What would Daisy do? Character development 101

This week I have to honor of being a guest on Evelyn Cullet's 'Evey's Writers Blog'. Check it out at http://evelyncullet.com/penny-clover-petersen-daisy-rose-mystery-series/#comments

What would Daisy do?

One of things I like about writing is being someone else for a while. I can be eccentric, or angry, or charming and it all works out for the best. I like to take a situation and imagine how each of my characters would handle it. I have three main characters, sisters Daisy and Rose who own a gift boutique together and their mother Angela who interferes.


Suppose these ladies are on their way home from a funeral. They drove separately and are about ten minutes apart as they pass through a speed trap. What would each lady do?


Angela Forrest after being pulled over would first let her dog, Percy, out of the car to answer a call of nature. She would then tell the police officer that she's so sorry she may have been a little distracted. She is on her way home from a dear friend's funeral and her mind was elsewhere. She would go on to say that she hoped he is wearing sunscreen, especially on his neck, because he certainly doesn't want sun spots later on in life, and he could use a little Biz in the laundry to get the tiny ketchup stain off his shirt. Finally she would scoop up Percy who had chosen the officer's leg to have a good time with, give him her calling card, and invite him for dinner. She would then get back in the car and drive away, the policeman never having had the chance to get a word in.


Daisy Forrest Greene, on the other hand, would probably not be so diplomatic. She isn't the greatest fan of the police, her ex-husband, rat-bastard extraordinaire Bill Greene, being a detective with the Maryland State Police. I'm pretty sure Daisy would roll down her window, give the officer a 'look' and say, "What!" After being asked if she realized that she had been speeding, she would answer that, of course she was and you would be too if you had just had to sit through the longest, most boring wake of your entire life. One hundred and fifty people in a hot room overwhelmed with the smell of lilies talking about a nasty old woman who was ninety-nine years old if she was a day and the only reason these people were there was on the off chance that she left them something in her will. Finally she would hand him her license and registration after a bit of digging in her purse and tell him to get a move on if he was giving her a ticket because she had a vodka and tonic waiting at home with her name on it. Incorrectly, but fortunately for her, he would think that she was Detective Greene's wife, not his ex, and give her a warning. She would sigh, shake her head and speed off.


And then there is Rose Forrest. A bit less volatile, Rose would give the officer an alluring smile as she hands him her license and registration that happen to be right at hand, tosses her hair back as she says, "I'm so sorry. The day was so lovely, I guess I got a little carried away. It's so good to be alive." A tear would trickle down her cheek and she would mention that she was just returning from attending a close relations funeral. She could also absolutely understand if he needed to give her a ticket. She really should be more careful and will in the future. At which point, the poor sap, already worn down by Angela and Daisy, simply gives in to the inevitable and tells her he's very sorry about her loss and please take care.


Of course, none of these is even remotely resembles how I would handle this sort of thing in real life. What would actually happen is I would have purse panic looking for my license, become nearly hysterical as I fumble in the glove box for the registration, answer politely if all too honestly all his questions - yes, of course I know I was doing 60 in a 40 zone and no, I have not been drinking unless you count the 14 cups of tea I had waiting for my mother to say good-bye to all of her friends. At this point I no doubt would burst out crying. And not looking too alluring with a red runny nose, I would get a big fat ticket and be sent on my way.

Seven to Ten Days from Tuesday

Have you ever thought that you were, perhaps, an Invisible Person? Are you, like I seem to be, the Invisible Customer, the Invisible Patient, the Invisible Voice Crying in the Wilderness? I'd like to think I'm not the only person in the world who seems to be constantly overlooked.

An instance of this rather annoying condition -  my husband and I recently contributed to Maryland Public Television and requested a thank-you gift. Tom has been looking forward to listening to endless hours of 1950's pop music. I have not, but that's not really the issue. The issue is that it's been almost two months now and we have no music.

I called this morning to find out where the heck our CDs were. After being put on hold three times as the woman who answered tried to figure out just who I was and what I had requested, I was told that, oh dear, it seems that our little contribution was incorrectly entered into whatever database they use. Silence.

Silly question from me. When can I expect my music? Well, if they have one in the studio - about two weeks from next Tuesday. Is it me or is this rather odd? Perhaps, they only mail things on Tuesday.  At any rate, Invisible Person that I am, I got a rather vague apology and no promise of any particular help. I mentioned that this was not a great way to do business and got a pretty darned soggy, "Sorry."

And my husband just walked in the door and gave me a second Invisible Instance - just today. He'd been to the eye doctor. He has been seeing this doctor for several years now, in fact, ever since he opened the practice. The receptionist asked my husband a long list of questions which he answered (with a degree of irritability, not understanding why he was telling her things she must already know). When she came to the last one - "How did you hear about us?" - he realized that she thought he was a new patient. She hadn't found his file. Really!? Invisibility strikes again.

