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Archive for the ‘love’ Category

>Read Catcher In The Rye – Romance Novel

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Romantic Writing Styles

I’m defining romantic writing as something that takes you into another world, often using love and mystery to help make the transition. J.D. Salinger always manages to take you into another world, almost like a fantasy writer. Holden Caulfield, for example, doesn’t live in the same world that you and I live in. As Charles Booker points out in The Seven Basic Plots: Why We Tell Stories, Holden is like a psychotic, he has no real relationships with anyone in the novel except his little sister, Phoebe. He lives in his own world.
J.D. Salinger Let’s look more carefully at Salinger the writer. When The Catcher in the Rye was published, Salinger moved to a small town in New Hampshire and retreated from the world. After he got married, he built a small concrete bunker about a quarter mile from his house, and he would go there to write, often staying away from his wife and kids for days and even weeks at a time! According to biographer Paul Alexander this infuriated his wife and caused her to feel alienated from him.

Read the reminder of this article found in hi-write.com/romance.html

>The Naughty Lady Of Longboat Key

>This is the first chapter of a novella I am working on. Actually, I wrote a few chapters of a novel I was going to call The Good Man, but now I’ve decided to combine him with the Naughty Lady Of Longboat Key of the novella – let them wrestle in the water and sand figuratively and actually, let their intellects collide – and see what happens. It could be exciting. I hope you will come along for the ride..
   When we combine these two people, a Holden Caulfield-like naturally good, honest guy named Sloan Whitaker, I see fireworks exploding all over in vivid colors of reds, whites, golds, silvers, blues, oranges, purples, and greens.. I see readers getting excited and their sensibilities being tested to the limit.
   Need I say more? And I won’t since some of this is still in my head and must be developed; but I wish you good reading as you discover the lady of Longboat Key whom, for this blog at least, I’m calling “The Naughty Lady” and toying with the idea of calling the entire book by that title though Sloan Whitaker’s humanity, good natured approach to life, honesty, and conservative values argues otherwise.. Don White
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The Naughty Lady Of Longboat Key
By Don White
Chapter 1
He had wandered along the beach from his lodgings at the Colony. When he reached what would have to be the end because one area ahead was blocked off providing a private beach for someone one hundred yards wide.
   He stood at the wire fencing peering over. He thought he saw someone in the water. It was a woman bathing alone in the warm Gulf waters. The traveler wore strange sandals, chintz trousers and a T-shirt so it wasn’t an issue if he got wet. Curious, he waded into the sandy water two feet deep and came onto what he imagined the property of the lady in the water up ahead.
   He stopped twenty feet of her. Startled, she did an about face to see who was there. “What are you doing here?” she said. Didn’t you see the sign? “This is private property along here.”
   “Private property, along a public beach?”
In water up to her neck, she looked perturbed. “This is not a public beach, sir. I own the house over there and if you go to the city of Long Boat Key appraisers office you can look it up.”
   “I will do just that,” he replied. “What’s your name and address?”
   “You can get the address from the front of the house. But I’m not telling you my name. That’s getting too personal.”
   The man smiled congenially. As she watched him, she thought he was playing with her, but he had a nice sounding voice.
   “Why won’t you tell me your name?”
   “Because you might be a robber, a murderer, a rapist. A single woman can’t be too careful these days, can she?”
   “No, I suppose she can’t. But, no, I’m not here to rape you.”
   “But what about the other descriptions. Are you a robber or a murderer?”
   He smiled again and waded in up to his knees. “What do you think you’re doing,”
   “You can keep me off your private beach, but you can’t keep me out of the water. It’s public water, ma-am, am I right?”
   She paused and took one step toward him.
   He looked her over. “Nice shoulders,” he said. “I’ll bet the rest of you looks nice, too.”
   “See,” she said. “You are a clever man. And I think you must be a rapist just waiting for me to come out of the water and overpower me.”
   “Nonsense,” he said. “Name’s Sloan Whitaker. I own a boat, would you like to see it sometime?”
   “Sometime, I suppose,” acting not too interested. “Is that the only thing you own, Mr. Whitaker? You have property as well, I presume.”
   “Oh, yes. I’m from New York. Stock broker. I have plenty of money. My wife and I owned a beautiful beach house in the Hamptons on Long Island.”
   “Owned?”
   “Yes, she died a few years ago and I never remarried. I still own the home, however she is gone so I couldn’t say she and I now own it, could I?”
   “You’re a clever fellow, Mr. Whitaker, and a good talker.”
   “Call he Sloan.”
   “Sloan.”
   “Would you like to come out of the water now – now that you know I’m not going to harm you and that I am a rich man.”
   “Well, before you came along I was perfectly content to be in the water. It’s nice in here. Why don’t you take off your clothes and come in.”
   “Oh, I can’t do that.”
   “Why not, are you afraid of me?”
   He laughed. No that’s nonsense – that either you or I should be afraid of the other.
   She studied the man. “I’d say you and I are the same age. Are you between thirty-five and forty-five?”
   “Why yes,” he said. “That was a good guess. Do you believe in fair play?”
   “Of course I do, always have.”
   “Then it would only be fair of you to tell me your age if I’m going to take off my clothes and come in.”
   “No, I won’t tell you my age. A proper woman has to maintain some scruples, don’t you think.”
   “That depends on the woman, and how proper she really is.”
   “What on earth do you mean?”
   “You, there, what is your name?”
   “I can’t say.”
   “Then what do you want me to call you?”
   “Sally Mae. That’s a pretty nondescript name, don’t you think?”
   “No, I don’t. And I don’t believe that’s your name. A Sally Mae would be a farm girl, and I can tell you’ve never set foot on a farm.”
   “That’s true, but how can you tell?”
   “By the power of deduction.”
   “Do you fancy yourself, Sloan, as someone who can read the other person pretty well?”
   “Yes, I do. I was a police detective for ten years before I decided I wasn’t making enough money and got into the market. I can tell you are hiding something and I’m determined to come out there and find out what it is.”
   “No, you don’t,” she said, instinctively bringing her arms up to her breasts which were still covered in water.
   “Ah, I know what it is. You’re stark naked, aren’t you.”
   “Oh course I am. I’m bathing off a private beach and have a perfect right to bath naked or clothed or wear only a silk scarf.”
   He smiled. “I’ll bet if I looked I could find an ordinance against nudity on these beaches.”
   “You don’t know this, being from New York and all, but a few years ago this entire Logn Boat Key beach and Lido Beach to the south were nude beaches.”
   “Really. Then you must have bathed and walked all over the place nude with the other naked people. Didn’t that bother you?”
   “In what way?”
   “I mean, weren’t you a little…well, bashful about someone else seeing your body parts?”
   She hesitated and took another step toward Sloan Whitaker revealing her full breasts which, like her face, were golden suntanned. “As you can see, Sloan, I’m a bold lady. I am not afraid of you now that you’ve told me who you are. But I sense you are afraid of me now. Isn’t that true?”

