• Bridge Ladies

    Bridge Ladies When I set out to learn about my mother's bridge club, the Jewish octogenarians behind the matching outfits and accessories, I never expected to fall in love with them. This is the story of the ladies, their game, their gen, and the ragged path that led me back to my mother.
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Hello, It’s Me, I’ve Thought About Us for a Long, Long While

Dearly Beloved, I kept meaning to write but I’m on a wild jag. Getting up at 5:00, sometimes 4:30 and writing as if my ass were on fire. It started with our 30/30 and by the end of the experiment I had the base of something and from there it’s been a pinball game in my mind. Scattershot, lit. This forced locked down has also helped. The four hours I spent commuting is now time with my keyboard. I’m not saying I’m in favor of variants but time is time. I always did my writing on the margins of my day job, on the train, in a car, in the light, in the dark. It’s as if all the journals I scribbled in for all the years have appeared as sheet music. All I want to do is shed my office of pictures and trinkets. The holy trinity: coffee, keyboard, computer.

What have you been up to? Everyone okay?

17 Responses

  1. All good here in Paris, France. Staying in my apartment mostly. Cold but not too cold, and sunny lately. Oh, and Covid….
    I am enjoying reading The Bridge Ladies when I’m not working on my own writing projects.

  2. All is well here. I hate the cold weather and the variant. The writing has progressed, but at the moment is stalled. I need to decide on critical scenes. I’ve been going along on autopilot, dropping tidbits here and there, dithering, if I am honest. I’m at the moment where all this crap has somehow got to come out like a nicely baked cake. And, if a cake is what I was going for, I don’t want it to end up with a loaf of bread.

  3. Excellent

  4. Betsy, good to see you’re still with us. So many are not, are scrambling madly into reaper’s flailing embrace. I dodge those grasping hands long as I can.

    I am doing as ever I do — writing, reading, garnering, garnishing, gnashing the teeth stained with coffee and tea where not capped with gold. Should I cap them thusly all? What a bright smile I could have!

    I am still working on the book-length whatsit I started mere days before the pandemic rose over horizon to engulf the land. I don’t know how many words I’ve laid down, as, superstitiously, one might say, I have not tallied them up; however, page count currently stands at 348, and I think I’m a little over three-quarters done. I scribble at it every day, almost, largely, I think, to amuse and divert myself. For the possible amusement and diversion of others, two stories of mine are slated to be published later this year, one by a mag in London, the other by a mag in your fair NYC.

    And … scene.

  5. Book finished and, as Donna says, dithering. Wondering why I spend the time, why the effort, blah blah blah. I do enjoy it, love the story and most importantly…because it involves research my jello-brain seems to jiggle a bit less.
    Pisses me off though that even if it’s good and I mean really good, traditional publishing writes me off because of age. (Omit jello-brain comment).
    May you all have an awesome day while enlightening and entertaining the world with the sparks that shoot from the tips of your fingers on a keyboard.

    • With you on ageism issues. But prefer not to dwell on it, I guess. What’s the point? It is … you know the rest.

    • Never give up. The written word transcends age and time. Experience (age) counts for something. Don’t let the bastards get you down! ❤

  6. I’m doing great, Betsy, and I’m happy to see that you are, too! Keeping up with my 30, but missed the mark on my end of year goal. Still researching and writing, but a lot of research goes such a short way. The first two weeks of this year have been amazing. I love what I’m working on and that’s keeping the fire fueled! Love your ckc 30+ program! Get it while you can…c

  7. Love when you pop up in my inbox. Happy New year and I’m so glad the words are coming! I’m slogging away… most days.

  8. Depressed AF, but hanging in there. I took a much-needed break and am also slogging some days. I will ramp back up soon.

  9. Good to see you again. Still taking my one mile walks to clear my head of the COVID and political news crap. Shorter walks when it’s below 3°F though. Crystal clear blue sky and white, white, white everywhere.
    Problem is my thumbs are sort of numb when I get back. Strange words come off the keys. But I put in the effort… had to buy another ream for the printer.
    I may stay in for the next blow. Going to be 0°F and 25 mph winds. Expect 8 inches by Monday. Good time to write about Gainesville, FL of 45 years ago.

  10. Bitterly cold here on the windswept plains of the Midwest, but hunkering down. Since I retired from my day job (they zigged, I zagged) I’ve tried to devote more time to making my writing “hobby” more professional. That includes doing a lot more research about potential publishers for the work I have completed and spending more devoted time on the work I want to do. In the past month I’ve written first drafts for four short stories and completed a lot of research for the next novel I’m going to attempt. I just hope I can sustain the momentum/drive/ambition for the duration.

  11. Crazy jealous over here – I want to write like my ass is on fire! I’ve been there before and have been trying to get back but to no avail. Just can’t force it, I guess.
    Good for you, Betsy! Ride it out, lady. It never seems to last long enough. And to you and everyone here, stay healthy & safe.

  12. Hanging in there, I’m hanging in there. Too much work, too little play. If the postal service was a car right now it would be a late 70s Dodge Dart with a bad transmission and headlights that only work in the daytime. And it would be painted a faded beige.
    As for me, my daughter told me the other day that I’m old but act younger. I took that as a positive, whether it was intended that way or not.
    As for writing, not well and it’s my own damn fault.
    But I’m hanging in there, I’m hanging in there.

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