Some of my favorite things to discuss are characters and poetry, so it’s logical that I’d want to combine the two — since our topic this week is a ‘free space’.

 Vivid Pictures
            As writers of fiction, we are tasked to create vivid ‘pictures’ of our characters.  The better we do so, the more engrossed our readers can become.  Whether readers ‘like’ our characters is less important than making those characters compelling and appropriately motivated.
            In this poem, written nearly 20 years ago, I present a female character who was ‘inspired’ by a composite of at least three different people.  It was never my intention to write her into a novel, but it occurred to me (today) that the characters we create often begin with relatively few lines … or just a short scene.  Or maybe a few snippets strung together … as in this poem.
            In fiction, the reader would have a lot more exposure (than 25 lines) with which to form opinions.  But bear with me for a few moments and let’s ANALYZE this character:

               Shillelagh
          By Jeffrey L. Salter

 Once he was proud oak,
strong and limber.
        But she needed a shillelagh,
and picked him
to be trimmed, shaped
            … cured.

 She used him only when needed:
(often merely as context
but frequently as an ornament).
        Sometimes he was her cudgel
for defense or for
                aggression;
one day he’d probably
        have to kill. 

Habitually, she trained her gaze
        beyond him
to keep lookout
for a likely replacement —
Blackthorn, if she could find it.

 Over time he became brittle:
               his remaining life
spent in her trunk
… with expired flares,
a deflated spare
        and the jack she could not work. 

Published in:  Sunday at Four — Vol. 3 No. 3 (Fall 1994). 

            Now, I don’t expect readers of this blog to actually respond to each of these questions.  My point is:  as writers, we should exercise our analysis ‘muscles’ when we create our characters.  We should ponder how our readers will perceive these characters.
            So, consider these questions … and please respond to any ONE (or more) that you wish. 

She / Her
* Is ‘she’ the villain?  Or could she be the heroine (after she gets through her ‘GMC’)?
            What is her Goal?
            Motivation?
            Conflict?
* How ‘aware’ do you suppose she is of her own behavior?
* What in her background may have shaped her behavior / attitude … toward men?
* Why did she feel she needed a shillelagh as a mate? 

He / Him
* What’s your take on this guy’s personality?
* What is his Goal?
            Motivation?
            Conflict?
* Could he actually be her ‘cudgel’ … but also her doormat?
* Why does he think he may one day have to kill for her?
* What in his background may have shaped his action / reaction … toward such a woman?
* How does he likely feel, knowing that she’s constantly looking for his replacement? 

General questions
            Could you see these two characters in a novel?
                        Would you WANT to read more about them?
            What would be the best GENRE for this ‘couple’?
            If these two characters were in a novel that you had to write … what would your title be?
            What other questions come to your mind about these two characters?

The first time I nearly drowned, I was five. And I was at swimming lessons. It was the last day of classes and we were supposed to dive off the diving board and swim to the shallow end of the pool. Being afraid of heights and a bit of a control freak even at such a young age, I came up with the bright idea of jumping in from the side of the pool, swimming to the middle, and making a 90 degree turn to swim to the shallows.

The plan was sound. My execution sucked. I didn’t take a 90 degree turn, but more of a 35 degree turn and ran head first into the other side of the pool…you know, concrete. I don’t remember much after that except waking up in the shallows with the instructor holding me and having a bit of a freak out. That was the first time.

Fast forward about 13 years and I was swimming at a hotel pool with my brother and two cousins. The pool was only about 6′ deep at the most, but at 5’4″, that’s enough to make for a serious problem. Especially when I was swimming with a cousin who didn’t know how to swim. (Not that I’m an expert, as per the story above.)

I never realized how strong my younger cousin was until she freaked out over the depth of the water and grabbed me. She pushed me down to hoist herself above the water. I remember my feet touching the bottom of the pool, looking up at the skylight above the water and thinking, “I’m going to die at the bottom of the Holiday Inn pool.”