>Fiction Reviews From Kirkus Reviews

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Butcher, Jim SIDE JOBS 
October 1, 2010 – Eleven tales, 2002-2010, complete with author’s notes and chronology, embellishing the exploits of Chicago’s Harry Dresden, licensed PI and professional wizard, ranging from an apprentice piece written two years before the Dresden Files series achieved liftoff to an unpublished novelette … Full Review
Deaver, Jeffery EDGE 
October 1, 2010 – Deaver’s latest nail-biter features a blank-faced hero from a shadowy federal agency whose job is to protect menaced innocents from kidnappers and killers who don’t want them to be protected. The bad news is that Henry Loving, the ruthless freelance … Full Review
Froderberg, Susan OLD BORDER ROAD 
October 1, 2010 – In Froderberg’s highly stylized, uniquely voiced first novel, a young bride’s growing disillusionment about her marriage coincides with the drought plaguing her Arizona community. Seventeen-year-old Girl, whose briefly sketched, quickly forgotten parents have left her pretty much on her own, … Full Review
Fuentes, Carlos DESTINY AND DESIRE 
October 1, 2010 – A novel of substance about friendship, philosophy and politics set in the “thousand-headed hydra of Mexico City” from the prolific pen of distinguished man of letters Fuentes (The Death of Artemio Cruz, 2009, etc.). The author immediately elevates the status … Full Review
Gordon, Jaimy LORD OF MISRULE 
October 1, 2010 – A novel of luck, pluck, farce and above all horse racing—not at tony and elegant sites like Churchill Downs and Ascot but rather at a rinky-dink racetrack in Indian Mound Downs, W.Va. Gordon (Bogeywoman, 1999, etc.) clearly loves the subculture … Full Review
Guttridge, Peter CITY OF DREADFUL NIGHT 
October 1, 2010 – A 2009 massacre in Brighton, England, may be linked to the notorious trunk murder of 1934. Chief Constable Robert Watts is pushed to resign after a police raid goes bad and four people are killed, causing riots, early retirements and … Full Review
Mankell, Henning DANIEL 
October 1, 2010 – A haunting novel by the Swedish mystery master, one that proceeds from the indelible to the inscrutable. Well before Stieg Larsson became a (posthumous) international sensation with his Millennium Trilogy, his countryman Mankell had already sold millions of books in … Full Review
Mosley, Walter THE LAST DAYS OF PTOLEMY GREY 
October 1, 2010 – An ancient man living in solitary squalor in Los Angeles is offered an experimental medicine that just might beat back his creeping dementia—and will almost certainly kill him in the process. At 91, Ptolemy Grey has outlived everyone he ever … Full Review
Page, Jeremy SEA CHANGE 
October 1, 2010 – A lyrical and elegiac novel about a real past and an imagined future. A family tragedy forces Guy, the main character, to relocate on an old Dutch ship, the Flood, a 90-foot coastal barge on which he lives. The tragedy … Full Review
Pearson, Allison I THINK I LOVE YOU 
October 1, 2010 – Welsh teenager obsessed with pop star David Cassidy finally gets an opportunity to meet her idol, 24 years later than expected. In 1974, with his bell-bottom catsuits, shaggy hair and come-hither green eyes, Partridge Family star David Cassidy is everything … Full Review
Russo, Richard THE BEST AMERICAN SHORT STORIES 2010 
October 1, 2010 – Even by the consistently high standards of the venerable annual, this one’s a treat. Since the year’s guest editor has the final selection, this volume reflects the penchant of novelist Russo for storytelling rather than postmodern experimentation or self-conscious wordplay. … Full Review
Stock, Jon DEAD SPY RUNNING 
October 1, 2010 – A discredited British spy seeks to rehabilitate himself and exonerate his deceased father—wrongly besmirched former head of MI6—while trotting the globe to escape the old man’s enemies and prevent the new American president from being assassinated. Daniel Marchant, the flawed … Full Review

