dog

Spring(ish) Fever by the Creek and Writers

I’m thinking there’s a deeper essay in here, but I haven’t fleshed it out enough. Writing this is hard enough. I’d been distracted by the reports over the weekend of a jumper at the High Level Bridge.

Today I found out it was my old doctor who I never met. He’s literally my age.

Was.

So many doctors recently…

In case I’ve never told you before, I hate being sick. Abhor it. Resent the amount of time it takes up so I must tell you, its extra fun to catch something at the doctor’s office during the yearly wellness exam. This time? Norovirus! Actually, Husband caught it and for days, I washed and Lysoled, slept in a mask and avoided it. Then I had to go back and got it. I mention this because doctors should mask, but don’t and I do mask and I haven’t been sick in years until I had to deal with them. I’m not sure what the appeal is for being ill. If you have a way to avoid such unpleasantness or don’t wish others to suffer, mask. Thank you. I’m doing better – except for the resentment of having time taken away from me, but it kept me from dwelling on certain thoughts…

Today, what I’m speculating about is why I bother sending out my work since it’s so often met with rejection, but there isn’t a doctor anywhere smart enough for that topic, so let’s talk about something else – like writers in the wild.

The Writing Club I volunteered to start in the local library has attracted some interesting people with neat stories and it’s exciting to feel the energy. (I’ve missed the group I’d been in pre-Covid) The other group I attend was developing a cool vibe and that was shattered. The last Friday meeting there was followed by direct messages on the socials. One of the members had a massive heart attack and died – roughly 24 hours later. This, of course, sparked a pile on of disbelief at the number of writers I’ve known who are no longer roaming the earth.

I did hear that at the writer’s viewing, our group was mentioned and that the writer had a positive experience with it. It’s going to sound like a brag, but I did encourage him to slightly rework one of his essays into a Buffalo News “My View” column. He did, it was accepted, and at least he went out as a published author, so yeah, I think it’s cool that I helped in a small way with his writing career when I had that option. To be honest, I expected to be helping him edit his book in a year, not marking the anniversary of his passing.

I know many people reject the sirening socials now with all the added bile, but it is where I find community. And opportunities. And notices of upcoming events. Yesterday, I saw a notice from Nancy McCabe. Her new book, Fires Burning Underground, will have a launch party on April 8^th. There were so many AWP pictures posted by and of people I admire. Melissa Olstrum and Mocha have brightened my day so often with their walks and her pottery. My cat climbs into my lap to be soothed by Melissa Llanes Brownlee’s singing and ukulele playing. (I’ve tried to get a picture of this, but annoying the white cat while she’s listening ends in scratches) Mike, a writer from my old group will publish his first book in June. MJ from there is on a speaking tour of sorts. Rina is decoding and polishing her father’s text. Gina from a different group is completing her series! There are so many artists sharing their lives and talents there, so it’s hard to not to cheer them on.

I think that’s the best part of being a writer – being in other writer’s lives. The blank page staring, the character wrestling, the chaos of keeping a story in your head, those are all lonely endeavors, and knowing someone else is out there struggling, too, helps with the despair. It’s sad that my old doctor didn’t have that – or if he did, it wasn’t enough.

Like I said, there’s a deeper essay lurking with better tie-ins and subtlety, but this is what I’ve got knowing the details now of a life that ended in a manner I admit I’ve contemplated for a character.

Thanks for stopping by and for the read. I appreciate the F*CK out of you, even if I don’t say it enough. It’s scary out there – resist. Do a silly walk. Sit in a box with a dog. Mine is willing – and eager – to share.

Cheers!

Life Goes On Until It Doesn’t

The house is tidy, organized. It’s been a massive undertaking, this year’s “spring-cleaning.”

I no longer remember the specific impetus that led to the first bit of sorting. I know I was quite sick of the mess my office had become. We’d move things in here to get them out of the way when we had visitors, and not everything made its way back to where it had come from and so I was living in close proximity to a lot of clutter. I didn’t like it, but we were storing somethings and even when those things left, I didn’t immediately do a tear down/clean out.

I know an Apex discussion a few months ago made me consider the fact that I’ll probably never publish a book traditionally, and even if I did, well, what then? The “what then” was that I wanted to live in a cleaner and more organized house. I mean, if this is it – the best it will ever be and I never write or publish again – then I’m kind of okay with my life ending up here (except for the wasting of my whole life on literature.)

