Mariposa Kisses (aka Dianne's Blog)

The pitch black night fed upon my terror! Breathlessness gripped me as I sat motionless atop its red and gray steel-framed back. It crept forward, unaware of my presence. Or so I thought. Suddenly, it pulled me under where its relentless hold on my hair and feet drove me in two opposing directions. Icy cold numbness paralyzed my mind while boiling heat raged inside my veins. The howling wind and the uncanny stillness competed for control of my consciousness as pounding drums juxtaposed against peaceful piano chords inside my head.

My body and mind were one and yet, strangely, two contradictory forces fighting a battle that could not be won. The pain would soon cease. My racing heart slowed to an incoherent hum. And then a bright light came out of nowhere, forcing me to open my eyes. Bump, bump, bump! Its slow beat was almost inaudible, even to the trained ear. Like being electrocuted, a piercing blow overpowered my neck and shoulders. And no longer awake, I could neither see nor hear…

“Honey, get up! It’s already seven in the morning. They’re going to be late for school. You must have hit snooze like ten times,” Eric lovingly shouted into my aching ears.

I felt I had just evaded death. How could he not see that getting our three kids to school on time paled in comparison?

“Okay, I’ll skip my shower. Don’t worry, I’m awake! Please start some strong coffee,” I whined as I flopped onto my back in the shape of a very sloppy X.

Then out of the corner of my sleep-encrusted eyes, I noticed a pure white feather falling from the sky outside my bedroom window. I’m not kidding, it’s as if the iridescent glow called me to notice its presence. And I’m not sure why, but its celestial twirl down to earth reminded me of The Nutcracker Ballet, which makes me think of Alex, my older sister, who I haven’t spoken with in months. I need to text her to see how she’s doing.

But without a single sip of coffee, I could hardly be held accountable to produce any type of rational thought this early in the morning. And against my better judgment, my face plunged back into my over-sized pillow for just one more minute of rest.

“The coffee is already on. I’ve been downstairs eating breakfast and making my lunch. I just figured you were already up. I was just coming up to kiss you and the kids goodbye. Do you want me to take the big kids, Renee?” he asked sympathetically.
“Actually, that would be great Hon. I was having a really psychotic dream and I feel totally out of it. Thanks Eric,” I voiced with appreciation while reeling his black and gray striped tie toward my chest for a quick hug and kiss. The more I played up the poor me routine, the more he caved to my every wish. And bribing him for what might come later couldn’t hurt either.

Labels: book, by Dianne, c, p. one

“Did you hear me mention how we both liked to play black-jack and how we used to ski together up at the lodge during the holidays? You seem a little bit distracted you know…” Jadan said with a concerned look.
“Oh, sorry. I am a bit distracted. But I totally do want to hear about your dad. I’m sorry to seem disinterested because I’m totally not. I just want to figure out a way to catch up with Jen and to finish this article sometime today,” I said in a stressed out tone.
“Seriously, no problem. I totally understand and… the truth is… even I want you to finish that damn article so you can start on your book. That’s what I can’t wait to read. It’s cool having an author as a friend. Maybe you’ll be famous someday and I can say that I know you,” he chuckled in a friendly manner.
“Oh sure, mock me why don’t you.”
“No, I can tell that you are the type who’s going to make it Renee, for sure,” he consoled.
“Well thank you Jadan. I’m gonna find a spot to park my stuff,” I told him.
“Hey, this spot’s open, right here next to me if you want it,” he motioned with his hand while moving some of his stuff out of the way.
“Okay, this does look pretty cozy, but I’m gonna wear my earphones so I don’t get too distracted sitting next to you. I do actually have to get some work done.”
“No, we’re cool. I’m gonna wear mine too. ACDC has been paused for way too long,” he sighed.
“Nice. I bet that’s totally calming while you roll the numbers in your head while offering your faithful clients such abundant monetary wisdom,” I joked while setting down my laptop and my drink.