Luckily, my brother is stronger than all of us. He managed to shove my cousin away to let me come up for air. But then she did it again! By that time, I vowed never to go in the water with her again and went sit my water-challenged butt in the hot tub.

So yeah, water and I? We’re not on the best terms. Which really sucks because I’m surrounded by water, I work on the water, I love to fish. See where this is a problem? Ah well, I remind myself that as long as my cousin isn’t around and I don’t go ramming my head into things, my butt (my internal floatational device) will surely save the day.

I also signed a contract for a new novella with Secret Cravings Publishing on Monday. And I’m guest blogging two places: http://www.caseycrow.com/blog/ and http://ldee2010.wordpress.com/

Tuesday is a two-fold celebration day. First, for the world at large, it’s Mardi Gras, which means Fat Tuesday- the last day before the Lenten season begins. Now, I’m a plain old Methodist and we don’t go in for all that stuff, but it is a fun time. I used to be in two Mardi Gras krewes (clubs) but resigned from both this year because I got tired of the women in them- it seemed like someone was always mad about something and the tension would be unbearable, so I decided life would be easier without it. I do miss some of the activities but not the drama.

The second celebration for today is my favorite actor of all time is having a birthday today!! Happy Birthday to Alan Rickman. Here’s hoping he has many more and keeps taking on roles so I can admire him.

Wednesday is Ash Wednesday, which starts Lent. I used to think it was cool when I was a kid that my Catholic friends went to church and had the ashes placed on their foreheads. Again, the Methodists don’t do that. I’m fascinated by all types of rituals and religions and love to learn all about the different traditions.

Thursday and Friday aren’t holidays to my knowledge but I’m expecting a great day at least for Thursday. One that has been a long time in coming. I’ve got a hearing that is going to finally end a case that has been going on since 2008 and I’m the big winner.

Leaving you with a happy dance from one of Alan’s films. Happy Birthday, happy new contract for me and happy Fat Tuesday! Kick up your feet and dance!

This week the topic is a time when we were scared to death and feared for our lives.  Unless I’m wrong, in which case I fear my blogmates are going to kick me off for good.  Please don’t!  Incidentally, my greatest brush with death – aside from when I was a kid and really ticked off my parents – involved an airplane.

“Folks, this is the captain speaking.  We have a small problem.”  Um.  No.  You don’t.  If you feel the need to tell me about it, it’s no longer a small problem.  It’s a major problem.  “We think it’s just a burnt out light bulb, but the indicator light for the landing gear is not coming on.”  We’re 10,000 feet in the air.  No.  This is NOT a small problem.  “The tower is going to have another plane fly under us to take a closer look.”  So what am I supposed to do?  Look out the window and wave as it passes by?

Now this was back in 1993.  I had just left Florida (my real home) to fly back to California (my temporary Navy-assigned home).  I remember my mom crying at the airport as if it were the last time she was ever going to see me again.  I remember thinking how ridiculous she was behaving.  And then the captain came on with his so-called small problem.  About an hour before, the gal in the window seat next to me asked me how much long the flight would be because she was jonesing for a cigarette.  (This flight was from Charlotte to Los Angeles.  The middle segment of a JAX-CLT-LAX-SFO ticket.)  Now, I don’t smoke, but after what happened after the captain’s little announcement, I was ready to take up a new vice.

So after the other plane checks us out, “Nice tail,” the flight attendants start doing their little bit about emergency procedures.  You know the one about exits, seat belts, and all that stuff they do where no one pays attention at the beginning of the flight?  Well this time we paid attention.  Then they had us PRACTICE unlatching our seatbelts.  We were also shown brace positions.  And when we got the signal, we had to assume those positions.

“BRACE! BRACE!  HEADS DOWN, STAY DOWN!  BRACE! BRACE!  HEADS DOWN, STAY DOWN!”

