Extra points to anybody who knows where that quote comes from.

      As of late, the most consistent feedback I get on my manuscripts is that I write too much dialogue/lack exposition. Which (once I finished scratching my head and going, "Really?") is good feedback. It was also very surprising, because I honestly thought I had the opposite problem--or at least I did three novel manuscripts ago. But I went back over my ghost story and my current zombie project and realized it was absolutely true.
      I also went back to some of my work from just a handful of years ago and realized that was not a problem back then.
      So I was struck by two questions: first, what the heck happened to me that my writing style changed so much? Second, which is actually my writing style?

      As to the First.... I won't bore you with the entirety of my thought process, because it took a few weeks and more than likely is really only of interest to myself (I'm not sure if it's a good or a bad thing that I can be amused by my own mental processes, but at least I won't die of boredom!). I'll just skip to the end and say I decided the change took place for several reasons. One of them was likely rooted in my psychology background; much of analysis, assessment, therapy, and research is done via dialogue, and so my brain seems to have decided that's where the action happens. To me, dialogue and body language reveal more about a character than anything else. The lack of exposition is rooted in the ever-present dilemma of length. Especially for a first-time novelist, a manuscript that is o'er lengthy (something I've struggled with in the past) is a hard sell. So when I write, I think I tend to focus on hitting the crucial points, moving the story along with a vague idea that I'll fill in the rest later...only that doesn't seem to be happening.
      Also, to be perfectly honest, I love reading a good snippet of juicy, character-rich dialogue; it's just like a good curry, all spice and zing and satisfaction! So...you know...Golden Rule.

      As to the Second.... Before I could reach a satisfactory answer, I found myself pondering a more philosophical question: what is style? What's the difference between a "writer's style" and "bad writing?" Is it merely the preference of the reader, sort of like beauty being in the eye of the beholder?* Probably the vast majority of published fiction for adults has a very similar writing style, a flow to the sentences and paragraph structure, a pacing to the development of the tale. But you get people who break those patterns. I'm guessing most of them never get published. Some of them, however, become famous. Ever read James Joyce? How about Kurt Vonnegut? One of my favorite novels, The Last Samurai by Helen DeWitt,** has a writing style that confused the heck out of me for the first few pages, before I got into the swing of it. And don't even get me started on the unique nature of House of Leaves by Danielewski. I'm sure there are plenty of people out there with degrees in English and Journalism or the like who could very easily school me on what makes one person a visionary and another an unpolished writer. But let's be honest: at least some of this has to do with taste.
      So is my dialogue-heavy writing shoddy, unpolished writing? Or is it simply my style, which is not everyone's taste? I think the answer has to be somewhere in between, because as long as I see things in my writing that I want to change because I feel it enhances the writing (and therefore the story), clearly my style is not fully expressed. Maybe that's all it means to be a polished writer: fewer drafts between the original and the finished work. As it is, I have a fair ways to go.

      And what about the PIE!?!!? Yes yes, you've all been very patient. And 2014 is STILL the Year of the Pie. There will be one later this week, the crust is maturing in the fridge as I type. But I have more tasty treats in store for you throughout October...oh yes...pie will be the least of your culinary concerns...as All Hallow's Eve draws near....



*And let me tell you, for a cliché, there is nothing more true! Go to any modern art museum with more than three people, and stand back and watch them debate. Is that solid yellow rectangle on a canvas "art?" Or is it a way to sucker snobs out of their cash?

**Absolutely NOTHING to do with the Tom Cruise movie, people--nothing!!!

      The ocean is big, and it has a lot of tasty things in it. Although not all of them should be eaten, and some of them have been the victims of gluttony and need some time to get their reproduction on so we don't eat them out of existence. Not sure which is which? Here's the best resource for responsible seafood consumption I know of--it's regularly updated and reminds you that whatever your favorite fish may be, there are plenty of yummy things in the sea.
      Growing up in the Pacific Northwest, I ate a LOT of seafood. As a small child most of what I ate was clam chowder (the real kind with cream; the red stuff is just wanna-be Cioppino, as far as I'm concerned). Then my mother's easy-on-a-weeknight-when-you-have-picky-children shrimp pasta became the fav; this was bay shrimp tossed into herb parmesan flavor NoodleRoni with thawed frozen peas folded in. It's actually not a bad way to make a quick and dirty seafood dish most little kids will eat, but you need access to bay shrimp (the little tiny pink guys the size of your thumbnail) and I think we tend to hog them on the west coast because I've yet to find them in the midwest.

