garden

I was Vanderwalkered in a Schoolhouse

I’m still catching up on the laundry from the family reunion in Essex over the fourth. I think it was Angela who summed it up best for all of us who aren’t blood related:

“Champy,” the monster of Lake Champlain, was spotted and photographed.

I tried to visit the library in Essex–which is right beside a creek, like mine is–but it had funky hours.

We also toured Edward Cornell’s Art Farm.

Last night, as I was speeding down old 219 toward home after the “Donut Hole” rehearsal and a B.o.b. campaign meeting, three banging songs came on the radio–all in a row. “Love the Way You Lie” by Eminem and Rihanna, “Come With Me Now” by the Kongos, and “Personal Jesus” by Depeche Mode. Different channels, but still. Anyways, careening around those curves at dusk, volume up, I was in control–but going too fast. It flashed that this is the way my life is going right now and I couldn’t be more delighted.

I’m juggling a lot of things and if I blink, I’ll have added a new chainsaw to the rotation. If you ask if it’s too much, I’ll tell you I’m fine. I am. I know this will peter out or a crash will happen, but until then, I’m “alive” in a way I haven’t been in a while.

I have the 10 minute play by Donna Hoke I’m directing which is going well, but that’s over on Saturday. The campaign didn’t raise enough funds so the Iowa trip has been delayed. I’m preparing the second round of questions for Beth Gilstrap‘s interview for The Tavern about her book, I Am Barbarella. I participated in a writing “joust” and had a ton of fun with that. I’m cranking out new flash pieces since being invited into the “Hot Pants” office in Zoetrope, plus writing a new book in 20 page increments. The garden is weeded and if the rain stops, I’ll get the weedeater going.

Right, so I should be getting on with it. Maintaining swiftness and busyness is a temporary thing, but while it’s going on, I am enamored with that sense of power over my own life. Yes, I know that’s delusional, but it is a nice delusion to have.

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

One thing done, twenty more added to my to do list.

Here it is, the fourth of June and the garden is finally planted. The screened in tent went up last night and I moved the swing in there this morning. The weather man said it was supposed to be sunny today, but that is not how the sky appears. It is the start of fun part of the year where I’m better off waking early to get outside to beat the muggy heat and the biting bugs. I am not a morning person. I’m not sure I’m an outside person either.

The author and my editor liked my review of Muscle Cars. I’ve been asked to conduct an interview with an author I’m unfamiliar with, so when I get a chance, I’ll be expanding my repertoire at The Tavern. Also, I may be revisiting a part of my life soon. I’ll know more on Tuesday, and I don’t want to jinx it, but it involves politics.

Husband and I made it to our 15th anniversary. It fell on Sunday and he brought me The New York Times, Dunkin Donuts coffee, and these gorgeous flowers. They are holding up well. I guess we are, too—at least we haven’t killed each other yet. The day before our anniversary, there were a few iffy moments.

Condensed to Flash: World Classics is out and available at Amazon. I am honored and proud to have a story in there. It’s a gorgeous book with so many great stories by incredible writers. Many thanks to Mark Budman and everyone at Vestal Review Press.

Last week was brutal with rejections, so I’m hoping things turn around soon. I’ve got 5 new flash pieces from the workshop—well, one wasn’t directly from there, but the association is close. I’m going to run them by a few friends and then submit. I’ve slacked off with that part of the process recently, but it is difficult not to go outside and enjoy being able to do just that. This winter was unrelenting and I’m so glad it is over. We’ve had the daffodils, the irises are blooming and soon there will be peonies.

Thanks for stopping by!

(These are my Creekside Reflections; your experiences may vary.)

I’ll quit drinking and we’ll stop speaking.

Doesn’t that sound promising?

I’m just about ready to stop drinking for good AND demand everyone else do that too so we can all be on even ground when we interact.

And how were your past two weeks?

I’ve been practicing the “wear a smile, you’ll feel better” exercise and it does seem to be working. Really. Even with this seemingly unending pile of rejections and disappointments, I do feel a bit better. I swear.

By the end of today, the garden should be completely planted and weeded. We’re supposed to have decent weather this weekend and with any luck, the other bed should get tilled and then the clover can be planted. Yeah! My sister brought me two broccoli plants which are now in a big pot and they’ll go in the resting bed as soon as possible along with the peas. I’m hoping for a good second crop since I couldn’t get the first planting in this year.

