My fingers have been too lazy to prop themselves onto the computer--and computer time is not conducive to precious husband time either. In fact, my blogging negligence is due to snuggling with my man on the couch and watching the first season of Prison Break. I say there's nothing better to end the day for a confined-at-home mother than by watching other people use desperate means to escape their prison. Wink, wink.
So, I am lagging behind to say a few words about the late Ms. Nora Ephron. I was going to sit down to collect my thoughts on Tuesday night when I first read about it, but my brain was too pooped. It's now Friday and I feel a bit reluctant having to say anything at all because a popular blogger, who I share similarities with, had beat me to the chase*. It left me feeling unauthentic, again. I may expound upon this another time, but to any of my friends who happen to read both blogs: my writing and ideas are not plagiarized--they are my own. Blogging is a work of my heart, and not a business-like or a notorious agenda. *If this doesn't make any sense, it's not a big deal. I say it for my own peace of mind.
I have a lot to owe to the reputable Ms. Ephron. After reading many news columns devoted to the memory of this celebrated author and screenwriter, I reflected on what influence her work had on me:
--It was her who instilled in me the lofty desire to run a little book shop of my own. Yes, I said lofty, but it's never too late.
--It was her who modified my perspective of New York City from a crime-infested metropolis to a charming big city filled with flower stands and nonthreatening Brownstones.
--It was her memorable one-liners and ideal scenes of life in the Upper West Side that had me watching You've Got Mail more times than she likely had.
--It was her romantic representation of NYC that had me striving for years to make it there.
After years of school, meticulous attention to my copy editing portfolio, and money being stowed away into my savings, there came a time that I started the so-called 'spreadin' the news.' The plan was finally in motion: airplane tickets, a publisher job agency meeting, a clean bill of health, and no emotional baggage keeping me in Utah. New York and I would be together at long last. But she and I were not meant to be together. I never imagined that my pair of vagabond shoes would decide to walk in any other direction, but it did. And the course of my life changed forever because of it. Yet, Nora's New York will always be an imprint on who I am.
I have come to terms that my writing is a pile of sawdust, but if there's any hope for me, her work inspires me to dig deeper. And that's okay. There is always a story to tell about who we are and every thing we do. Write about what makes you happy. If it's not happy, write so you can laugh about it later. Never be the victim. In the next lifetime, I'll be taking a writing class from her and somehow figure out how to be half as clever and entertaining as she was...
Such as brightening someone's day with a bouquet of newly-sharpened pencils. Ah, wouldn't that be nice.