It’s been 19 years, and I still recall the tears and the fears going through me all at once.  I kept telling myself, “It’s just a burnt out bulb.  We’re going to be fine.  Oh my god, what if we’re not?  Mom acted like it was the last time I’d ever see her.  What if it was?  Oh god.  I’ve only been married 2 months.  I’ll never see the love of my life again.  I want to live.  It’s just a burnt out light bulb.”  Repeat several variations of the same mantra.  I felt ridiculous for crying.  I think I scolded myself as reassurance that everything would be okay.  But this was all I could picture:

Our landing was one of the smoothest I’ve ever had and the cheer that erupted when we touched down still gives me goose bumps.  I remember looking out the window and seeing all the firetrucks following the plane to the terminal.  I remember the flight attendant’s shaky voice as she tried to do her usual end-of-flight spiel.  I remember getting off the plane and stopping at the bar for a vodka and cranberry and the bartender’s question.  “Would you like to make that a double for only a dollar more?”  Did I look that bad?  And where was my cigarette-needing seatmate?  I was ready to buy her a drink in exchange for one of her cigarettes.  I answered, “Hell, yes.”

The funny thing is that I still had to get on another plane immediately after that.  And I did.  And I was fine.  And shocker of shockers…I still love to fly.

            Not quite sure what to write about during this week of Valentine’s Day, I looked up my blog from this time last year: 

http://fourfoxesonehound.wordpress.com/2011/02/17/valentine%e2%80%99s-day-in-retrospect/

 That was me recalling (among other things) my most notable childhood crush. 

            Our actual topic is “Favorite romantic movies / books / songs.”
            Well, I covered my favorite romantic movies in one of my very first blogs here at Four Foxes One Hound:  they are “Love Story”, “Romeo & Juliet”, and “Dr. Zhivago”.  For a bit about my reasons, please read that column: 

http://fourfoxesonehound.wordpress.com/2011/02/10/movies-that-got-to-me-or-still-do/

             Right now, my favorite romantic novels are – quite immodestly – my own manuscripts [HA!]… and our analysis will have to wait until after they’re published.
            That leaves my favorite romantic songs, which is also the portion of our topic which Founding Fox Jillian and Cajun Fox Danica have covered earlier this week. 

Favorite romantic songs
            Besides the theme songs from the three movies I mentioned above, here are several which (in no particular order) tug at my heart-strings:
            * Bridge over Troubled Water (Simon & Garfunkel)
            * Leaving on a Jet Plane (Peter, Paul, & Mary)
            * Love is Blue (Paul Murat)
            * This Guy’s In Love With You (Herb Alpert)
            * several songs by the Beatles
            * 3 or 4 songs by Neil Diamond
            * 2 or 3 songs from their Greatest Hits album (Bee Gees)
            * 2 or 3 songs by Abba
            * 2 or 3 songs by the Righteous Brothers
            * 2 or 3 songs by Billy Joel
            * 1 or 2 songs by Shania Twain
I’m sorry I can’t recall some of the specific titles by the groups (or individuals) above, but just knowing their names will tell you what kind of music sends me.
            There are more artists I can’t even think of at the moment, but when I hear their songs, my heart listens intently. 

Question:
            Who are your favorite artists for romantic songs?
            Which song(s) would top your list?

No, I didn’t dress up all Western, but I dreamed about cowboys and sang along with every song that came on the local country music station. Then one day, on my way to class when I was in college, this song came on the radio. It was the first time I’d ever heard Tim McGraw and the song was “Don’t Take the Girl”.

I sobbed all the way to campus. It was awful! I mentioned on another group blog this week that I’m not into sappy love stories or movies. I’m just not. Crying is not a favorite pastime of mine, so after I had a nervous breakdown because Johnny’s girl died…well, I switched from country music to alternative rock. I don’t cry for heavy metal songs (okay, there’s one song that gets me every single time, but it isn’t necessarily a love song), but if I start listening to “The Dance”, or “Don’t Take the Girl”, or “He Stopped Loving Her Today” I get weepy. Bad Danica!

