Questions
A while ago, Cordelia offered to interview people. I have been a complete slacker in responding, so I'm doing it now.
1) You run out to your mailbox and find a letter. In an ideal world, who is the letter from (they needn't be alive, nor an actual acquaintance of yours)?
In an ideal world. It would be from my husband. It does sound a bit peculiar; but there are times I insist that it would just be nice to know he's alive, that somebody out there wonders about me just as much as I wonder about him, that someone loves me more than he can predict. I don't even want or need his name. Just a letter telling me he's all right, that he's looking forward to meeting me, and that he knows I'm strong and I can make it through whatever I need to.
2) Describe your dream home.
My dream home actually sits on a hill up the street from my house. It's quite large, in an East-Coastal type style, with the wide wraparound porch and the gabled roof and dormer windows... it looks like a summer home on a beach. The rooms inside are big and sunny, honey-colored hardwood floors reflecting sunlight, crisp white curtains at the windows. All the furniture is oversized and inviting, bright, clear colours and sinkable cushions. A library. An enormous family room. An enormous dog. A wide staircase. Comfort and air and love. Outside, it needs big trees in the yard. Huge trees, the kind you can hang tire swings from. A garden with easy-to-care-for flowers that are brightly coloured and eye-catching. I want an herb garden, too. And the white picket fence-- of course! (With a gate this time, Jory.)
3) What did you always want to be when you grew up? Have you changed your mind?
When I was small, I wanted to be an actress. This is when I was six or so. Back then, being an actress entailed a vivid pink maribou-trimmed gown and a solid gold star on my door, and sitting in front of my dressing-table counting all the money I'd made that day. I remember telling my parents about this while we sat in a truck-stop diner that smelled faintly of cigarette smoke, swinging my feet against the bench-seat as I smeared grape jelly on my toast and prepared to spear my pigs-in-a-blanket. There was a racous bar on the other side of a swinging door, admitting the noise and clinking of glasses every time someone slipped out to use the bathroom or to leave the building. I remember thinking that I hoped the saloon girls that worked in there were very happy and wondering where all the men kept their guns. (This is one of my earliest memories.)
I never did stop wanting to be an actress. I still love it with my whole entire heart; it's hard to express how much I love the nerves and the relationships and the glory of the stage. I still look at pictures from productions, actresses poised in expressions of heartfelt longing or terrible grief, stage lights sparkling on heavy powder and painted mouths. Men standing stoic in the middle of a spotlight with their arms flung out wide, beads of sweat on their foreheads... and I think, this is where I'm meant to be, making people feel these things that I feel.
4) Which websites do you check compulsively for updates?
I check Jory's, Sarah's, and I check LiveJournal like a mad fiend.
5) If you could have any piece of writing published, what genre would it be, and what would it be about?
Are you kidding me? Anything. There is-- and I know how honestly dorky this will sound-- a fantasy story that I've been working on for a very, very long time. If I ever finished it and had it published, I think that would probably be the highlight of my life. Okay, so having ANY kind of novel published would be the highlight of my life.
1) You run out to your mailbox and find a letter. In an ideal world, who is the letter from (they needn't be alive, nor an actual acquaintance of yours)?
In an ideal world. It would be from my husband. It does sound a bit peculiar; but there are times I insist that it would just be nice to know he's alive, that somebody out there wonders about me just as much as I wonder about him, that someone loves me more than he can predict. I don't even want or need his name. Just a letter telling me he's all right, that he's looking forward to meeting me, and that he knows I'm strong and I can make it through whatever I need to.
2) Describe your dream home.
My dream home actually sits on a hill up the street from my house. It's quite large, in an East-Coastal type style, with the wide wraparound porch and the gabled roof and dormer windows... it looks like a summer home on a beach. The rooms inside are big and sunny, honey-colored hardwood floors reflecting sunlight, crisp white curtains at the windows. All the furniture is oversized and inviting, bright, clear colours and sinkable cushions. A library. An enormous family room. An enormous dog. A wide staircase. Comfort and air and love. Outside, it needs big trees in the yard. Huge trees, the kind you can hang tire swings from. A garden with easy-to-care-for flowers that are brightly coloured and eye-catching. I want an herb garden, too. And the white picket fence-- of course! (With a gate this time, Jory.)
3) What did you always want to be when you grew up? Have you changed your mind?
When I was small, I wanted to be an actress. This is when I was six or so. Back then, being an actress entailed a vivid pink maribou-trimmed gown and a solid gold star on my door, and sitting in front of my dressing-table counting all the money I'd made that day. I remember telling my parents about this while we sat in a truck-stop diner that smelled faintly of cigarette smoke, swinging my feet against the bench-seat as I smeared grape jelly on my toast and prepared to spear my pigs-in-a-blanket. There was a racous bar on the other side of a swinging door, admitting the noise and clinking of glasses every time someone slipped out to use the bathroom or to leave the building. I remember thinking that I hoped the saloon girls that worked in there were very happy and wondering where all the men kept their guns. (This is one of my earliest memories.)
I never did stop wanting to be an actress. I still love it with my whole entire heart; it's hard to express how much I love the nerves and the relationships and the glory of the stage. I still look at pictures from productions, actresses poised in expressions of heartfelt longing or terrible grief, stage lights sparkling on heavy powder and painted mouths. Men standing stoic in the middle of a spotlight with their arms flung out wide, beads of sweat on their foreheads... and I think, this is where I'm meant to be, making people feel these things that I feel.
4) Which websites do you check compulsively for updates?
I check Jory's, Sarah's, and I check LiveJournal like a mad fiend.
5) If you could have any piece of writing published, what genre would it be, and what would it be about?
Are you kidding me? Anything. There is-- and I know how honestly dorky this will sound-- a fantasy story that I've been working on for a very, very long time. If I ever finished it and had it published, I think that would probably be the highlight of my life. Okay, so having ANY kind of novel published would be the highlight of my life.
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