I’m convinced that sitting in the pergola makes news more palatable. Most mornings, I’ve been sitting out there with my coffee and reading the lunatic report–I mean the Buffalo News’ coverage of the shenanigans happening in Washington. I found a rejection in my inbox this morning before I went out and even that seemed less painful than it might otherwise have been.

The last few weeks have been crammed full of RL people and I’ve enjoyed it so much. Croquet on a Saturday morning after a Blair breakfast was such fun. I hope we can do that more often with more people, though the intimacy of that morning was pleasant and a great way to begin the day. A trip to Pennsylvania to visit. My sister coming to a reading at Kellie’s–plus it was the first time she’s been to our house. A shopping trip with Sheila. A reunion with my classmates, and Saturday is an anniversary party for a couple who have managed to remain together for 50 years (Wow!) So much to write about and explore. I will not mind remembering these summer encounters when it’s freezing outside!

The heat hasn’t been bad here compared to say Oklahoma, but still I find myself waking early to go outside and do chores before the real heat begins. Tuesday, I put up at least three and a half cords of wood by myself. I’m caught up with what I can get on the splitter. I tried not to be insane about it, but I’m still bruised. Luckily, the bruises will be covered by any skirt or dress I wear to the party on Saturday.

I haven’t been “out” in a while and my closet reflects this. While getting ready for the reunion, I discovered I had skirts that didn’t match any tops and vice versa. (Yes, I am grateful for the problems I have.) I ended up buying several things that have mix and match potential. Now if I could only part with some of the clothes in my closet to make room for these new ones… Even the upcoming yard sale hasn’t been enough to entice me to do a gathering up of ‘things that are no longer necessary in my life’ and I really should do that but… Oh the excuses I could give you… It’s just so nice outside. Is it a crime to enjoy it? I think it’s a more serious crime not to.

I keep catching myself not breathing when I realize that I’m going to be sending Ellie’s Elephants to a copy editor soon. The suggestions and corrections I received from the most awesome people–my first readers–were invaluable and I’m so grateful to Betty, Natalie and Sheila for their input. (Thanks guys!) But it’s time to wrap up this latest revision and send my baby away to be polished even more. (Fingers crossed that this all works out with the contract and continued interest in the story.)

I’m nervous about this next step. Instead of dealing with it, I’ve been submitting like mad and writing new flashes and polishing poems and writing letters. Someone needs to push me, I think. I’m afraid I’ll fall so I’m dancing close to the edge of ‘the next step’ but well within the cordoned off area. Maybe in the next two weeks I’ll have crawled over the fence and plunged in without fear. Or I’ll be waist high in tomatoes and decide I need to make salsa and sauce…anything to make this wonderful summer last a little bit longer.

I believe I could take off ten pounds simply by standing outside today. Fifteen if I were willing to exert myself in anyway. In case we aren’t Facebook friends, last week was phenomenal!

I received an acceptance from Thematic Literary Magazine. They are using “Where Is the App for This?” in their forthcoming  “Smitten” issue. It was a piece I wrote a long time ago, originally called “Is the Mute Button On?” I changed it from a land line to a cell phone, had it rejected once and it was picked up the next time I submitted it.

Then, I received notification that my poem “I’ll Tell You This” was chosen for a Distinction Award in Midwest Literary Magazine. My poem, “What Are Friends For?” came out in Sex and Murder Magazine and Girls with Insurance took two of my poems. As an added bonus,  I wrote a poem I just love called “A Mistress Muses Over Tea” — Lady Heather on CSI was the inspiration for part of it, Samantha of Sex and the City for another part. I suppose it’s not that surprising that those bits fit together as well as they did…

This week is more normal with a few rejections so far.

Actually, it’s not that normal at all. We’re going to be picking up our niece from the airport on Friday night, throwing a get together brunch on Saturday morning then heading down to Pennsylvania to drop our niece off at her Dad’s home. But it’s early yet. Those plans could go out the window.

I’ve made a lot of progress in revising the novel. I’m debating whether I should take it with me on the trip to PA. I rarely get a chance to write when I’m there, though I did manage to write most of a letter the last trip. Everyone was cheering on the Steelers while I used their high speed internet to watch YouTube videos, but there’s only so many cute kitten tricks a person can stand before they want to do something else, so I wrote a letter.

At the moment, I’m washing laundry and contemplating “the mental diminishing return to publishing.” It’s something I hadn’t considered before, but recognized the symptoms in myself immediately. Ah well, I think it another form of ‘be careful what you wish for, you just might get it.’ *Sigh*

Off to load the dryer.

Stay cool if you can!

The weather here has been nothing but gorgeous recently. Hey–it’s Western New York–I can’t say that very often, so I have to say it when I can. I think it’s a law or something. Didn’t I just read that passed in the senate? I know some awesome piece of legislation did…

~~O ~~O ~~O ~~O ~~O ~~O ~~O

🙂  Congratulations to you Sarah Diemer (and Jenn) and Hugh O‘Donnell(and your man) on your upcoming (legally binding) nuptials! I’m so happy for all of you! And I can’t believe it happened here before it happened in California–I really thought they would beat us to an equality alter–go figure.