One of the silly little motivational quips I have taped to my office computer says, “What you are not changing, you are choosing,” so I’ve been choosing to improve my conditions.

Life doesn’t offer a lot of choice in some matters though. We had to say goodbye to Kobi and it sucked to lose my sidekick, but he had cancer in his lungs and even if I were able to afford chemo for him, I don’t think I could put him through that. I know – supposedly – there are new options for cancer treatments but…

I haven’t picked him up yet – his ashes. That seems too final yet.

Our remaining cat made it known that a pet sibling was important, so today – weirdly enough Cat Adoption Day – I went to the Ten Lives Club. (They are a no-kill shelter, so if you’re feeling generous, they have a wish list here.) “Freddy” is acclimating now – though we’re definitely changing that name. This is what he looks like:

It’s not the same as a dog, but I need time to mourn, too.

Creative writing hasn’t happened in a long while, though I have written letters. I’m sorry if I owe you one and you haven’t received it yet. You are very likely on the list.

Until next time (or your letter arrives) I want to thank you for stopping by and for reading.

Cheers!

A chickadee home outside the bedroom window

Strange days & happenings…

I know I’m late with this post. It’s been weird. I started writing this Thursday afternoon:

Today I had lunch at Julie’s with the SGI Superintendent. She is such a good person – and smart. It was a lovely time and I hope we do end up working on her book. It will be phenomenal when she has some time and it all comes together.

Yesterday was a “regular” meet up at SPoT Coffee in Orchard Park to write with Gina. It’s been a long time and I was excited to find I could still sit down and write – that, too, has been iffy. The last time I posted, my brother-in-law was still alive. My, how things change. At the service, M and R wore their father’s shirts. I’m sure I’m not the only one who caught their breath – with the hat, the son resembles his father.

Last Thursday, the cat was acting strange. Mary and Gina – my real life angels – picked me up and we went to Three Girls Café for bunch and catch up. It was so good to spend time with them and try to get back to a semblance of normalcy. I refused to check on the cat – figuring if she was dead, she wouldn’t be reviving, but she was on my mind. I came home, braced myself, and found she was alive. And since then she’s been improving which is miraculous since she’s 19-years-old now. That night, I went to the Comfort Zone for Hamburg Writers’ Group. That, too, was a taste of normalcy. I came home, let the dog out and he tangled with a skunk. Such a roller-coaster of a day.

And while real life was raucous, the career side has been going along swimmingly. Nina Fosati did a brilliant edit on a story I wrote and I sent it out to higher tier publications. She’s working through a piece I enjoy and – knock on wood – she’ll find the way into it match the tone she wants for it and then it will get published and nominated for prizes. I do think it’s that good.

I received my contributor copy of Bacopa. “Pirouette” is on page 6.

Furtive Dalliance was released with “Sounds So Familiar,” and after YEARS of submitting, I finally cracked the top ten of On The Premises in the “near death” call for submissions. Weirdly, it was sent at the last minute and I didn’t think it had a chance. It’s a story that Jim Tuttle liked in an early draft. Fingers crossed – but honestly, I’ll be thrilled with the critique.

The furniture was moved into the “winter mode” and I’ve brought in a few pieces of wood to dry out. Saturday, I start the fall hours at the library with my 10-noon shift. Sunday is Gina’s book release event that I’m so excited to attend. So, apologies for the lateness ~ it’s just the way things have been going as events have prevented sameness and ruts to continue here, creekside, where I haven’t been doing enough reflecting or Pilates…but there has been a lot of love and for that I am grateful.

Thanks for stopping by and the read!

Say, what dog?

Well, I’ve gone and done it. I’ve reached a milestone birthday. Many thanks to the well-wishers, card senders, and gift givers! As I mentioned on Twitter, Husband FINALLY got me a card – by himself – and he did well. The one he chose had a giggly, red octopus inside holding wine glasses. I don’t think octopuses drink though…

Slightly before that, we got a new (geriatric) dog. Welcome to our home, Kobe!

4.4B

And no, I’m not a woman who is going to knit sweaters for her animals, but when Kobe was rescued, he came with a skin condition and they had shaved him. (Naked dogs are just as attractive as naked cats – hence pet sweaters and vests until his hair comes back.)

The search for an agent continues. In the absence of one, I’ve been tossing out ideas to my writer friends about which book to pursue next. I keep circling back to Lettie – and changing everything I’ve written so far. I was jotting down notes while I was trying to go to bed Tuesday night and I’m taking that as a good sign. While I’d love to sit down and just start with the rewrite, I’m holding back because of Niece’s wedding in Lincoln, New Hampshire, and my upcoming trip to Duncannon, PA.