So I’m going to play the sappiest love song I can’t listen to. Let me know if it’s a good version, okay?

By the way, I have a short story out for this Valentine’s Day called The Coroner’s Heart and the tag line is Making a Valentine’s Day candy heart from Jello is easy for this coroner, performing an autopsy on a real heart is even easier, but what happens when her own heart is at risk?

It can be ordered here: www.stillmomentspublishing.com

Loved that little thing.

It kind of looked like this:

Funny, now I don’t even have a car. We’re a one car family, so I bike most places (luckily I work less than a smile from home, right? LOL)

I remember belting out this song at the top of my lungs within the closed doors and windows of that car!!!

****LOL****

Have a super day, my friends.

Your Friday Fox,

Lynn Rush

             The vehicles I first DROVE were not the first I OWNED, but somehow it’s difficult to discuss the latter without mentioning the former.
            I learned to drive in a 1962 VW Bus.  And, except for whatever sedan the Drivers’ Ed. teacher had (and other minor encounters), that’s all I drove besides the family 1964 VW Bug.  Then my folks acquired a 1957 Rambler, which we called ‘Rambler Joe’ … for no particular reason.

Vehicle # 1
            Ah, but the first vehicle I BOUGHT – with my own hard-earned money – was a 1947 Plymouth Special Deluxe coupe with a flat-head 6-cylinder engine.  Bought it from a junk yard for $15 and towed it home.  I bought four wheels and some used tires somewhere.  Spent a few months working on it, with help from friends and my parents. 

This isn't mine. Mine was all black (painted with a brush!) & had 16-inch blackwalls.

Replaced valves, inserts, rings, plugs, points, etc., and got a used 6-volt battery.  Re-built the carb, replaced starter and generator.  Added an exhaust system.
            I should mention that I didn’t know how to do ANY of that stuff; I learned as I went along.  Thanks to the patience and kindness of an auto repair shop owner, I was able to observe and ask questions.  After time, I actually got that sucker RUNNING!  But it was never terribly reliable transportation.  Quirky … sometimes didn’t want to start.  My mom drove it for a few years and it suited her just fine.
            Most unusual feature:  the lug nuts on the PASSENGER side threaded backwards — yep, counter-clockwise.  A feature of Chrysler products of that era … on the belief that they’d hold more firmly against a wheel which turned (forward) in a clock-wise direction.  Since the wheels on the DRIVER’s side turned counter-clockwise, the lug nuts threaded in the customary direction.

Vehicle # 2
            But I needed something more reliable for work and college, so I bought – from a neighbor – a 1960 Ford Fairlane 4-door sedan with an overhead 6-cylinder engine and automatic transmission … for $40 and a used 3-speed bicycle.  It was already running (roughly) but needed new points.  I also had to beat-out the crushed trunk lid [I did this from inside the trunk, with the lid locked].
            Most unusual features:  The windshield wipers were powered by a vacuum pump system which tapped a hose on the engine.  Consequently, when you sped-up, the wipers slowed down!  To get the wipers to move rapidly in the rain, you had to slow the vehicle speed.  [I was very glad when our vehicles advanced to a wiper system run by electric motor.]  Oh, also:  there was a large hole in the floor of the back seat … which I ‘fixed’ by covering it with a piece of plywood.

Vehicle # 3
            After borrowing my parents’ NEWER Rambler (1962, I think) for a few months after I married, we had to acquire our own ‘newly-wed’ car.  We found a 1956 Plymouth Savoy (4-door sedan) with an 8-cylinder engine.  That was the year before the rear fins exploded.  This car cost $135 and we immediately spent $40 on four ‘re-cap’ tires.
            It was in pretty good condition – both body and interior – but rather a homely car.
            Most unusual feature:  It had an automatic transmission, but used PUSH BUTTONS instead of a shift lever.