Here you see some of Oregon's local ocean offerings. Bay shrimp may be seen in the back, there.

      My tastes expanded and I learned to love salmon (of course), halibut, cod, swordfish, tilapia, sardines, bass, rockfish, and every shellfish imaginable*. But the ocean-dwelling critter that has occupied the throne of favoritism for all of my adult life is none other than the dungeness crab. This rosy crustacean has sweet, tender flesh that some of us - namely my brother - think superior even to lobster. So since my family and I were gathered on the cool, misty shores of Oregon, a crab feed was inevitable.

These are about 2/3rds of the size I usually try to buy, when at the end of the day freshness counts for more than size in crab.

      You can keep your snow crab, your king crab, your soft shell and even your blue crab--as far as I'm concerned, dungeness is the way to go. The best thing about fresh seafood is that the less you do to it in terms of preparation, the better it will be: good, fresh ocean fare speaks for itself, no fancy sauces or cooking techniques are wanted. The only accompaniments I would even bother to suggest would be fresh lemon or melted butter. Tartar or cocktail sauces are fine, but if you're depending on them for a good fish dish then your fish is far from fresh, my friend.
      And now, here's the menu I recommend:

I would have taken more pictures, but I seemed to float away into a altered state of consciousness where smell and taste were the primary senses, and when I came back to myself there was nothing left but crumbs and empty shells.

Dungeness Crab: FRESH. Buy from your fishmonger already boiled and kept on ice, and get them to clean it and crack it for you (or at least snip the darn things in half). When purchasing the crab by weight I'd go for at least a pound per person. Less than that and somebody's getting short-changed. Considerably more than that and you'll have leftover crab, which doesn't keep well, and therefore you will weep sad, briny tears as you waste that marvelous meat.

Bread: go for a tender, bakery-fresh baguette or French loaf.

Roasted Garlic: easiest thing in the universe is to get a full head of garlic, cut off the top third, smear the top with a half teaspoon of olive oil, wrap the whole thing tightly in foil and stick it in a 300º F oven (cut side up) for an hour. The cloves become sweet and butter soft, and can be spread directly onto your slices of bread.

Spinach Salad with Warm Bacon Dressing: if you've never made/tasted this, you're missing out. A good warm bacon spinach salad is the best way to eat spinach, hands down. And in this case, the distinct bacon flavor and the bitterness of the spinach make a wonderful accompaniment to the sweet, faintly briny fabulousness that is the crab. I recommend Alton Brown's Spinach Salad, it's fairly easy and flawlessly tasty.

Wine: a lot of people insist on white wine with seafood, and if it's a good white there is nothing wrong with that. For this meal, however, our sommelier (my brother) brought up a wonderful red blend that was full-bodied and well balanced, which stood up to the strong flavors without drowning them. When in doubt, ask your brother wine merchant to make a recommendation.** If you're more of a beer person, then by all means go for a local microbrew, I would go for a porter (but that's just me). If you're more of a cocktail person, avoid anything too fruity or sweet. And if you don't drink alcohol, then I do not recommend drinking anything but water, sparkling water, or unsweetened iced tea--don't even think of besmirching your palate with a soft drink.

My brother was kind enough to bring this Alexander Valley Vineyards gem from his personal (and extensive) wine collection. GOOD CHOICE. Also, the 2001 is peaking this year. Just saying.

      And that's it, no other side dish is necessary. Other tips for a good crab feed include having good tools on hand for extracting the meat, such as crackers and picks. Whether you have these extra utensils on hand or not, however, we also recommend extra napkins--or even better, moist towelettes. It's amazing how fast your hands get messy when you're eating fresh crab. Finally, if you even want to bother with dessert (and I am a woman who almost inevitably does) I would not go with something heavy. For me, a little dark chocolate or a small fresh fruit crisp is just about right. After all, you won't have a lot of room left in your stomach--TRUST ME.


P.S. - my Mom insisted that I add a final emphasis on the fresh aspect of good seafood...or at least fresh flash frozen. Whatever the fish, if it's caught out of season or it's been sitting around, the flavor is going to be less than fantastic. It could be so blah it might put your off your dinner. It might also make you sick. Your nose is probably your best tool for picking out the good stuff: if the seafood smells too fishy it's past it's prime. And let Nature plan your menu; She knows what She's going.