>Aging Is Growing More Spiritual

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Sent: Tuesday, April 06, 2010 9:05 AM
Subject: Maxine

 

 




I would never trade my amazing friends, my wonderful life, myloving family for less gray hair or a flatter belly. As I’ve aged, I’ve become kinder to myself, and less critical of myself. I’ve become my own friend.. I don’t chide myself for eating that extra cookie, or for not making my bed, or for buying that silly cement gecko that I didn’t need, but looks so avante garde on my patio. I am entitled to a treat, to be messy, to be extravagant. 

I have seen too many dear friends leave this world too soon; before they understood the great freedom that comes with aging.

Whose business is it if I choose to read or play on the computer until 4 AM and sleep until noon? I will dance with myself to those wonderful tunes of the 60 &70’s, and if I, at the same time, wish to weep over a lost love … I will.
I will walk the beach in a swim suit that is stretched over a bulging body, and will dive into the waves with abandon if I choose to, despite the pitying glances from the jet set.

They, too, will get old.
I know I am sometimes forgetful. But there again, some of life is just as well forgotten. And I eventually remember the important things.

Sure, over the years my heart has been broken. How can your heart not break when you lose a loved one, or when a child suffers, or even when somebody’s beloved pet gets hit by a car? But broken hearts are what give us strength and understanding and compassion. A heart never broken is pristine and sterile and will never know the joy of being imperfect



I am so blessed to have lived long enough to have my hair turning gray, and to have my youthful laughs be forever etched into deep grooves on my face.
So many have never laughed, and so many have died before their hair could turn silver. 
As you get older, it is easier to be positive. You care less about what other people think. I don’t question myself anymore..
I’ve even earned the right to be wrong

So, to answer your question, I like being old. It has set me free. I like the person I have become. I am not going to live forever, but while I am still here, I will not waste time lamenting what could have been, or worrying about what will be. And I shall eat dessert every single day(if I feel like it).
 

MAY OUR FRIENDSHIP NEVER COME APART ESPECIALLY WHEN IT’S STRAIGHT FROM THE HEART!


 



The New Busy is not the too busy. Combine all your e-mail accounts with HotmailGet busy.


>Enjoy Life, It Is Too Short To Miss

>Wise Little Notes That Will Keep You Young
 Annonymous


 

 
 
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>Hollywood Slams Strict Mormon Lifestyle On Big Love

>LDS Newsroom header

Newsroom.lds.org Updates in Your Inbox!

The Publicity Dilemma: Church Statement on Big Love

SALT LAKE CITY   |   9 March 2009   |   Like other large faith groups, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints sometimes finds itself on the receiving end of attention from Hollywood or Broadway, television series or books, and the news media. Sometimes depictions of the Church and its people are quite accurate. Sometimes the images are false or play to stereotypes. Occasionally, they are in appallingly bad taste, but the Church isn’t behind any member drives to attack back at Big Love, a television series. Despite earlier assurances from HBO it once again blurs the distinctions between The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and the show’s fictional non-Mormon characters and their practices. Such things say much more about the insensitivities of writers, producers and TV executives than they say about Latter-day Saints

Full Story

If you can’t find something in this web site, please hit the COMMENTS button and tell us how we can change. Your input is valuable to us, let us know your views, or merely give us a simple thumbs up that we are doing what we can to make this an enjoyable blog. At any rate, we want to hear from you. Publisher, Don White

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A Love Poem To Carolyn, My Eternal Companion

A Heartfelt Valentine Expression

On this Valentine’s day I express my love for you, my wife of 43 years.

