Novel

It’s hard to chart your progress if you don’t know where you’re aiming

At the beginning of the year in a Nancy Stohlman class, I dreamed a few dreams and wrote them out as 10-year goals. Those were divided into smaller ones, which were divvied up further so I now have a printed out list of what needs to be done by quarter, with a monthly checklist of things to do in each. I’m happy to report it is going well despite my occasional forays into freak-outs when there are any curve balls thrown my way. For whatever reason, I respond well to lists. This new structure has also freed me of some of my worry, but not my anxiety. To ease that between acupuncture appointments, I’ve made the upper greenhouse whiter with paint and returned a few of the plants early from their usual summer hang out on the patio. Opening any window lets in the babble of the creek. Sometimes there’s a breeze. In the morning, the light is even more dazzling than this.

As with the past few summers, getting back to the labyrinth hasn’t happened as often as I would have preferred, so this space serves as a calming spot where I drink tea, eat apples, and lately, edit. I didn’t think this was where I’d be, but I embrace it. Having the year-end accomplishment list I made was a heavy lift because I aimed for acceptances with print. As of now, I have had work appear in two that I can already hold in my hand in June. Trust me, it’s extra thrilling because both include work from fellow writers I love and respect. Again and again and again, thank you Kim Chinquee for inclusion in Elm Leaves Journal’s Eclipse Issue and thank you to The Drevlow for accepting my piece for Issue 11 of Bull. (Look at those covers. I’d buy them even if I weren’t in them.) The year isn’t over, but with that spectacular success crossed off, I’m on to the next ones.

The book edit I did earlier this spring sat for weeks. I returned and have been correcting it at a line edit/add a red herring here/downplay this, but mention it hard enough to be memorable stage of editing. (And by the way, may I offer apologies to all my poor beta readers who read even part of this mess. Especially Chel! I am so sorry I didn’t know how to make it better in an earlier draft!) I did think this read through would have me patting myself on the back for the clever bits, and there were a few, but in this draft, it’s apparent it needs more fine-tuning and craft. (I read, learn more, and then take scissor blades to phrases I’ve refused to cut in previous drafts. Killing your darlings can be gruesome and brutal – especially when you set the cuttings on fire to warm your soul with their flame…but maybe that’s just me and my editing style.)

Anyway, the problem is that I have perfectionist tendencies and could spend the next thirty years on two sentences if I wanted to, but if I want to reach the goals on my list, I can’t. So while I’m not going fast, I’m striving for this version to be the good enough draft which will aid me in the next step, but I also want it to be over already. Last night I ran into another area I wanted to cut and paste into a better flow, but allowed myself to rest instead of delving into that messy spot when it was nearly midnight. Today, refreshed, I’m going to tackle other things. The weather of western New York decides the flow of which work is tackled and when. Besides writing, there is wood. I’ve been putting up what I split and stacked last year. As another row in the shed gets filled, I am happily in awe. All the time spent last year working on splitting is paying off and for that, I’m grateful. Though I itch to finish the book, I visit the white room and calmly remind myself there will be other days where I’ll want to stay in from the heat or days when it’s too rainy, and move on to the next task with less worry. A change in perspective helps, and sometimes you see chipmunks hanging upside down, too.

Besides the enormous help I feel I received from Nancy’s course, goals aren’t met without hard choices being made. There’s a meme without attribution I saw somewhere and I liked it so much I wrote it down to remind myself of its truth: Marriage is hard. Divorce is hard. Choose your hard. Obesity is hard. Being fit is hard. Choose your hard. Being in debt is hard. Being financially disciplined is hard. Choose your hard. Communicating is hard. Not communicating is hard. Choose your hard. Life will never be easy. It will be always be hard, but we can choose our hard. Pick wisely. ~Proper accreditation to be placed here if I ever find it.

Early on in our relationship, Husband and I decided to follow the cliché of saving for a rainy day which helped when the roof was damaged, and now, for this.

