Read a Sampling of my Novel!

Hello all!  Just posting a quick note that I'm still plugging away attempting to get my book published in physical book form.   I'm covered in eBook format . . . between Amazon.com, BarnesandNoble.com and Smashwords.com my book is available (at the modest price of $3.99) for pretty much any eBook format.  And each of those web sites allow you to download a free reader to your PC if you don't have an eBook reader.  Sweet!  To give you a little sampling of the flavor of my book I just posted another page on my blog titled; 'An Excerpt:  'I've Come Home' amounting to half a chapter.  Hope you'll give it a quick read and that it kindles your curiosity.  I'm also hoping to line up an interview with the radio station Jonelle works for in Prescott, to get some publicity out there . . . yes, I can use as much as I can get!

On another note:  John goes in for his 2nd surgery this Wednesday . . . thank you family and friends for keeping him in your prayers!  All my love,   J.J.

My eBook Bases are Covered!

Hello all:  I'm happy to blog today that as for my eBook, I now officially have all bases covered.  No matter what type of eBook reader you may have, from Nook (Barnes and Noble) Sony IPad or IPhone, Kindle (Amazon) PC or anything in between, you can find my book.  For reading devices not supported by either Barnes and Noble or Amazon, go to Smashwords.com and you should be able to find a reading app for whatever device you have.  Thank you friends and family, as always, for your love and support!  Getting a printed book is proving to be more challenging . . . but I'm still going after it.  Jimmi

Where DO I Get My Ideas?

Hello All!  Happy November!  Brrrrrr . . . living at 7,000 elevation, we basically pole-vault from hot summer right into winter most years.  This one doesn't seem to be an exception.  Almost overnight the leaves on our trees decided to make a run for it.   They were just there the last time I checked!  We also had a pretty catastrophic tornado right in the vicinity.  No one was killed, but the multiple areas hit lost thousands of Ponderosa's, Oaks and Junipers.  A tornado?  In Northern Arizona?  Not likin' the changing weather patterns I'm seeing the last few years.  We're not prepared for riding out a tornado.   The house sits on top of a rock mountain, so not much chance of us diggin' out a storm cellar.  Okay, I'll save my off-the-wall opinions about changing weather patterns for another post.  I did have another off-the-wall subject matter when I started this one . . .

I've been asked how I come up with ideas; for my plays and for the story lines for my book, and to answer that sends me off into a little bit of uncharted territory.  First of all, for my various teleplays, I was following along with the television shows I wrote submissions for and the ideas just kind of came to me.  Same with my screenplay; "Mexican Vacation," following the Griswalds and combining that with all the experiences I'd had in Mexico up to that time.  With my screenplay; "Fugitive Child," well that was interesting . . . it was a timely subject that had been coming up repeatedly on the news and it hit me at some core level that got me furiously writing.  I had it finished, edited and submitted in three weeks . . . but it still wasn't fast enough.  Someone else got their version out there first:  As for "I''ve Come Home," I actually dreamed it.  Them, I should say.  Two complete and separate dreams I had that ended up coming together to form my book.

Back when the girls were in high school I was doing quite a bit of writing; exercising my mind on a daily basis in the regimen of putting pen to paper, or in this case fingers to keyboard.  We took a month-long vacation in our motorhome back to Florida in the early Spring of 1998, a time during which I thought I would be taking a break, but apparently my subconscious didn't agree.  Two weeks into the trip I woke up one morning from dreaming the storyline of Spencer and Savannah, literally shaking my head going, Where on earth did that come from?  I got busy jotting down a detailed synopsis of the dream just in time to have the second one:  the ghostly story of Garrett and Belinda.  These two dreams were unreal . . . because they were so complete.  Mostly when I dream I remember bits and pieces at best, but not these two.  By the time the trip was over I had a detailed synopsis of the two story lines, deciding later to merge them into the book as it reads now.

I do have theories about the experience; and it's these theories I think people might find interesting, to see how my mind tracks just a little 'outside the box.'  First of all, I firmly believe that the mind is just like any other muscle of the body in that it desperately needs exercise.  The more it's exercised the sharper it focuses.  Beyond the stunning example I was given above, I cite back to my biggest confirmation of what for me is irrefutable truth:  my music.  When I was young and practicing hours a day at the piano, it wasn't only my fingers getting a workout.  My mind had absolute clarity for music, for notes on a page.  I may have been a bit of a drooler in other aspects of my life, but not that.  So burned into my mind were pieces like "Claire de Lune", "Liebestraum," "Moonlight Sonata" and many others, that to this day I've never needed to open the music to sit down and play.  It sounds strange, but I call up the sequence of notes to my fingers from a place I can't point a finger to and say from right there.  It's somewhere deep in my subconscious.  In fact, if I let my mind, my thoughts, get in the way when I'm playing, most often it trips me up.  Those many pieces were written to some kind of hard-drive inside me and the only way I can tap into it is to just 'let my mind go.'  Play from impulse only. 

The most striking example of that was after I'd officially 'quit' taking piano lessons at sixteen and was then asked to perform for the national 'American Medical Association' convention in Phoenix at the Camelback Resort.  I worked up the most difficult piece I'd ever attempted to perform all on my own to entertain them with, and I think because I didn't have my security blanket there (a piano teacher in the background) my mind was fighting me on it.  I was introduced, came up on stage and sat down at the piano, placed my hands into position . . . and froze!  I couldn't remember anything beyond the first chord.  I literally sat there for over a minute, until I started hearing some mumbles from the crowd.  I almost got up with an apology and walked off the stage.  Last second I made the decision to just play the first chord and then 'let it go.'  See what happened.  It worked.  That internal hard-drive took over for me.  It was the weirdest thing.

Writers say; 'Keep writing every day!'  Musicians say; 'Keep practicing every day!'  Fitness experts say; 'Keep exercising every day!' and I think that holds true for everything you do.  Because I also happen to believe something else:  'You either use it or you lose it.'   Just as the gifts of your life, the accomplishments, come to fruition equal to the effort you put into them, they can also fade without it.  And before you say, 'Hey, you're contradicting yourself;' yes, it is harder for me to get through one of my classical pieces now versus twenty/thirty years ago . . . I'm thinking maybe my hard-drive's gotten a little corroded.  But all is not lost or forgotten.  Just, er, a little rusty.  And here's another theory I have that ties into the above. 