*except oysters, but that's another post.

**And if you don't like it, never go back to them.

      Happy Tuesday! Sorry for the lack of a recipe over the weekend. There is an explanation involving negligent juice-shop employees, the Denver Broncos vs. the Seattle Seahawks, and over-size bees as black as coal...but this is neither the time or the place to inflict that level of trauma upon my readers. Instead, I will simply update you that today I am bound for the Oregon coast, where I intend to eat obscene amounts of seafood and frolic on the perpetually rainy beach.
      So there may be some seafood recipes posted this week. Or at least photos of seafood. I'll try to include a recipe if I can take a break from stuffing my face.

      Yesterday I woke up, stretched, got a glass of water, and flipped open my laptop for my regular A.M. internet routine. That involves checking weather report, browsing headlines in a few different newspapers (I like to mix it up from the LA Times, the Seattle Times, the London Times, and the New York Times), and then hitting my usual online comics. I was greeted with the unexpected and unhappy news that one of my all-time favorite webcomics, Shotgun Shuffle, is to be no more.
      You may recall that last mont I posted about the veritable treasure that is the selection of free comics available on the internet. The variety of stories, art, and genres means there is certainly something for everyone, and new awesomeness is popping up all the time. Finding a real favorite makes daily life that much more cheerful! But discovering that said comic is no longer going to be regularly updating on its site is just plain sad; I am genuinely unhappy that I will not have the humor, the art, and the story of Shotgun Shuffle to look forward to three times a week.
     The artist explained at length on the comic website that he is not burned out, and he has not lost interest in the comic, he simply cannot rationalize the investment of time and energy for so little return (financial and otherwise). He openly admitted he has not kept up on his advertising. And he states that he knows his own drive for perfection is a tremendous factor in the time-sink that the comic has become. As a former therapist, I would be the first person to say that it makes no sense to drive oneself crazy, and that self-care must be priority, even if it means giving up on a passion.
      As a former therapist who is also a writer, however, I will also be the first to say that if you're serious about pursuing your passion, then the self-care needs to be present from the beginning, and in perpetuity.
      History is littered with tales of the great artiste who lives fast and wild, creates amazing work, and then dies before his/her time: Ernest Hemingway, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, and James Dean to offer a few examples. But despite the glamor and romance that surrounds the memories of such geniuses, I am far more interested in being a Patrick O'Brian, a Norman Rockwell, or a Jason Robards--I want to live a long life, giving me a chance to produce a variety of work and to see it mature. And in order to do that, I believe I must pace myself.
      I have heard many, many successful writers suggest that if one is serious about following in their footsteps, then one must a) write every day, and b) read every day. And I would agree with that. But I think there's more to it than that. Creating usually fills us up in a way nothing else can, but if we don't practice good self-care, it can deplete us instead, and that is sad, sad, sad. So here are Z.D.'s Four Rules to Artist Self-Care:

#1) Pace yourself. The occasional splurge of creativity can be a lot of fun, but if it comes at the expense of real life you're only going to create more stress for yourself elsewhere, and you may actually come to resent your art. Nothing depresses like burn-out.

#2) Have variety in life. Work on your art every day, whether it's writing, painting, dancing, composing, tightrope walking, stand-up comedy, woodworking, etc. Likewise, find something else that you love and do THAT every day, too, whether it's cooking, singing in the shower, playing with your cat, collage art, taking long walks, collecting cool looking leaves, late night card games, etc. Because you shouldn't put all your proverbial eggs in one proverbial basket.

#3) Be honest about your goal. If your goal is to create regardless of social recognition just because you love to do it, that's fine. If your goal is to make a living, that's fine, too. Likewise if your goal is to become the next J.K. Rowling and roll in the royalties. But you have to really know what your goal is, and then stay on top of it. If your goal includes finances or wide-spread recognition, you have to do more than just create, because you're not just an artist: you're a business person. So be honest about it, and do the work. (And PACE YOURSELF!)

#4) Be patient and kind to yourself. Those are good rules for life in general, but they especially apply when it comes to creative endeavors. You're on a journey, and every journey includes side roads, mishaps, and unexpected views. So be zen with it.