Of course the calculated time saved on working on the broken tractor has been transferred to wagon problems, but I’m focusing on the good parts, here. He can now mow the lawn and leave me out of that chore altogether so I have more time to edit and notice the beautiful surprises like a mountain laurel in bloom. I didn’t plant it, but I happily share this unexpected delight from Mother Nature. Isn’t it pretty?

I’m also happy to report Bertie graduated her first round of obedience course. Here’s our happy grad, just before eating her mortise board.

So yes, there is slow, steady, sloggy progress going on here. We’re making choices and enjoying the side benefits. After I post this, I’m going to pick fresh, ripe and sun warmed blackberries from bushes I transplanted last year to a more convenient spot, where happily, they took.

May all your goals be possible to reach and all your roots grow deep. Thank you for stopping by and for the read!

Out of the Attic and into the Garden

Ah, novel rewriting, what a treat. If you’ve not enjoyed the process, may I suggest not having most of the action in your book take place in an attic? As I sat in the corner of the library, typing, fixing, adding, and cutting to get this novel even better than it was, I swear I developed claustrophobia.

I’m tearing myself out of that mindset by digging dirt. The first spring after started the no till garden idea? Clear delineation of where I was able to use the garden weasel to rid the area of dandelions by the root vs. where the cages were and I could not weed. Seeing that I didn’t have as much work as I thought I’d have, I went to a nursery to buy plants and zap – randomly ran into fellow WNY writer, Christina Abt.

Zucchini, yellow squash, cucumbers, bush beans, peas, jalapeno, and green pepper plants are in the ground and -knock on wood- semi-slug protected by copper. The twelve holes for the Roma and Heinz tomato plants are dug and after dinner tonight, I could be done with the planting. Yesterday, I made thirty-two thin pancakes for the enchiladas. I made a big tin of fudge nut bars that need to be cut. With proper portioning and freezing, this is how I am buying future time.

Time runs faster once June hits. I might be camping in the Alleghenies with Kim Chinquee and Nancy McCabe in a few weeks. I might be weeding. I look forward to popping in to spend time with Rina Fosati again soon. If Husband and I make it to 7pm, we’ll have been married 24 years today. A new riding lawnmower may be our mutual anniversary gift, which you must admit beats the hell out of the sump pump we went and bought on my birthday a few years back. I’ve had some nice rejections, does this precede acceptances in the coming days? Only the flowers know.

White peony in bloom, trees in sunlight in background

Speaking of flowers, did I mention “Blooming” made it into Litmora’s third issue? This flash is how “Near Eden, New York,” a previous novel I wrote, begins. Gooseberry Pie did me a solid by including “Hearts Compounded” in its 12^th issue. Do check out other pieces from the one – or a previous issue. Six sentences? Come on, you have time to read one or two, don’t you?

Reading is an exercise I’ve been doing less than Pilates these days. Sometimes a break from words is needed, so I’m taking a short one to enjoy my day.

Please enjoy the day you’re having. Thank you so much for stopping by and for the read!

Cheers!

Crazy about time, springtime in particular

On the recent nights of tolerable temps, winter damage is assessed while admiring the early flowers. The winds have been fancy terrible, and we’re thanking the ghost of Whitney that the damage was minimal. A huge chunk fell near the kitchen door, a pine cracked while the vehicle it would have hit wasn’t there. Once the worst was over, the blue ladder on the stack under the windows flipped over which is a puzzlement since there was no reason for it to and the ones beneath are not askew. Since it was his ladder, we attribute those nice saves to him and offer a clamor of applause. Thank you Whitney

Many congrats and thanks to Andrew Stancek. He’s written a lovely book which I intend to post about on Goodreads when I finish it. (Reviews are hard to write because they bring up anxiety not only from school but from the psycho hippo ballerina episode of Gilmore Girls.)

