Waking up thinking it’s a different day is unsettling. I thought it was Friday and wondered why Theater Talk wasn’t on the radio… It’s good to know it’s Thursday so I have an extra day, as it were. I have a wedding reception to go to on Friday. Blood work and the Preakness on Saturday, this week just keeps going on…

I became a grandmother last night. Many texts and Facebook updates and email kept me on the computer and cell phone far later than has been my recent routine. I am grateful to be a grandmother and am proud of my son and his lovely wife, Christina. The baby is in the ICU, he wasn’t breathing when he was born. I told my son it will be alright, that the doctors are just being cautious so they don’t get sued. I hope that I am right. I can’t imagine a 9 pound 10 ounce baby would be anything but healthy. Still, it’s a worry, right from the start. I hope they all know my love and best wishes are with them. I do love this child. It’s strange to inherit a title even though I knew it was coming. I am now someone’s grandmother. Odd. I’m not used to it yet.

I’m trying to gather up files and assemble them into some sort of way in which I can find a poem or story or essay when I want to use them. I’ve been horrid at that aspect of organization. I did get my binder of where I sent what poem when updated. It was fairly easy since I haven’t been sending many out until recently. I owe so much gratitude to Dawn Corrigan. She was patient and helped me shape a kick-but poem for Girls with Insurance. She was on hiatus and decided not to come back to GWI in May. I’d been waiting for her return to send something in. I miss her!

On other fronts, my plan was to get a novel ready for submitting this year. After my wonderful, insightful first readers read Ellie’s Elephants, I reworked the first 15 pages and sent it into the Houston Writers Guild contest. I got some beautiful feedback and encouragement. Point wise, I was in the top twenty-five. This energized me and now, with this new information and the advice and questions from Betty, Natalie and Chyo, I’m prepared for another rewrite. So, away I go…

For a while I’ve been going over to Colden. There is a lovely shop called Herbs and Things. The proprietor of this shop is Kellie Shanley. I met her during the first writer’s workshop meeting–can it be over two years ago? She was just getting her shop up and running and I was just starting to get published.

Over this time, I’ve begun to dabble a bit more with the–let’s call it spiritual realm. (My first foray was too much too soon.) I’d received a Facebook request to attend a lecture last night and I wasn’t really interested in it. At the last possible moment, I RSVPed that I’d be there. The day of, I was still a bit ambivalent about the whole thing, but it worked out that Husband hadn’t eaten much for lunch so I was able to prepare dinner early for him (that was my get out of going card)so I went to the lecture about angels.

Vonnegut has a line I memorized at one point, but have since forgotten. It was something about unexpected travel plans being dancing lessons from God… or something like that. I think last night was a manifestation of that principle.

Cynthia conducted the lecture and about midway through, she said she had two songs going through her head and they wouldn’t go away. I sat there and thought, “Well, they won’t be for me.”

They were “Tammy” from the Sandra Dee movies and “You Have to Believe in Magic” by Olivia Newton John.

Now, I’m pretty sure my mom sent those along. *Sigh* After I wrap this up, I’m going to look up the lyrics to the Olivia New ton John song because I think I was fourteen the last time I heard it so my memory of the lyrics is a bit rusty at best.

I talked to Cynthia after the meeting and it felt like I had 500 conversations I wanted to have with her. We glossed over a few and exchanged business cards. Well, hers was a business card, mine is still the mock-up I’m trying out to see if I like it because I’m afraid to decide on a design quite yet and since I don’t have that many occasions to pass them out, I can put it off…

So, I’m grateful I chose to go over the hill last night. One of the things that came up was the idea of to expect the unexpected. Last night really was beyond my expectations and I thank every being that made it possible. I’m writing this just after unplugging the computer and it’s wires and letting it rest. It was acting up yesterday and I hope this action fixed whatever was ailing it. I haven’t checked my email yet, but I’ll be on here with an update if there’s any good news–writing wise or on the grandchild front. My beautiful daughter-in-law is due any day now. May her labor be swift!

 I think someone I really would have enjoyed knowing died recently. The books that have been showing up in the Salvation Army have been ones I would have bought had I the money to pay full price. As it is, nine dollars plus tax netted 14 paperbacks and 2 hard covers. Two of them were by David Sedaris and I found myself reading his essays when I should have been doing other things.

