I finished the fourth novel in the Wilderness series at the end of August and it arrived on my editor’s desk at Bantam on September 1. In total: 1,200 manuscript pages. Yeeehah! It always feels like giving birth, but then you have to wait a couple weeks until the doctor tells you about the infant’s health. Or name. I really want to hold onto my original title this time: Thunder at Twilight.
So Wendy (my editor) calls this morning and… she’s ecstatic. Very, very happy, which makes me very, very relieved. Apparently Nita Taublin (the publisher) loves it too, and I had a long talk with my agent Jill this morning, who was also in raptures… some part of me just refuses to believe them, but the biggest part is just plain happy to know that it looks as though I pulled it off, yet again. Now I should go write a little (got the first chapter on the next one started) but I’m kinda jumpy after those phone calls.
By the way: Last night’s episode of Farscape was pretty damn good. I Shrink Therefore I Am, from season four. Shouldn’t you be running out to the video store to rent the Premiere, just to see what I’ve been raving about?
[asa book]B0001NBNB6[/asa] First of all, Farscape
is in fact on television tonight, on the Sci-Fi channel at midnight (east coast) and at nine (west coast). The folks at Sci-Fi seems to get great enjoyment out of frustrating the faithful, and yet we still manage to find Farscape no matter where they hide it.
Now, something I’ve been wanting to say for years. Have said many times to friends. This is about The Godfather
(not the novel; I’ll say something about that someplace else). The movie attained cult status long ago. Men love to quote from it; whole movie plots have been built around that fact (You’ve Got Mail is a case in point). Poke the average Joe on the street and he spits out ‘take the cannoli. leave the gun’. Italian Americans, especially men, adore this movie. I won’t go into the psychology behind that, because it’s exhausting.
But here’s what I want to say: in two crucial cases, the movie was horrendously miscast. You know it’s true. Think about it. Think about the Corleone brothers sitting around the table at
a birthday party. Look at these actors. James Caan, tall and blond and curly haired, as the brother of Al Pacino and John Cazale? Uh-huh, not unless Mama Corleone had some secrets of her own.
Personally I think they would have been much better off giving Sonny’s part to my great uncle Luigi Alfonso — now that’s Italian.
[asa book]B000NHG7BG[/asa] And what, I want to know, what Coppola
thinking when he cast Diane Keaton
as Kay Adams? Granted, this movie was made when Keaton was at the top of her boxoffice arc, but please. One thing I know about Italian men (and I grew up surrounded by them) — they don’t marry women who are taller than they are. Nope. No way. The combination of James Caan and Diane Keaton are flaws that I just can’t get over watching this movie.
Instead of The Godfather, try Al Pacino as Lefty Ruggerio in Donnie Brasco. Now that’s a well told story.
This weblog is really big and messy, and every once in a while I have to dive in to try to beat back the chaos. Clean up the database, do a full backup, check to make sure things are working when you click on them.
I’ve gone through the memoir series to whip things into shape, and as I was doing that, I realized that somebody skimming through posts might not realize what this series is supposed to be. So, to clarify:
There are two kinds of posts under memoir: the ongoing (and very slow) attempt to dissect my childhood (these are not light reading, please be warned), and general anecedotes (generally funnier) — some from my childhood, some current day. And they are in no order at all, because the software won’t let me do what I want. Let me remind you:
That’s like OCD
Except in alphabetical order
The way it should be.