It's about creativity.  I've long speculated that perhaps creativity is a quantifiable, physical element, a gene you either possess or you don't, like any other gene you have in your body . . . for blue eyes, or the ability to roll your tongue.  And I think it can be exercised as well.  Here's what I theorize this potential gene might actually do.  I imagine that as it's exercised and gains strength, it draws energy, inspiration from a source of frequency in our surrounding universe mankind has yet to label or identify.  It taps into that band, which if I'm correct and it's out there,  is just another version of the ones that carry radio waves or WIFI.  Four hundred or so years ago people thought the world was flat.  A hundred years ago people would've laughed themselves silly if you'd talked of radio waves or WIFI.  So, who knows?  Perhaps that band, that frequency captures and stores the energy we generate from our use of creativity; our ideas, our physical efforts using it; making like a mega hard-drive that all someone who was born with the 'creativity' gene has to do is tap into to make use of.  It might explain how three or four different writers come out with almost the identical movie or song or book at the exact same time.  Maybe they tapped into and downloaded the same file folder, because that idea in particular was being given a lot of mental energy and power to it at that time.  Exercising their creativity by using it everyday gave that gene within them the strength to stretch out and connect with that mega-hard-drive.  Just like some people have a gene that makes them more prone to a particular disease, or a gene that makes them more psychic, some people, I believe, are more sensitive to the source of energy where creativity is stored.

In a roundabout way my mother used to theorize on this herself, advising me that if I had something significant I would invent/create that I wanted to be mine, to claim ownership of, don't weaken or corrupt the energy of it by advertising it ahead of time, or even speaking of it out loud.    She said it would weaken its power and I'd be apt to find the rug pulled out from under me.  She was a firm believer in keeping silent as the grave until the right moment . . . keeping the focus, the energy internalized until finished and ready to unveil the masterpiece.  Too weird, I'll bet you're thinking right now.  But if you think about it in the context of above; maybe that was her way of saying;  the more you externalize the creative process with verbal words and energy, the more the mega hard-drive gathers it in, making it accessible to others who are tapped in as well.  Real Twilight Zone kind of stuff, right?  Well, mom was very much into Metaphysics.  I've never formally researched the principles put forth by it, but I'm fairly sure a lot of her advice to me in our brief time together came from their ideologies.

So, there you have it.  I don't look at myself as any different from anyone else.  I believe I happened to have inherited the 'gene' for creativity.  Luck of the draw, I guess.  I had relatives upline that were dripping with it.  I also inherited the gene for gray hair, mondo oily skin, pesky extra fat-cells and a double-chin.  I had relatives upline that were dripping with those, too.   It's all relative.  Take care all . . . talk to you soon! 

Just In Time For Halloween: My Book!

 'Prescott, Arizona, is a charming frontier hamlet harboring a sinister legacy its carried piggyback since its inception . . . Prescott's young adults struggling to survive not only each other, but a preternatural terror as old and alive as the town it holds hostage.  Can passion, the grief and courage between family, friends and lovers rise above the frightening malice running nonstop inside Prescott's borders?  Identical twins Spencer and Savannah Maitland have no mind for curses as they vie for the love of their roommate Donovan Creary; but one young woman of prominence dares to accept the challenge, taking deadly aim against the irrefutable demon, trying to save the soul of a dynamic stranger caught in its grasp and her heart.  Her body and soul the only lure, one way or the other Belinda Pomeroy will be the last . . . the curse will defer to her, or she will count herself its latest victim.'

Hello all:  It's Halloween!    My ABSOLUTE favorite time of year starts this Sunday, Oct. 31st!  And coinciding with this exciting time is the launching of my eBook, "I'VE COME HOME" on both Amazon.com and BarnesandNoble.com!   Check out the "I've Come Home" page on this blogsite for facts and photos, and on this post I want to share some tips with you for creating a fun, easy to construct Haunted House! 

In this, as in most every project, planning is everything.  Though several things need to be done days, even sometimes weeks before your grand fright-fest, if you don't procrastinate and just do them everything goes together so much easier.  I have oodles of trial and error at this, putting on a haunted house for several years from our home in Prescott, Arizona . . . one of our last productions drawing over seventeen-hundred people in the four hours we were open!  Yep, that's right:  seventeen-hundred people traipsed through our home in four hours, and do you know what?  Not one smudge of damage or one disgruntled or problematic thrill-seeker (with the possible exception of one startled guest who whipped their candy bag in front of them, which smacked Melody's jaw by accident.)  After that we started insisting that trick-or-treat bags be left by the front door.  She was our only casualty in all those years.  Oh, we ended up with a lot of hoarse voices for days afterward, but isn't that to be expected?  What's a haunted house without yeowls and ear-piercing screams?  What I took away from our productions was that people were thrilled and appreciative to be given that kind of fun to enjoy on Halloween.  As a footnote; I apologize to the people who bought our house.  Their first Halloween after we moved they must've seen a parade of trick-or-treaters! 

Because my haunted houses were indoors, I utilized our entire upstairs and even our garage, moving whatever furniture I didn't want to incorporate into a scene to the very outer walls of each room before assembly began.  Months before Halloween I'd become a regular figure lurking at the loading docks behind Sears and other refrigerator outlets, stocking up on discarded refrigerator/freezer boxes; the big ones that when opened down the side become a 12 foot wide, 6 foot high canvas to paint on.  My productions were so large I'd have anywhere from 60 to 80 of these painted and ready to throw up in a couple of days on any given year.  I also availed myself of my daughters' friends and fellow band/choir/club members to play my monsters and work my props.  Kids in middle-school and even through high-school loved this, a fantastic alternative to just sitting home passing out candy.  Believe it or not, I actually had a waiting list.  We would only run the haunted house one evening, on Halloween night.  We'd be open from 5pm to 9pm, with a 15 minute bathroom/refreshment break every hour for our monsters and prop-hands. 