Aside from the “smile even though your life is a crap heap” exercise, the biggest thing going on is that I have new goals. Mary Aker’s book launch is on 21 September at the Roycroft. I’ve already bought my ticket. That gives me a few months to get my act together. The library I volunteer at is going to summer hours so I’ll be able to achieve my Camp NaNo goals a little bit easier in July, and I’ve made it halfway through “Campus Crimes” with edits. Not too shabby.

So the next time we meet, I’ll be a few days into Camp NaNo. I wonder if I’d like going to camp so much if I’d ever gone to one as a kid. This go round, I’m planning on essays and short stories. If I manage the not drinking by then, in the evening hours I’ll be editing the hell out of the book I wrote for April’s Camp NaNo. Plans are such beautiful, encouraging, elusive things.

Oh, the title of this blog was culled from a poem I wrote twenty years ago. Part of it goes like this:

I’m a perfectionist
and if I do things badly
I don’t want to do them at all.

I never could get drunk right,
so I’ll quit drinking and
we’ll stop speaking.

No. I don’t want to explain the circumstances that brought about that poem into being or anything else that’s bothering me… So, go on with your awesome lives. Be pretty. Be smarter than I am. Pay attention. There may be a test you didn’t study for…

(*These are just my slightly nutty creekside reflections after two weeks of things going off in directions I wasn’t expecting. Why I ever think things will settle/calm down is beyond me. Your experiences may vary. I should hope so.)

Blaming the Rain

Taking Alex’s advice, I am doing what I can do…

This is a picture of the creek I live by. The house is to the right.

The iris bloomed last week.

30May4

The tomato and pepper plants are in the garden.

This is the interior of the portico with the wisteria growing up the side.

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I saw these blooming outside the hallway window last night.

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Due to the way the creek changed this year, we have a swimming hole.

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The peonies started to bloom this week.

Besides the political nonsense and the environmental destruction, I’ve had a lot of disappointment with my so called writing career recently. I knew there were going to be days (weeks) like this, but that doesn’t make them pass any faster or lessen the sadness, so I’m posting pictures of the things that I’m grateful for, besides my tremendous friends, family, Husband and colleagues. I truly am grateful. I’m just having a bad few weeks and I know, I need to get back to writing, submitting and repeating and I will. It’s just hard to find the desire right now.

I’m blaming the rain.

My dreams haven’t been helping with the sadness. “Dexter” was my boyfriend in one. I’d cheated on him and he wasn’t going to kill me, he was just going to torture me. I’ve never woken up more fearful, disturbed, and upset than after that dream.

I don’t know what to blame for that one.

(*These are just my Creekside Reflections. Your outlook on life may vary.)

Rigid, yet willing to bend

Hi. I’m tightly bound and anal retentive. How do you do? I’ve kept this blog up and running for a while now. I’ve thought about changing the frequency because sometimes awfully wonderful things happen in my life that I want to write about just as much as the sad things that tend to get the ink.

Ready? Here it is: SHEMEKIA COPELAND ROCKED. Not only was she the most talented vocalist surrounded by incredible musicians, she was kind, too. OMG. Husband and I went to see her at the Armor Inn Tap Room for our twelfth anniversary (seriously–has it been that long? I thought I just met this man.) We were joined by Paul, Kim, Charlie and Rick.

I wrote a thank you note and handed it to Shemekia before her set. I thought she’d toss it. She didn’t. She gave good tidings to me and Husband from the stage. It was awesome. And she was so generous to her fans with the pictures she posed for and the autographs she signed…I could go on (hence the frequency debate.)

I digress… During that excursion, the back of my legs hurt because the day before I held a war on the slugs in my garden. I killed at least two hundred. Retaliation, since I had 16 pepper plants and by the time of the slug war’s end, I was down to 5.

The slug war, I could have blogged about that once I scrubbed the yellow goo off my fingers.