Vehicle # 4
            We kept the Savoy long enough to move to New Mexico (my first Air Force duty station) and until our baby boy was a few months old.  Then we traded-in the Savoy toward a 1969 VW Bug — and our first car note.  It cost $1200, I believe.  We borrowed $400 from parents, cashed-in some savings bonds my grandmother left me … and got a credit union loan for the remaining balance of several hundred.  I can’t remember the monthly note, but I’m pretty sure it was under $50.  That was a lot of money when we were netting about $240 per month!
            I really liked this little bug and it ran well.  Despite the small air-cooled engine, it had enough power to pull a 4X6 U-Haul trailer from NM to LA.
            Most unusual feature:  our first vehicle with a RADIO!

Vehicle # 5
            We kept the ’69 bug for about two years — through my overseas tour and a move to California.  There, we traded the bug toward a 1972 VW Bus.  The list price was $3800, which had gone up from about $2400 a year or two earlier.  Most of that price ended up on a new CU loan, for which the monthly payment was under $120, I think.  We drove that bus for about 9.5 years and over 100k miles.
            Most unusual feature:  our first NEW vehicle.  It also had all the special gizmos required by CA for emissions control.  That caused me all kinds of fits over the life of the bus, since we only remained in CA for a few months after buying it.

Other vehicles:
            Along the way, we’ve had numerous other vehicles, too many to discuss here.  But just to please myself (and check my memory), here’s a list:  1957 Nash Metropolitan convertible, 1967 VW Bug, 1972 Chevy Impala sedan, 1977 Chevy Impala sedan, 1980 Ford Thunderbird coupe, 1989 Dodge Dynasty sedan (‘program’ car), 1992 Mazda Protegé sedan (new), 1993 Mazda B2300 pick-up (new) with manual transmission, 1998 Saturn SL sedan (demo), 2005 Toyota Highlander SUV (new), 2005 Toyota Tacoma pick-up (demo).
            Of all these vehicles, the ’47 Plymouth Special Deluxe holds a special place in my heart — it was a ‘rescue’ car.  But I think the ’92 Mazda Protegé was my favorite to drive (and park).  My least favorite was the ’80 Ford T-Bird, which cost a fortune in repairs.  The one we drove the longest was the ’93 Mazda P/U — over 11 years.  The one I put the most personal labor into was probably the ’57 Metropolitan (which I could write an entire blog about).

 Questions:
            What was your FAVORITE ride?  LEAST favorite?  Which vehicle did you drive the longest?

Unfortunately, I didn’t have a cool Trans-Am. I got my first car when I was seventeen. I was a month away from graduating, when Mom surprised me by bringing me to a car lot. I’d been somewhat jealous of my friends who all had cars. Crappy cars, but at least they had wheels. Mom let me sit in a 1987 Ford Mustang. It wasn’t pretty. The red paint had faded to a weird orange. The cloth seats were faded from the sun and there was a wasp graveyard behind the brake light, but oh how I wanted it.

To my shock, that was the car Mom brought home for me. It had 113,000 miles, a 4-cylinder engine, and the a/c didn’t work. That Mustang got me through my first year of college. I had to get everything changed on it from the vacuum pump to the a/c to the radio. I loved that car and drove it like it was a V-12 engine.

Then, in the late winter of 1996, I got into a car wreck that totalled the car. Yes, the jaws of life were used to get me out of that car. I honestly think if it had been a later model, I probably would have been hurt a lot worse. I walked away from that crash with a few bruises and cuts.

It took me a while to get over my fear of the road, but once I conquered it again, I went on to work my way through a series of vehicles. A 1983 Ford Bronco II. A 1992 Cheverolet Astro van. A 2000 Ford Mustang (I do still love Mustangs). And now a 2008 Chevy HHR.

I do love cars. I dream of the vehicles I’d love to own, among them a 1975 Chevy Chevelle SS, a 1964 Ford Mustang,  and 1975 Dodge Challenger. Yeah, I want a car that’s older than me, but hello? After 1976 they just broke the mold. For everything. People and cars