Would you be mine? Could you be mine? Won't you be my neighbor?

I've been working on requested revisions from an agent this past week that I hope very much will float her boat. Even if they don't, I think this revision makes my manuscript so much more focused. Revisiting it can't be a bad thing. (And yes, I'm keeping an original version on file, just in case it is.)

Often amidst all the cutting and slashing and rewriting, I hit a creative snag -- when that happens, I take a walk around the neighborhood. Creature of habit that I am, it's generally on the same circuit. Join me, won't you?

Despite the Neue Gallery standing steps from my apartment, I've never actually seen the collection. Pathetic, right? Philistine. Nice restaurant inside, though. I'm all about eating.

That spiral building there on the right is the Guggenheim, who, aging socialite she is, just got a brand-new facelift. She also has a decent place for lunch.

I love the entrance to this building. They have a gorgeous garden in the back, but right now it's filled with ugly construction equipment and wasn't worth taking a photo.

When I tell people I live in NYC, I think most picture a crazy-busy Times Square neighborhood. There isn't anything noteworthy about these pictures except that, hey, not so many people, right?

Tell me about your neighborhood. Or about how you deal with creative snags. Your choice.

I'd like to thank all the little people who helped make this possible

Angie at Gumbo Writer gave me an award---a really sweet one, too. The Lovey Award is for "blogs that are exceedingly charming. These kind of bloggers aim to find and be friends. They are not interested in self-aggrandizement. Our hope is that when the ribbons of these prizes are cut, even more friendships are propagated."

"Please give more attention to these writers. Deliver this award to three bloggers who must choose three more and include this cleverly-written text into the body of their award."

Oh, who to pick, who to pick? Only three? Such decisions. How about....no, he's kind of a jerk. Or maybe....no, she thinks she's all that.* Okay, randomly, then:

Debbie

Melanie

ChristaCarol

*I'm just kidding. None of you are this way. As far as I'm concerned, you all rock.

Chain chain chain...

I've signed on to do the AW blog chain for this month, and everyone's posts have been interesting so far. Razib Ahmed posted about life during the economic recession. Then it was Benjamin Solah with the view that nationalism is racism. Then Fresh Hell chimed in from Virginia with a post about racial relations. Everyone had a clear point of view and something unique to say.


Oy, the pressure. My blog is light and fluffy, people! If you don't believe me, just check out my last post about Cashew Chicken.

I was inspired by a comment in Fresh Hell's blog about racism Virginia being a scary state. I do have to say, it's everywhere, even here in left-liberal Manhattan. But in places like this it's more covert. Lee-Jackson-King Day would never fly here, and if you say the n-word you won't be invitied to the next dinner party. But I have heard the following remarks, for sure:

When looking for a babysitter
"Whatever you do, don't hire a Caribbean nanny."

When applying to private school kindergarten
"Of course the Smith family will have no trouble getting junior in. They're considered 'diversity.'"

At a fundraiser
"I like supporting the scholarship fund so families like the Smiths can afford to send their kids here."

Such assumptions about those poor Smiths! Which, by the way, are untrue.

So our own negative prejudices are unlikely to go away anytime soon. But I do hope that electing the first black president is a huge step in the right direction on that front.

There, I was at least semi-serious in a post. And it didn't hurt a bit.

Next up: madderblue

Hometown hankerings

Ever since I joined Facebook and started chatting with my old high school friends again, I have had a craving for the distinctly Springfield, MO-centric dish of Cashew Chicken. It's kind of a bastardized Kung Pao, but with cashews and oyster sauce. Springfield is home to about four zillion Chinese restaurants, each serving it up hot:

It even has a wiki page!

How about you? Does your hometown have a particular restaurant you miss? Or are there any dishes you associate with your childhood?

Back to my true love for a while

I know I posted a few weeks ago about starting a new novel, but I've been having trouble getting started. Maybe it's because it will require a TON of research and maybe because it just seems foreboding to start a huge project, but I've been working on some short pieces instead. And you know what? I enjoy is so much more. I've always been a short story lover, ever since an English teacher long ago assigned dear Flannery as homework.

I think I have about 15 subscriptions to literary magazines, and I read many online. I just prefer the structure, the freedom to explore unsavory characters, the experimental voice, and the themes often found in short stories. Of course, I read novels as well--every night. But many times I find myself thinking that I would have edited out about 1/4 of the book. No one is asking me, though, and maybe it's a reflection of my attention span.

Anyway, I do realize that this means I'll likely be toiling in obscurity for a good long while. Oh well, I'll be toiling happily.

How's your writing (or any other project) going?

Like, OMG! We are so totally from the valley, you know?

My daughters and I have made a pact to improve our spoken language. Just ask poor Caroline Kennedy--no one thinks it's cute when you are a grown woman speaking like a teenager. I found myself nagging at my kids about cutting out the "likes" and "you knows" when I realized --oh no!--I do it too!

It's tough to break old habits. The super-rad image I carefully crafted at age 13 lives on today. Only now it's not so cool. So the three of us are monitoring (read: badgering) each other so as to improve the overall speech in the Cebula household. It's funny, though, because we have slightly different issues.


I'm the like-er. Sometimes I'll, like, use the word "like" as a filler, like instead of "um" when I'm, like, trying to think of a word. I also use "goes" and "like" instead of "said" thusly:

"So she goes, 'Hey, you didn't call me back" and I'm like, 'No I didn't. Sorry.'"

Wait, how old am I? Oh, that's right. 38. Old enough to know better.


My seven-year-old is the Princess of Upspeak. You know, when every phrase? sounds like a question? Seems to be more prominent among girls? making them sound really unsure? When I turned it into a girl empowerment issue, she was more willing to work on it.


My ummmm nine-year-old is the ummmmmer. Ummmm, she has a lot to say, but, ummm, sometimes can't quite get it out. I suspect this problem will be harder to, um, solve.


What about you? Do you find yourself doing this? Or do you have any other verbal crutches?

Random things that don't even go together

My kids are off school both for MLK day AND the day after (not sure what that's all about), so it's been a bit tough to keep up with blogging and visiting. Sorry 'bout that. And just look, I really don't have much prepared. Shame on me. Just a mishmosh of random things: 

--If you ever want to get some decent (and funny) insight to the workings of Wall Street, check out my friend Justin's blog The Curious Capitalist. He writes for Time Magazine, so he's not just some dude, but he has an interesting take on things. Plus, he has a very sweet wife. 

--I just finished reading The Invention of Hugo Cabret to my daughters and they LOVED it. It's a graphic novel, so I think it works even for younger kids.

 

--I'm a little worried about what Jon Stewart is going to do without this guy, but nonetheless how happy am I about getting a new President tomorrow? Oh, so very.

Happy New President Day, everyone!