Family and I are on a wild and crazy trip to Yellowstone National Park this week. Having an absolutely spiffing time!

I keep noticing something, as we see these rather unearthly structures and vegetation and all-around ruggedity. “Wow!” I thinks to meself, “This should be in my next book.”

But the next thought is quite often this: “Hmm, doesn’t this remind me of something?” And in this context, something means some story…

Like the natural hot springs, steam vents and geysers reminded me a bit of the Bog of Eternal Stench from Labyrinth, while the strange fields of low-growing greyish shrubs are obviously snide fields from my favorite Dr. Seuss story.*

So, while I am perhaps not the first writer to want to include Yellowstone’s wonders in my fiction, I’m at least among good friends this week.

Truly, it’s all been done. But never by me, and so I guess I’m okay.**

Enjoy!

* “What was I scared of?” short inside The Sneetches.
** Dark secret about being a writer — you really must have a strong, healthy opinion of yourself to believe that anyone will want to pay money just for the privilege of hearing your lies.

I’ve been playing a lot this Summer. Camping, hiking, biking, ocean boardplay, and more than the usual indulgence of books and films. When I’m not out playing (which isn’t often) I’m usually beating myself up about the fact that I should be writing more.

But here’s the rub: writers need things to write about. In other words, writers need lives.

So please excuse my meager postings this summer (and meager word counts on works in progress). I’m keeping with the line that it’s all fuel for the writer’s fire. Fires are best saved for the cold months, aren’t they?

Happy Summer!

Now go out and play… do whatever you love in the Summertime. Absolutely no guilt allowed.

Unless you’re really doing something naughty.

Well, I’ve seen a few posts, floating around the blogiverse, about what is inside women’s purses, and what those contents say about them. I wonder what to think about this little trend, since I don’t carry a purse. Does this mean I have nothing inside me worth revealing? No little mysteries that make up the collage that is ME?

On the other hand, I’ve seen some very interesting (to me, anyway) pictures of writers’ writing spaces, and what they say about the author. To that idea I say: I likey! So, without further ado, I present my work desk, and some of the little mysteries that make up my writing self:

Okay! Points of interest:

1. Eyeglasses on the printer, rather than on my face, in spite of being THIS CLOSE to me. I guess I’m determined to be blind. Note that they are not tucked into their case three inches away, either. I live my life in the gaps between.
2. Left corner, two phones, both probably holding unheard messages from poor people that will not get a prompt callback, while I instead plunk those noise-canceling cordless earphones onto my ears and listen to podcasts. I prefer recorded people to live people.
3. Downstage right, sustenance, need I say more? Who quits for lunch, honestly. If you stop to eat, it’s just an excuse to avoid writing. REAL WRITERS power through. (If you know me, you’ll get the irony.)
4. General paper-messiness. This comes from having research materials, idea scraps, important notices from kids’ schools and tax documents all sharing space in my head as well as my desk. Can you believe I never (knock on nice cherry wood desk) am late with my bills? I thank Quicken. Heartily.
5. Nice cherry wood desk. Better give a shout-out to my husband for this lovely desk, which matches the one in the kitchen and is so much better than I deserve. Apparently I just need more linear feet of it. By the way, I noticed several years ago that an environment with lots of speckle in, say, wallpaper or draperies made me feel less relaxed than the lovely woody, smooth surroundings you see in this pic. Thank goodness my husband built such a house for my persnickety muse. Isn’t the clutter of papers a problem? Not so much.
6. Crumpled paper towel in front of speaker. Can you say: too lazy to get a proper box of tissues during allergy season?
7. Bright white reams of paper serving as footstool for short-legged writer. I may be pathetic in so many ways, but I am determined to send out (at least during manic phases) crisp, clean, lovely copies of my work to real live industry mavens. Heaven help me.

This is a challenge to all my lovely writer friends to write me a comment with a link to your own desk photo. I want a glimpse into the genius that is you! No straightening up first, either.

Gotcha, didn’t I? You thought you were going to see something really strange! The power of words…

See, I was tying up the last ends of Christmas shopping over at Amazon’s site. The site suggested I employ a special phrase to make my online buying easier. The suggested phrase was:

Amber’s Unusual Apparatus

Now, perhaps it’s because I see the world through the writer’s lens (which is a bit like peering through Alice’s Looking Glass) but I can’t get this wonderful, provocative phrase out of my head! I feel a picture book taking shape — but only because I refuse to write for an adult audience. Adult. You knowatimean.

Anyway, if the hustle and bustle of the holidays gets you down, just think of this magical phrase and everything will seem a little more interesting.

Amber’s Unusual Apparatus

Perhaps we’re fantasy writers — it could be this magical gadget:

Or if we’re talking sci-fi — how about this?

If we’re literary writers, maybe this?

Or if, as my daughter would have it, the apparatus was for animals?

That’s my gift to you, fellow bloggers, just a spark for the imagination. I think there’s nothing better.

Merry Christmas!

Over at the Market My Words blog, Shelli said it: how I’m feeling today. Just reading the list of mom’s responsibilities makes me tired.

At the center of a busy life >>

And I used to be so good at enjoying the moments…