The Very Bold Harvey Milk

Last night, I watched the movie Milk, the biopic about San Francisco Supervisor Harvey Milk, the first openly gay man to hold major public office in this country.

Sean Penn did a terrific job playing the part (won a Best Actor Oscar.)

I already knew of course that Milk and the supportive mayor of the city were murdered in city hall by a fellow councilman.

What struck me in the movie was how many times Milk lost and ran again before he was elected. He was defeated in three campaigns before he won. That's a lot of times to go through the day-and-night siege of a campaign, a long time to keep up the kind of courage he had to have, approaching lecterns again and again in spite of death threats.

I certainly admired the man's politics and courage. I also now admire his persistence.

Here's a clip from the real Harvey Milk:




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I Write Like Margaret Atwood?

Should you be in the mood for a hilarious compliment to boost your boldness factor, go get your writing "analyzed" at I Write Like Margaret Atwood.

All you have to do is paste in a few paragraphs and the site's software speedily decides what well-known writer uses similar word choice and syntax.

I ran across it on a Facebook entry this morning and hurried straight to the site.

I learned that I am very versatile. I pasted in a few grafs from three of my novels.

In my first Revelation, about a Chapel Hill minister who hears the voice of God, "I Write Like H.P. Lovecraft." Wikipedia reminds me that this early 20th century writer of sci-fi, fantasy, and horror is known especially for "the subgenre known as weird fiction.

Lovecraft's guiding literary principle was what he termed 'cosmicism' or 'cosmic horror'..."

In my second, Sister India, "I Write Like Jonathan Swift." Jonathan Swift!! Remember Gulliver's Travels? How is it that I write like a turn of the 18th century British satirist, preacher, and pamphleteer? Probably because the narrating main character is an American woman who has taken to Indian English.

And I've happily learned that in my recently completed "Blue Serpent Rising," "I Write Like Vladimir Nabokov." This pleases me. I can live with this. In fact, I think it would make a nice blurb. My "Blue Serpent" and Lolita do have some interests in common.

Go give it a try and report back who you write like. One way or another, it's likely to give you an emboldening burst of energy.




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Self-Defeating Thoughts and Questions

So often it's difficult to know which is "the better part of valor."

I think most of us would do the right thing most of the time if we were sure what it was. (Heady discussion at lunch today about the pros and cons of fundamentalist religion: it does give a secure sense of right and wrong about many things.)

But would any religious code tell me whether to keep working at the moment or take a nap or the afternoon off and start again refreshed? Maybe it's too small a matter to matter. But such decisions often feel quite important to me. ( See obsessive compulsive disorder: scrupulosity)

Once I righteously kept working (which involved driving to a copy center) when I was very tired. I got hit by an 18-wheeler and my car was totaled. It was half my fault; I thought he was signalling to me to drive out in front of him, but he wasn't. Would have been better if I'd taken a nap. But how was I to know?

A person could waste a lot of time and energy and joy trying to make the right decision about everything.

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Rondori: Dealing with Several Problems at Once

How is it possible that my car failed, my computer got a virus, I lost my health insurance, my credit card was stolen, my psychologist husband moved into a new office and independent practice after 42 years with his old group, and major repairs are going on at our house--all in the same few weeks?

Is it something I said?

In some martial arts testing, there's a part called rondori or randori, when multiple attackers come at the candidate all at once. The goal is to stay upright as long as possible.

The closest I'm coming to bold just now is to keep dealing with things one by one.

I'm happy that it's mostly just technical difficulties. My thoughts are with regular visitor here, Mamie, who is coping with big rondori right now.


Steven Seagal performs rondori, aikido

///RHYS ISTERIX | MySpace Video


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My Fourth of July Car

A flower-mobile (see photo two posts ago) is a hard act to follow, of course. But my morning glory car was replaced -- on the eve of Independence Day weekend -- by this cherry-bomb-red 1998 Ford Escort. I'm thrilled and feeling a new surge of bold independence.

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Attempting Something New

Yesterday I sold my flowered '92 Camry on Craigs List.(see photo below) About twenty people were interested within minutes of my posting, three of them fiercely so. I felt as if I were suddenly defending a dissertation (not that I really know what that feels like.)

