As I nervously looked into self publication (LULU, BLURB, MAC…) the thought occurred to me what corner must I cut to add this into my lack of scheduled lifestyle? My family, the two guys who I fed, reassured me that peeled apples and scrambled egg is dinner enough. I rolled my eyes at those two chow hounds knowing pasta with butter is their preferred meal when I am not around to cook, "You two don't peel apples." I laughed. Sacha chimed, "We have an apple slicer, remember."
Th apple slicer. Some teen age boys buy video games, or a tattoo. My son he bought an apple slicer. It was the section that cores the apple that thrilled him most.
Trust me, if I said he could have a tattoo he probably would do that too. I used the line that my parents used on me when I asked to do something they didn't agree about.. "As long as you live under this roof…" Then I said, "Please don't get a tattoo."
He has an apple corer.
How to cut an apple. How to write a book. It is the same, either you bite into it and wipe the juice from the side of your mouth with your sleeve, or you peel the apple, core it and slice it into even pieces. I am more of bite into it type person. Juice running down my face never bothered me. But a book…. I might need Sacha's apple corer. It is the heart, the center, the core that I want to expose. The heart, can one bite into it?
First one peels away the layers,
then dares to hold the tender beating flesh without bruising it.
(A photo I took of a small detail of a large painting in the Musee d'Orsay.)
Thank you for your overwhelming support. I love cheerleaders, the pom poms, the enthusiastic high kicks, the twirl of the skirt… I will be asking for your help… I will be asking you for your cheers. I will. I want to please everyone… don't we all (?) and as you know that is a hard game to play.
How to write a book. Grab an apple, sit down under a tree, take snapshots of the thoughts that come to mind.
Snapshot one:
I love the crunch that an apple makes when I bite into it. My mother eats the entire apple, the entire apple. I never ate the seeds.
Seeds. The beginning.
Snapshots, catching our thoughts, letting them weave in and out and eventually taking us to the center, the core… to the heart.
Such loving supportive comments. Thank you. I guess you do like my blog, or you really liked that little souvenir box!
Ed of Willows I am sending you the box. Your name came up, at first I thought, "How funny my beginning, Willows (!) It is symbolic." Then I thought, "My readers will think it was planned, it is too perfect…" then I thought, "Quit being Woody Allen and give Ed the box."
Thank you, thank you, thank you! I am off to sit under that tree with my MAC and seriously looking at Burb, Lulu and the other self publications.
Leave a Reply