I’m still on pace with my submission total goals. Sending packets of five poems to four places that take over a year for the average response according to Duotrope does a lot of the heavy lifting for keeping 25 things out at all times. And soon, I’m freaking going see my story in print! Many thanks to Jim Tuttle for recording my micro that will be included in the roll out to The Jarnal. Some of you may even get a copy though I am behind on birthday cards and the newborn I bought a book for will probably be walking soon.

What I have been working on is the first few pages of new thing in order to enter competitions calling for the first 5000 words. I entered the two that close on the 31^st of March and the 1^st of April respectively. I believe the next one closes on the 6^th of April which gives me plenty of time to polish the called for first 40 to 50 pages. The pages are written, but they do not shine like the first 20. The last call I’m interested in answering asks for the first 1250 words and those are honed so well, I’m happy to call them mine. I even have a synopsis done proving once again that every book I write is written a different way.

I’m sad to report that the whole mind/body/work output seems to be tied together. This morning I let Jillian Michaels torture me, then I did some ab work. Even as I was in the shower reminding myself that I could take today off and pull away from the story for a while, I came up with clever scenes.

Still, I’ll persist in this quest for rest. I’ve intentionally structured things to ease my stress and today’s dinner is warm-ups that will take 5 minutes. The laundry is done, so are the dishes. The floors are tolerable – new cat sheds more than I’m used to – so I have had to adjust to seeing some fur, otherwise I’d go mad hunting down and vacuuming up every tuft. Perhaps I’ll read, or stare at the wall, but it will start soon, and include this:

This tiny window of ease won’t last of course, and that’s okay because neither do the spring flowers, so I might as well enjoy them before the winter slinks back to cover them.

Thank you for stopping by and for the read. It is appreciated.

The Chipmunk of Doom is Visiting and He Brought Me a Bout of Ennui

I’m slightly mad at the world. Yes, I know it does me no good. Yes. I know all sorts of “oughts” to remove thoughts but I’m still kind of pissed – not about the lock down – but the indefinite time it will remain. I miss going to my writer’s groups, but we’re doing Zoom and Skype. I’ve touched base with the usual suspects. Some people I don’t frequently deal with have sent messages. I’m not lacking connection or – knock on wood – anything like food, so I’m fine and should shut up, but not knowing the end date is maddening. Maybe it’s just me.

I’ve been working on the new novel. I’m fairly certain about the end – not exactly – but I think it will be hopeful and life affirming so yes, you should speculate if aliens have abducted and changed me. I’ve shown the start to the amazing Nina Fosati and she thinks the voice is good, so I’ll continue. As most people know, I don’t talk about my books while I’m writing them, so that’s all I’ll say about it – that and thank God for Mary and Gina for pushing me through this writing biz as long as they have. I was truly afraid when Gina left for PA it would be the end of the group, but oddly, the lock down has revived it.

Working with a wireless keyboard makes me wonder if there will ever be a gadget that would write down one’s thoughts – or better, dreams. I’ve heard people are having vivid dreams. I haven’t been. I can usually remember them fairly well and jot down a few lines about them but recently, I haven’t been doing that. Are there only so many dreams around? I know, what an invalid theory since I can’t begin to imagine how anyone could test for such a thing. This is what happens in quarantine, odd thoughts which end up getting typed out instead of forgotten.

It’s also led to Husband completing another part of the kitchen – the corner cabinet door.

Every year there is a yearning in spring for change. Sitting on the couch in the mudroom, I’m imaging the furniture in different places. Tomorrow, I need to check in during different times of the day. What will work as the sun goes down might be annoying in full sun. I haven’t worked up the energy to move anything. There’s a chance I’ll change my mind about the arrangement of this room. The new pest – I mean pet – hinders a lot.

We’re keeping her as an indoor cat, but she’s insistent on getting out. I don’t know how the last cat learned her moves, but this one is brash and adamant about its right to do whatever it wants. Dog thinks that, too but he’s smarter than this cat. He generally stays within bounds.

So, that’s what I’ve managed to write for this post. My birthday cake was delicious. If I’d not been in a locked down state, I would have shared it with you.