I looked up and caught eyes with Jen. She smiled over at me and motioned like she’d be over in just a second. Jadan already had his tunes going and I had started mine as well. I turned on my laptop and tried to settle down so my mind could get to work. But there was no way I could get anything done until I’d chatted with Jen for a few minutes. Maybe if I got up to use the restroom she’d come over to meet me there. It was worth a shot.

I got up and scooted to the restroom. And I was right. Right after I did my business and opened the door, Jen was there waiting for me with a hug and an apology. We totally chatted and made up in less than three minutes. We were best friends again and I felt so relieved. I could finally get my article finished. The dolphin essay had to come to an end. Plus all that postmodern crap was starting to irritate me. I just wanted to get my check for the piece and move on to my own book, check or no check. My editor’s word was good enough for now. If I could get a few chapters done, she’d look it over and let me know if they could back it for the coming year or not.

Labels: book, Stream of Consciousness

Just then, Jadan wheeled by our spot and waved goodbye. He zipped by in his wheelchair and then paused to say goodbye as he looked back over his shoulder to me and Jen.

“I hope your writing goes well. I’m off to do some kayaking with a buddy. I’ll catch you gals later,” he said while loosening his striped blue and grey tie.
“Sounds good. Have a great time out there. This is my friend, Jen, by the way,” I retorted shyly.
“Hi…” Jen waved awkwardly, like she didn’t know what the hell was going on.
“Jadan, it’s Jadan,” he said to her.
“Hi Jadan, nice to meet you,” she said shaking his strong weathered hand.
“See ya,” I said waving goodbye.

“Okay, I know that was strange Jen. I know you’re wondering why that paraplegic man came over to say goodbye to me.”
“Well, yes I was definitely wondering, Renee. So what’s up?”
“Well, I wanted to make sure I hadn’t offended him earlier, so I went over to see if I could help him get a refill. I felt bad for him. Now, it seems like he thinks we’re friends or something. Is no Starbucks safe for peace and quiet?” I questioned.
“Well, he looks really sweet,” Jen commented.
“Of course he seems sweet. He’s handsome, rich, and paralyzed, of course. Maybe you should date him.”
“He’s not really my type. I’m more into the total loser pervert types, remember? I’m going pee. I’ll be right back. Watch my stuff, okay?” she ordered.

Maybe I’ll have to start writing out in nature, maybe at the beach, like I used to do back in graduate school with my bottled water, beach towel, cell phone, and my never-ending volumes of Spanish American literature. But I always felt relaxed and able to think there. I should be writing about the ocean, not a stream at all. This magazine editor wouldn’t care. He just wanted a few pages about nature and postmodern crap about existence. I should change it. Here goes:

The ocean flows forth with life and force. Its ever changing presence renews me as I sit upon its shore looking for a thought lost in time. The dolphin swims effortlessly inside of its waves, one with the universe, one with her fate. She fights, survives, glides, and exists, one simple yet complex day at a time.

Oh, to be that dolphin, just for a moment, outside of the never-ending cycle of stress and worry. To ebb and flow with the ocean’s tides. To pause from non-stop thinking. To exist inside the set of chaotic circumstances and yet, to be at peace. To be that dolphin. To survive and yet to glide… peacefully along. To listen to the sea’s soothing rhythm while beating against its rocky depths along the way.

Feeling alive. Dreaming. Forgiving. Moving onward with the world around me. And then, to be taken under water. I can not breathe. And it is okay. I am one with the screaming, crying, laughter, dancing, smiling, and suffering. All around me. Pain and joy; they co-mingle like a waltz of death and life together. But, it’s okay. I am alright. I am a dolphin.

I have to get home and go for a jog before I race out to the grocery store to get snacks for the kids’ lunches. And, I should get some sour cream and guacamole for our chicken tacos. Oh, and I need some more toilet paper. We are always running out of toilet paper. Goodbye fellow Starbucks junkies. Enjoy another fruitful day on planet Earth. Click save.

