Author: T. L. Sherwood

T. L. Sherwood lives beside Eighteen Mile Creek in western New York. Her work has appeared in Rosebud, Thema, Literary Orphans, and Vestal Review among other places.

Taking Comfort in Small Things

If you haven’t checked it out, please take a look at Harryhausen, Issue # 31 of Literary Orphans. It’s the first one with me being a Fiction Editor there, and it includes the first – and so far only – piece I’ve accepted in that capacity. Many thanks and congratulations to Tara Isabel Zambrano for her awesome story, “Measurable Hours.”

This is an incredible issue with pieces by Meg Tuite, Paul Beckman, and a story called “Bendy Bone” by Jenna Lyles. Hannah Lanier’s poem, “The World is a Wolf Who Wears Sheep’s Clothing” is an interesting piece worth the read. If you can’t tell, I love my job and am honored to read and champion work like this.

And thank God for art. I’m grateful for the daily choices Nina Fosati posts on Twitter. Last month was Women in Blue, this month is all about Autumn Women. It’s a daily dose of beauty and I appreciate it since the world feels like it’s gone particularly mad lately. Tuesday, I took a long walk in the woods. It helped some. The message I found while walking the labyrinth was to take comfort in the small things so I admired the sparkly rocks and the wildflowers. And then I went into the garden shed . . . There’s a window at the end which looks out at the frog pond. Lately, there have been 6-8 of them.

I go in and peer out at them because they are skittish and will dive if I walk too close to the pond. Tuesday, I was passing through to go up the hill and I noticed something on the ledge. It was a frog. I walked over and he jumped off. I thought it odd. I left and when I returned to close the doors, the frog was back and I got a blurry picture.

It was strange to become the watched. When Husband came home, we joked about how I’d missed my chance to kiss it and have a prince. Maybe. Maybe it’s good enough to have the small hope of inexplicable things in life. It beats thinking about the Las Vegas massacre and how disgusted I am because it wasn’t new. It wasn’t even news; it’s just life in the USA anymore.

Not that I’ve become jaded.

My piece, “The Basket Case” will be included in the Ellipsis One anthology. Magazines my work has appeared in are on display in the Concord Public Library (Thank you Kara Kane!) along with other local writers. Local Authors Live! – the occasional series I host – is coming up soon on the 21^st. The last few meetings of Hamburg Writers’ Group have been a delight and even though the novel critique group didn’t meet on Tuesday, we were in contact.

Perhaps the small things are the greatest comfort anyone can ask for . . .

Thanks for stopping by!

*These are my creekside reflections. Your experiences may vary.

Writing & Seasons

Yesterday, I got nine unique pieces sent out in hopes of finding a home. I couldn’t find it in me to get out another one. This year has been one of the lowest “submitting” ones I’ve ever had. I know, there’s still a few months, but I’m okay with accepting different years meaning different things. This one was all about a novel I loved, but since the rewrite, I’m worried over it, and worry takes up time.

The steps leading to the backyard have never been “right” so the most recent project is correcting them. We found out the drainage pipe is damaged, so that snag has delayed progress, but there is a solution and if the weather holds, we might finish this weekend. (And if I remember, I’ll take pictures for the next post.)

The garden is a disaster – too much rain in the spring, ravenous slugs, and lack of time. I’ve been out there working with the baseball adage of “next year!” in my heart. Not every year of gardening will be bountiful. I did get some nice jalapeños and green beans. I think I’ll have a carrot and parsnip – unless something below the surface has nibbled them away.

I’m not Jewish – that I know of – but this post is sounding like I’m at a new year, doesn’t it? And I’m okay with that. In fact, I think it makes more sense to consider a year right now than at the end of December. I still won’t make a resolution, though. Promising to change isn’t the same as changing.

I do believe in goals and write them out, work toward them, cross them off. There is a list of ten 5-year goals on my fridge and I’ve reached some of them. In fact, seven out of ten is not bad with two years left. The ones not reached? All writing related. Ah well…I suppose I ought to work on the last three so off I go to edit, polish, rewrite and write anew.

Oh! And as a reminder: Saturday, 21 October 2017 at 1:00 there is an author reading. Please join me at the West Falls-Colden Library to hear Kim Chinquee, Barbara Early, Mary Jo Hodge, Gina Detwiler, Mary Akers, Deb Madar and Jeff Schober.

Thanks for stopping by and for the read!

(It finally bloomed!)

*These are all my creekside reflections. Your experience may vary.

