I’m proud to announce this Goodreads Giveaway for my novel, Miami Morning. Enter to win one of five signed, paperback copies between August 27 and September 18, 2016.
Miami Morning, contemporary literary fiction, by Mary Clark, All Things That Matter Press
Forty-something Leila Payson loves her job as a high school social sciences teacher, adventures with a diverse group of friends, and her volunteer work. But when she discovers one of her students is going deaf, she finds herself on a learning curve of her own. At an earlier time in her life, she spent a year teaching in South Africa, where she met an occupational therapist and others working with people with disabilities. Now years later, when the students asks for her help, she embarks on a pivotal journey that calls on everything she’s learned.
And while she juggles work, family, and her friends’ adventures, an attractive man keeps appearing at her favorite places.
There’s magic in Miami, and Leila Payson is reveling in it. Come along for the ride as she meets her challenges with courage, a dash of philosophy, and a splash of humor, too.
by Author Mary Clark
Cover Design by publisher All Things That Matter Press.
Magic in Miami
Leila Payson, known to her students and friends as Miss Pacer, is always pushing the boundaries of her experience, to become a better teacher and human being.
She enjoys her work as a high school Social Studies teacher, adventures with her diverse friends, and volunteering at a local playground.
But when Leila discovers one of her students is going deaf, she propels herself into a learning curve of her own.
At an earlier time in her life, she spent a year teaching in South Africa, where she met an occupational therapist and others working in creative ways within the disability community.
Now, years later, when the student asks for her help, she embarks on a pivotal journey that calls on everything she’s learned.
While she juggles work, family, and…
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August is Write A Review Month
August 2016 is Write An Amazon Review Month! By @TerryTyler4 #AugustReviews
On Monday 25th July, book blogger Rosie Amber wrote this post encouraging readers and writers alike to post a short review on Amazon for any book they’ve read and enjoyed ~ following this up, Terry Tyler is starting this initiative along with other writer-bloggers including Rosie, Cathy from Between The Lines, Barb Taub, Shelley Wilson and Alison Williams.
The idea is that, from August 1st, everyone who reads this uses their Amazon account to post just one review on one book that they’ve read (but feel free to carry on if you get in the swing!). You don’t even have to have read it recently, it can be any book you’ve read, any time. The book does not have to have been purchased from Amazon, though if it is you get the ‘Verified Purchase’ tag on…
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For those of you who’ve read Tally: An Intuitive Life, and for those who haven’t but wouldn’t mind an introduction, here’s a piece from Into The Fire: A Poet’s Journey through Hell’s Kitchen, which I’ve published on my Scribd.com site. He appears in the first chapter and then on other occasions throughout the story.
Working on PJ’s cryptic writing, I played with his new definition of Intuition.
At an elemental level, he described how we learn what advances our desires, and what thwarts our wishes. When the action or its consequence is harmful to ourselves or others, we learn to dissemble, all to ensure our “emotional security” by convincing ourselves of our innocence.
I made notes. What’s valuable and what’s not? How do we make these judgments?
With him I challenged his ideas on building the intuition in childhood. “What kind of intellect can a child have? What level of perceptual awareness?”
“A child’s sensory and perceptual apprehension of the world is pretty great,” PJ responded. “It has to be for the learning process to take place. The intellect evolves, often seeming to the individual to match the world’s maturation. It’s an incredible process, both gradual and immediate.” Then, he added, “But the concept of time is another subject.
“You see, you keep piling one lie on top of another and another on top of that,” PJ said, developing his theory of rationalizing guilt. “And the deeper you get into rationalization, the more you get away from ever becoming amiable again.”
This is a process over time, he said, and can lead to justification of whole sets of actions. Eventually we feel the overload and break down, and start over again with the slate wiped clean, or we continue to heap one justification on another until the intuition, swamped by guilt and lies becomes more hostile than amiable, and is unable to change.
“What about your conscience? Doesn’t that give you a guidepost to follow?”
“The idea is that once a person becomes saturated with guilt, he has to abandon his conscience, because he can’t do anything against his conscience, so he forgets he has one at all, and he is no longer a man integrated at all. He has no integrity anymore. You run across these people everywhere you go, as you know.”
Winter with PJ was a return to innocence, a primitive meta-state when human beings held the future in their opposing thumbs and “emanated” abstract renderings on cave walls.
He showed me a series of small designs he called “Emanations.” He said that he may have chosen the colors to work with on his watercolors and designs, but there was no way he could have planned the forms that came out.
“It was purely an intuitive thing,” he said. “And the intuition brings you back to innocence.”