Thanks for stopping by and for the read. I miss all of your faces.

Happy Halloween aka National Novel Writing Month Eve!

The competitions I was waiting to hear about last time all resulted in being long listed. Not bad, but not great either. Thank you to everyone involved in the Fiction Factory Flash Contest and the Brilliant Flash Fiction’s “Feed Me” contest for considering my work.

Tomorrow is the official start of NaNoWriMo. I’ve signed up. The book I’m working on needs focus to get it done. If I start with the pages I have, and add daily, perhaps I’ll complete my aim of a needs-little-editing first draft. I know, I know, people dismiss NaNo, but for me, it’s a matter of conditioning. I’ve done it so often, I can sense when I’ve made the midpoint of the 1667 words each day. Also, Husband and friends know I’ll be writing then and leave me to do the work.

Fewer blog posts is but one symptom of my seemingly having dropped off the face of the earth. I haven’t been to my writer’s group or to the Wednesday morning write-ins in weeks. I put off having people over. I’ve not followed up on getting together with others. It isn’t depression as much as stress and feelings of being overwhelmed. A lot of it can be pinned on Ben. And as of Tuesday night at 9:10pm, Ben is no longer in our lives.

Instead of the heartache of a decked out, unreliable Legacy Turbo, we’re now leasing a 2019 Honda HR-V. If car shopping isn’t on the list of most stressful things a couple can go through, it needs to be added. Divorce and suicide were actually considered just to make the process stop. And now it has. Just in time for the snow, but this time in a taller vehicle with all-wheel drive.

It amazes me how a body reacts to stress. A four-month-old travels from Texas to meet a million people in New York and develops a cold. Exhibit A:

When she arrives at our home, I’m exposed to those microbes. I’d been under some stress – not just Ben’s latest costly breakdown. As if in a textbook, two days later I’m not feeling well. The unwellness couples with new pressures and then I’m sick. I was looking up symptoms for walking pneumonia and getting “you must be dying” Google results on Sunday night. By seven o’clock on Monday, I felt a little better. Tuesday, I woke up and could breathe properly. Some colds linger, some are punctual with their symptoms, but all children are germ-spreading carriers of disease. Ah well, what can you do since they are necessary to the continuation of the species.

On the plus side of life is the fact that it is autumn. The leaves are changing color, it’s time to pull out sweaters and mock the pumpkin spice crowd. My red-eyed squeaking bat is suspended from the ceiling. My new novel has a roughly sketched out plot. The battery-operated ghost scares the dog. And our new cat is here. This is Glinda. Middle name Janis as in Joplin.

I hope your October was greater than mine. Thanks for stopping by and for the read!

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

In the scheme of things, isn’t less more?

Years ago, at a launch for Queen City Flash, which was edited by Gary Earl Ross, I read my piece and I didn’t do it well. I was stiff, awkward, just awful. I organized and hosted readings at West Falls-Colden Library and when I introduced writers, I did it quickly because I wasn’t comfortable.

I started attending the Hamburg Writers’ Group, and they offered me an opportunity to work on those skills that I lacked. Without the help and encouragement there, I never would have been able to do as well as I did last week. I have so much gratitude to all the writers who cycled in and out of that group. Thank you to all of you!

And I again want to thank Kim Chinquee for the incredible honor of including me in the Drop Hammer reading series at Buff State.

It was an amazing experience made even better by Christina Francis being there and the surprise attendance of Linda Dinger — both HWG members.

The incredible Gina Detwiler also read and then afterwards, we stayed and talked to Kim’s class about writing, publishing, and writers’ groups. We had a delicious late lunch at Cole’s with Kim and Peter Ramos, then Gina and I extended our “author day” by going to Larkin Square’s Author Series to listen to a conversation between Lauren Belfer and Mark Sommer. Mark’s Book “Rocky Colavito: Cleveland’s Iconic Slugger.” I’m not a baseball fan, but the book sounded intriguing.