I just glanced over at my calendar and I’m exhausted. There are so many things to do this month, including the West Falls-Colden Library book sale on the 21^st. It’s my turn to host the novel critique group on the 24^th. There are multiple appointments and meetings, too. What I’m saying is that the second post this month might be delayed by a week as I sort out all the thoughts, feelings, happenings, and events. (Yes, I do have the best problems.)

Oh, Nina and I went to see Viet Thanh Nguyen at Kleinhans on the 23^rd and on the 20^th of April, we’re slated to see Junot Diaz. I have to say I’ve enjoyed this experience so much. Many thanks to Nina for suggesting we get season tickets, Just Buffalo Literary Center for creating the Babel series and Barbara Cole for her knowledge, warmth, and grace as moderator.

4.4A

Fierce winds took down a tree yesterday and it missed the lawn tractor, so I’m grateful for that. A few other limbs came down so the spring cleanup we were planning to do became a little more daunting. Ah, the life of a homeowner near a creek in western New York…there’s always something to do!

4.4d

(And look forward to!)

Thanks for stopping by and for the read!

*These are my Creekside Reflections; yours should vary.

The Holidays. Sigh

Since last I wrote, things started out quite lovely. I got an acceptance from Matter Press for my piece, “I’m Calling Him Skippy,” about a woman who rescues a dog from bad owners. At about the same time, Husband called from Adoring Pets with sad news. While I assumed that the dog would cost us a million dollars, I didn’t think she’d die. What the one vet thought was a minor issue, was in fact cancer. It’s not in her lungs yet, but even with surgery (keeping her cast dry in this weather? Really?) and drug treatment there’s only a 48% chance she’d be alive in a year.

If you met Tye, you know how sweet she is and we can’t do that to her. On Monday, she’ll be going into work with Husband. Mondays suck anyway, and before Christmas is somehow better then afterwards…

Nancy, my friend from the Playwright Workshop, and I had plans to go see Gary Earl Ross read that night. Mr. Ross selected my piece, “Wildflower Wishes,” to include in the Queen City Flash anthology, and I hoped to pick up my copy that night, but with that news, and the snow, we didn’t go.

The snow…it’s been unbelievable. I didn’t go shopping last week, nor did I go to the library because the driveway was filled with snow. I’d shovel and later it wouldn’t look like I’d been outside. Husband got the driveway under control on Saturday, and then Sunday, we drove to Grandma’s house. I had no idea how hard the dog’s illness was going to be. Grandma doesn’t hear very well. I couldn’t tell her this was Tye’s last visit. It broke my heart to see Tye look up at her and hear my Grandma say, “It’ll be all right,” because no, it isn’t.

I had a short story accepted at Page and Spine. The bonus for that is I’d just had it rejected by Carve. If you have a piece rejected by Carve and it’s published elsewhere, they link it from their site. Maybe it will get them to look closer at the piece I have under consideration there now.

I was working on my novel yesterday waiting for Husband to get home when I heard something in the driveway. He was stuck. Our most awesome neighbor came with his tractor, cleared the driveway and got Husband’s truck out of the mushy part of the lawn. Thank you Bill!!! The thing was, I looked out the window, saw him stuck and thought, “Are you kidding me? Another crappy thing to deal with?” I have forgotten to mention that I got a call from my credit card company. My card had been stolen. So yeah, that was even more fun added to the mix. Today, on the news I found out it was most likely from the Target theft. Fun.

The holiday letter and cards are being sent out today, one of the latest send offs, but I just finished them last night after Husband’s company Christmas Party at J. P. Fitzgerald’s. It was a nice party. I sat by Trish and she and I talked about her work, her trips to Haiti, and her daughter’s writing. Paul and Kim were at our table, as was Tessa, and the old assless chaps joke came up once again. How can a party be bad when the conversation includes discussions of juice boxes and assless chaps?

So, I have more cookies to make and I need to finish up my twenty pages to send to my awesome novel critique group today. I hate being this late with things, but then again, I had no idea we’d have this much snow, which led to fewer shopping days. No, what it is is that I had no idea how much I love this dog and it pisses me off that she isn’t going to be around anymore. Screw it. I have cookies to make. I hope your holiday–if you celebrate one–is fantastic and blessed and bright. Here’s looking to a better New Year.

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