Anyhow, I find that this dread disease seems to attack me more and more often. I think I'm actually fading because it couldn't be that the current customer service mentality is not so much about service, as it is about getting you off the phone, could it? For any of you who also have this affliction, I wish you well and you'll receive the gift for your generous donation seven to ten days from next Tuesday.

Guest blogger - Mia Marie Rafield

I have a very special blog today. My great-niece, Mia Maria Rafield, has written a short story. Mia was visiting Mimi and Poppy's house where she discovered an actual, old-fashioned typewriter. She was intrigued, deeming it "fascinating". Mia mastered the operation of the machine in no time and began to write.

Mia is in the second grade and loves to read, read, read. But she's not only a bookworm. Mia also has her yellow belt in karate, is a Daisy Scout, loves archery and climbing, and they haven't invented an amusement park ride that she won't go on. And I have to add that she's cute as a bug!

I have re-typed the entire story and letter here with a bit of editing (spelling and punctuation only, the text is all Mia's). I hope you enjoy this budding author's work as much as I did.

Dear Aunt Penny,
Please publish my story - I have been working on this for 5 years, I mean minutes, and I think you understand. So anyway please publish my story.
Love Mia Marie Rafield

Wednesday March 12 2014

In the beginning of the day, well I guess it was not so great of a morning. My Nana told me that if I did not fold my clothes and clean my room and take everything off of my hangers that I could not go to Mimi's and Poppy's house. That made me sad.

So I rushed right in to my room and got to work.

20 minutes later the doorbell rings. I got my socks and shoes, got my bags and stood at the door. But when I opened the door it was my brothers' baby sitter. I got my brother and gave him to her, I said good bye. I shut the door and waited on the sofa.

10 minutes later the door bell rings again. This time was sure it was them. And it was. I was so excited!

Let's literally take a stand

I heard some disturbing news the other day and I was so amazed that my teeth literally fell out of my mouth. And yes, apparently I can say that because the news was that the OED, as well as Mirriam-Webster, define 'literally' as 'virtually'. Will the madness never end?
literally

Mirriam-Webster 2:  in effect :  virtually 

Oxford English Dictionary

c. colloq. Used to indicate that some (freq. conventional) metaphorical or hyperbolical expression is to be taken in the strongest admissible sense: ‘virtually, as good as’; (also) ‘completely, utterly, absolutely’. Now one of the most common uses, although often considered irregular in standard English since it reverses the original sense of literally.

Yes, yes, yes, I know that English is literally an ever-moving river of thought and change, and frequently sludge, but really, this is bit much. Let's face it, this is big.

If we accept that what is literal is actually only figurative than there goes the comic validity of Sheldon Cooper cocking his head, raising his eyebrows as he says, "literally?" when Penny enthusiastically says something like, "My head literally exploded!" This always gets a huge laugh, as it should. Sheldon is a hoot, as is Penny. (If you don't watch The Big Bang Theory, you might try it. We all need a little inane laughter in our lives.)

Not only will comedy be effected. How will we know when literally means just that. Suppose I went to a hockey game and was hit in the mouth by a puck and I was telling you that my teeth literally fell out of my mouth. How would you know whether or not they had? Well, the ice pack, tears, the inability to open my mouth and the need to write all of this down for you might give it away. But you get my drift.

So, as writers, readers, and lovers of the English language, I think we should literally take a stand - in front of the TV as we watch The Big Bang Theory and wear helmets to hockey games while standing in an upright position

Odds and ends/College Park Book Festival, March 22nd

Just a few odds and ends before I get back to the serious business of writing Book Number Three. Can you believe it? I finally got the first few pages written and am determined to continue uninterrupted. I find the patently ridiculous notion that I can go for an hour or so uninterrupted amusing. At any rate, I left Daisy explaining to Rose that the ghost she saw was real. Since Rose is taking some convincing on this (being a firm believer that there are no ghosts in this world) and since Daisy is rapidly downing Spooky Juice (a nice little Halloween cocktail that Rose is testing out) to calm her rapidly beating heart, I'd better hurry up here or Daisy will be too looped to tell her story!

So, a quick Eileen insurance update. We all need a good laugh. March 1, her new private pay Kaiser insurance kicked in, so Tom took her prescriptions to be filled at the Rite-Aid she has been using for years. Come to find out that these drugs, which are old, generic, tried and true meds that are in no way odd or experimental, and which were prescribed by Kaiser doctors and have been covered by Kaiser for the last two years, are NOT covered by this Kaiser policy. How about that!

Adding insult to injury, Rite-Aid neglected to tell Tom that there was a coupon available on-line that would reduce the cost by half. And of course didn't point out that if he had the meds filled at Target he could get them for a mere fraction of the $200 they were charging. I love our health care system. How dare anyone suggest that perhaps changing it is a good thing.