Speaking about new books… Last month, I attended Gina’s book launch for “Forgiven” at The Hub in Orchard Park. It mixed music with the presentation and I found it quite fun. Well done, Gina and all those talented musicians!

The recent running around had me taping shows on the cable box upstairs since the one downstairs doesn’t record. When I went to watch them, I had to deal with Husband’s chair. It was a horrible, cobbled together mess. Office Depot’s had a sale. Now, we can both watch television in a comfortable chair. The old one was broken up and is now stacked on top of the wood pile waiting to go in the fire. Not quite “burning in hell,” but that’s as close as we can get.

Another household change was in my library. Now that the family is scattered, it can really be my library. The pullout couch was moved out of there. The light fixtures with glass covers that had been in there hung low and I feared hitting them with a dumbbell. My request for different fixtures resulted in compromise on going with fluorescents but I also had speakers installed in the ceiling. They have an on/off switch and a volume control. My red chair is in there now, too, so I’m set for reading, writing, and Pilates whenever I want, even if we have company.

It’s been getting chilly at night and I’d love to start a fire, but Husband has nixed the idea. Other than that, life here has been pleasant as of late. The wood is up and with the back of the woodshed being cleaned out, I’m not as nervous about putting away the swing and benches since there is not only room to store them, but a clear easy pathway to do so. The daytime weather has been a perfect range of temperatures with low humidity. I’ve spent most of this week outside. The front lawn is mown, the trails tended, mulch applied. Yesterday though, was a long, uninterrupted writing day. I haven’t had one in a while and it felt good. I’m still feeling this new book out, but the ideas and characters are swirling. I have a project book where I’m storing character notes and themes I want to explore. I’m generally not a planner, but this book is following its own path into a hero’s journey setup. Perhaps that will help when I eventually have to write a synopsis…

I’ve gone back and forth with an editor on a longer piece recently. I’m waiting to hear whether the last round of changes were enough. I do hope it is accepted for the anthology! I’m reading a ton of submissions at Literary Orphans while I refresh my own queue. Besides the work on the book, I’ve gotten a few new flashes drafted. I’m trying to keep busy so I don’t fret and worry. I’ve submitted to several competitions and many will announce their results soon. Knock on wood, my pieces do well; if not, out they’ll go to other venues.

If you’re a regular reader of my blog, (Hi Alex! Hi Rach! Hi Nina!) you’ve noticed I’m posting once a month instead of twice. I think that’s the way it’s going to go — at least for a while. Let’s face it, it’s better for all involved. Less for you to read, less for me to write and then there’s the possibility I’ll write deeper about things I post.

Anything is possible…Kudos to the Climate Change strikers! You’re inspiring the world to get it together and change!

As always, thank you for stopping by and for the read. I do appreciate it! And I appreciate YOU!

On the right path. I think.

In case you haven’t heard, I’m now the managing editor of Literary Orphans – words I never thought I’d be privileged enough to say. I’m still numb from the news. It came during the novel revision crunch. I wanted it done by January 31^st – and I succeeded – but just barely. I’ve since extended the “listen to the whole thing being read by the computer to catch any glitches” deadline to Ground Hog’s Day and may have to go further – to Sunday – because I need to catch up on real life. While I was in the book, laundry piled up, the woodpile dwindled, and Husband’s truck acted up. I stayed off-line for two days and there are Twitter & Facebook messages to look at and respond to, along with the possibility of diving into the recent scandal.

Wednesday, I found out Shirley Palmerton, a dear friend from Hamburg Writers’ Group had her piece accepted and published in the Buffalo News “My View” column. It is sweet and made me miss my great grandparents and my grandmother.

I also got what I’m taking as a sign from the universe that I’m on the right path. In the emails with Scott, he said at one point I was “someone who lives and breathes indie lit,” which was so sweet. I received an email from Page & Spine accepting “Anam Cara,” one of the early flashes that were the genesis of this book. In the story, the two main characters mention Karen Stefano, Pat Pujolas, and of course the great Alex Pruteanu. Many thanks to N. K. Wagner for the acceptance and her lovely compliment.