The experience was a bit agitating because I know nothing about cars, could answer none of the questions, and wondered if I'd set the price too low. Also, I'd done no Craig List commerce and didn't know what to expect.

By the time Husband Bob picked me up at my office to go home, I felt as if I'd successfully climbed one of the world's great mountains. The car was gone, and the cash was in my pocketbook. The fact that I'd also done some work on a novel was nothing compared to the feeling of satisfaction at having managed something I hadn't done before.

So I'm reminded once again: It's worth doing new things, large or small, if only for the adventure and sense of accomplishment -- both for making the effort and for any smidgen of success.



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Rare Piece of Literary Memorabilia For Sale!

I'm thinking of rehoming my beloved Morning Glory Car, in which I've had many literary thoughts and even written a few immortal pages.
For the right collector of literary stuff, particularly North Carolina or Southern, this hand-stencilled-by-the-author art car will be a real find. For the right offer, I'll throw in signed copies of my books.

Handsome by candlelight, she's a 1992 Camry with 234,000 miles who needs work done.

Make me an offer now. Just think: The Duke Library is collecting my papers. You can be the collector of my vehicle. Act now! There will never be another one of these.

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A Political Heroine

Cheers for Elaine Marshall, who just won a primary runoff in the face of huge obstacles. Her opponent was the candidate of the party establishment (according to the News & Observer) and she was dealt a tremendous personal blow with the death of her husband during the campaign (which I only learned after the results were in.)

She now has the Democratic nomination in the U.S. Senate race in my North Carolina neighborhood. I'd love to see what she does as senator. Check her out at Elaine Marshall for US Senate or "like" her on Facebook if you do that sort of thing.


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My Own Little Oil Crisis

Bold move for me: I put oil in my car, for the first time ever.

The oil light on the dash had started to flicker late last night. I picked up a few quarts at a convenience store. A helpful guy there advised on what kind a '92 Camry would most like. (This is a car I dearly love.)

This morning, with a funnel from the kitchen and a gardening tool to prop the hood up and my cell to call Auto Logic to get info on what hole to pour the stuff in, I accomplished this miracle.

To add to the adventure, the temp was over 90 degrees and the metal all too hot to directly touch.

None of the normal writing and editing work I did in the rest of the day produced anything like the sense of accomplishment I feel from this historic first. I like the feeling. Perhaps tomorrow I'll take up electrical work.



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The Courage to Age

Good friend with bad diagnosis. Too much of this is happening and at an increasing pace. And I'm only 61.

I'd always heard that old age was not for sissies; I thought that saying referred to coping with one's own ailments, impairments and indignities.

But, no -- it's a whole lot larger than that.

I've watched my wonderfully healthy mother deal with what has happened to so many people close to her. It started when she was 56 -- more than 30 years ago. One example: a few years back, she went on a three-week trip and came home to find that three friends had died.

My point: you gotta be bold to get old. The elderly don't get enough credit for their strength.


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Hypnosis at My House on Friday

This is a plug for the wonders of my magical husband. A clinical psychologist, Bob teaches self-hypnosis in an all-day seminar at our house about every three months. This quarter's "all-day," as we call it, is this Friday at our log cabin beside a pond in the woods.

Participants learn to use self-hypnosis for whatever purpose they choose: enhancing creativity, managing pain, improving focus, dealing with emotions, or who-knows-what else. I've been to a couple of these one-day classes myself; the day after the first one, I started Revelation, my first published novel.

If you're going to be anywhere near the Chapel Hill/Jordan Lake area of North Carolina and are interested, call Bob Dick at 919 215-4703 for info. It's a bold step toward your goal.


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The Key to Creativity

Handled horizontally, this is the new key to my office, freshly adorned with moon and stars.

Vertically and pointing up, it's now a key for opening my imagination.

Pointing down, it goes to my unconscious.

What a handy tool to have close by at all times! Maybe I'll be more careful now not to misplace my keys.