The Shipping News is probably a great book; I’ve never been able to get very far with it and don’t see movies that are based on books if I can help it. A person I correspond with said she was a great writer, so when I came across Accordion Crimes, I picked it up. I haven’t started to read it yet. I’m in the Indonesia third of Eat Pray Love. In the India third, I found an answer to something that had eluded me in the past.

From page 149 of Eat Pray Love © 2006 by Elizabeth Gilbert:

“I seriously believed David was my soul mate.”

“He probably was. Your problem is you don’t understand what that word means. People think a soul mate is your perfect fit, and that’s what everyone wants. But a true soul mate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that’s holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life. A true soul mate is probably the most important person you’ll ever meet, because they tear down your walls and smack you awake. But to live with a soul mate forever? Nah. Too painful. Soul mates, they come into your life just to reveal another layer of yourself to you, and then they leave. And thank God for it. Your problem is, you just can’t let this one go.”

Now, if I had known this a few years ago, I could have saved myself so much pain and torment and doubt. It makes perfect sense. Why didn’t anyone explain this to me before now? I HATED those feelings I had back then. If this is what I was supposed to learn, why did it take so long to come across the lesson written out in a way I could understand it? It’s not like I don’t read; I read all the time.

*Sigh*

That’s another problem. With all the new books I picked up from the Salvation Army, I have even more tomes scattered about at various stages of having been read. It may be time to draw up a reading list. I dislike reading lists, but at this point, I want a way to remember what it was I was going to read, or wanted to. Then I can put the books on shelves. Luckily, more shelves are already in the works to be built. I don’t think I’ll ever be done reading, or enjoying books. They make the best of friends.

I’m about 1/3 of the way through The Motion Paradox by Joseph Mazur. Zeno’s logic produced some interesting thoughts. I’m fond of The Flying Arrow: it is impossible for a thing to be moving during a period of time, because it is impossible for it to be moving at an indivisible instant. (Right. Tell that to guy with an arrow through his chest.)

It’s one of those books that I read about a chapter at a time so I can digest what I’ve read. I’m not a mathematician or a theorist, but I feel everyone should have a little bit of physics and math in their lives. I would be reading the latest Brian Greene but Husband took that out of the Borders bag before I had a chance to get to it.

I’m also exactly 1/3 of the way through Eat, Pray, Love, which I had to read because I was being a hypocrite. I referenced the book without reading it and that isn’t fair. So in a week, my statement of “I hope this trip isn’t his version of Eat, Pray, Love.” will be far more accurate. Or not. I can’t believe a person would go to Siberia for the food.

Oh, so the paradox I’m struggling with is this: If I have plenty of time to do things, I don’t get very much done. If my schedule is tight, I write, edit and submit more. I think I first noticed this when I was working on Campus Crimes. I started with the goal of putting in at least 1000 words a day and by the end, it was 2700 a day minimum. I was also prolific in writing emails and real letters, doing whatever I was doing at the Arts Center, etc. And I didn’t feel stressed. *Sigh* It’s a paradox, so perhaps I’m not meant to understand… which leads to dreams, since they rarely make sense either.

I had a dream that an agent wanted to represent me. (Yes, it’s a pleasant daydream, too.) The kicker was that the agent was in Houston. In my dream I was slightly ticked off because I had lived in Texas, and if I’d known I could get a really good agent down there, I would have stayed. ( That’s definitely a dream version of life. I really couldn’t take living in Texas for any longer than I did.)

Well, I have a list of places to look up on Duotrope for submission requirements. The goal is to get “Of Wild Rides and Pirate Eyes” sent out to at least four places today. I haven’t even started a cover letter…

I don’t know how things work in your household, but I’m partial to clearing all of the spider webs away the week before Halloween and my ‘spring cleaning’ seems to be a year long endeavor. It is St. Patrick’s Day and this is the first year in many that I could be planting peas, but since I don’t know where the fence and the new raised beds will be–exactly–I’m not going to be doing that, though I may hunt down some troughs and plant some on the patio ala Chyo when I go shopping tonight.

This morning I took the Buffalo News out to the bench and had coffee with fresh air. I’ve missed being able to do that. The red oak and the beech are each letting go of their leaves, so spring really did come early this year–just as the rodent predicted on the 2nd of February.

