25. November 2010 by Marie Pinschmidt.

Hello and Happy Thanksgiving to all of you. I’ll be having dinner with friends this evening on beautiful Singer Island here in Florida. The sun is shining and the temperature in low 80’s, quite unlike the November weather I experienced growing up in Ohio. Whether we are celebrating in a foot of snow or under a palm tree, we must make certain we understand what the day is all about. Those with abundant food, I hope will share with those less fortunate, those who are thankful for a banana or a peanut butter sandwich. 

I’m thankful for living in America. (I have a friend in Baghdad who is fearful every time her children step into the street to play, or go to school where teachers are sometimes tortured in front of the children to “teach” them a lesson. Of course, our country is far from the ideal but, in comparison with much of the world, we must feel grateful.

I’m thankful I can still put two sentences together and can splash paint on a canvas and see a work of art (good or bad) appear. I’m grateful for every person who makes me smile, and for the little things that make my life easier and less stressful.

But this greeting is not about me, except to express my thankfulness to all of you who have commented on my blogs, read one of my books, or just took the time to explore the site. For that, I thank you.

One last thought: I hope on this Thanksgiving Day, we contemplate not only what we are thankful for, especially the necessities of life, but to whom we are thankful, and not neglect expressing our love and our gratitude.

Until next time, thanks for being you, and know that you are special.

Marie

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14. November 2010 by Marie Pinschmidt.

I apologize; I can’t seem to post the photo of the painting for my book cover. I will do so as soon as possible.

Thanks for your patience.

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10. November 2010 by Marie Pinschmidt.

I’ve spent the week torturing myself with thoughts such as: Is my painting good enough for a book cover for my memoir “Life Interrupted“? Does the book itself have any merit? Etc. Etc. Finally, today, I put an extra brush stroke of light on the pillow in the painting and called it finished. It was time to wrap the baby up and get on with other activities. The brush went into a jar of turpentine to be properly cleaned later. But my struggle with self-doubt and frustration wasn’t over.

I got my camera to take a photo I’d promised the publisher a week ago, and at first click the bateries died! They hadn’t been working hard enough to be tired, let alone ill enough to die. So it is with digital cameras. Trip to the store for new batteries, and, like every other purchase these days, I was faced with multiple choices. I finally chose the ones guaranteed to have a longer lifespan of usefullness, drove back home in the rain and had a cup of tea. Finally, the rain turned to sunshine and I was able to get a number of shots in natural light. (Using a flash on an oil painting almost always produces a flashback.) I uploaded the pictures onto my computer, cropped the images, adjusted the contrast and brightness and deleted the rejects. Hopefully, the design team will be able to incorporate the image into a great book cover. However, like the deleted photos, will my audience reject the cover and consequently the contents of the book? Such is the life of a writer.

Self-doubt continued to hover over me much like the clouds that brought the earlier rain. I wasn’t a celebrity or a politician; not a “person of interest”, at least from my perspective, so why would anyone want to read about any part of my life? Because I’d spent a year looking at my life with Norm through a rearview mirror, a year of writing and perfecting the dang thing? Or perhaps the title would encourage others to refuse to give up when their problems seemed insurmountable? Would “Life Interrupted” help readers feel less alone in their own interrupted lives of dreams unrealized, desires unfulfilled, plans made only to fall apart in the blink of an eye? How many would be interested in reading a book about living, loving and loss? Would they question whether the book had a happy ending as in a romance novel? Perhaps the painting of the weary doctor on the cover would catch their attention, or maybe they would expect the author to have something unique to say or at least a unique way of saying it?

Authors never wish to disappoint a reader, to experience that humiliation. Happy endings are usually anticipated in works of fiction; the same is true of memoir. A book is supposed to also elicit some degree of emotion in the reader, and I’m told my memoir will do just that; sadness, frustration, disbelief. However, the story is interspersed with passages of love, laughter, forgiveness, and, more importantly, a feeling of obstacles overcome, growth and fulfillment in unexpected ways, and what some might interpret as a miracle or two.

I guess I’m trying to say, as a writer with enormous self-doubt, if there is a chance that my words might help others, I am obligated to release them to the world, and allow the world to have its way with them. Life Interrupted is my way of saying “I love you” to my readers and all who helped me in so many ways to be who I am today - imperfect - yet continuing to search and learn from life’s experiences.

The photo is the oil I painted for incorporation in the cover design.

 Thanks for listening. Until next time………..Marie

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