reading

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.)

Pavlov’s got nothing on Samsung

So, I tend to be close-lipped on some things, a blabbermouth about others, right? I’m now confessing that we got rid of our landline–and our abusive relationship with AT&T–over a month ago. Of course, there’s still a little back and forth slapping going on with AT&T, but my blowup on Twitter did get me some satisfaction in that regard. Supposedly, the bill we shouldn’t have gotten in the first place–let alone with a late fee–has been taken care of, but I have a whole month to wait to see it in print.

Our semi-smart phone takes great pictures and since we got the case and touch screen stylus, I can type longer texts. The other good thing is that I can check my Gmail account without having to go upstairs, turn on the tower, and check a bunch of other pages like Duotrope, Twitter, and Facebook. The bad part is that now the semi-smart phone chirps whenever an email arrives. I’ve turned into a puppet for that sound. I tense up and feel the need to rush over and check what was sent. I’m learning–slowly–that most of my “mail” is actually Facebook group updates and not worthy of my immediate attention. Of course, as soon as I typed that, an actual important email did arrive…

I’m signed up for April’s Camp NaNoWriMo. Just before I fell asleep last night, I found the “key” that was missing from the-new-piece-that-I-still-don’t-have-a-name-for. Looking at it again this morning, I felt stupid for not seeing the answer before since it is so obvious. Regardless, I think I’ve got it and look forward to writing it soon.

Besides the melting snow, I have pansies and impatiens sprouting as well as deer coming too close to the house. My list of people I owe letters to has been reduced. I finished reading Chuck Palahniuk’s Haunted and Gail Carson Levine’s Ella Enchanted. I’m a quarter of the way through Thom Jones’ The Pugilist at Rest and half-way through Paulo Coelho’s Brida, which gets me closer to catching up to my goal of reading a book a week…but the idea of reviewing them, well, that has fallen to the wayside for now.

I truly love the problems I have.

Thank you for stopping by! One of you lucky readers should be on the lookout for a small care package that I sent out Tuesday as a random act of kindness. Will it be you? By the way, these are my creek side reflections; your experiences may vary.

Doing an Unstuck

I don’t have “spare” time, but I had a chance to use mine differently last week. On Tuesday, I sent the latest (and hopefully last) draft of L&C to my editor. What a process! I hope the kinks are out because I’m close to deleting the whole thing. Except for two–minor ones that we’ve fought over since the first version–my darlings are gone and some gorgeous characters were completely eliminated.

*Sigh*

Also on that Tuesday, Husband left for the island. Without him being home at a certain time allowed me to change what I was doing and when. I used the treadmill a lot more often and got in extra Pilates time. The weather was perfect so I concentrated on the outside realm of my existence–picking up tools, clearing branches, filling in holes.

I also allowed myself cheap adventures outside of my usual rut.

On Wednesday, I met a school chum at a bar for drinks. He had bragged on Facebook about a bonus, so he picked up the tab. It was strange, unusual, but oddly fun.

Thursday was my “fun day.” After I shoveled dirt in the morning, I went to see “A Most Wanted Man,” for two bucks and then checked out the used CD section at Super Savers. Back home, I made a meal I rarely get to have–asparagus with lemon, fettuccini Alfredo and broiled scallops. I also started working on tomato sauce so my kitchen was a culinary mess, but that’s the way it went. Friday, Husband called to say he’d be home on Saturday so I returned the house to what passes as normal.

I remain with this feeling of being a bit unstuck.

I’ve started a new book, but I need to stop, plot it out and then write it. There’s too much to keep track of, which is saying a lot. If L&C ever makes it out of my hard drive, you’ll see what I mean. In that one, I had a clear view of what strings were going through it and in three different ways, I pulled them together. This book, however has me flustered.

Perhaps I just need more time away from the last book. I sent pages from an earlier novel to the critique group to hear if they thought it was something worth reading. The meeting is here on Tuesday. Until then, I’m going to take a break, read, submit, work on perfecting my mercury glass technique and figure out what I’m supposed to have done, and work on the plot–plus go see J.T. and the Law at The Colden Arts Festival!

*These are my piss-poor, cash-strapped, strangely over-exercised and toned creekside reflections. Your experiences may vary.

Thanks for checking in!

South of Buffalo Summer Thoughts

While r.kv.r.y. is closed to submissions over the summer, I continue to read for Literary Orphans and enjoy the hell out of that. I want to extend a super big lovely congratulations to Nellie Aberdeen–whoever you are. I pressed the awesome Mike Joyce to accept her story “Inoculate .” The best part–which I read in the cover letter after falling in love with her story–was that it will be her first published story. The B. B. King issue is looking to be one of the best issues ever!

A friend is going over “L&C” and while I wait on his suggestions, I’ve been working on short stories. I have a new one sent out; it’s in a form I haven’t tried often but I think it turned out well. I have another story in that form, but I can’t grab its throat and make it work so I’ve set it aside. The last story I wrote, I set in Texas which doesn’t happen often. I finished tweaking it yesterday and now it’s sitting in a folder waiting a week for another look. The story between those two doesn’t have a title yet. I think I might be working on more short stories today since it’s too wet to do much outside.

At least there are flowers.

And when I can’t get outside to enjoy those, I find it’s hard to be sad about that when there are pink mini carnations in a cobalt blue vase nearby.