      It's been a rather random week thus far--at least that how it's feeling in my head. I spent most of yesterday in a bad mood for what I assumed was no reason, until I realized the night previous I'd had multiple dreams about things going wrong, objects breaking, food burning and people being jerks. Yes, they were all dreams - none of that happened in real life - but it left me dealing with emotional fallout. The bad mood persisted until I had an unreasonable amount of tasty pizza with a glass of red wine, followed by tea and double-chocolate biscotti. (Notice the entire lack of anything even remotely healthy.) That did the trick.
      Other random bits:

 - On Monday I saw a squirrel that could only be described as "stocky": it had a compact, powerful body, no neck, and a marginally over-sized head. At first I wondered if it was born malformed in some way, but then I realized no, it was simply the squirrel equivalent of a football player physique. In fact, I'm sure he has a tiny helmet and a jersey back in his tree crevice, and will be going to toss around the acorn with the other adolescent squirrels sometime this afternoon.

 - Also on Monday I had a lovely long walk and a conversation with my Mom, where she was telling me about a tour or houses she'd attended with my aunt over the weekend. I compared it to an architecture and interior-decorating fair-thingy that we used to go to when I was younger, and her response was: "Exactly, sort of, not really, a little bit, similar, kind of, yes." It was all one sentence, and yet each part was emphasized as though it were the final response. But the best part was that she had zero awareness that she'd uttered anything extraordinary until I burst into hysterical laughter.

 - This morning while on my way to and from the grocery store I observed a bumble bee in a narrow, fluted, lilac-colored flower of some kind, the only blossom left on that particular plant. As I passed, the bee wasn't moving, and I thought it may have passed on to that Field of Wildflowers in the Sky. On my way back from the grocery store, however, I saw the same bumble bee in the same flower, now stirring. It gave a little wiggle, clearing rousing itself from a night's slumber. And I was struck with the delicious faerie-fancy of how marvelous it must be to sleep for a night in the snug, fragrant shelter of a flower. Sort of the bumble bee equivalent of camping under the stars, with a blossom for a sleeping bag.

      And now that I write this, I'm struck with a contented sense of gratitude that I have an imagination capable of spinning such lovely thoughts! I think I will reward myself with some leftover pizza for lunch.

      September makes me think of school, and fall, and all the lovely things that go with it, especially apples. Coming from Washington State, you can easily imagine my level of appreciation for that oft-literary-referenced fruit. My childhood memories recall only three kinds of apples: Red Delicious (aka "Mealy Yet Everywheres"), Granny Smiths (aka "This Is Only For Pies"), and Golden Delicious (aka "What Do We Even Do With This?"). Then, somewhere around high school graduation, strange new apples with names like Gala and Johnnygold started appearing. I don't know whether these were new varieties, or if my grocery store had just started carrying them, or if I was starting to pay more attention because I was now doing my own grocery shopping. Whatever the reason, I was intrigued.
      Then I realized there were more - far, FAR more varieties of apple - available at my local farmer's market, and suddenly apples weren't the hum-drum fall-back fruit anymore: they were exciting!

Just look at these beauties--don't they just SCREAM pie?

     It was my Mother who made me aware of different apple seasons. Apples (especially Mealy Yet Everywheres) are in the supermarket year-round. We had an apple tree (Granny Smiths) in my back yard when I was growing up, so I knew that apples were really supposed to be a fall thing, but it seemed like they lasted the entire season. It wasn't until my Mom and I were at a farmer's market and I suddenly saw her get unreasonably ecstatic about some smaller, yellow-red-flecked apples that I learned otherwise.
      "Gravensteins!" Her eyes were lit up and her hands were busy filling bags. "These are absolutely the best - the best - pie apples!"
      "Apple pie?" I frowned slightly. It was still August, and in my mind, apple pie was strictly an autumn phenomenon. "Isn't it a little early for that? I mean, blackberries are at their peak."
      But the farmer shook his head admonishingly. He warned, "Gravensteins are only on season for a couple weeks, so get 'em while you can."
      Any doubts I had regarding my Mom's enthusiasm or the farmer's sincerity (one does find the odd farmer who insists you need to stock up because their crop is nearly finished, only to find they still have plenty for the next three weeks) were immediately banished when I bit into that pie. The apples were candy-tart, the slices still holding their shape but tender and melting to the bite. It was a good thing my Mom had bought enough apples to make two pies, because the first one was gone within 48 hours.
      After that, I started paying more attention to which apples were peaking when, and asking questions of the farmers. I learned that despite my Mother's adoration, Gravensteins were hard to find due to relative anonymity and their small yield.* But there are many apples that make good desserts, if one is willing to take the time to experiment. And I am that one.

