Thanks to everyone for leaving comments on Carolyn's post. The winner of a copy of her book, THE BIG GRABOWSKI is Sharon Ervin.
Sharon - email Carolyn to claim your prize.
Congratulations!
Welcome to Terry's Place. I'm an author of mystery and romance, happy to share what I'm learning, both about writing and anything I find interesting.
Showing posts with label The Big Grabowski. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Big Grabowski. Show all posts
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
A Writer's Dress Code?
I'd like to welcome Carolyn J. Rose to my blog today. After 25 years as a television news researcher, writer, producer, and assignment editor in Arkansas, New Mexico, Oregon, and Washington, she teaches novel-writing in Vancouver, Washington, and founded the Vancouver Writers’ Mixers. Her hobbies are reading, gardening, and not cooking.
Over the course of my life, I’ve had to adhere to a number of dress codes in order to succeed—or at least stay far enough under the rule-makers’ radar to reduce the hassle factor and/or hang onto a job. I despised most of those codes. In my opinion, they didn’t make good sense.
The first code was imposed by my grandmother who loved to sew and made almost all of my clothing. The code was simple: pink is for girls and blue is for boys. Part two was: you’ll grow into it. Suffice it to say that once I got a job and could buy my own clothing, I never again wore a pink tent dress.
The second code was the one enforced at my high school in the mid 60s. The word Draconian leaps to mind. Girls weren’t allowed to wear slacks. So, on icy Catskill winter mornings, I walked the quarter mile to the school bus wearing two pairs of tights, knee socks, boots, and long woolen skirts (in shades of pink and red my freshman year). Books clutched against my puffy ski jacket, I repeated through chapped lips, “Get good grades and get out of here.”
Over the course of my life, I’ve had to adhere to a number of dress codes in order to succeed—or at least stay far enough under the rule-makers’ radar to reduce the hassle factor and/or hang onto a job. I despised most of those codes. In my opinion, they didn’t make good sense.
The first code was imposed by my grandmother who loved to sew and made almost all of my clothing. The code was simple: pink is for girls and blue is for boys. Part two was: you’ll grow into it. Suffice it to say that once I got a job and could buy my own clothing, I never again wore a pink tent dress.
The second code was the one enforced at my high school in the mid 60s. The word Draconian leaps to mind. Girls weren’t allowed to wear slacks. So, on icy Catskill winter mornings, I walked the quarter mile to the school bus wearing two pairs of tights, knee socks, boots, and long woolen skirts (in shades of pink and red my freshman year). Books clutched against my puffy ski jacket, I repeated through chapped lips, “Get good grades and get out of here.”
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