With the cardboard refrigerator boxes I stocked up on, I'd lay out my rooms like you'd build a house of cards, after first drawing out the floorplan on paper.  You quickly learn what works best when connecting your cardboard walls . . . just like card walls, the rooms are stronger when you brace one piece to another with lots of corners; L shapes, as many bends and turns as possble.   Lots and lots of 'L' configurations add strength; not long spans of straight lines.  Because your finished product ends up being this big maze of one room after another done this way, your furniture along the walls is never seen or comes in contact with anyone.  When you've laid out your maze/room structure on paper, it'll  also help to show you which cardboard wall pieces will need to be painted on both sides because a particular piece is being utilized for back-to-back room scenes (numbering them in some way is essential, even if it's with a sticky note that can be removed from the wall piece later).  Only a few areas (hallways) did I bother covering across the top with a cardboard piece  (to make into a tunnel with creepy stuff hanging down) because I found that the six foot walls were so high, when all the lights were out people were oblivious to the fact there was a 'normal' house behind the 'haunted' one. 

I painted my walls for my rooms kind of generic, so the scenes taking place could be modified differently each year.  I had the prerequisite graveyard scene, which was usually one of my biggest rooms; the walls painted with creepy black trees, dark bluish-black stormy skies, a full reddish yellow moon, the token black owl or vulture with bright red eyes and lots of headstones.   I made up funny rhymes for the headstones; something like:  'Here's what's left of Barney Pruitt . . . lost his head but never knew it.'  In this scene, for props my favorite thing to do was to sew or glue together big cut-outs of leaves with cheap material in fall colors:  I'd make three or four 'blankets' about 5 feet long by 40 inches wide leaving the ragged leafy edges, and I'd place pillows under all of them but one, to look like mounded-up graves.  Under the last one (the one closest to the footpath) I had one of my kids laying underneath it, waiting to shoot out an arm towards someone.  I'd usually have this in the garage because I'd get sacks of real fallen leaves to strew around the floor to blend everything in.  I got either some boxes or cheap Styrofoam and made headstones for them.  Beyond that I'd have bats hanging from the few 3-D limbs I'd used in the room, and another of my favorite tricks was to have a 'flap piece' of 6 foot wall painted exactly like the rest so it blended in perfectly with the room, and some monster waiting to jump out from behind it.

Speaking of camouflage, another of my most effective rooms was a black and white checkerboard room, the blocks of paint being a foot square.   Then I'd paint three or four large empty boxes (varying sizes, but averaging about 2' x 3') with the exact same checkerboard pattern  and place them slightly in people's way along the path.  Lastly I got cheap black and white material and stitched together the exact pattern into a complete ghost shroud to cover a couple of kids.  They'd merely fade back into the wall or curl up in the least visible corner.  People would be paying such close attention to the boxes, thinking something was going to jump out at them, that when the kids jumped out from the background people fled that room like their heels were on fire; some running the rest of the way through the haunted house.  See, that's a big key to success with a haunted house:  you want to distract people's attention away from what you're doing with something else to focus on; something that looks like it might jump out at you or move or something, but isn't the real 'gotcha' in the scene.

Another great generic wall is the dungeon block wall, big blocks painted over the entire wall.  So many different scenes can be used with that.  As for paint, I'd go to the discount art supply stores and get the big kiddie bottles of poster paints.  They work very well, or I'd make several checks at stores like Home Depot for discounted cans people didn't want.  With some basic experimenting, any color can be mixed together with enough other colors to form the dark gloomy colors you want to use. 

Now, for blood.  How to get the effect without the mess?  Again I'd go to a store like Lowe's or Home Depot and buy a pint of high gloss fire-engine red acrylic paint.  Taking out my cookie sheets at least a week before Halloween, I'd cover them with aluminum foil or plastic cling wrap, then drizzle blobs of 'blood' droplets and drizzle long blood flows on the sheets, fairly thick, and let them dry somewhere safe and where I didn't have to smell the fumes (usually the garage) for several days.  When they were thoroughly dry, I just peeled and they were great for sticking to mirrors and glass, or taking a glue stick to them for porous surfaces. 

Securing my walls together was accomplished  99% of the time with the great ol' American fail safe:  duct-tape.  A couple of days before Halloween is when I'd start assembly, and after duct-taping the walls together like a fiend I'd go over the tape with touch-up paint to blend it into whatever wall I was using (but not necessary, AND if I did this I was sure to put a drop cloth down first!)

As for props?  Large appliance boxes make GREAT props!  I painted one oven/range box to look like a chimney, cut a hole in the top and had one of my kids dressed like 'Chucky' jumping out of it one year, a 'demon' clown the second . . . speaking of clowns; remember the movie "It?"  One of the scariest things I did was to make up a costume that looked like "Pennywise" the clown, got some helium balloons and merely had one of my kid's parents slowly walk up our stairs, balloons in hand, saying; "We all float down here!"  I'd made a 'hallway' of my refrigerator boxes in front of the stairs to prevent people falling down the stairs, and merely cut out a good-sized peephole for them to look in to see "Pennywise."  Geez, did I get a stream of "Ohhh____'s" over that one.  For other props, I'd have a look around.  My husband's motorcycle was incorporated into a city scene I'd done, and I plunked my husband on it dressed as 'The Terminator' complete with an empty shotgun sitting on his lap, pointed up to the ceiling.  I also incorporated our bedroom . . . our rustic poster bed we had.  I reclined one of my daughter's smallest girlfriends on a piece of 1/2 inch plywood with her arms stretched out and drew around her form, then cut it out with a roto-zip, cutting inside the drawn border about an inch all around (so the form wouldn't be seen under her).  I cut the end of the board straight across a little above where her ankles would hit, so her feet would dangle over the end.   Then I took a hundred-pound test clear fishing line and secured the form to each of the four posts using four strands of the fishing line, with the plywood form hovering about two feet off the bed.  Halloween night she merely dressed up in a long-sleeved cotton nightgown and stretched out on the form and, abracadabra!  The exorcist levitating scene!  I had a hidden fan blowing on high to billow the bed sheers, and I rigged a door on my nightstand with elastic to slam open and shut with a teen hidden behind the bed pulling on the door with the same fishing line.  The bedroom door had a rope in front of it so people couldn't actually walk into the room, only pass by it.  That ended up being one of my most realistic-looking scenes.