On a happier note, I had my first ever spa experience. My darling husband must have been in fear of me going bananas, so he got me a spa day for Christmas. I was just too tense to use it in January. He didn't understand the thinking here, but I feel that other tense ladies will. I mean, I was so stressed that the thought of choosing which salad I wanted for lunch was a little too much.

So I waited until February and enjoyed a stress-free day being pampered. I thought I might be able to clear my mind and do a bit of plotting for my book, but I was just too mellow. Unfortunately, to paraphrase Tolkien, good times don't really make a good story, so there you have it - lovely day and home to a lovely man who took me out to dinner that night. Other than that, the long, long winter seems to be coming to an end! Yay!!! One short announcement - March 22nd – I’ll be taking part in the Second Annual College Park Book Festival on March 22, 2014 from 2 to 4 PM at the Hollywood Methodist Church (on the corner of Rhode Island Avenue and Hollywood Road). The event is co-sponsored by the College Park Lions Club and the College Park Community Library. This is a family, fun filled activity which gives us a chance to highlight local authors and encourage reading in the community. I hope you’ll come by and say hello.

Cabin fever and a grammar hammer

Well, this winter seems never-ending and cabin fever is bringing out the worst in me. I just read a list of the most 'contented' states - states where life expectancy is longer, that have a very low percentage of obese people, and have higher yearly incomes. Most of them were damned cold; Minnesota and both Dakotas. I'm thinking people live longer because their organs are frozen for about a third of the year, and so, are better preserved.

But, that's neither here nor there. Cabin fever is making my worst nit-picky side come out. Everything annoys way too easily. So I've decided to have a pet peeve a week and kind of spread out the irritation until spring blooms and I can get into the open air and take a walk. (To those of you who will point out that I actually can take a walk in the cold - I don't want to.)

This week's peeve is grammar. My mother was a funny lady and pretty lenient about most things, but when it came to table manners and grammar she was a real stickler and I like to think I'm carrying her torch, so to speak. Yes, I know that English is a fluid, ever-changing language. But I believe it's important to master the basics before creating something new.  

There are a few things I've given up on. "Hopefully" when you mean "I hope" for example. Though strictly incorrect, the meaning is clear. My mother held hopefully this was used by politicians in the hope that no one would actually associate them personally with what they were hoping. Probably a good assumption.

And the other day I heard a newscaster say "impactful." What can you say to that? I just shrugged my shoulders and shook my head. And using "are done" when you really mean "have finished" just makes me sad, but I feel it's here to stay.

However, the misuse of the pronouns "me" and "I" still has me yelling at the television and muttering under my breath when I can't really, politely, correct someone out loud.

Growing up, one of the big errors that seemed to abound was the misuse of the word 'me'. "Johnny and me are going to the park." My mother would say "Hmm?" and wait for a correction to "Johnny and I." Then she'd give the okay nod.  

Somehow the pendulum seems to have swung so far that much of the English speaking world is afraid to use 'me'. So now I hear from teachers, friends, TV reporters, and characters on the screen, say, "Would you like to go to the park with Johnny and I?" or "They were having lunch with Mom and I?" It's the object of a preposition for crying out loud. What you really want to to say is, "With me." It's making me nuts and, as my husband will attest, I'm already walking a fine line on that front.

So please, for the sake of my sanity, let's nip this insidious practice in mid-bloom and go back to the good old days when spring was in the air and we loved to say, "I ain't gonna say ain't 'cause ain't ain't in the dictionary."

Insurance Debacle Update

So many people have been kind enough to ask how we are getting along with the whole insurance debacle that I feel I should publish a little update.




This week we ended up getting Eileen private pay insurance. This will give us some breathing room to see if we can work through the system or not.


After a week spent on the phone and in the Affordable Care Office set up in the Prince George's County Social Services office, my feeling is that we will not be able to unless we go to Annapolis and sit on Anthony Brown's desk and make him notice us.


Unbelievably, even the poor saps who work in that office have no more access to the powers that be than you or I. After spending almost two hours waiting last Wednesday we finally met with a really nice guy named Ronald. He understood our problem, could not fix it there, and spent an hour to get through to customer service, only to be cut off once he connected. And he wasn't even able get the same person back on the line! It's enough to scream.


Some have asked if this has caused me to change my political affiliation - it has not. I figure you don't disown your children because of mistakes, even disastrous ones. You just end up being bitterly disappointed and you don't vote for them for Governor.


On a cheerier note - MDHMH sent a correction letter. They realized that Eileen is the Ward and that I am the Guardian. Will wonders never cease?


PS: A dear friend has given me a 'special number' that she called and got immediate help. This may work for us, but because of other circumstances to do with Medicaid, we haven't used this magic bullet. I'm saving it though, just in case.