Literary Love

Inward Thinking At a time when we are secluded with the same few people every day—or some of us, alone—we spend a lot of time looking inward. I’m an advocate for self-reflection and improvement, but it’s an important time to consider how others may be dealing with this crisis. Someone with an autoimmune disease is stuck home unable to do much; afraid they will get deathly sick. Someone is battling with depression, fighting a silent uphill battle since the first day of mandatory social distancing. A teacher struggles to learn how to instruct their class virtually and are finding themselves the target of overwhelmed parents’ anger. So many of our neighbors are navigating a new work-from-home situation that is less than optimal. Many are no longer working at all. Lovers are separated. Grandparents haven’t been able to hug their grandchildren. Sadly, some have experienced the loss of a loved one, or celebrated a birthday or a special milestone while isolated from those closest to t

End of an Era My mother’s sister, my Aunt Roseann, passed away on Monday. She was 84. On my mother’s Italian side of the family, there are four sisters and one brother. As expected of women of that day, my mother and her sisters took care of their homes, husbands and children, but these matriarchs were far from domesticated wallflowers. They were always fiercely opinionated, and along with my 87-year-old mother, Aunt Roseann spoke her mind. When I was little my aunt often called me ‘foonge face.’ Apparently, she called my older sister the same thing. I guess we weren’t the happiest kids in those formative years, but despite a nickname we never warmed to, we have many great memories that include my aunt. Compared to now, the mid-to-late 70s were lean times. Families were larger, and lower, middle-class ones like mine did with less. As kids, we never felt the pinch. Spending time together made up what we lacked in money. My greatest memories were of family gatherings: noisy holidays

Story Sex I don’t like gratuitous sex scenes in movies or what I read. Now, I’m not slamming anyone who enjoys a bit of voyeurism to get the engine primed, but those vamped up scenarios have a specific goal—and a specific audience. Sex scenes within the framework of a literary story are a horse of another color. When I’m engaged in a story, I want the physical action between the characters to mean something. I want their carnal relationship, their chemistry, their emotional connection, or lack of one, to tell me something about them as a couple, and as individuals. Done with intent, authors can use a character’s behavior in the bedroom as a creative avenue for character development, an intimate place to reveal either truths or falsehoods.