Z.D.'s Apple Walnut Toffee Pie

Ingredients
1 Cup homemade toffee, finely chopped, divided (I used this recipe & made a half-batch)
9 Cups good pie Apples, peeled, cored, and uniformally sliced**
1/3 Cup brown sugar, packed
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
1/4 teaspoon nutmeg
1 teaspoon cinnamon (optional)
lemon zest (optional)
1/2 Cup walnuts, coarsely chopped
Two rounds of pie dough
Butter, for dotting.

 - Pre-heat your oven to 385º F (or up to 400º if your oven doesn't like to be specific), and get out a nice 9 & 1/2 inch pie plate.

Dear oh dear, whatever will I do with the leftover toffee?

 - In a large bowl, toss together about three quarters of the toffee with the apple slices, sugar, and spices. Now I put the cinnamon as optional because it's delicious, but it makes the toffee flavor more mild, so you can use it or not, depending on what you're going for. Likewise with the lemon zest, that's to balance the relative sweetness of the apples. If you're using a very tart apple, I would skip the lemon zest. I used Jonathan apples, with are fairly sweet, so I added the zest of about half a lemon. If you're using a very sweet apple, like Golden Delicious (yes, this is what they're good for), then go ahead and zest the whole lemon.

You can add more nuts if you want, or chop them finer, or whatever.

 - In a small, heavy frying pan over medium heat, toast the walnuts until just starting to color. Too much toasting and they'll be over-done in the pie. Just a little toasting wakens the flavor. Toss these in with your apple mixture and let sit while you roll out your pie dough.

You could also try allspice, or ground cloves, or even cardamom for spices.

 - Roll out the bottom disk for your pie and fit it to the dish, then pour in your apples. Sprinkle with the remaining toffee and dot with just a little butter--less than you would normally use because the toffee has butter in it, of course. Roll out your top crust, fit, crimp, and cut steam vents of your choice.

Apples decrease in volume considerably when they cook, so I decided to add a few more slices to the top of my pie. I wound up with sufficient apple volume, but less juices, because these slices didn't get a chance to marinate in the sugar and salt. You win some, you loose some.

 - Rim the edges with foil to prevent burning, and place your pie in the middle of the oven and bake for 30 minutes. (I also like to put my pie on a thin, cheap-o baking sheet, in case of drippage.) After 30 minutes, remove the foil, and put the pie back in the oven for another 20 minutes. Your pie is done with the top is golden brown and you see sweet juices bubbling in the vents. Cool for at least two hours on a rack, then serve.

Another less-than-picture perfect but utterly scrumptious pie!

      Now we all know there is at least one holiday coming up that typically features apple pie, so if you want to try something new this year, you get to start experimenting now! :-D This pie is a nice twist on the classic because of the crunch of the walnuts (and walnut season is just starting, yum!) and the warm hint of flavor from the toffee. For extra toffee punch, try pulverizing a bit and adding it into fresh whipped cream, then serve on top of just warm slices of pie. Or serve with toffee ice cream. Or just stick a big wedge of toffee into whatever pie topping you like for flair!



*Which is why my dream house has a Gravenstein apple tree in the backyard. Right next to the koi pond and the clay oven.

**Some people like their apple pies to have an almost applesauce-like filling, others like their slices of fruit in tact to the point of crispness. I like mine in-between. Ask your apple farmer (because you are buying these at the farmer's market, right?) about their crop, which ones cook to which consistency, which ones are tarter vs. sweeter, etc. Whichever kind you pick, make sure your slices are uniform, because otherwise they will cook unevenly and you will wind up with some smooshy bits and some crisp bits and the pie will be less enjoyable.

      Last month I decided to re-read two books: "Wuthering Heights" but Emily Bronte, and "Here On Earth" by Alice Hoffman. Doubtless, you've heard of the first. In fact, if you attended public high school in the U.S.A. you may have been required to read it at one point (whether or not you did is between you, your Cliff Notes collection, and your conscience). The second book was an attempt by one of my favorite authors to revisit Heathcliff and Catherine in a contemporary "what-if" scenario.
      What if...Catherine didn't die?
      In fact, what if she and Heathcliff met up again, years later? What would happen?