Right, so I need to end this and get to work catching up on boring household chores so I can start the fun of querying agents. This time, I’m looking forward to the process. I’m also looking forward to finding out what the little rodent says tomorrow. Gardens in winter are forlorn looking, and kind of sad.

Thanks for stopping by and the read!

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

January Thaw Cleaning

I had the privilege of hosting the novel writing critique group in my home on Tuesday so last Thursday I was dusting, de-webbing, and otherwise cleaning the house. Hence the lack of a blog post on the 18th. With such a good start, I told Husband we were going out on Saturday so he couldn’t possibly start any projects; they invariably end up with sawdust and/or fiddly bits strewn about. We went out to Red Robin because he likes their burgers then to see Blade Runner 2049 on a big screen. I know I tweeted this, but it bears a repeat: If anyone ever says my plot is convoluted, I will point to that movie and say, “It’s not THAT convoluted.”

I had a lovely time with Gina Detwiler and Mary Akers. There were green grapes, coconut macaroons, and chocolate-covered pretzels. The conversation was fun; the ideas and suggestions flowed. I made cheesy cauliflower bites, quiche, and lemon ginger tea. And I got to use my pretty new teapot.

After waiting far too many months, I received the critique I’d been waiting for. Even if it hadn’t come, I made a deadline of finishing the revision on January 31^st – and I’m hoping I can make it. Friday I won’t be able to work on it at all. Saturday, I have my library shift, and Tuesday is the library appreciation dinner. Luckily, the book is in good shape and I finished the critical first 10 pages. I did more than that, but I listened to those pages repeatedly and know they are good. Of course, now I’ll have to have someone look them over and see if they agree – IF I don’t look at them today and decide it’s all crap and I have no business writing anything. At all. Ever.

Procrastination does work out sometimes. I’ve admired this one J. Peterman dress (yeah, only one. HA!) for a while but it was pricey and I didn’t have a good reason to buy it… Well, Niece in Boston is getting married in April (Congratulations!) so guess what I’m going to wear? And on top of that, there was a sale going on. I am so excited. I got notice it shipped yesterday so soon I’ll be able to try it on.

So those are the happy bits from here. Oh! I nearly forgot! My piece, “Spliced Alike” will appear in Ellipsis: Two and “In a Mad Girl’s Eden” is slated for the May/June issue of Ink in Thirds! I’m keeping up a can-do, positive attitude because Friday might be awful. That’s why I’ve made plans to be places and do things. Distraction can be a beautiful thing.

Thanks for stopping by and for the read!

Oh, there were fresh flowers, too!

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

A Different Thanksgiving

I was still feeling strange last Thursday, that’s why this post is a week late. My essay on attending last year’s International Survivors of Suicide Loss Day appeared in the My View column of The Buffalo News on the 8^th – Election Day. I didn’t know if I was going this year or not. I decided last Thursday that I would. It’s a good program and a good place to be before the holidays begin.

Thanksgiving being held on different dates, the fact that my family often celebrated on the weekend before or after the holiday and the time factor blur what this is: the 20^th anniversary of an argument that changed my life.

I’d let it go if I could. I was three days into not smoking, XO Man had invited me into his life, I was planning to go back to Texas and I was happy. Then my mother and I got into a fight. It left me devastated and feeling unworthy of love, happiness, or progress. Instead of going to Texas, I stayed in a miserable spot, started smoking again, and stopped growing as a person for a long time.

At Christmas, my mother was the opposite; full of delightfulness and laughter. I didn’t trust her. My “big” present was cash, which is what I wanted. I’d also gotten a bag of little stuff. I don’t remember now – whether I found them before or after – but there were a pair of earrings in that bag that I really liked but I didn’t have time to send her a thank you note. I wore them to her funeral; I haven’t worn them since then.

