books

The Door’s the Thing

Last month I was keeping something a secret. It was that we were doing some bathroom alterations. Now that we’ve had company, here are some pictures.

He regrouted the tile floor. We got a replacement window – I mean mirror. The awful globe lights are gone, replaced with a cool looking arched LED. And things were rewired so the switches are different and we have another outlet. All the walls are orange, brown trim. Updated photos in the frames. Pretty fish dot the shower curtain and now, if I wanted to, I could take a bathroom selfie because the door no longer looks so unfinished.

The company consisted of Niece from Boston, Nephew from Portland, and for breakfast, their mom.

 We met Nephew and Niece at a restaurant for dinner. Afterwards, home and a fire on the beach.

 Old chair cushions topping 5 gallon buckets turned upside down for seats.

 A nearly full moon. Talk. We didn’t get to the part about me feeling like I’m drowning, but the time was brief.

I know writing is hard, and rejections are like a badge, but strings of no’s hurt. I’m grateful for friends I can reach out to – I know you’re there. Probably. I’m in a cocoon. I can go out, but suffer from anxiety sometimes. A wave of, ”I need to wear my mask, rush in, rush out” or guilt from sitting at a table and wanting this to be okay again, but it’s changed and that’s weird. I’ve had coffee with Nina Fosati at two places now. Lovely times, both. I’m grateful for her help in everything. Without her, I don’t know if I would have made it through all this.  ❤

Things were scattered during the bathroom update and now that the furniture is back to normal, there are things to file. And I’m miserable about the idea of writing – especially a new book. I’m glaring at you Camp NaNo, all starting tomorrow and since I still haven’t heard about “real” camp in August, I might spend time with you. Enter a deeper part of the cocoon.  But there is so much I want to do outside, like take wood out of the wood shed so I have a way out when I take the wood in the back and transport it to the first row. Plus there is always mowing and trimming and weeding. Don’t mind me, I’m usually not quite so glum but there is a lot of tasks to complete and since I have written some good shit which hasn’t found a home and I’m still without an agent, why do I even bother?

Does every crisis of faith reduce down to “Why are we/Why am I here?”

Perhaps…

I do want to thank Janice Leandra and everyone at Janus Literary. I’m grateful they chose my micro, Panache for this issue and there is some other cool writing in here.  And what a fitting place to end, with the idea of looking both ways.

Thanks for stopping by and for the read!  

Still around…

I am thrilled and honored that Barren Magazine has published “The Shots Fired, The Shots Called” in their gorgeous 5th issue and OMG! Cathy Ulrich tweeted about it while I was off-line in my funk. Remington Review published “Anniversary Plans” on page 5 and I’m thrilled with the outcome. I’ve liked that story a long time and it found the best home. Thank you to everyone at Barren Magazine and Remington Review for believing in my pieces and publishing them.

Yesterday, I had a lovely chat with Nina Fosati about stamina, direction, and purpose in regards to writing. I told her it’s the first time since I don’t remember when “a book” or a “goal” wasn’t foremost on my mind and how this made me feel…adrift.

Personally, I find it to be a sucky feeling and hope it turns into something freeing or worthwhile. Maybe it’s the weather. Or the anniversary of my mother’s death. Or some other “thing” causing this ennui, but I hope it resolves soon. In the meantime, I’m reading, tidying, cleaning, and trying to figure out the next step.

Regardless, I am grateful you stopped by for a bit. Thank you for the read and may your day be stunning!

Cheers!

Another Thursday, Another Blog


It’s getting to be that time of year again when the furniture gets changed around so we have a wall of firewood inside and can use the wood stove. If an antenna wire is installed, we might have the stereo in the living room this season. This bit of change is stressful since I start thinking I should get rid of things, but I rarely do since I have an attachment issue.

If that were the only issue I had…

My kindle’s battery was empty. That’s never happened before. I just figured out the new way to get stories from Submittable sent to it. All right, I didn’t figure it out, I had to ask for help after reading the FAQs. I’d like to add that the staff at Submittable are incredibly helpful and prompt. Thank you!

