April 07, 2009

April Fools

There are all kinds of fools. The April ones are the least of it. There are the young fools that do foolish things that haunt them for the rest of their lives--like smoking pot or sending nude pictures of themselves over the Internet. But there's no fool like an old fool as some sage said. The fool who lives a life of decorum until eighty and then drives through a supermarket window killing a few people.

But most of us are ordinary fools who bumble along saying and doing foolish things all year long. Often repeating the same foolish things we did the year before.
 But most of these things aren't catastrophic, like the supermarket driver. Most of them are a misstep here, a wrong word there, easily forgiven--and we hope--forgotten. Some fools are even funny. I guess that's why the kings kept them around.

March 10, 2009

Life on a Sub

Last weekend I toured a submarine-- SS Becuna (c. 1944)--at Penn's Landing in Philadelphia, to get material for the WWII spy novel I'm writing. I found out I could never be a submariner. Here are a just a few things they had to put up with:

  1. Close quarters.( I'm talking barely room to turn around and bunks, if you raised your head more than a few inches, you'd smack the bunk above.)
  2. Air pressure
  3. Heat (120 degrees in the boiler room sometimes)
  4. Dampness.( Nothing ever dries completely, from shoes and socks, to shirts and dungarees (alias "jeans" nowadays) The submariners were often called the "Dungaree Navy."
  5. Showers only once a week (if you were lucky.)
  6. Seasickness
  7. Smells: of diesel fumes, oil lubrication, cigarette smoke, paint, sweat, etc.
  8. Boredom
  9. Being nice to everyone all the time.
  10. Noise of engines throbbing continually

Oh, yes, and...

    11. The threat of being attacked at any moment!

When asked what it was like to make a trim dive, one submariner said, "Imagine you're sitting in your living room and suddenly it tilts at a 90 degree angle."

To sum up--submariners are very special people.

Now that I think about it, a submarine and my apartment are very much alike, minus the tilting and the seasickness. Maybe I could have been a submariner after all.

March 01, 2009

Miracle on 33rd St.

I don't have a TV. Some people think I'm an intellectual snob. That isn't true. The reason I don't have a TV is the same reason I don't buy ice cream or chocolate bars. I have no will power. If I had a TV, I would watch it all the time. I would have no time to read or write.

Last night an electronic accident destroyed all my good resolves.I discovered I can watch TV on the Internet! I was surfing around and suddenly plugged into an episode of CSI--complete with commercials!

Goodbye reading! Goodbye writing! Welcome viewing!

February 25, 2009

Writing in the Dark...

...may be interpreted in several ways. First, the literal way--jotting down flashes of genius that come to you in the night, without turning on the light (and that are either illegible or not so ingenious in the morning.) Two--writing a novel in which you don't know the ending until you get there (and sometimes there is no ending when you get there.) Three--writing a book without knowing if it will be published, a common predicament during these recession times. And fourth--publishing a book, but not knowing if it will sell. Every writer has experienced that one!

Darkness is all around us. But there is still one ray of light--the writing itself. Doing it for the love of it. Then writing in the dark can become like "Dancing in the Dark."

February 20, 2009

New Book to Promote Your Book

I just made a great discovery! A book that tells you in simple language how to promote your book online. The title is PLUG YOUR BOOK, by Steve Weber, Weber Books. It's available on Amazon and at most bookstores. I recommend it to all writers, but especially to those who have a new book out.


Robin

February 18, 2009

MOST POPULAR POISON...

According to a prominent toxicologist who spoke at a Sisters in Crime meeting recently, the poison choice of the year is ethylene glycol. It has a sweet taste and can be added to most drinks without detection. And the favorite victim of the year is--your spouse! Enough information for one night? Cheers!

Robin

January 30, 2009

Facebook?

Hi Everyone,


This is an apology to all those who have agreed to be my friend on Facebook. I'm still figuring out how to confirm you. I know, I'm a real klutz! I really appreciate your friendship and promise to get back to you as soon as possible (or when my children explain to me how to work this thing.)

Meanwhile, if you are on Facebook, I now have a fan page, which will be updated with news, events, etc. Just click here to view it.

Your Struggling Technik.

Robin

December 12, 2008

Update

Here I am again, hiding my head in shame. I have all these wonderful intentions, then...excuses, excuses.  I will make only one resolution this New Year's Eve--to blog, blog, blog.


Meanwhile, I will be signing books this Sunday, December 14th at the Historical Society Library in Greenwich, NJ on Ye Greate Street from 1:00 to 4:00. There is a tour of colonial and Victorian houses that are decorated for Christmas, plus refreshments everywhere. I think you might enjoy it, and I would love to see you all.

If you can't make it, however--warm wishes for a wonderful Holiday!!!

Robin

October 31, 2008

Hallowe'ens of Yore

When I was a kid, next to Christmas, Hallowe'en was my favorite holiday. We lived in a small neighborhood in Philadelphia, near a Woolworths where extra candy could be bought in an emergency if we underestimated the number of trick-or-treaters who came to our door.


A household down the street from us, with thirteen children, displayed a coffin in their front hall every year. For most of the year it served as a storage chest shoved under the stairs, but on All-Hallow's-Eve it was lined with satin and the teenage kids took turns as the corpse. At exactly the right moment they would rise from their bed and utter a horrible moan, sending the trick-or-treaters rushing out the door. (Some of us thought it was a ruse for cutting down on their candy expenditures.)

We made our own costumes in those days, from sheets and pillowcases, or whatever was lying around and the parents accompanied the smaller goblins. Sometimes they dressed up, too. Once my parents came to our door in disguise. Mom was Olive Oil and Dad was Pop-Pye. My brother and I were fooled until we spied our mother's scuffed loafers. She had forgotten to change her shoes!

I remember the distinctive smells of each house as we entered. Corned beef and cabbage, lavender soap, mothballs, or cookies baking--and I wondered what our smell was. It was so much a part of me, I couldn't detect it.

The best part of Hallowe'en was dumping out our loot when we got home and poring over it. In those days some of the treats were homemade--brownies, candied apples, cupcakes with smiling pumpkin faces. No one had thought of putting a razor blade in an apple or poison in a candy bar.

But the nicest thing I ever got wasn't edible. It was a tiny hand-carved cat with amber specks for eyes. I always wondered which house it came from. The one that smelled like oranges--or beef stew?

October 30, 2008

A Sad Tale

I had the misfortune to be in New York City when the Phillies won. I don’t have a TV here, but I listened to the game on the radio, wearing my Phillies cap. When it was over I was so excited I wanted to celebrate with someone, but I was alone. I called my brother in Philly,  but he had turned off his phone, so I went out and roamed the streets of Manhattan at 10:30, looking for fellow revelers. You would have thought somebody important had died, the streets were so quiet and empty. I paused outside a neighborhood bar trying to catch a glimpse of their TV screen, but it was showing FOOTBALL! I continued on to my favorite diner, open 7/24, where the only occupants were two sleepy waiters. At least their TV was tuned to the right channel.

“I’m from Philadelphia, and I just wanted…” I trailed off.

 “Oh,” said one sleepy waiter. “You won.”

 “Congratulations,” said the other, in the midst of a yawn.

 Back to sleep.

 The manager of the team was holding forth on the screen. There were no views of the players free-for-all. After a few minutes, I went home. I donned my Phillies cap again and toasted the team with a glass of wine—all alone.

 The next morning I called my husband in Philly and found he had slept through the whole thing. Geeeez!

One thing I learned from this tragic experience, after ten years living in New York, I'm still a Philadelphian at heart!