I suppose that is a pattern that repeats. I don’t know what my mother was going through when she picked that fight. I doubt my stepson realizes how pissed I was last year that I was not expecting him, his girlfriend, and her best friend to arrive the next day. I didn’t have time to clean properly, Husband had told me in no uncertain terms that the wedding reception was not going to be here and I told him to tell Stepson because I didn’t want to get involved in it. No. That morning, I got a request from an agent. I had no idea when they were going to arrive, or if they still were so I was working on getting my book submission perfect when they walked in demanding all of the attention.

Last Christmas, I tried to be tolerant of Stepson’s abysmal behavior toward all of my guests and his father and I could cope until he shoved something in my face and told me to do something with it. When I refused, he walked away telling everyone I was acting like a bitch. After that fight, I have no interest in having a gathering here over the holidays, if ever again.

I’m truly grateful that Shirley Palmerton invited Husband and me to her home for dinner today. I’m thrilled to be spending this day with fellow writers and their spouses. It’s good to have found this tribe. For Christmas, we’ll be at Husband’s brother’s house. I’ll bring some food there because Niece must have her quiche so she shall. We’ve agreed to no gifts, which is a huge relief.

The novel had a hiccup and now I’m dreaming the end. It shouldn’t take much longer to finish once I sit down to wrap it up. I had another flash picked up by 200 CCs. Thank you Paul A. Hamilton. And thank you Christopher James for my faux pas. I’m truly sorry and while I am still embarrassed to death, it’s a lot harder to pull that off than I thought, especially today.

I’m grateful for all my friends, the writers and artists, the editors and designers, the singers and actors, teachers and medical professions, builders and retail workers, musicians and thinkers of different points of view as well as the people who agree with me. If you think I left you out, know you’re in a class by yourself and I didn’t want anyone to think I was playing favorites…but we know, don’t we?

Thank you and Happy Thanksgiving.

*These are my Creekside holiday reflections. Your experiences may vary.

First Post of the New Year Written in a New Location

I’m at Spot Coffee and my tablet decides to update Microsoft Office. That isn’t productive for writing this blog post, so I went ahead and jotted notes down on real paper to remind myself of what I wanted to say. That I was writing – or at least attempting to write – outside of my comfort zone of known places where I normally write being the big news. That, and the beaver damn failed. It had been providing this nice waterfall view from my kitchen window for a while:

Snow and cold made it to our area and the number of activities I had lined up for this week went from four to one, so when the meeting of novelists was threatened, I pushed through my normal homebody tendencies and declared I wanted to get out of the house. Gina to the rescue! (She is awesome, inspiring, and encourages me to finish things.) She picked me up and now I feel all “writerly” on the couch typing this while we’re waiting for Mary to arrive.

I wrapped up my interview with Susan Tepper about her beautiful new book and that will go live at the Tavern Lantern on Monday (Yes! Handed in ahead of the due date!) “Dear Petrov” will be coming out on 2 February 2016.

I converted a bit of prose from a book in progress into a flash for a magazine call on the theme of “dance.” That’s about all the writing I’ve gotten done recently. Oh, well, there was a short story, too, but it was mostly written and just needed some polish.

Christopher James at Jellyfish Review nominated my flash, “Pretty Changes” for inclusion to Best Small Fictions. For those keeping score, yeah, that’s a win of the Gover Prize, a Best of the Net nomination, my first Pushcart Nomination and the Best Small Fictions nomination all in the space of six months.

I am honored to have two new pieces of Mia Avramut’s art to frame. I picked out the matte this weekend and can’t wait for Husband to cut it so they can be hung.

Other than that, I’ve been reading. It’s a nice change of pace, though not “really” writing results in a host of new problems like titles, characters, and bits of dialogue popping into my head at odd times. I know I need to get back to a novel, but right now, I need a break. And new experiences so that’s how I ended up in Spot to write this post.

*These are merely my Creekside (though written in a coffeehouse this week) Reflections. Your experiences may vary.

T. L. Sherwood

Creekside Reflections