      The first time I read "Wuthering Heights," I was not impressed. Keep in mind I read it independently as an adult, not as part of a class or a group to talk it through. I was primarily struck by how little I liked any of the characters. The primary male "narrator" was mostly a non-entity, and the housekeeper Nelly Dean who was the true narrator through most of the story was changeable and narrow-minded. Then the famous star-crossed lovers, Catherine and Heathcliff, were both obnoxious. And their siblings and neighbors were no better--they were short-sighted, self-pitying, or flat-out dumb. I tend to have trouble with books about characters I don't like. By the end I was just happy to have it over with.
      For this second read-through, I was much more mindful. I read more slowly and stopped to think. I still wound up not really liking most of the characters, but I was able to empathize with them, and I could appreciate their individual struggles. I liked how they grow. Considering the brief life-span and limited life experiences of the author, the novel was deeply impressive. But what probably stood out to me the most was Heathcliff: as a student of psychology, I can tell you that he is a marvelous study in Nature vs. Nurture.
      I could write an entire blog post just about the author's arguments for and against these two primary personality influences. Heck, if I had the nerve, I could write an article for a scientific journal! But I shall do neither at this time, only encourage you to keep this perspective in mind the next time you read "Wuthering Heights," and see how it prompts your brain.
   

      In "Here On Earth," circumstance in the form of Nelly Dean's death (or rather, the death of Judith, as she is named in Hoffman's novel) bring Catherine (re-christened March) and Heathcliff (called Hollis) back together. The history of the two characters up to that point is essentially the same: Hollis' spontaneous adoption by March's father, the harshness between her brother (under the contemporary name of Alan) and their adopted brother, and entrance of the wealthy neighbor children and the unexpected marriages therewith. The primary differences lie in who remains alive: Alan becomes a hopeless bum living on the outskirts of town. Also, in Hoffman's version, Hollis' biological son dies in childhood, never meeting his cousin.
      The other change is that March hasn't died, and neither has her husband, Richard. Instead, they move to the other side of the country while Hollis is seeking his fortune. Once Hollis returns to the town where he so passionately loved his adopted sister, he finds her gone. Her marriage and pregnancy prevent her from returning to him. Until...
      ...until she goes back home for Judith's funeral, and comes face to face with the man her first love has become. Their all-devouring passion then over-comes all reason, just as it did in W.H., and March leaves her husband to stay with Hollis, even as her daughter - Gwen - begins to fall for her own cousin (this is also in keeping with the original Bronte tale, only given contemporary social norms is has a dramatically different flavor).
      So what happens when that kind of intense love is given a second chance? A romantic soul would like to see such devoted individuals live happily-ever-after...but that kind of idyllic love was never Bronte's intention, and Hoffman did not attempt to change the original author's vision. I will confess myself to be what I call a Fictional Romantic. This means that while I am resigned to their nonexistence in the real world, I am a sucker for a happy ending in the stories I read.* The first time I read "Here On Earth," I expected some element of Happy-Ever-After, and wow, I was in for disappointment. But Hoffman's exquisite writing and rich characters still left me with a liking for the novel, so going back and re-reading it was hardly a chore. And on the heels of "Wuthering Heights," it was apparent to me just how raw, how blind, and how dangerous is the "love" between Catherine/March and Heathcliff/Hollis. It now seems to me there could be no other ending--at least, none that didn't turn even darker. Still, it gives me a bittersweet satisfaction that some author, somewhere, gave Catherine and Heathcliff a chance, even if it must inevitably end in heart break.
      So if you're looking for a comfortable literary stretch, I recommend reading these books back-to-back. They're both well-written, thought-provoking, and highly enjoyable.


*Although, not in the form of romance novels. I like my characters to have...well...character. Romance means more to me if it belongs to people and challenges that COULD exist real life.

      In my household, we all have our convictions. One of my mine is that any breakfast pastry can be rendered "healthy" with the addition of spelt flour. My husband holds a conviction that any pastry involving raisins will be rendered at least five times tastier by replacing said raisins with chocolate chips.* (An opinion, incidentally, in which he is joined by noted comedian and political commentator, John Oliver).

Raisins wish they were this cool.

