"Writing the Books We Like to Read" -- Omega Institute, June 9-14 and
"Crime Writing and Genre Fiction" -- Art Workshop International, Assisi, Italy, July 30-Aug 10
I'm a writer, at work on my 14th book. This blog is a record of random and less-random thoughts. If you want to know more about me, check my website. If you want to take a workshop, see above -- no experience necessary, just a desire to write!
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You can click here to buy my books and here for my short stories, e-versions of my first four novels, and my haiku book.
2012-06-01 1:08 PM
On the bus on the way to the Rancho. Question: when did a bus become a motorcoach? I know that's the word in use in England, and I think it's what they call it in legalese, too, like in pronouncements from the Interstate Commerce Commission; but, memo to the ladies and gents who own this bus line: those facts don't make the vehicle classy. Nor does "jitney," which is just silly. This thing is a bus. A reasonably nice one, but no different from the Trailways bus I took from Saratoga to Albany not all that long ago.
Oh well. So on this bus is a woman with expensive blond hair and vast amounts of makeup. The makeup, elaborate and unsubtle, was on when she boarded the bus, but she spent the first twenty minutes of the ride re-applying it. She's wearing sparkling earrings, a black cashmere sweater, a soft pale yellow leather jacket, and a giant ring on her left hand. The really interesting question is, where is she going? Remember, this motorcoach ain't heading to the Hamptons. The Rancho's on the North Fork, the Loser Fork, the It's-Not-Sushi-It's-Bait Fork. I'll be interested to see where she gets off. Which will probably tell me nothing, but I want to see if anyone meets her, and what they're like.
Also on the bus is a small dog in a carrier on its owner's lap. It barks like crazy every time anyone walks by its seat. Otherwise it's peaceable and content. A territorial little thing, with a very clear sense of boundaries.
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