Showing posts with label another meme. Show all posts
Showing posts with label another meme. Show all posts

Thursday, June 24, 2010

What were YOU Doing in the 80s?


 Dig out your neon, your teased dos, your pointy shoes and your vinyl! We're going back to the 80s! 

That was on the invitation from Poetikat to do an 80s Retro Blog Post today.

I gotta say -- my 80s weren't like that. We were in full back-to-the-land mode -- milking, gardening, raising a crop of tobacco every year, and making use of child labor.  The two young uns below are my son Ethan and my nephew Andrew. They are helping to pull tobacco plants from the seed bed for us to set out in the field. It would be sometime in June.  This picture and the next are probably circa 1979 but we were still doing this in the 80s.

 
And this below is a letter from me to my grandparents (whom I called 'Ba' and 'Hudy') back in Tampa, telling them something about our life and how we harvest the tobacco.

And this last picture would be in August or September. The harvested tobacco is on the truck, ready to be hung in the barn. Justin is helping by picking up loose tobacco leaves.

Nope, no neon, no teased dos (John's hair is naturally curly), and absolutely no pointy shoes. We did have vinyl records back at the house.

And I did love our 80s.
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Thursday, March 19, 2009

25 Influential Books

Pat Browning, another mystery author and an email friend, recently posted a list of 25 books that had influenced her -- and, for better or worse, included my own Signs in the Blood. That got me to thinking about my own list -- I couldn't resist and here it is.

Taking it from the top, the language of the Bible, the Episcopal Book of Common Prayer (the non-modernized one), Shakespeare, and many of the poets is responsible for my fascination with words. I have a pretty good memory and I'm fond of quoting, as many of you know. But in my books I have to restrain myself to the older, out of copyright works. So I'm fortunate to have all these beautiful words dodging about through the winding corridors of my mind.



As a high school student, I was a great reader of science-fiction. I loved Ray Bradbury for his rich poetic language and lovely descriptions, as well as his thoughtful take on important themes. Robert Heinlein was another favorite -- even then, I think I knew his writing was a tad clunky and but, oh my, could he tell a story!

Historical fiction was my next passion. The ability of an good author to transport the reader in time and space is typified by Mary Renault. (Thanks to her, I'm convinced that I know ancient Greece.) The subplots in my books are the dipping of my toe into the stream of historical fiction. One day, who knows, I may take the full plunge.

Douglas Adams is just one of the many Silly Brits I have read, delighting in their way with a word. P.G. Wodehouse is the master, Adams and Neil Gaiman are close behind. And Monty Python -- all of them. I can't aspire to write like these guys, being neither silly nor a Brit, but I suspect there's some carry over into what I do.

Rumer Godden's In this House of Brede is, I'm sure, the origin of my use of internal monologue and Lee Smith's Fair and Tender Ladies is at least the godmother of Little Sylvie.

Robertson Davies is someone I'd like to write as well as. Add John Fowles, Jane Austen, Ann Tyler, Barbara Kingsolver, Margaret Atwood . . .



My influences from the mystery world would be my early favorites -- Agatha Christie and Dorothy L. Sayers, followed by P.D. James. For a long time I read only British mysteries, but then I discoved Sharyn McCrumb and Tony Hillerman. And when I was working on the rewrite of my first book, my editor sent me a copy of Elizabeth George's first book as an illustration of the sort of thing she was looking for in terms of plotting.

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The Whole Earth Catalog, was, in large part responsible for our moving to the mountains and taking up the farming life. That's influential!

Last of all, when my friend Sheila Kay Adams just up and wrote Come Go Home With Me and it was published with a foreword by Lee Smith, something began to simmer and fizz in my mind. I can do that, I thought.

Is that twenty-five? Who's counting? (Math is so over-rated, as my younger son once told me.) -- and I know I've left out at least twenty-five more.

I'd love to hear what books have been important in your lives . . .