Then there's my cat, who apparently holds a conviction that unless she meows loudly and rubs her cheek against every reachable surface in the kitchen** each morning, her guardians will somehow forget to eat breakfast and subsequently starve to death. So this morning, as my cat was meowing and rubbing against my legs, shoes, fridge, cupboards, trash can and recycling bag, I applied the other two household convictions and made some pretty darn tasty banana pancakes.
      There are two primary approaches to banana flapjacks: the Mash 'Em In The Batter approach, and the Slices Laid In While Cooking approach. I have had good breakfasts both ways, but today I needed to use up some over-ripe bananas, so I specifically went for the Mash method. Over-ripe bananas are excellent for baking, which is a good thing, because otherwise they sit around making your kitchen smell like a third-world tropical farmer's market, and inviting every fruit fly for a hundred mile radius to come hang out in your home.

The fruit fly equivalent of a giant neon sign reading "PARADISE BAR & GRILL."

The answer is to wrap them TIGHTLY in a plastic bag and stick 'em in your fridge until you're ready to use them, but even then you have to be prompt, lest every dairy product in your fridge takes on a funky banana je ne sais quoi. Banana bread is the obvious option, but that usually calls for 2-3 bananas. If you only have one, then I recommend this brunch delight:

Z.D.'s Yes-It's-Healthy (sort of) Chocolate Chip Banana Flapjacks
(makes 8 flapjacks)

1/2 Cup old fashioned rolled oats
3/4 Cup whole milk
1/2 Cup spelt flour (or AP flour if you're not into healthy)
2 Tablespoons brown sugar
1/4 teaspoons ground nutmeg
3/4 teaspoon baking powder
1/4 teaspoon baking soda
1 large, over-ripe banana
1 large egg
1/4 teaspoon almond extract
2 Tablespoons melted butter
1/2 Cup chopped bittersweet chocolate (yes, you could use chips, but you can get better quality chocolate for less in baking bars!)

 - Place the oats in a medium size mixing bowl. Heat the milk until quite warm (stove or microwave, I don't care, just don't over-heat it or it will scald), then pour over the oats and stir. Let the oats soak a bit while you make the rest of the batter.

 - In a small bowl, whisk together the spelt flour, sugar, nutmeg, baking powder and soda. In another small bowl, mash the banana, then vigorously stir in the egg, extract and butter. Add both the flour and banana mixtures to your soaking oats, and stir until just barely barely combined. Fold in the chocolate chips.


 - Grease your flapjack surface of choice (skillet, griddle, cast iron dutch oven lid, etc) with a little butter. If you have a kitchen laser thermometer (one of the gizmos my husband got me and then he wound up playing with way more than I ever do), heat the surface to just about 360º F. If you don't have a kitchen laser thermometer, watch until the butter is just starting to think about browning and scarcely starting to smoke, then ladle on your batter in 1/3 Cup dollops. Cook until bubbles form on the top, the edges are firm, and the cooked side is decidedly golden brown, then flip. (If you cook on a stove, monitor your skillet temp so the butter doesn't burn, but it doesn't get too cold or the flapjacks will never cook.) Cook until happily brown on the other side. Serve.


      Personally, I think these are sweet enough you don't need maple syrup. We enjoyed these flapjacks with a bit of butter and some fresh raspberries and strawberries, and they were quite delish. My husband was deeply satisfied by the chocolate chips. I was happily content with the oats and spelt, which allowed me to pretend I was being healthy. And our cat was just happy we were eating, so she could curl up under the table and wait for us to leave and forget to cover the butter dish. (Which we didn't. But she definitely checked to make sure.)



*This is due to early childhood trauma from mistaking raising cookies for chocolate chip cookies. He's never forgiven raisins since. I can sympathize: I had a memorable experience in third grade where I thought I was biting into a chocolate doughnut, and it turned out to be a pumpernickel bagel. It took me years to accept either pumpernickel or bagels back into my diet.

**Including the paper bag set out for recycling, which - despite several experiences - she has yet to learn will not support her kitty weight, and she nearly falls over when she pushes her cheeks against it.

      Camela keeps tagging me with these great writer's prompts, so how could I resist? This one's pretty straight forward: list ten books I've read in my life that really stuck with me, and say why.

1) Holes - Louis Sachar

What is it about children's books that they can somehow get away with things adult fiction really can't? Perhaps it's the permission to write simply--it paradoxically allows some of the greatest complexity of expression. I loved this book from the moment I started reading it, because of its social messages, its startling accurate depiction of at-risk juvenile interaction, and its true character psychology. Plus it's FUN!