I made tons of different props out of paper-mache'.  That's done with one inch wide, long strips of newspaper dipped in pure liquid starch, then crisscrossed over whatever base mold form you dream up and left to dry for several days and then paint.  Needless to say, you need to start collecting newspapers well in advance, or find a way to raid a recycling bin.  I made 'pods' from the "Alien" movies, with paper mache' beasties inside; I made the neck and shoulders of a headless ghoul one teen strapped on top of their head with a long gown, really the possibilities are endless.  I even went so far as to do a 'dummy form', it's abdomen made out of paper mache with a hole in the middle in which I popped up the alien beastie through it.  This dummy looked to be laid out on a table draped around with a curtain effect, when in fact the teen was sitting in a low recliner underneath, only his head and one arm poking through the dummy, his other hand under the 'table' shoving the alien up through the stomach.  That was such a hoot!  It is a lot of work, but it really is so much fun!  We went for monsters and such, not real hard-core gory stuff, but that was just us.  We also had a rule for our monsters about 'no touching' because honestly, to grab onto someone just seemed to throw them into too much panic.

I hope this has given you some ideas if the ghoulish urge hits you to whip up your own fright-fest for your fortunate neighbors and friends. It's a little late this year for lots of advance planning, but with just an hour or two spent every so often throughout this upcoming year in preparation, by next year you can give them a night they'll not soon forget!  In the meantime, I'd love for you to give my book a read . . .  it'll put you in the mood for things that go bump in the night!  All my love!

Gettysburg-History Everywhere

Hello all:  John and I have encountered something unique coming to Gettysburg, PA.  The entire town resonates history . . . not only did the Battle of Gettysburg encompass the surrounding countryside for miles but the streets and buildings of downtown itself.  Three days of battle and over 51,000 lives lost, (almost as many as the entire Vietnam war) 5000 horses, and over 165,000 soldiers converging for battle.  It's an amazing place to see, to attempt to grasp the scope of war that happened here in and around this town.  All to restore freedom to every American . . . so many lives lost for that ideal.  America, let us not go backward.

Start Spreadin' The News . . .

We're in New York, Neeeewww Yooorrrrk!!  I absolutely love this countryside, the Adirondack forests!  But, um, is it just John and me, or is everyone in this state seriously pissed off?  With the exception of one couple we met walking their dogs in a park (probably visitors from out-of-state) everyone we've smiled at, waved to or tried to engage in conversation looked as if they'd just sat their butt down on an enormous, infected boil, and their attitude has been less pleasant.  John asked one cashier where he could find the bottled water and the cashier actually snorted and rolled their eyes, pointing in silence toward the far wall. Wow, did we ever intrude on their day.   Looking forward to meeting up with family again in a few days and together the four of us soaking up some good ol' Southern hospitality.  It's a little too chilly up here! 

Beautiful Travels

Hello everyone:  I haven't blogged in a month.  Bad me.  Life gets molasses thick sometimes and swimming through it gets interesting.  I've been on the road for a couple of weeks, sitting in awe from the passenger seat as we travel through one state after another.  I've lived in Arizona most of my life and I love my home base, but I have to share my reverence for our beautiful Country, some states we've visited touching a place in my soul that feels like home to me.  States that inspire and give me peace, vistas to look out over that regenerate my spirit.  I love our Country, what an inspiration to see how it still thrives in the rural lands because of the resilience of its people.  Go America!  Okay, enough mush for one day.  I promise to pay my readers a visit more often.  Until next time, peace and inspiration be with you.

WHEN YOUR CHILD CRIES

When your baby child laughs, as a mom your heart tumbles out of rhythm; there's no other sound like it in the world.  Before you can catch a breath it brings tears to your eyes.

When your young child struggles, as a mom you try to give them space to let them learn from their mistakes, band-aid their knees when they fall and offer your lap of support if they need someplace safe to abide from their fears.  Before you know it, they're off and running to claim the world as their stage and you as their audience.

When your teenage child hurts, as a mom you listen with sympathy, threaten to bring the perpetrator's sniveling little world crashing down around their ears, jump to your child's defense whenever necessary and oft times when it isn't, and reassure your suffering adolescent that tomorrow will come and they have it in their power to make it a better day.

When your grown-up child cries . . . as a mom your heart tumbles out of rhythm; there's no other sound like it in the universe.  Before you can catch a breath it brings tears to your eyes.

Some tears can feel free to stop anytime.  As a mom I wish they would.

Tribute To My Dear Friend

Marjory, to you and your precious family, my family just wants to say how much we love and care about you, and you're in our thoughts and prayers!  Never forget what a special, amazing soul you are!  And not to worry:  I'm never going to let you forget it myself!  All our love to you and yours!

Two, Two, Two Books In One!

Only I could do this.  Creating, working, sweating over my book, fretting I wasn't producing a certifiable epic . . . I get it finished!!!  Go me, break out the happy drinks!  Oh, but wait:  I move forward with the natural progression an author takes after first finishing their book and second, recovering from the hangover; researching agents, how to write the best 'PICK ME!' query letter on the planet to keep me off the rejection pile, and I find out what?  Agents have a little 'gotcha'!  This would've been nice to know.  They will flat reject a first-time novelist if their manuscript is over a set number of words. (Ever notice how in a series of books many times the first one is the shortest? Now you know why.  Once you're an established author you can drivel with the best of them.) 

For my genre (paranormal romance) they want to see between 80,000 and 110,000 words.  Mine was 192,000.  So, why haven't I been on this blog for awhile?  I've been hacking my book to pieces . . . back to basics . . . See Spot . . . See Spot Run . . . And yes, those of you who know my flare for adjectives, I took every one of them out and still had over 175,000 words . . . then I got to furiously deleting entire scenes . . . still at 150,000.  My book was going from this:    "You and I are going to survive this crappy mess!" to this: "You . . . are . . . crap!"  My characters sound like they're in dire need of English lessons.