Love is a quiet, constant reminder
that we are all human beings
with a sense of the good,
who can be good.
Photograph by Forrest Clark
PJ (Paul Johnston) was an artist living in Greenwich Village most of the years between 1919 and 1987. This is one of his memories from the 1960s.
All through his forties, fifties and sixties the ghost of his wife’s husband, the passionate lover, the rejected lover and the professor of love, was in unbelievably good health.
Did a turning point come when he loved Olga at first sight, he sixty, she twenty five? And would rather be her celibate lover if the alternative was a one night stand or a brief affair? Six years in love with Olga—an embrace, a long kiss in love on greeting, but never a bussing in bed.
Meanwhile during frequent amiable meetings, going to art galleries, Off Broadway theatres, films, far out happenings, dances, year in and week out for six years, the old man was in robust health, fulfilled in amiable love.
But coincidentally with age sixty, the doctors imposed on him a heart condition.
He was in fine health between the losses of life’s time in hospitals, which he took without complaint. Nor did his losing O to a worthy husband affect his health.
On, on to seventy, the professor of love loved, often to fulfillment.
All those days he’d wake up singing, even if he slept alone. A loner, singing squeezing orange juice from the half shell, singing frying eggs, singing (but not out loud) while he worked. His health was disgustingly good.
“I met Olga when she was in the happenings and fell in love with her right away. And we made of it what we did, that’s all. I was sixty and she was twenty-five. I couldn’t see making the big lover pose, that I was in love with her for sexual reasons, which I was not. It was my first experience with amiable love. Amiable affection. And I played it by note.” He laughed, “By rote. I played as it played. And it was very beautiful.”
Olga married a young man. PJ understood this. “After all, I had nothing to offer her. It was a natural thing, and I could live with it.”
“Was her husband the one who was into happenings?”
“He was in the happenings, Claes Oldenburg’s happenings. He didn’t do any happenings. He thought art and science should be mixed, and he got a bunch of scientists to make these art pretensions,” PJ said. “But Olga was a natural genius. She was an artist in her own right, but her brilliance was beat down by her husband who used her as an attractive model-type wife to attract capital to his enterprises. Until, one day, she had enough.” After she divorced him, PJ recalled, “She left a note on my front door saying she wanted to see me.” He dared to hope they would get back together. “But her heart wasn’t in it,” he said.
“The funny part of it was when she rejected me years before, she said you know those years you claimed you were in love with me all the time and we were going out together all the time, I never felt it a bit. So she tells me this after five or six years, when I was there when she was going out with me and I could tell she enjoyed it very much. So it was just one of those things, she had become disillusioned with everything else, and she had to become disillusioned with me.”
That was quite a blow, he said, for the professor of love. The experience left him “disillusioned in love.” Soon his health declined and he was in the hospital again. At age 66, his health had been broken by a broken heart twice. The first was a passionate love, the last worthy of a supreme Zen master.
“How did you meet Olga again? Did she come here?”
“I met her a few years ago when Rogue called me and asked me to come to a poetry reading. Patty Mucha, a friend of O’s, was reading. And right away, I was sure then at least I could find out whether Olga was alive or not.”
The poet came and he asked her about Olga. “And sure enough, she said yes, I invited her, she may be here. While she was reading, Olga came into the room.”
“Did Rogue know Olga?”
“He didn’t know her. He knew Patty Mucha, the poet. Patty used to be Patty Oldenburg. She and Olga have been friends for twenty years.”
“Did Olga say she’d come around to one of our parties?”
“I’ve invited her to bring her man and come over to see my art, but they invited me first to have dinner at their place and I refused, because it was so far, all the way down in Soho.”
“Does she sound … seem happy now?”
“She claims she’s very happy.”
View photo of Olga Adorno and Patty Oldenburg and other performance artists
Miami Morning is in final edit. I want to thank those of you who have joined my book launch team. And those who have read and commented on the book in its various drafts, thank you for your help in making this a better book. So hang in there! I know I am.
Excerpt from Chapter 13 of Tally: An Intuitive Life, All Things That Matter Press
A letter from PJ:
What profited a man to wake daily and write a page of words to substantiate the concept that one wakes, alive, to perceive and experience a new world beginning? Why search with palsied fingers and decrepit remains, but a febrile mind, for logical answers to why was I born and why am I living?
All the answers are already stored in the limitless area of the universal stream of consciousness, and one has but to think of (saving the time out of his life) thoughts (worthwhile or worthless) and these thoughts will be added to the boundless stream of human consciousness.