Monday, January 30, 2012

Boyd Lemon, Author

Welcome Boyd, to my blog! 
Boyd is the author of "Digging Deep: A Writer Uncovers His Marriages" and "Unexpected Love and Other Stories"....

Where are you from?
Ventura, California, USA, presently, but I was born and raised in the L.A. area, and I lived in Boston from 2007 to 2010 and in Paris for a year in 2010 and part of 2011.

When did you begin writing?
I wrote legal articles and a book as a lawyer, but I did not start writing non-legal prose until 2006 when I was 65 years old.  I started with short stories, then memoirs, and the next step will be a novel I plan on starting next year (2012).

Do you have a muse, catalyst or sidekick for writing?
The answer is yes, but I rely on several people.

Where is your favorite place to write?
I don’t really have a favorite place.  I like to vary the place—at my desk at home, in a one of several cafes, in my garden when weather permits, and on trains and airplanes.  One of the joys of writing is that you can do it anywhere, unlike say a tuba player or even a pianist.

When you are writing and deep into characters, do you become a hermit for days?
No, I rarely write more than three hours a day, with the exception that if I am revising or editing and am close to being finished, I plow ahead for longer periods.

You are an accomplished published Author.  What is your favorite genre to write?  
So far it is memoir, perhaps because I am egocentric enough to want to write about myself, but I hope it is because of the cathartic affect it has.  When I wrote my memoir about my journey to understand my role in the destruction of my three marriages, although the process was excruciating at times, in the end, it was supremely healing.

Who are your favorite authors? 
Marilyn Robinson, Joan Didion, Jody Picoult, John Irving.  The first three because they pour out their hearts and souls in their writing, and their writing is beautiful.  John Irving because, in my opinion, he is the greatest story teller alive today, and he writes well.

What do you like to do in addition to writing?
My other passion is travel, and I enjoy good food, wine and baseball.

What is your deepest, darkest secret?
They are all exposed in my current memoir, “Digging Deep.

What are you working on at the current moment?
Two books, “Eat, Walk, Write: An American Senior’s Year of Adventure in Paris and Tuscany,” and “Retirement: A 10 Step Program to the Best Time of Your Life.”  The first should be released by the end of 2011; the second is in final revisions and is two or three months behind the first.
What are you plans for the future in regards to writing?
Sometime next year (2012) I am going to start on my first novel.  I have an idea, and I am very excited about it.

Digging Deep

An Excerpt from Chapter Eighteen


I went to the closet and for the last time pulled down the large suitcase. Stephanie walked out of the room without looking at me or saying anything. I heard the kids laughing and shouting downstairs. Jennifer must have brought them back. I focused on packing. When I had packed everything I needed I closed the suitcase, picked it up and walked slowly down the stairs. I grabbed my briefcase from the kitchen floor and walked out to the garage. The kids were playing in the back yard. Stephanie didn’t come out. When I dropped the suitcase into the trunk of my car I had a sense I was doing something momentous that would change the rest of my life. I knew at a deep level I had finally made a decision that would improve— no, save—my life. It felt uplifting. The pressure cooker that had been my body all this time felt like it was expelling the steam.

As I drove down Manhattan Avenue, I passed Becker’s Bakery, where we always bought the kids’ birthday cakes. I turned up Manhattan Beach Boulevard past Highland Avenue, where we lived before we bought our first house, past the Safeway, where we had shopped for nine years. I turned left on Ardmore, by the walking path next to the abandoned railroad tracks. A dozen or so people were jogging down the path. My feelings turned to a mellow sadness. I wasn’t scared anymore. I left my car with the valet and checked into Barnaby’s.
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