Zev de Valera

Works and Thoughts

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I love this word. It sounds vaguely vulgar.

Imagine the headline: ‘Man arrested for vacillating in public’.

I vacillate daily. In fact, I am a chronic vacillator. Fortunately, frequent vacillation does not lead to the necrosis of any body parts – only to that frustrating state called ennui.  Another word I love.

So, between what and what  am I vacillating so furiously?



Two projects started and abandoned with equal disinterest since the completion of Blood Relations.

Should I stay on the track of romantic suspense and write the creepy reverse stalker story that’s been poking at me? Or should I boldly go where I have never gone before and finish the sci-fi/fantasy novel that’s been percolating in my brain since the late 1990’s?

What to do?

I think I’ll just vacillate a little more.





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Kiss Me in The Rain

Rain JC

It was a chilly, dismal, muggy  rainy morning and early afternoon here in Brooklyn today. Something about this kind of day always puts me in a sentimental and nostalgic frame of mind. Not sad or weepy, but deeply emotional.

I paced my apartment, restless, watching the play of water hitting the street and splattering against my windows. I was struck with this overwhelming desire to be somewhere else – to be someone else – anything but to remain behind my windows watching the rain.

My plan for the day was to take a trip to Michaels and by some art framing supplies –  a good twenty minute walk from my home. The storm was predicted to break at 2:00, but it was 11:30 and there was no way I was going to wait. So, I put on old shoes, slightly rumpled clothes and – under cover of a battered umbrella – commenced the trek to Atlantic Avenue.

Along the way, thoughts of two things wended their way into my consciousness: Rain; one of my favorite Joan Crawford movies, and the Barbra Streisand song Kiss Me in The Rain. I sang the latter to myself as I contemplated the sadness of the former. I realized that there is a poignancy to both the film and the song – although polls apart in sentiment – to which I have always related on a deep, personal level.


I have no idea.

No one ever kissed me in the rain and I was never a prostitute.

Who knows …

Maybe in another life.

There is a germ of a new novel growing in me. Hopefully, I will find a way to create something that lives up to my inspiration.