The door of the refrigerator was cleaned and cleaned of out dated condiments today. A load of socks is in the dryer. I don’t like doing socks or cleaning out the refrigerator door, but I do those things first, to get the unpleasantness out of the way, then the rest of the task seem to go easier. I wish it were that way for writing.

Don’t get me wrong; sometimes, all I want to do is re-write, but as a general concept, not so much. And I can’t revise a story I haven’t written and first drafts–while fun– are rarely one’s best work. So I’m left doing things the way I don’t like to do them when it comes to writing. Until there is a time machine, I have to save the hard part for last and rewrite and revise after the fun part is over.

*Sigh*

I think it’s time to sort the socks… Happy Spring!

So, here it is Thursday again and I know in the past two weeks I’ve had several ideas about what to write about today… yet nothing comes to mind as I sit down to type. I’m glad I don’t have that problem when it comes to writing stories.

Somewhere–in one of my notebooks–there is the beginning of an essay about Beauty. Since I can’t find it, I am certain it is perfect and trying to recreate it would be folly. I have spent the last few days gathering up the notebooks and arranging them in chronological order. Now I’m going through them and marking things to go back to… abandoned stories, poems, dialogue that needs a story, letters that have the beginnings of essays within…

In the heaped up mash of spiral ends, it didn’t seem that much, now that they are sorted out, it looks loftier. For some reason, I had thought it would be a good idea to rip the pages out of the notebooks and place them in a three ring binder. Luckily, I did not do that for very long. The years 1992-1994 are in such an arrangement. From 1995 to present, the notebooks are now in magazine holders.

It’s interesting to note that 1996,1998 and 1999 were very prolific–each year needs two holders. After that, there is only one holder for each year.

Well, there is a flash that I’m interested in working on. It’s new, jotted down while in the bath on Sunday. And I have to sort out a problem with PBS. It seems someone in Chicago isn’t able to fill out a form correctly. “Mel” ordered “Masterpiece Mystery” and I know this because I keep getting notices about the order.

Lent begins soon… The next “Reflection” will be 100% alcohol free. See you then!

So, this past two weeks I’ve been testing new directions in my life. I had the priveledge of reading slush, which was a good experience. Now I understand better nuance in different publications. Does that mean I’ll get it right every time? Probably not, but I do hope to keep a better look out for typos. It obviously had and impact on me. Last night I dreamt that someone was pointing out that I’d used the wrong form of ‘there’ in a piece. Worse, it was in the first paragraph.

Yeah, writer’s nightmares are scarier than folks nightmares. (I also dreamt that I went to a reception and was forced to sit at the kid’s table… See? Very scary!)

And then on Tuesday I ventured into the dark realm that once had the potential to be great, but morons got a hold of it and now it is a freezing, leaking, colossal mistake that’s loosing money hand over fist. (Thank you E.S.W. for your ‘vision’) *Sigh* I went to try out for a play. Had I known what the play was, I probably would have skipped it since I don’t fit either of the two female parts in the play, but it was good to get out of the house.

The snow is melting, but the drive is still a sheet of ice. The dog is impatient to traipse through the woods. I am, too. Will that furry rodent be correct? after all Will it be an early spring? I can hope…

Regardless, I do need to set up an observation notebook. In Ellie’s elephants, I sloughed off naming names of flowers since I wasn’t particularly sure if I had it exactly right. I mean, I know the progression of what blooms when, but I need to make meticulous notes of when some begin to fade and when the first shoots of the lilies and irises shoot up. Our “yard” is a bit strange though. Where we have peonies, one site seems to bloom sooner and lasts for a scant period of time compared to those by the driveway. Different sun exposure can do all sorts of strange things…

Here’s hoping the sun shines on you! Thanks for reading!

So, I did it! I wrapped up the draft of Ellie’s Elephants and sent it to Amazon’s Contest. I also sent it to the fabulous people in my life who are my ‘first’ readers, though I try not to send first drafts to anyone.

Now I think about tinkering with it more. I think there may need to be a non-confrontation/confrontation scene when Selin and Eleanor agree to ‘maybe’ have a drink after the show and then Kyle shows up with a bouquet. Maybe it’s enough–before and after for that gap to be filled in by the reader. I don’t know. I’m going to try to wait, to work on other things.

But what? I’m trying to take this day ‘off’ from writing as much as I can. That revision was tough!