Yet Untethered

You know what they say, when you can’t stand staring at a blank page, fold it. Actually, no one says that – as far as I know – but I’ve been folding paper. Like my boats?

I know, I know, my technique needs work, but it’s a start.

We got another 5 cord of wood on Sunday. I put up half of it on Monday, as well as cleared the last of the wood destined for the splitter. Yesterday, I finished up, so that bit of winter prep is done.

It’s gratifying to see an actual end of a task. If only books and stories were that easy. Speaking of which, I’m stepping away from “Near Eden, New York” until a new set of eyes looks it over. The last revision strengthened it – I know that – and I think it is “done” – but I also know I can’t read it objectively anymore, nor can I stop tinkering.

I’ve mapped out a few scenes and conversations for “New Book.” Poor thing doesn’t have a title or a POV yet. Last night, I dreamt of Lettie’s fall. I think it’s time to revisit that story and see if I can’t wrap it up. Or I’ll hole away in the library and take a stab at some new flash. Or fold paper. Or laundry. Or stand in the yard waiting for this tease of a flower to finally bloom.

So many lovely decisions to consider. Thanks for the read and stopping by!

(*These are my creekside reflections. Your experiences may vary.)

All of the Things

I’m between books. There. I said it. Excuse me while I hyperventilate. I don’t remember the last time. It feels like I’m in a shuttle, somewhere between Mercury and Uranus. There are vast areas where I could land, a vacuum outside my window, and I have no sense of direction. Not that I ever use hyperbole to describe my anxiety. Completing the revision of Near Eden, New York is slightly wonderful and maddeningly stressful. I know it’s a good book. When will an agent agree and take it to the next step?

Instead of panicking, I’m doing all of the things.

Husband’s birthday was celebrated by going to The Comfort Zone in Hamburg for the Ten Thousand Vines Wine Pairing. The following day, it was off to Fiesta Bamba in Springville for dinner with playwrights and their families. I had a great time with Bella Poynton, Donna Hoke, T J Snodgrass, Mike Fanelli, Matt Boyle, and the rest. Afterwards, it was off to my least favorite place to watch the 2^nd Annual Springville Center for the Arts Staged Shorts. Sunday afternoon, we went with Kim and Paul to The Sportsman Tavern in Buffalo to hear Lil’ Ed & The Blues Imperials.

Monday, I visited Nina Fosati at her home for coffee and a lovely chat. Later, I was at Immaculate Conception in Eden where Husband is working to watch the partial eclipse from the telescope he made.

Yesterday, Husband came home with a kazoo from the factory and today, I woke up to find I’d won a copy of The Science of Orphan Black via retweet courtesy of P. S. Literary. Tonight, a Cutco rep will be at my house.

Oh, I won a Write Well Award for Men at Science. I look at that story now, and want to change so much of it! At Hamburg Writers’ Group, I haven’t read in weeks. Jim Miner teases that I’m sashaying in and resting on my laurels, but what it really is, is regrouping and refilling. I’m filing, querying, admiring the flowers,

studying the frogs,

and with the encouragement I got this morning from Tara Isabel Zambrano and Maureen Langloss, I’ll be entering Split Lip Magazine’s Flash Contest.

Next week it’s time for the novel critique group with Mary Akers and Gina Detwiler. Finally! I’ve missed them both over the summer. And on 2 September, winter hours begin at West Falls Colden Library and I’ll be back for my Saturday morning shifts. And if you’re reading this, make note that on Saturday, 21 October 2017 at 1:00 there is an author reading. Please join me to hear Kim Chinquee, Barbara Early, Mary Jo Hodge, Gina Detwiler, Mary Akers, Deb Madar and Jeff Schober.

So yeah, that’s what I mean by “all of the things.”

All of the things but writing…

Grabbing a paper bag!

Thanks for stopping by and for the read!

*These are my creekside reflections. Your experiences will vary.

Reunion time.

When last I posted, I was preparing for the reunion. It’s over now.

Many thanks to Kate

and Ernie, our gracious hosts. Ernie brought beer that he brewed. It was fantastic and how cool is it that he inadvertently named one after me? (It’s not the first time I’ve been described as “toasty”)

A group of us went to see the Essex Theatre Company’s production of “The Birds.” It was such fun to walk back up the hill and discuss the plot and motives. The cast party was at the schoolhouse so I got to touch base with Ted Cornell (the designer, director, and “Tierney) and Kathryn Cramer (the dramaturg) and to meet Martha Swan and Rob Farkas.