We’ve had enough rain to make mowing impossible. Wind took down a box elder which fell into the yard instead of the ditch. The two dead pines were taken down. My watching Downton Abbey earned me props from Husband; he’d never before considered pulling out the stumps. With the winch and chains, they each came out rather easily–and the chainsaw blade didn’t get trashed, so thank you Lady Edith for your time on the farm.

Firewood delivery is being arranged; we’re over halfway done with the woodshed extension cleanup and new floor. We have a trip in October forming–we’ll be traveling to Elkhart, Indiana to see Buddy Guy with my fantastic ex sister-in-law and her husband. Stopping to visit friends in Fort Wayne and Cleveland along the way–or on the way home–are options being considered. Just another case of summer in western New York going too fast, but I am enjoying it as best I can–plus I’ll have tomatoes soon. I can’t wait!

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

It’s My Birthday

I’m sure it’s a matter of paying attention more than anything, but when I have a certain book on my bedside table and flip through it before I go to sleep, the oddest coincidences occur. It’s called “There are No Accidents.” I’m still not convinced.

Anyway, I’m older. Yeah me for not dying in the last 364 days.

The weather was finally decent and I took a walk to the creek. Surprise! The idiot neighbor placed a branch in the middle of the path. *Sigh* If you happen to know this moron, could you please point out to him that it’s easier for me to walk over there and move his phallic symbol twice a day than it is for him to go up and down the hill? I’m really sorry his brain, penis, and prestige at work are all so tiny, but really, enough. I mean if there was a point to it, okay, but there’s not. All it does it irritate me and he needn’t bother. I have relatives for that. (I’m kidding. Most of them are decent human beings. One or two of them though, I’d like to run DNA tests on before condemning a whole alien species based on the behavior of just a few imbeciles.)

Otherwise, I may be going to the Buffalo Small Press Book Fair with Mary Jo on Saturday. Details are being worked out. I hope she’s feeling well enough to do her reading.

I’m still at work on “The Life &.” My MC was going to start a fight and I didn’t want to her to, so I punished her by not writing very much for a few days. It’s strange–this writing gig. I love FB and Twitter, Zoetrope and the other sites I’ve been on in the past. If I had these characters in my head and thought I was the only one who knew them to be as real as real people, I’d commit myself.

I have queries sent to three agents. I know, I should get more out, but I’m still dealing with an April Fool’s joke or a missed rejection. I sent two stories to a magazine in January. Only one has been rejected so far. *Sigh* I’d love to think I have a shot, but it’s such a very long shot…

The three types of peppers I planted have come up. I expect to see the tomatoes any day. Spring is a lovely time of year.

Anyway, if you wished me well on Facebook, I do appreciate the gesture. Sorry I’m not all happy happy joy joy about surviving this year. I took some big hits emotionally. I’m sure you’re sick of my remembrances of the dead and/or dying so I won’t do a recap. Really, that’s what I’m thinking about today. It doesn’t get any better than this does it? First world white girl problems. Yeah!

Thank you for stopping by and reading!

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

The Muse is to Blame for the Lateness of this Post

Last night, there was a meeting of the novel critique group at Mary Aker’s house. I am loving this process. The people, the camaraderie, and the feedback are all impeccable. I also love seeing how their storylines and characters develop. Their plot twists and turns are fun to read and discuss. Plus, having people to commiserate with about the process isn’t too shabby, either. I feel so honored and privileged to be included, so yeah, I’m in a good mood. Mostly….

I’d come across a short story collection competition two hours before I left, and while my first attempt is intact, I’ve done revisions on several of the stories, so I reassembled the 24 pieces. I had ¾ of it compiled by the time I left the house. I got home around 10:20, finished adding the other stories and got it submitted well before the midnight deadline. With the steep entry fee, I let circumstance dictate if I entered at all.

Checking Facebook, I found Jeff Rose wanted to talk again, but I wasn’t there. The night before, I was quite animated and juggling several conversations. It was weirdly nice, to find I was wanted/missed on Facebook, even though it was in front of God and everybody.

I tried reading over the notes from Gina and Mary, but I was so whipped! Then, the second I put head to pillow, my story came to life. I heard so many conversations, saw so many scenes. My poor MC! I thought I just put her through hell. That’s NOTHING compared to what she’ll soon be going through. Poor thing. And while it was fantastic, to find out so many details about my story, at that time of night? Thank you muse. While jotting down a few key words, I saw it was 3:05 a.m. Hence the relative lateness of this post. You can thank the muse for that. I already thanked her.

Why yes, I do love the problems I have. Problems such as these:

I want this.

This is what I’ve got.

I’m grateful the snow is melting off the roof of the garden shed, but I still can’t get inside.

Oh, I did want to apologize for last time–using mostly pictures–but it was my first official reading! I wish I’d saved them for this week’s blog entry, but choices and consequences, eh? Right, so Gina said her husband tapped his maples over the weekend and that has got to mean spring. It just DOES at this point because it’s been so freaking cold and snowy for so long. I need me some robins and crocuses, and another acceptance or two wouldn’t hurt my feelings, either. Did I forget to mention this? I had TWO poems accepted for the inaugural issue of Wicked Banshee. I am so freaking thrilled to be included in what looks to be a fantastic venue. Thank you SaraEve!

And thank you for checking in!

(Remember, these are just my Creekside Reflections. Your experiences may vary.)