ROCOCO

I'm a major Adriana Trigiani fan. I look forward to her books. I savor them when they arrive. I re-read them for the sheer joy of her words, her characters.

It took me awhile to warm up to Bartolomeo, the main character/narrator of ROCOCO and I'm ashamed to admit that it took me that long because he was a man. I am used to Trigiani's women and I kept looking for the feminine in B. (Bartolomeo's nickname) from page one until the end. B. is a warm-hearted character, a talented designer, a flawed human being but I had real trouble melding with him. Usually Trigiani's characters open up their hearts and invite you inside. B. held a little more back in reserve. I had to work harder to fully understand him--which, as it turned out, B. had to do as well in order to understand himself.

And there lies the genius of Adriana Trigiani. Her writing is smooth, natural, warm and human and uplifting. Her characters become part of my emotional frame of reference. That's how real they are to me. That's how good Trigiani is.

Frankly, I'm in awe.

Labor Day 2006

<--Spanakopita (spinach pie)


It's Labor Day and I've pretty much done nothing but work! And, strangely enough, I've enjoyed every second.

The cooking frenzy that began on Saturday continues. Spaghetti sauce. Spinach lasagna. Caesar salad with grilled chicken breast. Homemade tomato soup. Chocolate chip cookies. A strange concoction made with chicken, cauliflower, zucchini, noodles, and Cavender's Greek Seasoning that I'm not entirely sure I'd repeat.

The kitchen looks like Emeril, Mario, and Rachael Ray had bar fight in there. I'm thanking God right now for my dishwasher. (And I'm not even one of those gotta-have-a-dishwasher women.)

The most amazing thing about this weekend, however, is the writing. Words have been pouring out of me the last two days. Ideas that had been only the faintest glimmers of . . . something came to life out of nowhere yesterday. I sat down, positioned my fingers over the keyboard and the words flowed. I couldn't have stopped them if I wanted to. People I had never met, never thought about, never known existed appeared on my screen. I swear they leaped from fingers to screen w/o any help from me.

It's been years since I've felt this exhilarated, so--I guess the word is fertile. I don't know what it's all about--the weather? the time of year? the chocolate chip cookies--but I'm going to ride with it as long as it lasts.

It Is A Dark and Stormy Night

<--A bowl of Cape May clam chowder


It's dark. It's raining. It's chilly. It's perfect.

I am in heaven. I can hear the rain pinging against the living room window and sluicing off the leaves on the maple tree and I swear to you every molecule in my body is doing a happy dance. If I could bottle this weather, this feeling, the words would flow like water from the tap. This is creative perfection.

Which is why I'm sitting here on the sofa reading knitting magazines, watching a Sex and the City rerun and writing to you instead of writing a book.

Tomorrow I need to shovel out the house. Things usually get a tad grim when I come off a book. My stuff seems to migrate from room to room and then multiply in volume until there's barely room for us.

Want some free advice? Don't marry a writer. We're good for witty conversation but when it comes to the mundane details of everyday life, you'd better look elsewhere. If I had to live with me I'd jump out a window.

We announced our Launch Contest winners over at Romancing The Yarn today. It was very exciting last night to access the Random Numbers Generator and pick the grand prize winner and five runners-up. So far this has been a fascinating (and surprisingly fun) experience. Who knew?

Barbara