And so much was put off while I revised. It’s not a hopeless situation, but I need to gather up tax papers and make that appointment. I expect seed catalogues soon. How I love to consider the garden when all I can see out the window is snow.

The letters I started and misplaced resurfaced briefly. I again can’t find them and fear they are in a pile–not as large and unruly as the pile on the table had become, but a pile somewhere…

Pile fluctuation is bizarre around me. I have no problem filing things properly, but I keep coming back to this observation. It seems the very second I get everything put away, some project strikes me and the piles start again, unnoticed until I can’t ignore them anymore because they will fall if I do. This time it worked out that I finished the draft before I had to address the pile.

And so, off to post this and gather receipts. Fun times ahead! Have a great two weeks and thanks for checking in!

This cold is most unwelcome. I should have known something like this would happen. Still, it isn’t as if I would have changed anything–and I had ample opportunity to do so.

Sigh…

Apparently, I am again learning that I have to be pushed right up tight to a deadline to get anything done. I’m working on a rewrite of the 50,000 words I put in during November. It is not a bad piece of writing. Discovering the correct way the bits are exposed is turning out to be a challenge though.

I suppose I could be slaving away, revising ‘Borders’ or ‘Campus Crimes’ or even one of the three ‘Dandelion’ novels I have in the queue, but with the pattern I’ve seen, it is my latest writing that has the most potential to being picked up for publication and I think it would be grand if I placed somewhere in the top 10,000 in the Amazon Breakout Novel Contest.

Sigh…

The temperatures have been so low lately yet the lake hasn’t frozen yet. The bitterness has bitten my cheeks and it has hurt me.

Last weekend we left the state. I hoped I would have been able to get away from the internet, but I couldn’t. I was able to check in with sites I didn’t realize I memorized the passwords to. Bizarre. Even stranger was seeing D. nearly cry. R. was able to pull up the proper Girls with Insurance page and read my essay. He DID NOT cry. I feel you should know that.

The strange part is that this piece seems able to touch people. I didn’t think it was sad, but I’m informed that it is.

—
And I was going to get up early and post this. My body had other plans. At least now I know exactly where I am in the cycle of this cold. It seems to be following the one Husband had while we were in PA, so I should be feeling really good in two days. Knock on wood.

Well, off to check Duotrope and then print out the corrections I made last night. Will I be done by the 24th? Your guess is as good as mine.

On New Year’s Eve, an unprecedented number of birds fell from the sky in Arkansas. If I weren’t a Charles Fort junky, I could say ‘That doesn’t happen,’ but I know it does. Fish, and even frogs, have been known to fall from the sky. Weird stuff happens all of the time.

Except this:

“What I was Going to Remind You of Someday” is the name of an essay I wrote from P. H. Madore’s contest prompt of “You Could Have Had Me.” There is a link to it on the right if you’re interested in reading it. I sent it in. I didn’t know if it arrived. I got an email stating I was in the running. I didn’t expect to win. The contest was scheduled to go until 31 January. On January 2^nd, I was notified I had won. I couldn’t believe it. I’m not gloating; that is unseemly. I am incredibly flattered. It has yet to fully sink in–that my writing was that good; close-down-a-writing-contest good.

Now that IS something that never happens. If it has, I haven’t heard about it.

My question is: What does that mean? Even though I was planning on working on novel writing this year–something I mentioned to everyone in the Christmas letter, should I take this as a sign that I ought to be working on essays instead? Creative non-fiction in general? I don’t know. This is a dilemma of my own choosing-I do know that and I am incredibly grateful for the problems I have, but I have this nagging feeling that maybe I should readjust my sights…

Chyo often reminds me that Doyle hated Sherlock; I like my “Sherlocks” though. At the moment, I have twenty-eight pieces submitted and one fellowship application being evaluated. I’m going to follow through with the chapter revisions that are on my to-do list. I’m going to be still and wait and see what comes next. I would think an acceptance for a short story would confuse me, though.

If you were going to enter the essay contest, I am sorry you didn’t get a chance to do so. I do not know the judge. Actually, I honestly felt like I was cheating on Dawn Corrigan when I submitted to a different editor at Girls with Insurance, if you want the truth. But I remind myself that she wasn’t running a contest and she prefers poetry and flash, not essays…

It’s a heck of a good blast into the New Year, except for those poor birds. I hope yours is going well. Thank you for stopping by!