Literary Orphans

Career Progress, Rewrites, and Sex Scenes

In case you missed it, I am Fiction Editor at Literary Orphans now!!! This thrills me like you wouldn’t believe. I thank Scott, Mike, and Brittany for being such wonderful people to work with and willing to let me join the next tier. And as I assured Mary, I will remain in my position at r.kv.r.y., too.

The Blueshift Journal published “Our Mother’s Memoir was Published Posthumously. On Purpose.” Oye, I’m so glad. The original version was written on 4/16/11. I worked on it occasionally and earlier this year got a higher tier rejection from Vestal Review. I looked at it again, tweaked it and boom! Six years later, acceptance.

And while that is a tale of not giving up, I admit that I did give up on this lilac bush. I planted it at least 5 years ago and nothing. I quit weeding around it, neglected it, really. Yesterday, it caught my eye.

Gorgeous, isn’t it? And it smells great.

I nervously sent my pages to Mary and Gina. Nervous because “Sweet Spot” was part of it and in an earlier chapter I’d mentioned how badly written most sex scenes are so I was basically setting myself up for comparison to that and if I didn’t nail it, if it wasn’t right, organic, plausible, good, I feel the whole book would have failed. It worked. There were a few (very few) comments on that part so, now I have the confidence to proceed with the rewrite.

So here’s to more reading and writing!

The Columbine and Iris are in bloom and even after all this rain, the tomato plants are in the garden. On a deeply personal note, Husband and I have made it another year so happy 17th anniversary to the man who never reads this blog unless I print it out.

Have a lovely day.

Thank you for stopping by and reading.

Remember, you are a great person!

Cheers!

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

Possessed Lawnmowers, Explosions, and Break Downs.

The morning started with a strange noise. It didn’t go away and not being able to deduce where it was coming from, I got out of bed. I put coffee in the microwave and went out to get the paper only to find the strange noise coming from Husband’s riding lawnmower. I checked, the key was in the off position. I even pulled the key out. I called Husband. He told me it was trying to start itself and to press a button. It stopped making noise. By the time I returned with the paper, it had started again. I’ve been out there 4 times now, BUT I’ve since had my coffee so it’s a bit less disturbing to have possessed machinery in the yard.

That was the latest thing to go kerflunky. Last night, I turned on the grill and when it was hot, I started the chicken and went inside. I heard a “pop” and thought Husband was on the lawnmower and it backfired. No, he came in through the kitchen door to report the regulator on the grill had blown up. Apparently there were flames and everything. I’m glad I missed that and it didn’t happen when I was out there. The chicken went into the oven so dinner was able to be served eventually.

The worst thing–of course–is the Chevrolet Colorado broke down and had to go into the shop AGAIN!!!! This time because the fuel pump died. Yet another grand into that beast and it’s STILL not paid off. Of course it had been in for an oil change at the dealership just before the latest thing went wrong. On Twitter, Chevrolet was sad to hear about my “concerns.” They want me to send them the VIN. For what? A friggin’ coupon for an oil change? I am SO irritated.

Otherwise, this is where I’ve been and where I’ll be. The magic triangle of the screened in tent, the garden shed, and the garden. The fence – at least one side – is slated to go up this year. The gate went in this weekend.

Look, a frog!

The new bulbs bloomed!

And in writing related news, I’ve been working on something and it’s over 5,000 words long so far. I don’t know what to call it yet, so I’m letting it progress at its own pace. I have a review to finish writing, a 300 word profile to write because Literary Orphans is celebrating its 25^th Issue with a special staff page, and lord knows what else. Anyway, I should figure that out and get to it as soon as I crank up the computer and post this.

Thanks for stopping by!

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

Vote for Joan Kelly on 17 May 2016 for SGI : A blog post

Happy Cinco de Mayo and welcome to this post which is being written at a Chevy dealership while waiting for an oil change. One of the dealers is calling to wish people happy birthday and I’m wondering how I’d feel if they called me. If it was to say “Happy Birthday, you’ve won a free car/one month’s car payment/a free oil change, I’d probably like that a lot.

