Breakfast

 I remember my favorite breakfast.

My daughter, Nina, sat in the passenger seat, and we ate as I drove. We had a shiny black town car that the rental company had, by luck, upgraded from the simple sedan I had ordered. Before we left the parking lot, that luxurious vehicle had told me three times that I was too close to another car or a wall. Don’t you hate it when a car bosses you? 

 We had flown to Los Angeles, gone to Disneyland, then driven to San Diego to visit Sea World. We were driving back to L.A.

We waited until 11 a.m. that morning until Point Loma Sea Food take out or eat in restaurant opened.

We had lunch there many times when we lived in San Diego. We would sit outside in the sunshine with seagulls begging overhead and sea lions barking in the harbor. Although I had many lunches there, I had never ordered breakfast before. 

I ordered my favorite, a crab sandwich. 

 

“I’m in heaven,” I sang as we barreled up I-5. I’ve tried other crab sandwiches from other restaurants, but none comes close to Point Loma’s. It’s a simple sandwich, crab meat with tartar sauce (I get extra) on sourdough bread. That’s it. Iced tea and lemon completed the meal. It makes my mouth water just thinking about it.

 

 I could have called this chapter #Memoir, for that's what I’m talking about. I could have called the Avocados chapter “What to Write About,” But being a little obtuse can work once in a while. 

 

“I remember” is an excellent place to start.

  

You don’t have to wait until you’re old to write a memoir. Write one at 20, 30, 40-80, 90, and beyond.

 

Memoir used to be an old-folks genre, but not anymore. I was once told that nobody will read your memoir unless you are somebody famous like Shirley MacLaine. It’s different now. You can write many memoirs during your life. Do not begin with, “I was born”—you know the story, schooled, married, children. No, a memoir is that stop alongside the road to strip off your suit and bathe in that swimming hole you glimpsed as you almost drove by. 

 

 It’s those events that stop the clock.

 

 And remember, when you tell of events, it is living them all over again. If you end up crying, just wipe your nose with a Kleenex and keep the pen moving. 

 

This is your life. Make it a good one. If it was a bad one, you could write of that too. But whining—I’d suggest that is for your eyes only.

 

Traditional wisdom—Oh Lord, traditional wisdom has gotten us into more trouble than Timmy’s escapades on the Lassie show. Okay, here is traditional wisdom: “Without conflict, you have no story.”

  

Oh, how I’ve struggled with that axion. Conflict. The very thing we are trying to heal in our lives, we are called upon to write on paper. Some writers create such horrible events that when I read or see it, I think, “Do not put this into the world’s consciousness.” 

  

I know, I have trouble throwing rocks at my heroes.

 

 What about boy meets girl, boy loses girl, boy wins girl? Doesn’t that present challenges and tell us we need to work for what we want? 

  

Challenge. Yep, we all like challenges. Otherwise, we would sit around with our fingers up our noses, get fat, and wear out the couch. I tend to shy away from bad guys and wars as challenges and instead face life, which has challenges enough without having to fabricate them. I like adventure, which holds the possibility of having all hell break loose. If your adventure is sublime, it’s a vacation. 

  

We have how-to books on plumbing, golf, self-examination, and enlightenment. Even those have an element of story. 

  

I looked online at the ten most famous memoirs of today and found exquisite writing but talk about angst. It was there. I was envious of their turn of the pen, but not their troublesome life. I hope their writing served to heal their wounds.

 

 What if we write through the horror then leave it behind like footsteps in the snow? 

 

 By writing our lives’ events, we CAN come out the other side knowing we are strong, capable, and creative creatures.

  

Remember, old Zig Zigler said, “It’s your attitude, not your aptitude, that determines your altitude.”

Well, well, I tried to show you a minute video, Pebbles in the Pond, but this site had other ideas. It's a moment of calm, and pretty too. The reflection in the water was so perfect we had to throw stones into the pond to show you the water was real.

You can find it on https://www.youtube.com/JoyceDavis0001/videos

I would love it if you subscribed to my videos.

Or better yet, purchase a book--look what came yesterday:

A proof of my book, the girl on the Pier. the stripe across the title is to make sure I don't sell it. I approved it, the spine is in the right place, no unnecessary blank pages. I chose a misty, foggy cover for it is a bit of a mystery. 

The first mystery is that a customer offers two million dollars for the painting The Girl on the Pier. 

The second mystery is that when he views it, he says, "But that's not the painting, there is another."

This is a love story, and a search. On Amazon.

On the Horns of a Dilemma

 

You’ve heard of being on the horns of a dilemma—big rascal that he is. Not a good place to be. 

 

I was conflicted about the lady in the Assisted Living Apartment who I felt was being mistreated. (I wrote about it in my other blog, https://www.wishonwhitehorses.com) What to do? I was upset regarding her treatment. How much will I get the caretaker in trouble? I know people don’t act for those reasons. 

 

And then another dilemma. A publisher contacted me, saying they wanted to talk to me. I had submitted a manuscript to Europe Books because someone pointed out that they were taking submissions for a specific time frame where I fit. What the heck, I submitted a book based on ancient mythology that I thought might appeal to a European audience. I forgot about it until I got the email. 

 

The editor and I Zoomed for 40 minutes while this beautiful young Italian woman spieled off what she liked about my book. I was impressed that she had read it. She knew the names of my characters and named various scenes she particularly liked. She told me that it would be distributed in Italy, German, Portugal, and England. It would be taken to several book Fairs, submitted for awards, etc., etc. With my permission, she was going to present it to the deciding publishing group. 

 

The following day I received a contract.

 

All the things they were going to do for me, it sounded awesome.

 

The trouble was I had to purchase 200 books at retail price.

 

The books would sell for 14.90 GBP (British Sterling). That is $20.47. Total would be 2,980 GBP $4,094.81. 

 

If my book sells 500 copies, I will get that money back. 

 

I sat with it for a day. I thought, well, if you have a book professionally edited and with cover art, it would be that expensive. Two hundred books sitting in my garage? The chances of selling 200 books at $20.47 plus shipping is about like filling a colander with water to save it.

 

In publishing, a rule of thumb is, money should roll toward the author, not the other way around.

 

Thanks, but no thanks.