It had been suggested to me that since my book had many characters and two intermingling storylines that I split it into two books.  I decided to quit fighting city hall.  I think.  One book or two, the epic will still be certifiable because the author is.  If I change my mind and stick with one book, maybe I'll try selling it in some country where they speak broken English.  "I . . . am . . . screwed."

Here are some pictures of John's latest fishing trip in Rocky Point. As the wife of someone who's worked incredibly hard all his life, it does my heart good to see the man truly enjoying himself once in awhile. Way to reel 'em in, John!

In this pic are John, Jim Anderson, (John's older bro, and yes, I have to say this 'cause everyone claims he's the better-looking one), John Royere, Brian Blockey and the boat el capitan.

Did You Lose Something, Arizona?

My first post on illegal immigration was politically correct  and respectful . . . tactful.  Now I'm gettin' steamed and I'm switching from tactful to tacky.  So, emulating my illustrious Federal Government, I'm putting up a signpost:  You're forewarned!

Within three of our beautiful states' counties, large areas have been cordoned off-limits by the Federal Government as being 'unsafe' for ARIZONA CITIZENS to enter because of the heavily-armed illegal drug traffickers with automatic weapons, illegal smugglers with automatic weapons and garden-variety illegals with whatever they can lay their hands on controlling them.  Does this sink in?  CONTROLLING THEM!  While to keep us safe our Federal Government charges to the rescue by putting up signs saying; 'Oooh, so sorry, but do you see the word 'ass' in No Trespassing?  That's what you're gonna' lose if you go in there . . . Yes, Arizonans; it's your ass . . . don't say we didn't warn you!'  I say the Federal Government needs to get their head out of their 'No Trespassing' sooner, rather than later.

I hope enough Arizonans, no, not just Arizonans but Americans are outraged, simply aghast over this transfer of our sovereign soil from American-controlled to Mexican-controlled under our very noses, and can bring enough pressure to bear on the Federal Government to DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT!!!!!!!!!!!!    I have all the confidence in the world they will . . . they'll take down the signs.  The new ones replacing them will read; 'Just kidding!'

Fw: Fwd: Howdy Janice!

----- Forwarded Message ----
To: jjandersonblog@yahoo.com
Sent: Tue, June 8, 2010 9:31:01 AM
Subject: Fwd: Howdy Janice!

Just finished reading your screenplay.  Very, very good, Jimmi.  Can't find anything critical to say about it.  What an ending.  Good Luck.  Love to you and John.  Janice

 

Thank you Janice, and to everyone for your support and your supportive comments!

'Fugitive Child'

Fugitive Child, my screenplay, is posted in its entirety here on my blog site now that I've finished retyping the monster.  Take note that it's in two parts, and also that it was written close to twenty years ago, so some references may seem a little outdated, like pay phones and milk cartons!  Hope you enjoy the drama, and I'd love to have you post any comments about it if you feel so inspired! 

Continuity my backside.

So reading one of my how-to books on getting published backfired when it came to one piece of advice.  The book advised-- and I do concede this idea has merit, just not for me-- that once my book was finished I needed to put it away for awhile . . . for a few weeks, so I could come at it from a fresh perspective, more like a new reader.  I was to pick a time to read through the entire book with as minimal interruptions as possible.  Are they kidding?  The idea is that too many authors get caught up reworking one little part or another, and lose the continuity of the entire story.  Without reading all the way through the author doesn't know if it flows well, or if it's a choppy read.  Well, okay, I'll grant them that . . . but what cave are you supposed to crawl into to avoid the real world for a few days? 

I tried it anyway, when John went out of town to Rocky Point for a turn-around trip.  To those of you who know John well, and know what he's like when he's out of town alone, oh my, you'll have an idea how many phone calls I received. Grrr. After the first flurry I was actually clipping along fairly fast, until I came to chapter eleven.  Drat, I didn't like how that chapter read.  I spent the next two days and most of my alone time fussing over the next two chapters!  Continuity will just have to wait for another guy's fishing trip in June.  Fishing trips work for me, because phones don't reach way out there. No wonder monks and inmates have a history of becoming authors . . . from a time standpoint it makes sense.  I don't have the right 'stuff' to pursue life as a monk, nor would life behind bars be my first choice. 

So what have I learned from this?  That the rest of my book may read like a hatchet-job, but chapters eleven and twelve will keep you riveted! 

A Daughter's Grace Under Fire

     I have a little story to tell from childhood that revolves around three things:  A dog that wanted to be human, my brief brush with celebrity status and embarrassing the hell out of my daughter; which as a parent is my right and privilege.
     Between the ages of eight and twelve I was on television thirty-nine times.  Yup.  Sounds like I was destined for stardom, right?  Except for two things:  It was a local California station, and I was being upstaged by my poodle, Frou-Frou.  I would tinkle the ivories with pieces written by Bach, Debussy, Chopin, etc. while my poodle, dressed to the hilt in designer baby clothes, reclined blissfully in her stroller placed beside my bench.  Having been around dogs all my life, I can now really appreciate just how strange Frou-Frou was.  A normal dog in every other sense, the minute the first article of clothing went on she'd go limp as a noodle (a poodle noodle) and grow so relaxed that most times she fell asleep.  Several of my performances where she hogged the spotlight the most were when she was sitting up in the stroller while fast asleep. 