I’m here because one thing led to a minor renovation and since my novel writing group is coming on Tuesday, I really need things finished so Husband is at home painting instead of sitting here. Originally, the thought was that I wanted the space under the kitchen sink painted brilliant white so it would be easy to see things underneath. The next thought was that he wanted to buy a good paint sprayer to tackle that job. That led to other things I’d like painted, which made him consider getting a fairly decent sprayer and after that, well I forgot the logic, but there was some and now all sorts of cleaners are hanging out on my kitchen counter instead of on the shelves above the washing machine closet because those are torn out and will be replaced once the painting is done.

If you live in the Springville Griffith Institute area, I urge you to vote out the nonsense and vote for Joan Kelly. Joan is decent, hardworking, and listens to people. Of course you’ll need to vote in the atrium of the high school instead of the library because of “safety concerns.” Allison Duwe’s safety of being reelected is under threat due to her complete incompetence so she’s punishing the elderly in the area who thought her idea of a new gym was ridiculous and voted against it 1553 to 348 or something close to that. No one can accuse her of being a good sport, or a gracious loser, or even a decent person for that matter, and that is my opinion so settle down if you don’t agree. It’s my blog and I get to have my say—at least until next January it’s supposedly a free country with freedom of expression and freedom of the press guaranteed by the first amendment.

Otherwise, the miniature rose bush that Husband got me for my birthday is about to bloom again, the world out my Creekside window is going green and the peas are planted. I got another 20 pages written for a book, I’m working on two essays that may combine into one long one and I just got an ARC of “Hoopity Time Machines” by Christopher DeWan which I’ll be reviewing for The Tavern Lantern portion of Literary Orphans. I also have two pieces by Nina Fosati from the Hamburg Writers Group, a paper by Nancy’s niece, and the novel pages for my novel critique group to either read or reread and leave comments on and…yeah, I could go on about other reading and writing, but I brought “All the Light We Cannot See” by Anthony Doerr with me so I’m off to read that and will post this when I get home.

Thank you so much for stopping by and reading!

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

April flowers including my first hyacinths!

With the recent temperature fluctuations, I was happy to see a few of the daffodils managed to bloom.

The hyacinths are getting there.

As well as these roadside tulips.

This afternoon, thundershowers are predicted, and since it’s April it finally sounds like the weather is on the right track. If the electric goes out, I’ll be catching up on my reading for r.kv.r.y. and Literary Orphans. Oh, the Audrey issue of LO dropped yesterday if you’re looking for amazing writing to peruse, plus there’s an excellent interview by Sanjeev Sethi with Scott Waldyn at The Review Review.

Most of my writing is out. On the Submittable queue, I have 21 listings and 14 of them are marked as “in-progress.” Waiting is such a drag, so I’ll be doing Pilates after I post this. I also need to write more pages in “Dreaming Lettie” to send to the novel critique group. We had been on hiatus and I’m glad that’s over. The support is amazing and I always come away from our meetings energized.

After my “physical” yesterday, I’m convinced our “nurse practioner” is doing drugs. Either that or she’s completely inept. I need to start looking for a new doctor before she kills Husband and me, but I hate searching for doctors. We had the best one ~ Dr. Chow ~ but he left to do research. We finally found another adequate provider, but he moved. Since then, we signed up for another doctor, yet neither one of us has actually seen her – just this “nurse practioner” person. I suppose it’s my own fault for having an appointment after 4:20 on 4/20.

Anyway! I’m looking forward to the weekend. Friday is another meeting of the Hamburg Writer’s Group at the Comfort Zone. Saturday, I’ll be doing my shift at the West Falls-Colden Community Library and then Husband and I are going to travel to see awesome Niece from Boston for at least a few hours. Sunday, it’s an early mad dash home to attend the Taste of the Southtowns, so if you see me at any of those places, say hi – and thanks for stopping by!

(*These are merely my own Creekside Reflections. If you were here, I’d expect you to see things differently.)

If it’s the 19th, I must be up to 31673 words.

{~Photos graciously provided by Joseph Fleckenstein~}

Participating in National Novel Writing Month is a process that continues to fascinate me. I won’t say it gets easier, or that I am any closer to having a “real” book by the end, but each time I find a rhythm. I completely “pantsed” this year and so far, I’m finding my way – though by now, the beginning needs major reworking. Oh, how I love the problems I have.

