I was reading a thread online that asked the question, “What would a Jehovah’s Witness romance be like?” The response was tongue in cheek and very funny. The participants were speculating, having read that Mormons were writing and publishing romances specific to their religion. When I was on a message board for writers and would-be writers of inspirational romances, there was a very strong prevalence of the idea that denomination specific romances weren’t desirable. To me, that was all wrong. Non-denominational suggests a specific theology and ignores the fact that there are vast differences between and among churches. Well, anyway, I wrote a “Lutheran” romance but I couldn’t seem to find and ending. Today, having put the project on a back burner for a long, long time, the ending finally occurred to me and I am going to finish it. Hallelujah!
If there’s a Dollar Tree store in your town and you are an avid reader, you might be pleasantly surprised. I have found gift quality books at Dollar Tree: hardcover and quality trade paperbacks of short story collections, mainstream novels, bestsellers, mysteries, historicals and thrillers. It’s pretty much a grab bag selection. I have not found much of interest (to me) in their nonfiction and reference book selections. Today I bought a novel about Charles II and I passed up a true story about how the stolen painting by Norwegian artist Edvard Munch was rescued. A true life thriller. Maybe I’ll go back tomorrow and see if it’s still there.
On the patio deck.
The urge to write a novel is growing stronger every day. Yes, I know. I have two or three incomplete novels somewhere in my files and I should finish those before I start something new. But those are genre fiction and this is serious. The framework of the story incubating inside my consciousness is how computers changed my life.
Visitors to the property ask if the barn is filled with arts. I have to explain that, no, our dad’s name was Art and the barn is dedicated to him. It is impossible to articulate the artistry of Art. He was a wonderful person and he was a storyteller, and so am I.
I managed to acquire several books the past two weeks. Two from the Nordlands lag, about the history of Jewish families in Norway, another about a friendship between some regular Norwegians and the Sami, formerly known as Lapps. I purchased two at the dollar store, a fine literary novel The Ice Chorus (the author’s name escapes me), and a hefty, rather useless volume about spells and wicca that feels good in my hands. At the silent auction, a church fundraiser, I won the bid on a super book about making the flatbreads of various cultures around the world. It has a lot of colored photos and extra recipes. All in all I feel good about my acquisitions.
For a while I posted to a message board for authors and wannabe authors of inspirational novels. Christian romances. Gag me. Perhaps I should have stuck with them, for I would have learned discipline. The publishers’ main outlet was Christian bookstores and the managers of those stores had very strict rules about what was Christian and what wasn’t. The imaginary characters in these books couldn’t have a glass of wine with dinner, and they couldn’t dance, or refer to anyone as an angel unless that person was certifiably celestial. No card players unless they were the bad guys. No references to underwear, or to a breast unless the subject was cancer. I could go on. No novels set in medieval times for those folks were Catholic. And don’t say dagnabit. The plus side was that in spite of their strict guidelines, they could take on grimmer subjects such as child abusel I suggested many times that there should be denomination specific lines, or at least mainline books. To me nondenominational suggests a very specific theology/doctrine. But their attitude was, “Oh, no. We are ALL Christians”. This group was very big on praise songs in lieu of church hymns and I don’t think they cared much for liturgy but I’m not one hundred percent sure about that. They seemed to be the Are You Saved type, and to those people, there is no other kind.
but I think I understand.
Last night I went dancing. The music was lovely. Jazz, I think, or Big Band. My partner was Danish. I’m not sure how old he was but he seemed…mature. Prior to that I was at an oasis and I spoke with someone whose first language was Arabic. He was half my age and he knew nothing about camels. He said I seemed old. My skin is flawless but my hair is sometimes white, and I was wearing a garnet colored dress from a bygone era. And, oh yes, a Mary Poppins hat with a veil. He was most likely looking for someone younger but he was polite. I doubt that we shall meet again.