History: January through December 2001

December 27, 2001
What a great way to end this tough year! Database cranked back up. Exclamation! Publishers now accepts credit cards, so hopefully that will improve the marketability of my books. Funny how you have to think about even little things like that... Well, the well-worn and horribly romantic image of a writer writing and pacing and drinking himself silly sure has taken a hit this year. Writing is proving to be much more of a "job" than anyone ever lets on. A job, to be sure, that I wouldn't trade for anything. And that, my friends, is a great place to be.

December 20, 2001
Finished a "markets" piece for Children's Writer Newsletter. Researched which publishers are looking for adventure pieces in 2002 and early 2003.

December 6, 2001
The Enron mess is pretty awful, but surely should not have caught anyone unawares. The way it is being heralded as a huge surprise only points out that we do not keep up with international news nearly enough. Dabhol, UK plant explosion, Enron's walking away from the pipeline in UAE, all should have been clear signals that something was brewing. ~ Did people choose not to know, or is this a case of censorship at work?

November 29, 2001
Birthday tomorrow reminds me that we all get older and slower, no matter what we do or where we live. Oh well. Enjoying the journey, and that is what matters most.

November 22, 2001
So much to be thankful for, and I don't even mean the "biggies". Strong sense this year of needing to understand that so much that I am "thankful" for comes at the expense of others who receive little or no wage (much less thanks) for their labor.

November 15, 2001
The article is done, out the door. When it came time to quit the self-editing and proclaim it a done deal, it was a little scary. How can one person give another person advice on that trickiest of ages, the teen years? I didn't figure it out when I was that age. Maybe that's the greatest thing I had going for me, even as I hesitated to dispense advice: I could remember the agony of being sixteen.

November 8, 2001
Working on an article for a new magazine called Parenting Teens, I am awed by how honest and forthright people can be. Is it possible that there is far greater decency and respect among us than the media portrays? All is not lost.

September 27, 2001
Putting together a resume for a prospective client this week, I was reminded just how rich life is when you do nothing but live it from day to day. We could all be writers, we could all be poets. Even the deepest wounds make us grow and give us character we would not have were we to live simple, sheltered lives.

September 13, 2001
There is nothing else to write except for deepest grief at the events of this week. On Monday, facing a week full of bright prospects, we could never have imagined how changed our world would be today, how very different we have all become in so short a space.

May our innocence lost turn to wisdom gained.

August 2, 2001
When a person thinks about becoming a writer (or at least when I did), there's this romantic vision of sitting at a computer and pouring meaningful words onto a blank page. I remember the early days, writing whenever inspiration struck... usually late at night. It was simply fun, that theater of and for one.

I still love to write, but have discovered in the interim that it's a business like anything else. The routine may "interfere" with the creative, but it enables it as well. Would not trade this business for any other! Keeping routine and creativity in balance is, however, a dance on egg shells.

July 13, 2001
It's been one of those weeks where, if you touch it, it breaks. I'm sure that no one reading this has ever had a week like that. (Yeah right.) Guess these days make me appreciate other times when creativity comes easy, when everything rhymes, and mistakes are unehard of, I mean unheard of.

In the meantime, I've been reading the new John Adams biography. Astounding, isn't it, how many stories we once knew are quickly forgotten. He lived a scant 200 years ago. What have we forgotten from time even more immemorial?

July 5, 2001
On this day after we celebrate our declaration of independence, it is sobering to realize that not everywhere and not in every time have people enjoyed so much luxury of freedom as we do here in these United States.

June 21, 2001
First day of summer. Such a glorious time of year. Energy to create, to think, to be. Sometimes, words are too much.

April 19, 2001
Eight days and counting till the release of my first book of poetry, Changing Seasons. Hope that when it's the 100th book about to be released, I'll be as excited as I am about this second one. It is a gift all its own, to be thrilled by intangibles and made happy by privileges.

April 16, 2001
You know you're growing older when your knee gives out. And the doctor says the awful A-word: Arthritis. I've been so pre-occupied with pain that Thursday came and went without my thinking about this Web site even once.

Funny though how accepting a new limitation can broaden a horizon and make me look for new ways of exercising and staying active. Give a little, get a little. Get a lot?

April 5, 2001
Hope that by this time next week, I can write in this journal about all the wonderful dialog I've put down on paper, or the translations finished and "in the book." But at least I can look back on the last seven days and know they have been good, they have hardly been wasted. Tax returns and the like keep me out of trouble ... that's the prevailing theory.

And it is finally, gloriously springtime. From last night to this morning, it's like the earth exhaled and trees greened. Forsythia's showing faintly yellow. Before long, there will be such a dazzle of color! Perfect time to be a writer. Cannot imagine being anything else.

March 29, 2001
Smiles enough, and laughter the last seven days. Putting aside White Rose has been like opening the windows on a gorgeous spring day, letting in the fresh air. Mark Twain has that effect on you. I've simply got to finish White Rose, so I can go back to Joanie and Sid.

Have practiced writing in different voices this week. Nothing publishable. In fact, I need to shred anything that made it to the printer. It is simply a delicious exercise, thinking out loud from another point of view.

I think sometimes we've got to back away from the things that normally consume our lives and stand in the sunshine a while. Clears out cobwebs hidden by the dark. This I will do!

March 15, 2001
Not a writing week! Stephen King may say that every writer should write ten pages a day, but odds are, he doesn't have to deal with car repairs and telephone people. Only one-and-a-half pages this week. For the whole week. Sometimes you just have to be thankful for what you do get done and quit obsessing over the work you wanted to do.

Oh well. At least the imminent trip to the garage turned into a new car instead. Fun shedding the staid, business-image automobile for something a little more me.

March 8, 2001
Varied week, lots of little things accomplished. Sometimes a break from the darkness of the Third Reich is very much in order.

Finished one article for Children's Writer, started another. Doing these makes me understand a little more here or there about the corners of writing that I am still discovering, the niches that are out there, still unexplored.

Also started translation work for hagalil.com, that excellent German Jewish Web site. Focusing first on contemporary German Jewish life, because so much Shoah material is already available in English. It's a breath of fresh air to write about today's struggles, joys, and perplexities, instead of always looking to the past for inspiration.

Looking to the "future" too, as a very strange and funny dream may have solved the way to get Joanie to talk again. Maybe I can write a chapter or two there next week, get her story moving. Need to look up something about Jupiter, so I can get the commentary right. I like the days I work on Joanie's Letters, because I find myself laughing as I write.