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Take One Small Action

It's easy to doubt the effectiveness of one more small action toward a goal. Here's a light-hearted reminder that setting one thing in motion can make a difference. Thanks to Michael Lindsay of Inform Creative Services for sending this cheerful burst of creativity.


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Stephen King and Colonel Sanders

Reminders to persist toward your bold goals:

"Colonel Sanders was in his 60s before he founded Kentucky Fried Chicken.
...Stephen King wrote many novels before he had his first one published.
Dolly Parton was told that she sang like a billy goat and had no chance of making it in show business."

Please note the source of this encouragement: SZ Magazine, a publication on dealing with schizophrenia, created and edited by Bill MacPhee, who was diagnosed with this ailment at the age of 24.

"Over the years of publishing SZ Magazine," he writes, "I've noticed one common denominator: The people who deal well with their illness have persistence. that seems to be the difference between people who succeed and people who do not. People who keep trying...succeed despite their failures."

This is also true of people who don't carry the burden of schizophrenia.


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Focus on the Goal

Spiders aren't a particular fear of mine, but I don't love them. This one, discovered at night our semi-outdoor sink, was different from anything I'd seen before, its body like a small avocado.

It was so unusual I decided to take a picture and wound up getting closer to it than I otherwise would have.

Which reminded me: fear diminishes when there's a job to focus on. I found in my early news reporting days that I felt pretty comfortable asking anyone anything if it was for a story I was working on. A task focus is a calming, emboldening strategy that can be used in a lot of situations.

Have you found this to be true in your life?


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Bold Color Combination

I think they're wonderful together. My husband thinks they're wonderful separate. What do you think?

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The Necessity of Feeling Bad Sometimes

"The dear old human experience is a singular, difficult, shadowed, brilliant experience that does not resolve into being comfortable in the world. The valley of the shadow is part of that, and you are depriving yourself if you do not experience what humankind has experienced, including doubt and sorrow. We experience pain and difficulty as failure instead of saying, I will pass through this, everyone I have ever admired has passed through this, music has come out of it, literature has come out of it. We should think of our humanity as a privilege."

--from the wondrously fine writer Marilynne Robinson, in an interview in The Paris Review, as reported in an essay by Meghan O'Rourke in a column for The Week.


And I thought I was the only one who feels I failed if I'm unhappy. Apparently, everybody and their sister feels the same way. The logic for this faulty conclusion is clear: if I'm not happy, then I've been unable to arrange things the way I want them. Which makes me feel like a schlump. But what mortal can arrange everything the way she wants?

I like Robinson's approach much better. It's a lot less arrogant. And it could be a huge relief -- if I ever entirely convince myself.



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Bold Soldiers

Wherever each of us is on the hawk to dove continuum, I think we have to admit that soldiers are bold. They act on their convictions and risk their lives in that action. They also risk coming home with brain damage and/or missing limbs.

So, here's to the bold soldiers of all stripes!

Happy Memorial Day to you and the warriors closest to your heart.


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Theoretically Bold

I'm going to visit my mom this weekend which means I'm also going to the beach (Wrightsville Beach, NC). I was right on the point of scheduling a surfing lesson, the first in my life, when I suddenly remembered that I have tennis elbow in my right arm.

Probably I should wait until I can use both arms.

Frustrating? Or off the hook? Or both?

I do mean to do this thing -- and this summer. I'm not waiting another year. But probably not this weekend.



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Hazel Soares Soars

Bold and persistent, 94 year-old Hazel Soares got her degree in art history from Mills College this past week.

Mills itself is pretty bold. From the website: "Over the decades, Mills “firsts” have been numerous: the first women's college west of the Rockies (chartered 1885); the first laboratory school west of the Mississippi for aspiring teachers (1926); the first women’s college to offer a computer science major (1974) and a 4+1 MBA degree (2001); the first business school in the West for women (2005); and the first MFA program in book art and creative writing in the nation (2009).

Always a leader in the arts, Mills was among the first liberal arts colleges to offer a modern dance degree (1941), and it became the national center for modern dance outside New York City. The Center for Contemporary Music, dedicated in 1967, is a preeminent center for electronic music."

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