Stories

I have two friends, both of whom I've mentioned more than once (though I never gave them Bunny names).  Recently, we embarked on a writing project, a novel, that we are tag-teaming.  (Well, they're tag-teaming, and I'm more just tagging ... it's been a long year so far).  Anyway, one of them went to a writer's conference over the weekend and pitched the story to agents.  Plural.  Yes, they're interested ... and yes, I'm hyperventilating.

Also recently, in part because of this blog, and in part because of that project, I've begun a fiction book of my own - a rather creepy, fairly funny mystery (I hope series) featuring ... well, I don't want to jinx it, but suffice it to say neither of the main characters will surprise you if you've been reading this at all.  They took off on their own this week, after a brainstorming session with my sister.  As soon as I stop tagging and write up to my commitment (see above) I will open their door again, see where they've gotten to, and begin this book - if only to see what kind of wild chase those two lead me on.

And on Friday, I found yet another story - not my own but fascinating nonetheless.

This gorgeous guy I found at an antique mall, one we hit several times a year, specifically for this vendor, actually - an older couple who loves watches, Edwardian jewelry, and anything that sparkles.  (Sound like someone you know?)  She called it a "frat pin" but I'm pretty sure it's from high school, probably the local one, which, apparently, split into a north-south (or east-west, I can't remember), sometime after 1906, when this person graduated.

A person who was probably female, I'm guessing.  See the initials on the back?  "MEH"?  I'm thinking guys didn't usually pick that flowery script style.  Could be wrong.  Mom could've set it up.  But probably not.

The other thing I love is the "gold" stamp.  No karat, just "gold."  So cool, and so turn-of-the-century.  (It's 10K, by the way, though 9K is also standard.  Also note the c-catch - not very safe, but very old.)

This piece tells a tale, and I love it.  I love all the stories I find.  When I mentioned this to my vendor, she smiled, but when I pointed to the ... oh, about 1.5 carat diamond on her finger the smile became real.  "I traded a 1957 Buick LeSabre for this."  She glanced up.  "I already had a Cadillac in the driveway and I figured the Buick would just sit in the garage, right?  So I traded a guy."  She turned her hand and admired the sparkle.  "Best deal I ever made."  Her husband didn't bat an eye but looked on her lovingly and proudly.

We all have stories to tell, some our own, some other people's.  Women have stories about family, work, even pure fantasies, but I'm noticing that the ones that are the strongest, the ones that bring those smiles are the ones connected to the gold and the diamonds and the tourmaline they wear most often.  Jewelry, I think, is so tangible, so powerful (according to the ancients) that it can channel magic.  And magic is the essence of a good story.

What to see for yourself?  Next time you're on the subway or in church or just sitting next to a woman on a park bench, admire her ring or her watch or her earrings (careful with pendants, guys!) and ask her to tell you its story.  There's not a woman on the planet who won't know what you mean - and who won't tell you about it.

And smile to herself.