O~~ O~~ O~~ O~~ O~~ O~~ O~~

It is a heady time right now in NY. This warm, dry climate I find myself ensconced in makes it difficult to prioritize. I’m having a hard time deciding my wants versus my needs; desires from tasks. And since it is western New York, I know I won’t have this problem for very long.

My revision of Ellie’s Elephants is going so well that I’ve started to look for agents to query.

One of the agents I’ve found in my search whom I’d love to have represent me is on the West Coast. Why do I want to query this agent? Let me count the ways… To begin with, she represents an author I love to read. Which is only partially true since I looked at the agency web site, I found she also represents other authors whose work I enjoy reading. Isn’t that something to look for in an agent?

-{-Should you yourself be an agent not on the West Coast and are reading this… be assured that in my head, having an agent at all is an awesome possibility. I’ve just started looking and it is a bit intimidating. I’m trying to find a good fit that will work right now and in the future.-}-

I’m so nervous about this process, though. I haven’t been on a first date in a while and this feels even more awkward than that–Are you sure there isn’t spinach on my teeth? No? Are you sure? What about my commas? Are all those in the correct spot? Did I remember to close all my quotes?— It’s unnerving. I feel like I’m going to be going up to some stranger and saying, “Um… Well… Here’s my baby. Yeah… Won’t you love it, too?” I probably shouldn’t look at it that way, but I do.

By the same token, as I near the end of another revision, I’m already feeling a sense of ‘empty nest syndrome.’ As I wondered in a recent tweet, What did I do before this novel?

I’ll be trying to figure that out until next time.

Cheers!

While I’m a firm believer in the adage well begun is half done, that doesn’t mean I’ve gotten any further than half way through with this rewrite. *Sigh.* I’d like to believe it isn’t the worst thing in the world.

This spring was a record setter for rain. Now that it’s dried out, I want to work in the garden and take walks by the creek. On Tuesday, I saw two of the tiniest deer–they were only as tall as the dog. They were so young, they didn’t have their spots yet. The next morning, husband saw one from the kitchen window and thought it was a fox.

The wild roses are in bloom and smell divine. Sweet peas, buttercups, daisies… Fireflies dancing around at night so brilliantly… A partially built pergola and a roofless garden shed… It is these things that are taking up my time and thoughts. And I just spotted a wild strawberry… If I promise to incorporate these sights and smells and textures into a future piece, can I cut myself some slack about the lack of progress on the rewrite? Probably not. I’m very adept at beating myself up for the smallest things…

It is the 16^th of June. NYFA has not announced the winners of the fellowships yet. I hate waiting for announcements. I hope it isn’t like the first time I entered the poetry category. After a painfully long wait, the deadline for the announcement weeks past, a new announcement came up, it would be a month later than what they originally anticipated… Madness!

I think part of my problem is that I haven’t made a list of how to go about this rewrite, and I should. Perhaps that’s what I’ll do after I post this, and send relevant articles I came across to two women in my writer’s group, and check the status of my submissions on Submishmash, and look at the recent responses on Duotrope…

After procrastinating just long enough, I started my revision of Ellie’s Elephants on Tuesday. By the third page, I called my best friend and started a discussion about a name change for one of the characters. After that bit of distraction, I returned, dragging my feet to the screen and started going through 80 pages.

(Yes, in one day I did 80 pages of revisions and yes, I do want a medal for that!)

After I finished up for the day, I had other bits of dialogue and descriptions popping into my head that I wrote down. I went to bed and within half an hour, I was sitting up in bed scrawling down more notes. It is no wonder that I overslept on Wednesday. With a late start, I only got to midway on page 99. From there until midway page 101, I have to pull it out and rewrite it from a different point of view, but it just wasn’t coming to me, so I let it go. I haven’t opened the file yet today.

The background:

The first time I participated in National Novel Writing Month, I was working on what I see as a second book in a trilogy. All of the sudden, characters and scenes and snippets of dialogue for another book kept trying to distract me. I jotted them down because I knew I’d just be derailing my efforts if I followed that story–which later became Ellie’s Elephants. I finished that draft and after the holidays, I attempted to write the first draft of the third book in the trilogy. I didn’t get that far because I just couldn’t find an ending, and without an ending that tied things up neatly, it was pointless to continue.

So, with such a firm grasp of what I wanted to accomplish with Elllie’s Elephants, I did not have the same stray thoughts. However, when I went to bed on Tuesday, the ending of the trilogy appeared out of nowhere. After I became stuck on the pages 99-101, I took a shower hoping I’d have a Mary Akers moment–she says she always has good writing thoughts and ideas when she’s in the shower and can’t write them down. Instead of coming up with the idea or spark I needed to fix my current problem, I had many nuanced ideas that would add texture to the trilogy and the ending became even clearer.

I’m looking for the name of this phenomenon–if there is one. Why would that happen? Does my brain just not understand what I’m working on, and I need to finish? Why am I getting the answers to questions that I quit considering a long time ago?

I doubt there will be a neurologist passing by and answer me, but if you’re a writer, does thing happen to you, too?

It’s all so perplexing.

Anyway, new things were accepted and I am keeping up with my links page, so please feel free to check it out.

And always, thank you for coming by and visiting.

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!