The book revision took over my life and I was frustrated since I didn’t feel I was getting anywhere and I wanted it to be done by Labor Day. Husband suggested I go in the library. I didn’t think it would work, but we went on an errand, which led to a trip to the Savage winery. We returned home, I went to work, and boom! That night I was finished…as finished as a 89,675 word novel gets. I’m doing a final read through and cutting a word here and there, but otherwise, I think that’s it.

At the novel critique group on Tuesday, there was a lively discussion on our respective pages and part of the conversation turned to agents. I was so dispirited. Two of the women are on their third agents. I’m weary of starting up the search again for my first.

I think I’ll start the new book instead.

*Sigh*

*These are just my Creekside Reflections. Your experiences may vary.

Draft #whatever is done, on to other things

Chyo has my book on her Kindle and she’s killing me by either not reading it or waiting to tell me what she thinks. Regardless, I’m not sending it to XO Man until I hear from her. That book has wrecked me, but I feel it’s over–at least for now so I’m off to write other things–including this blog post which is a week late–mia culpa. I was in an editing/polishing zone and I really couldn’t break free until just the other day.

Everything was left to slide, including the garden. Yesterday, I spent most of the day out there and was pleasantly surprised that the minor love I’ve been giving it is paying off–the weeds aren’t out of control and the slugs haven’t devoured my pepper plants as of yet. I hate those slugs. They have an entire yard to graze upon but year after year they hunger for my poor peppers.

The irises have come and gone, but today, two of the peonies were in bloom. Here’s one:

peony

The baby pines either thrived or died. I don’t know, it was bad timing when those saplings arrived. I’m grateful my brother-in-law was here that weekend to help with the planting. This one is the best looker of the remaining bunch:one

And the wisteria is beginning to bloom:

two

Otherwise, it’s a hot sticky day and the last of the plants in the greenhouse were taken outside so I’ll probably clean that room, maybe finish Gina Miani’s Avalon, get further into Donna Tartt’s The Goldfinch. Hell, I might even start a story for The Molotov Cocktail Monster Flash contest. Maybe I’ll even paint.

Thanks for checking in!

 

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

A nice start to the New Year

And what to my grateful eyes did I find in my inbox on New Year’s Day? A note from a publisher who is planning another anthology and offered the previous authors a crack at the new one. That is definitely a much better start to a year than a rejection. By that token, I’ve held off on sending rejections (sorry if you get one!) to several submitters. I really do try to treat submitters to r.kv.r.y. Quarterly Literary Journal the way I’d like to be treated and I know I didn’t want to get a rejection on New Year’s Eve or New Year’s Day.

So, I’m concussed. How are you? Seriously, it was such a stupid thing. I took mail out and on the way back, I fell on the icy driveway and smacked my head. And do you know what you can do to help a concussion? Nothing but watch for signs. Modern medicine is come so far…Yes, I’m grateful that it wasn’t worse, like a broken leg or arm or wrist.

I don’t make resolutions since the year many, many years ago to not make resolutions. That one I knew I could keep, and I have. Even when I quit smoking, I quit on 1/7, not the first. However, I’ve been toying with the idea of going a year without drinking. Since New Year’s Eve is a big drinking night, and I shouldn’t be drinking with a brain injury anyway, I decided that I’d start on the first so I’d remember when I began. There are a few caveats. I’m allowed to drink on my birthday, if I sell a book, Husband’s birthday, Thanksgiving and one freebie, but only one. So, this will be my year of not drinking.

Otherwise, nothing has changed much. I’m working on new pieces and enjoying going through the latest book twenty pages at a time with Mary Akers and Gina. I’m so glad to have been asked to joining that novel critiquing group! After the 14th, I’ll be touching up the query letter, getting ready to send Ellie’s Elephant’s to another group of agents I’ve researched. I’m preparing applications for Breadloaf and NYFA. Same old, same old, but good.

 

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