writers, Brittany Tuttle who blogs as Vesuvius At Home but also has a book up her sleeve and a short story soon to be published.  She drove up from her relatives' house where she and her family were staying, and I drove out to Santa Monica, and we hugged each other and were both sort of embarrassed and then we started talking, and we didn't stop for another few hours. I loved her immediately but especially so when she ordered a beer and chocolate cake. She ate some of my sweet potato fries, too. She's beautiful and brilliant and funny and sweet, and while I figured out that I'm old enough to be her mother (and NOT a teen-aged one!), she felt more like a little sister to me, and now I wish that she lived closer so we could talk some more. You know, I've met a handful of bloggers in person, and I've yet to meet one from whom I'd run away and hide. I'm grateful today for my perfect score of loving bloggers in person as well as on the page. And mark my words, you're going to be hearing about Brittany Tuttle one of these days, well beyond the scope of a moon, worn as if it had been a shell.

1. I'm grateful for my strong and healthy constitution.
2. I'm grateful for the card that Ms. Moon sent me of the Airstream trailer on the beach that now graces my blog and that is testament to our friendship.
3. I'm grateful for the opportunity to go to the movies on a Saturday afternoon, especially when it's a perfect movie about love, longing, regret and is directed by and stars Ralph Fiennes.
4. I'm grateful for my perfect score of loving bloggers in person as well as on the page and for getting to personally meet one of my favorites today, Brittany Tuttle.

Vesuvius and I

I thought that Skeeter was going to be my End of the World post, but this morning I woke up to howling, and for a split second, I thought it was here. The room was dark and for a few moments, I lay in bed and listened, carefully, as the howl began and stopped and then I realized that it was Sophie so I sat upright and then called out and The Husband, who was sleeping with Sophie, said it's all right, she's having a seizure, and by the time I walked the few short paces to her room, she'd stopped howling and just lay quietly. I left The Husband lying next to her and went back to bed, but about a half an hour later, it happened again, more howls, another seizure, a pale face, drawn turned sideways, her hands clammy, nearly wet, her limbs jerking, then loose, our hearts beating rapidly. That's it for today, I said quietly, willing it to be. It was time for the boys to get up, for the last day of school, and it wasn't the end of the world. I wasn't going to write anything this morning, but the writing calms me, the words out, the fear dispelled. Did you know that I fear my child's death each and every day and each and every day I dispel it through writing? Fear, confronted head on, acknowledgement, is a wisp then, a returning to earth, to dirt, to cloud and to sky.

I read Vesuvius this morning (no pressure, dear friend and fellow writer) and felt my fears dissipate into the cold blue sky Los Angeles morning.

May the long time sun shine upon you. 

All love surround you.

And the clear light within you

Guide your way on. Guide your way on. 

That's it for today. And it's not the end of the world.

 

 

 

Drum Roll, Please...

image via Stromboli Online

An autographed copy of Barbara Abercrombie's book A Year of Writing Dangerously is awarded to:

Vesuvius at Home

for her writing advice to:

Just sit down and write, dammit.

Vesuvius has a remarkable blog that you should definitely check out -- she is, apparently, taking her own advice because her writing is inspired, hilarious and intensely personal. 

I had a difficult time choosing one comment for the giveaway, though, and even the author of the book, Barbara, left a complimentary comment on everything that you all had to say. If I could I would give each of you a book, but instead will encourage you to purchase one for yourself. Honestly, I'm delving into it nearly every day for inspiration and interesting, relevant quotes. 

Now, get out there and write, dammit!