MORE NAVEL-GAZING: even more waffles re opening

I hope this “how a novel is constructed if you’re a complete weirdo” course is helping someone out there. Even if it’s only the novelist’s equivalent of “What Not to Wear.”

So anyway, I just thought of something. What if Ari has just sat down from the Karaoke stage and has taken her bows (she could sing something that’s easy to sing) and answers the phone JUST in time for it not to switch to voice mail, and then the trouble she has hearing is because of a trio of girls singing “Twist and Shout” or something? Do people hate karaoke? Do readers hate characters who sing karaoke? Maybe the first line could be funny like that . . . about how she knew she was off key, but she couldn’t do a thing about it.

Or would that be too silly?

I really have to work on the new LJ Idol entry pretty soon . . . and I have an audition tomorrow at 1 PM to play for the manager of Fry’s. (I was going today at 4, but there was such an awful storm that Mama had an asthma attack and I called to change the appointment.) I still suspect there either won’t be any $ or there’ll be minimal cash, but at least I get to try out the piano in the audition. I suppose this means I should practice tonight. I’ve almost lost “Reverie” from my fingers because it’s five minutes long and I never play it through any more (and no one knows what it is, besides that, and they think it’s Enya!) . . . but I can do the “easy” Beethoven sonata (op. 49, no. 2, I think it is.) Or some of those jazz tunes. They might go for the cocktail piano sound.

But I need to polish up this opening, too. [spraying Pledge] [coughing because it’s the lemon-scented stuff]

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Author: shalanna

Shalanna: rhymes with "Madonna" and "I wanna," and is not a soundalike with "Hosanna" or "Sha-Na-Na." Aging hippie with long hair, husband, elderly mother, and yappy Pomeranian. I've been writing since I could hold a crayon. I started with fiction, which Mama said was "lying." “Don’t tell stories,” she would admonish, in Southern vernacular. “That's all in your imagination!” When grownups said this, they were not approving. So, shamed, I stopped telling stories for a few years--rather, I stopped letting anyone read them. I'm married to a fellow computer nerd who doesn't really like hearing about writing, but who reads sf/fantasy and understands the creative drive. I'm actually a nonconformist/hippie still wearing bluejeans and drop earrings and the Alice-in-Wonderland hair with headbands and sandals. Favorite flavor is chocolate/orange, favorite color is either Dreamsicle orange (cantaloupe) or bubble-gum pink, favorite musical is either Bye Bye Birdie, Rocky Horror, or The Producers . . . wait, I also love The Music Man. Is this getting way too specific and irrelevant yet? Obvious why I don't sell a ton of flash fiction, isn't it? To define oneself, I always say, it is good to make a list. How about a booklist? Harper Lee, To Kill a Mockingbird Frank and Ernestine Gilbreth, Cheaper by the Dozen C.S.Lewis, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe (all the Narnia books) J.R.R.Tolkien,The Hobbit/LORD OF THE RINGS trilogy Gail Godwin, The Odd Woman F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby J. D. Salinger, Catcher in the Rye (before dismissing it, actually read it) George Orwell, 1984 Kurt Vonnegut, Cat's Cradle Donna Tartt, The Secret History Mark Twain, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn James Allen, As A Man Thinketh Mark Winegardner, Elvis Presley Boulevard James Thurber, My Life and Hard Times The Wizard of Oz, L. Frank Baum Winnie-the-Pooh/House at Pooh Corner, A. A. Milne Peter Pan, J. M. Barrie The KJV and NIV Bible (each translation has its glories)

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