                                                    
     Apparently during the televising of one of my performances, an aide of President Nixon's was in California on business and tuned in to watch.  Next thing you know Mom is presenting me with an official invitation to perform in concert at the White House.  And because no dogs were allowed I got to perform solo!  Ahh, I was breaking out into a solo career!  Mom and I about 'busted our buttons' trying to keep the surprise from my piano teacher, Ms. Beal, until the exact moment Mom decided to whip out the invite . . . Ms. Beal almost fainted.  I'd never actually seen someone babble before . . . it made for quite a show.  Mom and Ms. Beal began preparations immediately for what pieces I would play (I never had any say-so in this), how Ms. Beal was going to travel to Washington D.C. with us; oh, it was all very exciting . . .
     Three weeks later my father was diagnosed with terminal cancer.  He only had a few months to live; three months was the estimate the Dr.'s made.  That really pulled the rug right from under all of us.  Mom sat me down and leveled with me, gently breaking the news first about Dad, then the fact that all our time, money and energy over the next months had to be spent doing everything we could to chase down a cure.  No White House.  We couldn't spare the money or time to go there.  And I was A-ok with that.  Dad was my best friend in the whole world, and if Mom thought we had a chance to do something to save him, well then, there was just nothing else to do but do it.  So instead of playing a concert at the Nation's Capitol, we headed straight for another nation; with Mom driving, me in the passenger seat and Dad's six-foot-two frame stretched across the back seat we drove for hours every day, crossing over the border from San Diego into Mexico for over two months for experimental treatments using ground apricot pits.  Mexico was claiming great success with the treatments and they hadn't been approved by the FDA in the U.S.  Mom knew Dad wouldn't be alive to wait around for FDA approval.
     Tragically, two months later the doctor there in Ensenada told Mom she should just keep Dad home and comfortable; there was nothing more they could do.
     Jump ahead thirty years and my firstborn Jonelle was going on her eighth-grade trip to Washington, D.C.  I went along as a chaperone.  I'd always wanted to see the Nation's Capitol and it was breathtaking:  from the Smithsonian Museums, the Vietnam Memorial, the Capitol Building and finally . . . the White House.  Your typical tourist--that was me--oohing and aahing through each room of the biggest house I'd ever seen.  Now, here I digress a moment.  I didn't know people could completely repress bad memories . . . bury them so deep as to be forgotten.  I thought that was Hollywood hype, but I got a lesson in just how protective the mind could be, when necessary.  We were slowly making our way through the White House, so far so good-- I hadn't mortified my daughter too much up to this point on the trip-- we arrived at the very last room:  a stunning ballroom.  Placed in the center of the massive hall was a gorgeous one-of-a-kind Steinway piano.  It had an eagle with its wings spread to fly carved out of each leg of the piano and it was huge!  Seeing a security guard standing watch close by, I engaged him in a question/answer session over the piano.
     "My gosh, who gets to play this?" I asked.  The guard smiled patiently, informing me that whenever an event that included music happened at the White House, this was the room of choice and the piano would be used by the group performing the music.  The light-bulb still hadn't lit above my head.  Then he said; "And if someone receives an invitation to perform in concert at the White House, this is the piano they use . . . Mam, are you all right?  Mam, do you need to sit down or something?"  This is the part where embarrassing my daughter comes in:  Apparently I went white as a sheet just before I sagged and broke down in an impressive crying jag in front of my daughter's entire eighth grade class.  To the guard I blubbered; "I was supposed to be here! I forgot!  Dad died, and I forgot I'd been invited to play here!"
     The guard looked at me as if he wanted to call for the funny jacket, then craned his neck around trying to spot a relief guard to stand watch while he made the phone call.  I blew my nose and flapped my hand in dismissal:  No, I'd be all right, just give me a minute.  I wasn't a terrorist . . . I wasn't creating a diversion so some sinister plot could be perpetrated behind his back; I was just a forty-something newly disowned mom who'd just had an epiphany.  I never made it to that piano bench; but it was the why behind why I didn't that was turning me inside out.   Dad . . . a deep heartache I hadn't felt in years, so overwhelming it actually pounded a buzzing roar through my ears.  I rushed outside, bent and propped my hands on my knees while I gulped down fresh springtime air, listening to my daughter making polite apologies for my unbalanced behavior to the crowd.

     Back on the bus I started to feel a little better, except for the fact that no one wanted to talk to me or acknowledge my presence; like the way a room full of people treat a guy who's standing in their midst with his fly down.  Seeing no one would sit with me, my daughter eased down beside me and patted my hand, the look on her face saying she understood that going off the deep-end was just something moms do every once-in-awhile.  Poor thing; she has no idea!

Posting my Beauty And The Beast Script

I did it, whew!  Next I'll tackle my screenplay Fugitive Child after I un-kink my fingers.  The television series Beauty And The Beast was where I first explored writing, submitting over half a dozen teleplays for the production company, some of which were 'incorporated' into final episodes that aired immediately after the big writer's strike.  Oh, naive me . . . I sat back and said "HEY!!" when I watched, then after pouting a few days went out and got myself an agent, who agreed that 'incorporated' was a good word to use.  He showed me how to register my work through the WGA and to Copyright it.

Armed with a little more knowledge I wrote a screenplay, "Mexican Vacation" and submitted it to Dan Adams, my agent.  But the production company for the "Vacation" movies had disbanded shortly after that time.  I may post a little of it at some point here, but honestly, twenty years ago there wasn't so much political correctness.  I doubt I can find more than a few pages that won't offend somebody . . .

Then I saw the news about the Underground Railroad on television and got inspired to write a screenplay on the subject, Fugitive Child.  I wrote that in three weeks and submitted it to Dan.  He had a production company very interested in it, but another version of that timely subject matter showed up on television before my submission really got off the ground.  Could I do anything about that?  No, since it was current news it was public domain.  Dan Adams sat me down about then and told me a couple of things:  1)  If I was serious about writing for Hollywood I had to pack up the hubby, kiddies and dogs and move there.  Hmmm, somehow I just knew John wouldn't go for that.  2)  If I was serious about writing for Hollywood I had to understand that the biggies oft times 'incorporated' outside work and you as a writer had to just count it as paying your dues.  One day you might get big enough to turn the tables and 'incorporate' others' work . . . it's how Hollywood operates. 

Well, I wasn't too happy with that news.  Dan could see the steam coming out of my ears, so he advised me further.  'If you can't abide with that I suggest you write books.  It's much harder for people to 'incorporate' them.'   So, that's what I've done . . . I just had to pout some years in-between.

