Mix blogging, cooking and Paris, and what do you have? A recipe for success.

As an avid blogger, and an optimist who plugs in her cell phone every Sunday night, just in case Random House calls first thing Monday, I’m convinced Nora Ephron made “Julie and Julia,” just for me.

When I first saw the trailer for “Julie and Julia” two months ago, Meryl Streep, in the role of Julia Child, propelled me to my kitchen where I circled Friday August 7th with a giant red Target-like ring. Thanks to Meryl, I forgot my twenty-third wedding anniversary on August 10th.

What fascinated me in Julie and Julia, wasn’t only the life of Julia Child in Paris, but the way the publishing world works, and how an ordinary employee, bored with her day job, could get 70-80 publishers, agents and media people calling her, thanks to her blog being discovered, and one interview.

According to Drew McWeeny from HITFIX “Nora Ephron, thanks to this film and “You’ve Got Mail,” has emerged as one of the few filmmakers who seems to be actively chronicling the way the Internet is changing us socially. I don’t think anyone’s captured the lifestyle of a blogger on film until now, and the little ways they get it right impressed me.”

Catherine Sanderson, an English author I blogged about here, also succeeded in receiving media attention from her blog as an English expat living in Paris.

I’m trying to follow the footsteps of both Julie and Catherine Sanderson, and on Sunday, August 9th, received the best present I could wish for when my blog post was picked up by the OC Register, The Mom Blog. My wedding anniversary gift in disguise.

If you’ve seen the movie, what did you think?

Do you like the way the Internet is changing how we promote ourselves as writers, business owners, professionals?

Please add any other thoughts or comments that can stimulate a discussion.

Jordan still groggy, woke up to say “goodbye” to his brother Austin, on the right.

Driving Austin to his first day of college at the University of California Santa Barbara required leaving our house at 5:45 a.m., to beat traffic through the heart of Los Angeles.

As with most activities in California, freeway driving takes patience. I’ve spent years of my life standing in line, especially at Disneyland and Universal Studios where lines are so long, I’ve witnessed the birth of several new varicose veins on my legs. Patience is the only way to stay sane in Los Angeles.

According to my husband, I still haven’t mastered the art of patience, but what do you expect after living in Paris for 15 years where cutting in line, is an art in itself.

With a bicycle and a surf board attached to the roof of my husband’s yellow Chevy Aveo, Austin had all he needed to start a successful college career at UCSB.

Once on campus, we followed signs and waited patiently in snake formation, to off load Austin’s belongings. Staff and students waved us along, welcoming us with warm smiles. This made the waiting rather pleasant.

With giant hampers on wheels waiting for each student to dump their stuff: computers, printers, bikes and suitcases were being tossed inside. Everything ran smoothly.

Austin checked off items on the list. The lights worked, the bed and mattress were there etc.

The bike made it.

The nine foot surf board made it. Basically all the important stuff for college at UCSB, made it.

When I said “Goodbye,” to Austin during lunch, I didn’t want to embarrass him in front of his peers, so I hugged him and turned away.

Two days later, I walked past his open door and peeked inside. Everything was missing except for his electronic keyboard, and the lyrics and notes to Bob Marley’s song, “One Love,” which Austin had been practicing the week before. The tears started as I looked at his favorite childhood photo from pre-school: the one with him sitting cross-legged and smiling, holding onto some giant crayola crayons.

It finally hit me that he was gone. Soon he will grow up to become a man, a husband with a wife and his own family. My little boy is now gone.

I’m taking Alec to UCSB, University of California, Santa Barbara tomorrow.
It’s his first day of college and being away from home.
I’ve already been through saying “Goodbye” once, when Steve left. Perhaps it will be easier this time.

I am grateful that their one year in Belize, following an Internet high school program, actually helped their grade point average, allowing both sons to be accepted in some great colleges.

Do you have any thoughts or experience with saying “goodbye” to your kids?

Poor Josh, 15, will feel like an only child.

Sorry I won’t be posting or visiting until I return on Sunday.

In the meantime, I wish all my blogger friends a wonderful weekend, filled with family, friends and love.

During my twenty-two years of marriage, raising three boys, I’ve heard the following two phrases, several times: “Get to the point,” and, “Your point is?”

With only one other female in my house–my dog–you can imagine my relief when a panel of four female published authors, spoke at the Ventura Book Festival, and confirmed that I was not alone.

“Men and women have different ways of thinking,” said Mara Purl, author of The Milford-Haven novels. She explained how this is reflected in fiction writing. Women’s fiction uses all five senses–Women want to know what the character was wearing, her perfume and the color and style of her hair.

Men’s fiction is all about velocity.

When women speak to one another, they want sensory details. Men want you to get to the point.

If I said, “She wore a pink dress with matching sandals,” my husband would say, “So what’s your point?” Perhaps I should try a different approach: “She owns a 27 foot lanchon with a 95 HP Honda engine on it.” That might get his attention.

Starshine Roshell, columnist and author of Keep Your Skirt On, has a weekly column which tackles topics from sex and politics to family and culture. She writes about women, and men say they learn about women from her columns. “I explain to men why women cry in certain situations, and why women care about flowers,” she said.

Thanks to this excellent panel of authors, I feel better knowing that I’m not the only one being told to get to the point. I must confess that years of brainwashing from the males in my house, now make me secretly say, “So what’s your point,” when some of my female friends ramble on.

What I’d like to know is if you’ve been told to get to the point? If so, by whom?

To my writer friends, do you agree with the differences in men’s fiction, versus female fiction?