Tuesday was the last meeting of the the Ugly Babies Writer’s Group until September. It’s the third year I’ve conducted it and I am wavering on whether it should continue or not. I probably feel this ambivalence every year. My group is great and the owners, waitresses, prep crew, bakers and the line cooks at Julie’s Pizzeria are so wonderful. I’d miss sitting in the “fish bowl” of the private room once a month. I just wish there was more writing to discuss.

Marko is looking to take a break from doing the Celebration Thread in the short story studio at Zoetrope. I told him I’d consider doing it. My son, his wife and my grandson are coming to visit. They are on the road now. I’m not making any plans until after they leave. I told Marko if I do it, I couldn’t start until 1 July and that worked out perfectly for him. I’m hoping someone else volunteers. It’s rough to be a cheerleader when you only have rejections to report, BUT when I was leading the thread before, I put out a lot more submissions, so there is that to consider.

*Sigh*

Well, off to do the last minute things before they arrive. Until next time!

(*These are just my reflections. Your experience may vary.)

If I Have Writing To Do, I’ll Be Out In The Garden.

I took a suggestion from someone, somewhere on the internet and started a first draft in a font I never use. I don’t know if I just had a lot to say on the subject or that the different type freed my mind and fingers, but in no time at all, I had a serviceable first paragraph, a nice ending sentence and about a thousand words total. If I could remember who said or suggested it, I’d tell you, but I can’t.

(MANY thanks to Alex Pruteanu! It was Matt Bell who suggested the change of the fonts. And I’m now up to 1700 words on this essay and really like it.)

Bong is Bard accepted a piece and it will go live on 22 May and on the 28^th–Memorial Day–I have a piece up at Every Day Fiction and sometime eventually, Jumping Blue Gods will be publishing a poem. I’m reminding you–and myself–that I do have pieces accepted. I’ve run into a nasty, long list of rejections recently and I don’t care for it.

Luckily, the weather has been wonderful, so I’ve been outside and working on the yard. Yesterday was especially nice and I weeded the old bed that will be pulled up, tilled, and turned back into a yard. If you can’t beat the flooding ditch, you move the garden farther away from it.

I spent hours on the phone with my sister last night… Oh, the questions we have for our mom. Not that we’ll get any answers since she’s dead and all, but mein gott! The things one hears and learns after a death.

So, I’m off to water the pine tree that Husband moved from where it was growing to the yard. It’s the cutest little thing! I have a list of writing assignments that I want to ignore, I mean finish, so off I go. Have a pleasant Memorial Day weekend and remember to read my story. You’ll have the day off to enjoy it so no excuses! See you in June!

And remember, if you’re ever in Springville, New York, eat at Julie’s Pizzeria because they are so generous with allowing us to meet there in the private room on the third Tuesday of the month.

*These are just my reflections. Your experience may vary.

Short, Sweet and Hopeful

Welcome! I hope this first day of March finds you well. I’m fresh off two writing competition losses, but letting the disappointment fizzle out by plunging back in to Ellie’s Elephants. A friend of mine is going over the last draft and providing detailed notes and a woman I met at the Writer’s Workshop is also offering her insight. Both are picking up on little quirks that need to be altered before I try another go at representation.

None of the notes are huge which I’m taking as a good sign. On top of that, at the end of Chapter Four, I found the following aside from the detailed note provider, “It’s good–I like the way it builds all the way through. I love the humor. Best Seller! I want 1 2/3 %.” Such a comedian…

As to submitting, I’ve been slacking there, though I did get two sent out on Monday.

The boards on Zoetrope were down to less than 50. I freaked and threw Foxes on the Lake on the read page. I’ve gotten two reviews so far. Once again, I got assigned to a newbie. At least this one sounded like he read the story, but the last one taught me an unfortunate lesson: Until they are on there a while, do not speak to them. The last one’s cockiness dripped off the screen and tainted my Zoetrope experience. On the other hand, I was thrilled to find a review from Cezarija Abartis. I was not expecting her to review me, but she offered great advice and I’m so grateful for that. If you want a short story collection that will transport you, I do suggest hers. Nice Girls and Other Stories was fantastic.

Other than that, there’s been a whole lot of not drinking going on here, much reading, several dreams about seedlings and the garden and the occasional nightmare over errant commas. A calm before a storm? Now that I think about it, it has been unusually quiet around here for the last two weeks…

* These are just my reflections. Your experience may vary.