Regarding this teleplay, I was forced to take some serious liberties with the formatting.  To those who would kvetch about the formatting, I have three words for you:      Well, exxcccccuuussee mmeeeee!
It was like trying to take a wheel of brick hard cheese and stuff it into a ketchup bottle.  I hope you enjoy my work, and please invite others to read who might like what I've posted! 

Our Experience with Mexico vs. U.S./Arizona Immigration Law

Those of you taking a stance against Arizona implementing the U.S. Immigration Law, we are offering the information below as food for thought and to educate those who might not know the requirements of Mexico, which we can share from experience.  As U.S. residents who wish to reside part of their year legally in Mexico beyond ninety days a year, this is what was required of us:

1.  We were required to provide original birth certificates with official State Seal; 
2.  Current driver's licenses;
3.  Color copy of passports;
4.  Original marriage certificate with official State Seal;
5.  Original power bill, notarized, that shows legal residence of current state of Arizona;
6.  Three consecutive months' worth of original financial bank statements, notarized by the State of Arizona,  starting with current month and going back three months, proving viable income so as not to become a financial burden on Mexico.

To stay in Mexico longer than ninety days the above requirements had to be met for us to receive our FM3's (equivalent of a U.S. Visa) and these have to be renewed annually. With seven years of providing current identification/financial information you can petition to become a naturalized citizen, but if you run past their annual deadlines at any point during those seven years you have to start over.

We are expected to carry our FM3's and passports with us at all times, which is a major contention we have with people criticizing Arizona for wanting to require the same, per U.S. Immigration Rules and Regs.  Mexico law enforcement has the right, upon stopping us for any reason, to demand to see these documents.  FYI:  in the decades we've been visiting Mexico we've never heard of their enforcement agencies pulling over tourists and racially profiling them merely because we don't look like Mexican Citizens.  If you're stopped by a police officer in Mexico, you did something wrong.  The same holds true in Arizona. 

You as a visitor, beyond a stay of five days are expected to procure an FMT (tourist visa) and have that on you, which allows you to be in Mexico for up to ninety days.  You're also required to get an FMT if you go beyond their designated "no hassle zone". In that case, you also have to get an additional visa for your vehicle.  Even with our FM3's, if we go beyond the Guaymas/San Carlos border of "no hassle zone" we also have to get an additional visa to cover our vehicle, one for each state.  And they have serious federal checkpoints along the way . . . you HAVE to have papers.  And, with rare exceptions, mandatory insurance policies for your vehicles don't cross state lines.  You must get specific insurance to cover each specific state.

Also, other information you might not know:  When John was nearly stabbed to death in Rocky Point, before he was allowed to be discharged from their hospital we had to pay the entire hospital bill on the spot. (The majority of money owed had to be paid in cash, for the rest a credit card was acceptable.)  We weren't afforded any financial assistance from the State of Sonora, Mexico, to cover our large medical expenses.


If we were caught working in Mexico without proper documentation we'd be arrested.  Period.

According to Jonelle, her husband Brendan, who has his green card and yes, they had to jump through hoops to get it, has to check in with immigration in two years, then once a year until he gets legal residency.  He was told he only has a three year wait to become a U.S. Citizen. 

A Mexican Tourist Visa (FMT) is only good for a maximum of ninety days, as I said.  We know many people in Rocky Point who spend a large portion of their time in Arizona by merely showing up at the State's office with a valid Mexico driver's license and proof of insurance and they receive a Tourist Visa that's good for six month's stay in Arizona.  Renewing this every six months while going through the legal path to citizenship would be one potential solution to allow Mexican Nationals to stay here legally and provide them the documentation they should have, based on U.S. Immigration Law.  No, a Tourist Visa is not a Work Visa, which is another set of hoops Brendan went through to get his, and is a whole other issue; but it IS legal documentation for a Mexican citizen to be here residing in Arizona. 

Residing in Mexico part of the year has been a privilege and a cultural enrichment that has added so much to our lives: fifty years' worth of visits and memories that even the one horrific experience couldn't dissuade us from continuing to treasure.  And respecting the rules and regulations Mexico required of us to do so, we fulfilled them to the letter.  All Arizona is asking for is to be shown that same consideration.

Almost there . . .

For those of you that followed and enjoyed the television show "Beauty And The Beast," I only have a couple of pages to go before I'm finished retyping one of the teleplays I submitted for the show way back when- retyping because the teleplay was stored on a word processor whose files can't be transferred to computer that I'm aware of.  Of course I'll admit, as will everyone in my family, that I'm not the most computer savvy person in the world.  Yes, there was the option of scanning, but it takes almost as long.  If you liked the television series then I know you'll enjoy my episode.  But first I have a question, then a disclaimer:  First, the question;   Does anyone out there know specific precedents for posting work to the internet such as this, where intellectual property rights can come into play over a blog site?  This teleplay, among several others, was submitted to the Production Company for Beauty And The Beast, and I had it registered through the WGA.  Though Witt-Thomas Productions never aired this episode and I'm printing a disclaimer prefacing the posted teleplay, I want to make sure I'm not treading on toes by including it on my blog.  The reason I haven't updated my blog in a few days is because I've been reading everything I can find! regarding copyrights, trademarks and intellectual property rights, and after all that reading it's still as clear as mud.  I've also emailed the WriterBeware website asking for advice, but have yet to hear back.  So, here I am.  Do I post or don't I?  Ahh, that is the question.  I will print a disclaimer at the beginning of the posted teleplay that will say something to the effect of:  This work is not a commodity; it is not posted to be sold for a price or intended to be resold for a price to the general public (one of the few things I did get from all my reading).  Actually I may post that word for word-- I kinda' like the way it sounds!  I'll keep you posted.