I forget which “law” it is, but to me, writing is motion and once engaged, I write even more. My co-workers have been nailing comments on pieces sent to Literary Orphans, so I’ve mostly bowed out of commenting there because, “What Len said” and “Brittany summed it up nicely” grows tiresome, even to my own ear. I do read, and I vote. That is the loveliest thing – if you submit to LO, your piece is read by at least three people.

There’s more responsibility and leeway at r.kv.r.y. I made an executive decision Sunday night. A writer sent a piece and said he’d appreciate any feedback. It’s customary to wait a week before responding – I don’t know why that is, it just is. Anyway, the writing was good but the story wasn’t “there.” I offered my reasons and reasoning as to why I wasn’t accepting the piece. It was a bit scary – one never knows how another reacts – especially to rejection.

In the morning, the writer, Joseph Fleckenstein – my guest photographer today – responded with an abundance of gratitude. My time spent reaching out and talking to another writer ended in an offer of four beautiful images to choose from for my very own. The first was of a thistle. I chose that one because of it being a talisman to the family I married into – a thistle was on Gideon Whitson’s gravestone – and if the story I got from Husband is wrong, I’m sure my beautiful niece will correct me. So at the top and bottom are two gorgeous photos of thistles by Joseph Fleckenstein. My many, many thanks to him.

‘Tis the season to be grateful, isn’t it?

Nancy Leone came by yesterday with flowers, fresh rosemary, and her final notes on L&C. She had one major point I know I should consider fixing. It’s at the end and won’t require a lot, but I wish that book was “done” done. I know, it won’t be until it’s published – should I be that lucky, but it’s gotten to minutia and I’m tired. I want to move on. Is that wrong? Besides which, someone wondered if I wasn’t allowing too many critiquers into the pot, but the last major rewrite pleased him so I just don’t know anymore.

What I do know is that I took a break from a private office in Zoetrope. I didn’t think I was being useful and the prompts weren’t working. Late summer and early autumn are full of depression triggering time bombs. Events conspired, I wrote a creative nonfiction piece – something I shy away from writing, but I posted it and then could see the flaws. It felt great though, to dip back into flash. So, to you Kim Chinquee, I want to give my thanks for leaving that office door open. And thanks to Gina who has been such a positive guide. Thanks to Mary for her belief in me. Thanks to my incredible and kind Husband. To Sidney. To Alex. To Chyo. To XOMan. To my niece.

I could go on for a VERY long time naming people and things I’m grateful for but this post is already topping 600 words. That’s longer than the flash I wrote…which just proves the law I was talking about…

Thanks for stopping by!

Thank you again, Joseph Fleckenstein!

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

Tipsy-turvy and beautiful colors

My cat is quite upset. Yesterday, I fulfilled my Facebook obligation to do whatever was asked of me by the esteemed Tuttle’s as long as they picked me up and took me to their house in order to do it. Yeah, I roll that way–if I say I’ll do it on FB, it will be done. A journalist from Buffalo Spree wants to interview them about living off the grid, so they wanted to spiff up their yard. I got to dig. I was gone all day and the cat couldn’t go in and out as she pleased, plus she knows I petted other cats–and two dogs–while I was away.

It’s autumn and the weather has been good and the colors great. I’ve been catching this a lot–the dew point is just right so when the sun hits grass blades and tree leaves, a foggy, magical cloud appears. I find it a bit distressing–the sun accomplishing something tangible so easily and so early in the morning.

Life has been going quite well recently (knock up on wood) in the professional arena. After my interview with Karen Stefano went live, I was added to the Literary Orphan’s Masthead as an interviewer. I’ve been appointed Assistant Editor at r.kv.r.y. Quarterly and on Sunday, my Twitter feed went nuts with news that my story, “Prudence” was a Flash Fiction Sunday Edition pick. I was flattered by DeRicki Johnson ’s kind words.

I spoke at the Board of Education meeting on Tuesday and plan to do so again at the next one. I really don’t want to run, but the more ignorance and tone deafness I hear from those so-called ‘leaders,’ the angrier I become and want to step in and give people a choice from the status quo. I hope these feelings pass soon. This energy would be much better spent on my writing.