But expressing love on Valentine’s Day is not love, only one of its many manifestations. But as banal as it may seem and be, I express my love and say, “be my Valentine another 43.

My love for you never ceases – it has a far greater meaning than mere card or kiss, though first kindled in a passing moment, a glance, a gleeful glimpse, then a fateful double take and the throbbing of a young man’s heart.

In Sunday School, I saw your face from afar. But I saw more — the clarity, and dignity of your character in that face. You were magnetic, pulling me to you, and it was thrilling for me to gaze on your countenance, and to imagine a possible scenario, you and me . . .Us. I had fasted and prayed that day for you to come my way.

Here we are, 43 years later, still traveling the same road of life, stumbling, yes, but moving conjointly, elegantly toward a larger goal, life forever together which we call eternal life made possible by eternal love.

When you feel bad, I feel bad. When you feel ecstatic, I’m exalted because of your glow. The light of your eyes fills my soul with your sweetness, dignity, grandeur, cheerfulness, love, kindness, charity and endless possibility.

Why? Not because we are joined at the hip and feel one another’s pain and joy through the same gray matter, nervous system, blood stream, muscle, heart and soul, though it seems so at times. I know that you are daughter of a king with great attributes and I am his son with my own unique attributes.

In the Manti Temple we were made one, yet remain separate beings. How can one be far greater than two? That defies mathematics, but then love always does. Our oneness holds the capacity to do anything, especially when we add an incomparable third dimension, our God to whom we owe everything – the air we breathe, this good earth, our miracle bodies.

Everything — for he is the creator of the universe and all suns, moons, planets and mountains, valleys, and verdant streams therein obey his voice. There is nothing not made by our creator, and we are in his likeness, a thought that completely blows my mind until I think of you.

I have to believe that somewhere . . . somewhere in this wide galaxy eons of light years away is someone else just as wonderful as God. There must be a Mother in Heaven who cares for our God like you care for me and I care for you. She, too, is ever watchful of you and I, and especially of us. She supports every Godly decision just as you support me and every resolve we make together, after much thought, prayer and contemplation.

So this Valentine’s Day I salute you my dear, Carolyn, the same person who recovered from an auto accidentjust three years ago – a terrible, bonecrushing, debilitating accident that broke ribs and cracked your pelvis in five places

It punctured a lung so that for the longest time, despites blessings and prayers, we wondered if you would make it. But your heart and faith are so strong! And your courage unparalleled, rendering defeat a non-issue, a non sequitur.

I suffered with you – though of course not on the same intensity plane — that fateful day and for years to come. At times, I could feel your hurt as you grimaced, torturing yourself while, because of allergies, you steadfastly refused pain medication. Few are as courageous or constant. None as valiant.

Your desire to keep any harmful thing out of your beautiful body exemplifies strength of character. Far lesser a person am I, whose eyes fill with tears under the damnable dentist drill, while he mines an apple mouth with melon hands that probe, pull, poke, scrape and drill in a near-drowning, water-boarded mouth whose teeth are alive with ache and throb.

You defeated pain long before this accident, in bearing four obedient children, in living a purposeful, faithful life, and following the accident, your bones and tissues healed, but now we are older and our gait slower,

But my love for you has not diminished, only grown as I have watched your remarkable recovery and service to us and realized the driving force behind your ruddy cheeks and hearty laughter was your love of family, God, the prophets, and America.

So I salute you, Carolyn, with a love borne of trust, occasional tumult, of trials and troubles overcome. Despite inane humor, you laughed at my jokes and accepted me with a smile that warms me still. You continued to embrace me, though at times wondered why we ever met and married. Was it to birth our children and satisfy God’s command to cleave together, replenish the earth, and find joy?

And through it all, jubilation returned, following 24/7 sickness of child bearing and often pain and grief of their rearing, and working until you could work no longer as an insurance and real estate agent or at the hospital.

Through the joy and fun of raising three boys, and one beautiful girl, you enjoyed life, endured my homilies, even my humorless, untimely lines, and ensured that when everything else seemed lost, we never lost our bearings.


You never tumbled from that exalted pedestal on which I placed you, continuing always as my treasure, my revere and prize – the registered nurse who always knew what to do. When we fell sick, you lovingly rubbed our feet, fingers, and foreheads and, ironically, eschewed hospitals and doctors.

Upon first meeting, we were travelers on different roads, but credit providence that my design and purpose found clarity when he sent you to me. Your road became mine, your politics looked fairer, and your wants and desires gathered in my heart, creating my fondest hopes.

And, likewise, you, Carolyn – with boundless energy and desire for “us”, for our future and that of our magnificent family.
I salute you, I love you my dear eternal partner. May I ever merit your companionship and trust throughout the eons of time that we know we will live together in perfect harmony — sharing God’s light and His love with others always.