There was an excursion to swim.

Croquet.

Flights and corn hole at the Ausable Brewing Co.

Paper flower making.

And many, many meals

and conversations

and laughter.

Rachael and I had a lovely chat across from this embroidered coverlet that hung in the room Husband and I shared.

Once home, I went to both nights of “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest” tryouts. I have no idea if I got a part. The director said one of my readings invoked guilt in him, which – I think – was a compliment. I spent several lovely hours visiting with Nina Fosati at her home. Husband and I had a fantastic early supper with Bob and Teresa at Julie’s. And today, I hit the shops before three when the car had to go back.

Today was the last bit of the “vay-cay” where I sadly turned in the rental. I hated that car but loved the bit of freedom it provided. Now all thoughts are on finishing up the revision, preparing for the reading I’m hosting in October and freaking out over how badly I did at the audition. Real life is such fun!

Thanks for stopping by and the read!

(*These are my creekside reflections. Your experiences ought to vary.)

Oops! It’s Friday and I’m in love with Iced Lemon Biscotti!

Apologizes for my tardiness, but I have fantastic excuses. The first is that the rewrite is going well so I’ve been focusing on that, but the biggest focus has been figuring out the details of our trip to Essex for the family reunion. The car rental is reserved, tickets for the play we’ll be seeing while we’re there are bought, and a cat sitter has been found. Now I’m down to packing, making pasta salad for 40 and cleaning the house before we leave. Piece of cake.

Yesterday there was a tornado in Hamburg. I didn’t know if I’d be able to make it to Tamara Grisanti’s place for her soy candle party, but I did and it was lovely. Iced Lemon Biscotti and Beach Linen were the two Hemlock House candles I bought and would recommend to everyone. We also got to sample some masculine scents that Tamara’s husband created for a bachelor party. I hope they make more of those soon. Kim Chinquee was there, too, and now I have a copy of Veer that will be traveling with me.

There’s a novel critique group coming up and I’m psyched to see Mary Akers and Gina Detwiler again. It’s been too long! Tonight, I’ll be at Comfort Zone for the Hamburg Writers’ Group. Last week, I had the truck and spent time across the street at SPoT Coffee writing two new flashes. Yes, I’m back to being active in Hot Pants on Zoetrope.

Also, I want to say I was so happy to finally accept my first piece for Literary Orphans as Fiction Editor. Congratulations Tara Isabel Zambrano! Her stunning piece, Measurable Hours, will be in the September Issue.

Gardenwise, the hydrangea is blooming

and the yellow flowers that attract so many different types of bees are opening up.

Writing is a strange process. The more time I don’t have time to write, I write more. A friend of mine was lamenting that he’d just been given a chunk of time and space to do nothing but write and he’s written next to nothing. I’m thinking about ordering him a candle from Hemlock House so the amazing scents will reawaken his imagination.

Thanks for stopping by!

(*These are my creekside reflections. Your experiences will vary.)

Same circumstances, different pictures.

Well, here it is 6 July 2017 and from the looks of things, my life isn’t much different from the last time I posted. Book revisions are ongoing, I’m still looking for stories in the Literary Orphans queue to accept, and the kitchen is still a mess. In reality, progress was made and good times were shared.

This is the state of the shelving. The trays are made, the glides in place, and I’ve given the cat several rides in and out. She likes it, I swear! We ended up on a road trip to PA in order to plane the maple for the fronts and got to spend time with Husband’s Twin and Amazing Rachael who’d cleaned and painted before we got there. Did I take pictures there? No. Once we left, we were off to the Tuttle’s for a tent raising good time and I got to see Alana for the first time. Do I have pictures of that? No. What I do have pictures of are these gorgeous flowers and limited data left, so please excuse this truncated post and remember, I think you’re awesome for stopping by for the read. Cheers!

*These are my creekside reflections. Yours ought to vary.

Tearing myself away from honing #amwriting

Kudos to the wondrous Kathy Fish for hosting the Fast Fiction Reunion on Zoetrope this weekend. I met some wildly talented writers and had a blast. Plus, I wrote two new flashes. Yeah! It hasn’t been that long since I finished a piece, but it feels that way. Now, if I could just make time to submit…

I’m in the middle of a minor kitchen project and when I say “I,” I mean Husband is doing the work and I’m coping with the displacement of things so of course this morning, Allison suggests coming round to drop off the “appreciation gift.” My life resembles a sit-com at times.