Doggie Crew Update

For those of you who've gone with John and me on our daily doggie feeding runs in Rocky Point, Mexico, John just called in an update on our 'crews' after making his rounds for the 2nd time since we've been back in Arizona.  We came back the first of April and John made one trip back almost immediately after (to check on things after the big quake) so it's been a few weeks.  They're all doing very well . . . some groups better than others.  We've had a few mergers, strays taking up with a crew here and there; and we've had some disappearances.  The 'Motley Crew' is going great, have picked up a new member.  All remembered John and his food-mobile with excited barks, jumps and wagging tails.  The 'Balboa Crew' are all there and looking fit; remember they'd scattered to the four winds when the guys with nets came around back in February.  'The Lolita's Crew' has thinned out, but the puppies are there, healthy and much bigger.  The 'Shipyard Crew' is intact, and John says it's funny to see how the people living there at the dock have threaded slabs of planking through the wrought iron fence to keep the furry cuties confined and off the streets, keeping them away from the guys with nets.  Not the prettiest fencing, but it works!  Mom and pup are still there, thrilled to see John, and the pup is almost full grown.  He's a little thinner than John would like to see, but truthfully he's probably picked up worms like they all do.  Most of the crews are getting fed one way or another by locals who take up the slack when we're not there, but we still worry how they're all doing.  Oh, yeah, best of all Scruffy, our favorite,  is fantastic!  She looks like 'Tramp' of Lady and the Tramp, has the biggest golden eyes I've ever seen on a dog, and she's become very popular with the ladies who set up the little food stands right where she is.  She gets fed leftover burritos and tacos all the time . . . but was too happy seeing John again, and getting the extra grub!  What a success story she is, after being hit by a car and coming so close to death!  It's wonderful to see how the locals put out water for them and do what they can . . . times are horrific and families have to do for their loved ones first, but the four-legged street urchins, for the most part, are faring pretty well.  Love to all!

Typing . . . typing . . . Oh wow; snow's coming down again!  John went down to Mexico yesterday, the cold weather wimp!  Can't take living like an Eskimo.  Me, I have a layer of um 'protection' from the chill. Typing . . . still typing . . . 

I'VE STILL GOT IT . . . IT JUST HURTS!

My blog today is going to be short because I'm spending the next few days typing . . . typing . . . typing . . . I'm excited to share some of my earlier work with you, but unfortunately that earlier work was done on a word processor . . . pre-computer, don't ya' know.  And, YES, before the wisecracks start pouring in, computers were in existence when I started my manuscripts; I'm not THAT old . . . yet.  So I had a choice: scan stacks of pages or retype them.  My typing is still around 80 to 90 wpm, depending upon the amount of coffee I've ingested, and my scanner runs 3 minutes a page . . . kind of works out in the wash.  Getting my 'power typing' back in practice is a plus, but some rather creepy aches and pains are cropping up in the process.  I didn't know veins on the back of my hands could look like that. Actually that's not entirely true--those of you who know me well, know I'm a trained classical pianist, one who only sits down every six months or so and cranks through a practice session of all the music I can still perform.  My hands look rather alien when I finish, but hey, they're limber for days after that! 

So, getting back to this typing; I wanted to post one of several teleplays I wrote and submitted for the television show "Beauty And The Beast", one screenplay entitled Fugitive Child, and a piece I wrote for practice, not for publication, revamping the ending of "Phantom Of The Opera" into something I liked better.  Now comes the challenge.  The screenplay and teleplay follow a very specific manuscript format; one I'm having a really interesting time trying to incorporate on the page 'PLENTY OF WRITING' without the format changing so drastically it looks like a first-grader typed it.  Uggh.  I'm working on this hurdle, as well as typing . . . typing . . . typing . . .  Will keep you posted! 

Can you help me grow?

Hello to all my followers and anonymous guests! It's day two of this new adventure of mine, and what a beautiful day it is! Hardly a cloud in the sky. Very normal, beautiful, sunny and dry Arizona morning. I was hoping that I could recruit all of you as a sort of "knowledge base" to help me along my way. I know there are many websites out there where people can communicate with other avid readers, or possibly other authors. Can any of you make any recommendations for me in this request? I know my youngest daughter, Melody, will have a few ideas to throw my way. But, I would love to hear comments from everyone! Even websites for other Pomeranian enthusiasts or Fine Artists are a plus for me!


As a fun side note, I have posted some pictures for all to view. Please feel free to take a little peek into my life. Also, I will be posting some of my work here shortly. I just have to sort through the amassed paper collection and get it organized. It is my intention to start with some of my Teleplays and possibly a Screenplay or two. I will keep you posted as I approach "The Day." Thank you for becoming followers of my blog, or for just stealing a glance at me! Please feel free to leave any comments you like, I will be most receptive and appreciative to receive them. Well, till later then. Have a good one! 

Hello to my fellow Bloggers!

Since I am new at this, you will all have to bear with me for a little while. First, let me share a little about myself with all of you. I am a wife of 35 years and mother of two wonderful and talented daughters. Our family has resided in this beautiful state of Arizona since before my first daughter was born and we all continue to thrive here with each passing year. I am an accomplished writer as well as fine artist, an avid reader of other Arizona Authors (Stephanie Meyer and Diana Gabaldon to name a couple) as well as romantic historical novels, an excellent cook and all around loving family person! As a fun side note, I also herd Pomeranians . . . since between my husband, myself and our two daughters there are seven in total! Most likely seven too many once in awhile.


You may be wondering; "Why have I started to finally blog after all the time that's passed in which this means of communication has been available?"  Well, I will tell you it is because I am turning over a new leaf in my life. I want to take my future in a challenging, yet exciting, fresh direction. I want to become a published author. I have spent much time and effort on my first novel, and it's time I took this dream of mine to the next logical step. Writing isn't entirely new for me since I wrote both teleplays and a screenplay in the past, of which some of my writing has been incorporated into movies and television. I plan to post examples of this work as I continue along with this blog. But as an important step to becoming a published author, I want to connect with other authors and/or those who enjoy my work. Thus, the creation of the J.J. Anderson Blog.


I look forward to connecting with other bloggers, mothers, Arizonans, authors, artists and really anyone who has taken an interest in my work! I will even be curious to speak with fellow Pomeranian enthusiasts, of which I'm certain there are others out there. I anticipate to grow as a writer by continuing with this blog and this excites me most of all! Thank you for taking the time to visit my blog, please feel free to comment on what you have read so far. I look forward to connecting with you as I move forward with this exciting new path that I have set myself on!