That, too has been going well. I wrote past the problem I was having in the new book and got 20 pages out to the group. I came across a notebook where I listed stories that I’d roughed out. I opened up one and worked on it last night–it still needs some work, but it’s stronger and funnier than I remembered. So, that is what I’m off to work on though it’s a nice day so I might take a walk out back. Last time, I found this little guy on the creekside trail.

Thanks for stopping by!

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

Fall and Other Elitist First World Writer Problems

r.kv.r.y. is open for submissions and I have my Saturday shift at the library back. The weather has been perfect for sitting out on the patio so I can listen to the creek while I have coffee with my breakfast and read the paper. The leaves are just beginning to change color. I love the fall.

I was lucky enough to interview Karen Stefano about her short story collection, The Secret Games of Words, a book I recommend highly. It will be up at The Tavern Lantern on the 28th.

Otherwise, I’m dealing up with a bunch of ups and downs. My cat had at least ten seizures one night. It was terrifying and there was nothing I could do but try to keep her safe. I really thought I was going to lose her.

So that angst went up against the joy brought to me by my incredible son and fantastic daughter-in-law. They had a healthy baby girl. Her name is a combination of middle names–mine and Connie’s. Isn’t that sweet? So is the baby.

The garden is winding down and I’ve brought most of the houseplants back inside. I received a rejection–an inky, flattering rejection from The Minnesota Review that asked me to send them something else. Sure, it’s great, but frustrating. It’s the second story they’ve liked–but not enough… I love my problems. I really do.

Otherwise, I’m debating on the next book. I started sending “Dreaming Lettie” to the group, but got caught up on an information dump I have yet to work out. The beginning of “Life & Crimes” served as a placeholder for which pages I sent, but now I’m in a real bind.

I started a sequel to “L&C” a few years ago, but it went dark, fast and I didn’t want to write it then. Now, a lot of ideas are popping up to carry it through. The problem is that I don’t want to spend time on it if “L&C” gets no love. I don’t know. I have a few weeks before pages are due again. It’s a nice day. I may spend it out in the screened in tent on the swing far from the maddening strum of the phone that lets me know when email has arrived.

*These are my angst-ridden creekside reflections. Your experiences should vary.

The Minor(?) Cost of a Great Weekend

This past weekend was marvelous! Rachael flew in, Donkey and Lisa came by and Husband’s twin was here, too. The weather was perfect. There was a half game of gonzo croquet, several hands of cutthroat bridge, rich food and many carbonated beverages. Husband and I have a new favorite beer, Berkshire Brewing Company’s Coffee House Porter. We don’t often agree on beer, but this one rated a 9 from both of us.

(Thanks for the picture, Rachael!)

But of course, a good time often comes at a cost…

Here it is, two weeks later and I’m still revising L&C. I’m starting to hate this book. That isn’t the only thing that remains undone. *Sigh* I love the problems, I have–I really do, but this week seems especially full of them.

Last night was the last District Facilities Review Committee meeting. I’m sad to report that after it goes to the Board of Education, the new gym will most likely be put up for a vote ON DECEMBER 15th! On top of that underhandedness, the interim Superintendent will be gone by January so none of the fallout will hit her on the way out. Yes, I knew all politics is local and it’s all crap, but this is a bump up of at least two hundred dollars a year–with a steady 2% + increase every year for a declining student base–if this passes and with the voting machine Duwe has in place, it feels like a done deal.

I hate her–and her husband rubs me the wrong way, too. Putting it in a bubble and sending it away.

Other than that, I’m so behind on my reading for Literary Orphans it isn’t even funny and in a few days, the submission to portal for r.kv.r.y. opens. I’m not ready. I’ll be visiting Burlington Books in Perry tomorrow before I go to a viewing for my Uncle Erv. I was transcribing an essay I wrote in longhand in my notebook about him when he passed. Strange.

The consultation gig has at least two more rounds of emails to go through and this morning I woke to find edit requests on a story I thought I’d finished, but that’s minor. I’m sure there’s other things I’m forgetting at the moment.

I’m pulling out my “to-do” book, making a list, and getting to work. It will satisfy me to no end to cross off “write and post blog.”

One thing done well. Check.

