The Insider comes to an end

In addition to my creative writing (fiction, novels, plays), for the last three years, I have been writing a political opinion column, Washington Whispers, for The Insider, theinsider1.com. However, next week will see the publication’s last issue. What to do next? Go back to my fiction and plays full speed and let my soapbox go? Or continue Washington Whispers on an independent political blog of my own creation? I am leaning toward continuing Washington Whispers. Stay tuned.

A Morning’s Walk in Cleveland Park

A robin takes flight, a young skinny worm in its beak.

A coven of daisies whispers before a house.

A tree finds itself tightly embraced by twines of kudzu.

And a universe of birds unseen makes music in the trees.

But who am I to attempt a pastoral poem?

Born in a suburb, bread on a love for cities,

Yearning for subways, for skyscrapers,

And streets packed with pedestrians,

For the cacophony of car horns,

For the loud swoosh of cars passing in the rain,

And herds of taxi cabs hurrying on their way,

For the hardness of sidewalks,

The call of street vendors,

And the sound of a hundred languages wafting my way

As I breeze past them on my way to

Nowhere in particular.

(C) Copyright-Jessie Seigel- 2023 All rights reserved.

On the Final Season of the Marvelous Mrs. Maisel

Mrs. Maisel star, Rachel Brosnahan

I’ve now watched the last four episodes of the final season of The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel twice. Although the entire series was well written and wonderfully acted, certain scenes in these last episodes were so touching that they made me cry. The first was Maisel’s video tribute to Susie Myerson at the end of the roast of Susie. What touched me was Alex Borstein’s acting–the subtleties of her facial expressions while her character watched the video.

The second was the scene in which Susie tells Maisel about her past history at school with Gordon’s wife–the pain of it, as well as the nod to class distinction and how it affects people and relationships.

The third was the scene in which Maisel’s father realizes her strength and that, in his male chauvinism, he only tried to cultivate his son, and should also have been cultivating his daughter.

And then, of course, there is the scene in which Maisel finally gets to appear on Gordon’s talk show–But no spoilers here.

It has been suggested that the Mrs. Maisel character is based upon Joan Rivers. But I never cared for Joan Rivers. Admittedly, I only saw the stand-up she did on shows like Johnny Carson’s. But part of her humor that I saw always seemed too self-denigrating for my taste. Maisel’s is written as satiric observations on society. I know she’s fictional, but I like Maisel’s work much better. Too bad Rivers didn’t have Maisel’s writers.

Venetian Masks–My Inspiration!

Their empty eyes stare at you from their shelves. Or are their eyes behind those masks?

Readers often wonder–how do writers think of their stories? Do we stare at a computer screen or type like one of the proverbial Shakespeare monkeys until an idea takes root?

For me, inspiration is often serendipitous. When I don’t have an idea that grabs me, I am in a funk. Walking and/or talking with strangers often stimulates ideas. And stumbling across something new, even in my same old familiar world lights me up like a roman candle.

Today–a lovely, sunny day–I was determined to get out of my neighborhood and walk down to and around Georgetown. After a while the heat got to me and, bedraggled, I was ready to hop on a bus towards home. But as I passed Georgetown Tobacco, I saw these wonderful Venetian carnival masks in a glass case just inside the door.

I love carnivals and circuses–the theatricality of them, and those masks, so unexpectedly turning up inside a tobbacco store–lit up my imagination, and suddenly I was filled with energy– both physical and mental.

There’s something about those masks–their expressions, but also those black, empty eyes with no face behind them that makes me grin but also sends chills down my spine.

And then there’ are these:

Crafty Foxes, and ravenous wolves, and preying birds. Waiting to peck out your eyes, oh my!

These creatures are going to end up in a story–and soon!

Daphne du Maurier

Because of her name, I always thought Daphne du Maurier was a romance writer and dismissed her as such. But recently I came into possession of a paperback of several of her stories, including “Don’t Look Now,” an eerie story that I had first seen rather than read–a Donald Sutherland-Julie Christie film set in Venice. The stories of the book combine a sense of mystery, science fiction and horror. I’ve now read all five stories in the book and am terribly impressed with du Maurier as a writer. She has a subtle yet sharp insight into human relationships. How sad that I was put off for so long by her romantic name.

A NEW ADVENTURE

I seem to have begun a new adventure in writing: life as a political columnist. For the last month and a half, I have been writing articles on almost a weekly basis for The Insider, for People Sheltering in Place. Now I am embarking on a bi-weekly column for The Insider, called “Washington Whispers.” Here are links to my articles so far:

https://www.theinsider1.com/post/can-there-be-truth-without-ruth

https://www.theinsider1.com/post/washington-whispers-democrats-forced-to-grin-and-barrett

https://www.theinsider1.com/post/advice-to-democrats-revenge-is-a-dish-best-served-bold

https://www.theinsider1.com/post/washington-whispers-a-communique-from-the-covid-zone

https://www.theinsider1.com/post/washington-whispers-political-disaster-averted-or-was-it

This adventure began with an opinion I posted on Facebook finding fault with Bob Woodward’s timing for releasing his Trump tapes. An old high school friend, who had developed a long career as an established journalist and editor took issue with my view and I sent her an email discussing further. It turned out that she runs The Insider, for People Sheltering in Place; she asked me to turn my thoughts into an article; and we have been off and running ever since!
Talk about serendipity!