“I’m back. Thanks for watching my stuff,” Jen said while texting Mr. Loser a million words a minute, no doubt.
“No worries Chica. I’m out. I’ve got a billion things to do before getting the kids from their schools. I’ll text ya when we’re about to eat. You can join us for Taco-Tuesday, unless you’re having dinner with Jared, or something,” I prophesied with uncanny spiritual prowess.
“You guessed it Girl. I am going out to Café Sevilla with Jared and we are going to a show after that. And then, I’m not sure what after that. So, don’t flood my phone with texts Renee. That would be rude, you know interrupting things,” she giggled.
“Whatever. Give me a hug. I’m going jogging and then to the store. See ya Sweet-pea.”

Jogging. Then kid pick-up. Snacks. Homework. Dinner. Bathtime. Brush teeth. Read stories. Clean up from dinner. Check email. A glass of Merlot. Chat with Hubby. Crash into bed. Sleep! Dream!
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(That's the end of chapter two. I hope you are enjoying the excerpts). :)

Labels: book, writing

I'm writing a postmodern novel called "Stream of Consciousness." The female protagonist is a married writer named Renee, who has three kids and an awesome dog named Nugget to take jogging along Pacific Coast Highway 101. Her husband, Eric, is a philosophy professor at UCSD, who loves his family, teaching, and the great outdoors.

One day, while sitting at one of the many Starbucks that she frequents to write, Renee meets a paraplegic stockbroker named Jadan. She can't help but notice the large black tattoo running down his left forearm, of an intertwined dolphin, a cross, and a knife.

Jadan's main goal is to make the most of his new life after the accident. His motorcycle ride certainly wasn't his last; his day includes a few hours of day trading from Starbucks and then he hits the beach to kayak, parasail, or jet ski for some adrenaline-filled fun.

While Renee battles writer's block and her struggle for purpose, she sees something unique about her new acquaintance. She questions his hunger for life and excitement amidst his extreme challenges. From a distance, she sees Jadan fall down a lot and then get back up into his steel companion's arms.

Jadan just wants to make sure he doesn't have regrets before he dies, even though his new reality means he's had to make major changes to his own life. Renee ends up learning a lot about her life as well and her need to be thankful for what she has: her loving family, an extensive education, and their charming four bedroom house near the beach. Not to mention two very functional legs and feet.

Renee's best friend, Jen, is also a freelance writer, who mostly takes on boring copy-editing jobs so she can pay her bills. She's recently met a don Juan type at Starbucks named Jared. Renee does not approve, but Jen is a free spirit, ready to give this charming guy a chance. Renee wants her to meet someone to marry and settle down with, but you'll have to wait and see what Jen decides.

This book's about coffee, motherhood, adventure, chaos, writing, depression, hope, and faith. I'm getting close to one hundred pages, single-spaced. So, I'll keep you posted with excerpts along the way. Here's a sample from Renee's morning as she works on a wildlife essay for a magazine before the kids wake up.

Okay, let’s try again…

The fish swims effortlessly along the river's current, one with the universe, one with its fate in life. It is called upon to fight, to survive, to glide, and to be, one simple yet complex day at a time.

Oh, to be a fish. Crap, but then the fish just gets eaten. That’s not idyllic at all. Who’s gonna want to read about a fish that gets devoured by a bigger fish? It’s really just crap. My writing is crap. I am crap. I am not crap. Positive thinking is my answer. I need more coffee.

Delete. Delete. Delete.

“Mommyyyyyyyyyy, I peed my bed. Mommmmmyyyyyyyyy… where are you?” Danielle hollered down the stairs while my brain fought against my will’s call upon it to produce something of literary brilliance so early in the morning.

“Hold on Honey. Mommy is downstairs writing. Just one second. I’m coming up. You’re okaaaaaaaaay! Hold on Sweetie.”

Save.

Labels: author, book, writer