2) Dreams Underfoot - Charles DeLint

This was the first urban fantasy I'd ever read, and also the first collection of short stories I'd ever read outside of a school assignment. I love DeLint's imagination, and I love how well he writes female protagonists, a gift that has stayed with him through every written piece.

3) Zen Flesh, Zen Bones - compiled by Paul Reps and Nyogen Senzaki

Previous to this book, I had only ever read about Zen Buddhism from an academic perspective. These little stories actually gave me a feeling for what Zen belief is about. I still flip it open from time to time when I want to feel grounded and clear.

4) The Last Samurai - Helen DeWitt

THIS BOOK HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH THE TOM CRUISE MOVIE!!!! Like, nothing to do with that movie! It's about a genius child being raised by a single mom in contemporary Great Britain, and it's brilliant. When I think of a truly great contemporary novel, that's the one I think of.

5) The Sandman Series - Neil Gaiman

If you've read them, you know why. If you haven't, I won't ruin it for you by trying to explain. Just go read them.

6) Complications - Atul Gawande

I've read a lot of good non-fiction over the years, including all of Gawande's books, but this one was my favorite because of the author's vulnerability. This physician did such a remarkable job of laying bare the truth - including both his talents and his mistakes - and in doing so, showed how honesty and sincerity can turn weakness into a strength. It gave me new insight and increased respect for the medical profession.

7) The Darkangel - Meredith Ann Pierce

This is a YA novel which I read, appropriately, in middle school. I was an avid reader of fantasy fiction at the time and the creativity of this book floored me. I later learned that it was inspired by a transcript of a dream disclosed by a woman undergoing Jungian psychoanalysis, and now that I've had plenty of psychology training I get even more out of it. It was the first book of a trilogy, and I was furious with how it ended, so even though I own books 1 & 2, I have never yet re-read the final book. I'm kind of nervous about re-reading it now--I wonder if it will still piss me off so much?

8) PostSecret - Frank Warren

PostSecret is an on-going online community art project, organized by its founder, Frank Warren, inspired by the AA truism: You're only as sick as your secrets. So Warren invited people to creatively put their secrets on an anonymous postcard and mail them to him. This book was the first collection of postcards that he published. It's amazing to me how close I feel to these complete strangers, just seeing these random snippets of humanity.

9) Rebecca - Daphne du Maurier

The original mind-bender suspense story. Forget "Memento," forget "The Sixth Sense," this is the brilliant one. I think I just decided to re-read it this October.

10) Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone - J.K. Rowling

Oh yeah, I went there. Sure, I could have finished this list with Jane Eyre (still one of my all-time favorites) or Illusions: Tales of a Reluctant Messiah (which had a profound impact on my life), but if I'm being honest, it's gotta be Harry. My brother gave me that book as a Christmas present when I was in college, and I could NOT put it down. I stayed up nearly all night in my grandparents guest bedroom, every cell in my body filled with delight. When I finished it less then 48 hours after receiving it, I went with my Dad to the bookstore and gleefully purchased the two sequels with the gift card in my stocking. Aside from the marvelousness which is Sorcerer's Stone, I also associate the book with several cherished memories: my grandparents and my dad (who have passed on), my brother, Christmases with my extended family, the smell of that guest bedroom, the freedom of that age in my life. For all of those reasons combined, that book will forever hold a particularly special place in my heart and soul.

      My friend and soon-to-be-published novelist Camela Thompson tagged me on a writerly game. She was tagged by author Michael G. Munz, and I'm sure if I followed the trail backward there would be many an unknown and many an illustrious writer behind him.
      The 7x7x7 Game is simple: a writer should turn to page 7 of her current work-in-progress. Then she should go to line 7 on that page, and then copy and post the next 7 lines exactly as they are. So...here we go!

The working title of my current project is: Dead Gold. If you've been reading my blog for awhile (and bless you if you have been) then you may remember some pitches for this novel back in July. And here are seven lines from the seventh page:

      "That was one day," the flanneled prospector snarled. The light from the distant kerosene lamp was making his mouth look wide and uneven, as though his lips were falling away from his jaw. "Another day those damn mountains might rain rocks on you in an avalanche, or dry up every drop of water in a day's ride. They don't pay out gold like a salary, that's for damn sure! Greed and loneliness are a bad combination for a man. You don't need snow ten feet deep to drive a man to madness." He leaned in suddenly and reached for the whiskey bottle.