I’m honing “Near Eden, New York,” based on great suggestions from Nina, Mary, and Gina, plus my own thoughts after leaving it alone for a few months. My synopsis needs work, too. Being a writer is such fun, let me tell you. But I do take time to enjoy the roses.

Literally. This is the sight that greets me on my way out the door.

Sadly, the peonies are already waning.

The bulbs that I can’t remember the names of are thriving in these days before the official start of summer. I hope you’re enjoying your time, no matter what you’re doing. As for me, I’ll be diving back into Tara and Pete’s story. It’s a lovely place to be.

Thanks for stopping by and the read!

(These are my creekside reflections. No sense getting worked up about them if they don’t agree with yours.)

Career Progress, Rewrites, and Sex Scenes

In case you missed it, I am Fiction Editor at Literary Orphans now!!! This thrills me like you wouldn’t believe. I thank Scott, Mike, and Brittany for being such wonderful people to work with and willing to let me join the next tier. And as I assured Mary, I will remain in my position at r.kv.r.y., too.

The Blueshift Journal published “Our Mother’s Memoir was Published Posthumously. On Purpose.” Oye, I’m so glad. The original version was written on 4/16/11. I worked on it occasionally and earlier this year got a higher tier rejection from Vestal Review. I looked at it again, tweaked it and boom! Six years later, acceptance.

And while that is a tale of not giving up, I admit that I did give up on this lilac bush. I planted it at least 5 years ago and nothing. I quit weeding around it, neglected it, really. Yesterday, it caught my eye.

Gorgeous, isn’t it? And it smells great.

I nervously sent my pages to Mary and Gina. Nervous because “Sweet Spot” was part of it and in an earlier chapter I’d mentioned how badly written most sex scenes are so I was basically setting myself up for comparison to that and if I didn’t nail it, if it wasn’t right, organic, plausible, good, I feel the whole book would have failed. It worked. There were a few (very few) comments on that part so, now I have the confidence to proceed with the rewrite.

So here’s to more reading and writing!

The Columbine and Iris are in bloom and even after all this rain, the tomato plants are in the garden. On a deeply personal note, Husband and I have made it another year so happy 17th anniversary to the man who never reads this blog unless I print it out.

Have a lovely day.

Thank you for stopping by and reading.

Remember, you are a great person!

Cheers!

(*These are my Creekside reflections. Your experiences may vary.)

Term ends, garden begins, and the cat, she seizes

Tuesday night was the School election and my last day as a school board member. For now. Good luck and best wishes to Jessica Schuster and David Meiss. There was an executive session to go over the superintendent’s review. I stayed to soak in the mad dash vote aftermath where everything was collected while the vote was being tabulated behind a flimsy screen. Candidates would walk over to the partition and try to listen in. Such fodder.

And why the vote is being done in the Atrium is beyond me. I took Husband to vote after he got back from Canada. We pulled into solid waste chaos with smoke bellowing out of chicken truck, students running to their parent’s vehicles from the atrium, and few places to park. Inside, you had to push through people in the tiny vestibule to get to the atrium. Doors were wide open and students were wandering around the polling place. Getting out of there was even harder. This amount of a cluster-poop never happened when the vote was in the Media Center – save for the vote against the new gym when everyone came out to vote HELL NO, and even then, it was adults crammed into the space, not students mixing with adults.

Husband left for Canada on Thursday morning and returned Tuesday afternoon. The house stayed clean while he was away – so much so that when Vikki called to say she was coming up on Wednesday, it worked out perfectly since Husband couldn’t mess up the house much in one evening. She brought a swarm trap, we took a walk, had quiche and fruit salad. It was a great visit even though the morning started dramatically when the cat had a long seizure on our bed. After, I brought her down to my chair. I was upstairs picking out a blouse when she howled again. I made it down in time to keep her from rolling off the chair. That one wasn’t as bad, nor as long. The rest of the day was filled with lessening tension and length of episodes. Fun, fun.

(Swarm trap)

I split the fuchsia today, moved the tomato cages out of the way and admired the lilac that Betty gave us years ago and this year bloomed prettily.

The wisteria survived the odd winter.

As did this purple flower I planted and forgot its name.

Ah well, every year is a new adventure in gardening and yard upkeep. Blooming lovely problems to have, aye? And I’m grateful for every single one. Thanks for stopping by!

*These are merely my creekside reflections. If you were here, you’d have other ones. But you’re not. Visit when you can. Cheers!