Patti is a contributor to the Southern Authors blog A Good Blog is Hard To Find.


Monday, November 24, 2008

The Reasons


Sometimes we don't know why we love someone, something, someplace. And maybe we don't always need to know the "why" of love. But I love Charleston and Isle of Palms (where I am right now). I was blessed enough to be asked to participate in a book signing to benefit the Center4Women her in Charleston, S.C. (at the Citadel). This organization does amazing things -- check out their website (www.c4women.org).

SO, I thought I'd make a top ten list of the reasons I love this area, but I decided pictures were more fun today...I can show you why this place touches my heart and why creativity begins to flow into the dry places of my life....

Here we are -- my daughter, Meagan, Karen Zacharias, Me grinning like a goofball, Sandy Kidd and Sue Monk Kidd.

Meagan had JUST seen The Secret Life of Bees movie and she was thrilled to meet the author! Now maybe she'll think I'm cool -- Ah, not so much...

Here we are -- Me, Anne Rivers Siddons and Karen Zacharias. Now let me say this about the amazing Anne Rivers Siddons -- she is one of the reasons I write novels, yet she is also the reason I ALMOST didn't write novels. She so inspired me when I was a young woman in college; her words were eloquent, lyrical and her stories rich with poetry. I wanted (still do) to DO that, to write stories that moved a soul as hers did. Then the fear that there would be no way to do it as perfectly as she does froze me for years. Finally I realized that 99 percent of the writers out there can't touch Anne's work, but that doesn't stop them. Why should it stop me?

It didn't...




Sunday, November 2, 2008

For the Love of Words

I know. I know. I haven't "blogged" in quite a while. I get the emails, and I'm sorry.
I am finishing next summer's book -- DRIFTWOOD SUMMER -- and, as usual, the final stages of a book have consumed me.

During this time, I often must explain to my family and friends why I have disappeared, become a hermit within my words and story. I say how much I love words and putting them together. But nothing explains this better than my ten year old son and the exchange we had two days ago.

He comes to me with his adorable face and missing teeth and ten year old voice and says, "Mom, I've heard this word on TV a few times. It is the best word -- the way it sounds and the way it feels when you say it."

My response? "Huh?" But inside I'm thinking, "On TV? This can not be good."

"Anyway," he says, with an eye roll at my inane reply. "I think I am going to try to use this word a lot. I used it with my coach today and he laughed."

"Great," I say. "Can I ask what the word is?"

"It's really fun. Ready?"

I nod and hold my breath -- I mean, really, he's already said it to his coach.

"Nincompoop."

"That," I say, "Is an awesome word."

"Isn't it? It sounds funny and feels funny to say it."

I hug him.

This is it -- this is where the love of words begins and how much fun is that?





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