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

Swift-Tuttle, Tuttle’s and a frog

Last night, I stretched out on the ground and watched the sky for half an hour or so and saw at least ten falling stars–one with a trail that remained for a second or two, and I was grateful. It was supposed to be the peak of the Swift-Tuttle meteoroids and uncharacteristically, we had a new moon and there were no clouds so I could actually see them. I thought about people who are no longer on the earth and some that still are, the beauty of the stars themselves, and distant planets.

It was nice to think of things that didn’t involve characters.

I’ve been engaged in the rewrite of L&C. Once inside Gail’s “head” I’ve found it hard to get out. I need to get through this revision and on to Lettie’s POV in the new book. I only managed five pages in the new book over the last month, so I sent the first 20 of the revision to the novel critique group this month.

“Prudence,” a story I wrote is long-listed on MASH stories and you can vote on it–and the other 46 stories there.

Literary Orphans got a fantastic shout out as being listed as one of the top 20 places for flash fiction (We’re No. 8! We’re No. 8!) Plus another one in Ploughshares. Scott gave me the go ahead to contact Karen Stefano about doing an interview, so I’m ecstatic about that. Over at r.kv.r.y. I spotted Andrew Stancek’s story long-listed on the Raymond Carver Story Contest and Joan Hanna’s poetry book The Miracle of Mercury is available for pre-order from Finishing Line Press. Go Joan! I love and appreciate working with such talented people.

Over the weekend, Husband and I attended a graduation party. He played croquet; I played volleyball. We had a great time at the Tuttle’s. It was great to see Jim and Julie, Mitzi and Paul, and Eric and Denise again. When we first got there, Jim introduced me as an award-winning author. I looked at him and he said, “Try and deny it.” It’s kind of cool that I couldn’t. The Gover Prize win was too fresh.

Husband and I are back on a District School Facilities Review Committee. The first meeting was last night. Oh, how I have not missed a few of those people, but it was great to see Joan and Linda again. There was a cute exchange with the Interim Superintendent where we were impressed with the other–she that I could write and me that she taught math.

This is a close-up of one of the frogs in my frog pond. He’s very loud.

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I guess that’s it, like I said, I’ve been in Gail’s head. I’m over the halfway mark, so wish me luck in getting it done this weekend.

Thanks for checking in!

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

It’s just a coincidence: new year/new blog post.

Can you believe it’s been 15 years since the Y2K scare?

Remember the excitement?

And then the let down when nothing happened.

*Sigh*

This year marks a personally significant one; I will soon be the same age as my mom when she died. If it’s genetics, I guess my death is nigh, and if not I will probably end up working on a few messy, emotional essays about this topic. Some of those thoughts and ideas may end up in future blog posts. You have been warned.

Yesterday, I spent time in my office’s loft finishing up the organization of the things that were allowed to remain. I’m donating/dumping so much “stuff” that I’ve been holding onto for no good reason. It was just time for it to go–not so much because of the time of the year as much as being ticked off that I couldn’t easily get to the box I needed.

The correspondence stays.

I came across letters and cards with notes–I wasn’t able to read them all, but each was touching. And this morning I received an email from someone whom I encouraged, which brightened my day–and the beginning of this new year. (Thank you Sidney Thompson!)

No resolutions, no new me, just the same goals I’ve always had: continue to read, to write and improve with each piece.

Sadly, with the amount of reading for r.kv.r.y. and Literary Orphans, my time for novel length books feels diminished. Instead of dwelling on that, I’ve added a book a week to my calendar–whether I get to reviewing them or not is a different topic. Once I get through Roxane Gay’s Bad Feminist again, I might have that sort of courage and determination. She writes honestly about everything; that is the truest form of freedom and bravery.

There is snow on the ground and I followed a stray cat’s paw prints out to get the Buffalo News. I haven’t seen this cat, but I’ve known of its existence for months. Husband has another long weekend and I have a new story to work on. After a vivid dream that involved a lot of inappropriate kissing, I wrote down the details, and that somehow unlocked the plot to a long story/novella I wrote years ago that did not work. (It is from so long ago I may have to track down a 3.5 floppy disc reader.) Now, I see where several other bits fit together and I’m excited to see how well they will work together.

Anything to avoid writing messy essays and starting–in earnest–on the new novel.
So for now, I bid you adieu and send you wishes for a very good new year.

Thank you for stopping by!

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