measurement of not caring

I don't care one iota went through my mind as someone babbled on the 6 a.m. news today.

Not ONE iota. 

I could hear my mother saying that and suddenly realized I didn't know what an iota was.

A small Peruvian hairless mammal? An exotic vegetable grown in Finland and eaten with Stilton to celebrate the new year?

A special hidden fastening for a sable coat in pre-Revolutionary Russia?

IOTA (according to the New Shorter Oxford Dictionary) is of Phoenician origin and is the smallest letter of the Greek alphabet. 

Delighted to not care at all!  Not even ONE iota!



how writing used to be...overcoming that blank moment

I used to hear the soft buzz of my electric typewriter and think, oh, don't push me, I'm thinking!

How I miss the clack clack clackety clack of a thought flying onto a piece of white paper that I could TOUCH and HOLD.  That racket was joyful.

Now it is just a soft click click click of pressing keys which reminds me of the poof poof poof of Daphne, my rabbit, running to leap into my arms. 

At the start of the day, when I've sat down, computer is on, and my mind is as blank as the screen--that is a bad moment for a writer.  This is when I write a letter to a friend to warm up, like an athlete preparing for a race.

Always works for me. So far. Try it.






I am about to be immersed in another world. I think I love undercover so much because it is a holiday from being me.  I squint in the mirror, repeat my new name and feel that surge of adrenalin.

And yes, the holidays. I always notice the longest night of the year then there's Christmas with all that hoopla.

Looking forward to the new year with lots of fresh ideas and the excitement of possibility. 

Happy Whatever You Choose to Celebrate.  C



I woke up wondering what I will say on these clouds. Today and in days to come.

I cannot write about my cases, my detective work, though it's often dramatic and often hilarious.

I thought of what I would talk about if a writer were across the breakfast table from me.  First of all, no breakfast table as I ABHOR breakfast but I ADORE lunch.  I have lunch right away even if it's 5 a.m.  A sandwich for stamina, a Coke Zero for speed, cookies for joy.  All set. Bed made, kitchen immaculate, lipstick on I head for my desk.  Writing to me is a reward for having all else in order and only when I feel that do I allow myself to sit in my green chair and float away.  




The site is up! The site is up!  After hours with my genius webmaster, Daniel, we (mostly Daniel)  have concocted something splendid to showcase my books.  They are on the way! January is nearly here!

 A bit about me in the Biography section will tell you more than you probably want to know and this page will keep you au courant with the clouds that float through my mind as often as I remember to catch them and write them down.

I lift a glass of bubbles to you--the reader--and to anyone who writes--hurrah!  Cici/ Clarissa

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