writing

26 Years Married to the Day

Perhaps if I hadn’t waited until the last moment, I’d be able to share photos of the iris. Three purple ones are in bloom, the smell – intoxicating. I stopped to inhale them after joining a group of bees, wasps, and other flying insects at the pink lilac bush on the roadside path. I truly thought its early buds had suffered from the frosts, but I coaxed it and encouraged it to be strong. I took a few shots of the spectacular bush knowing I can never capture its pale pink beauty, but even those I couldn’t get to send through email. So, I updated my email. And it didn’t work. I updated the photo app. I thought – let me send a simple email first – to see if that worked, and now I guess Elon and Bozos have decided I can’t send emails from my phone, let alone photos. I could last month. Gee, what’s the thing that changed since then?

Can you see how far back I’m rolling my eyes at Google and the crapware under the guise of Generative Anti Intelligence that they seem to have stuck into everything like it’s a teen penis?

I honestly hate this race to make the worst incel programs that glitch when you look at them. I’m joining a chorus, I know, but really. This is ridiculous.

From this wave of recent stupidity, I learned I cannot trust a friend any longer because he’s now wearing spyware. Unbelievably, he thought it was fine to violate people’s privacy (and drafts that had never been online) which is insane since those things scream HIPAA no-no. Until I told him about class-action malpractice suits that I would make sure his name was included in, and how his insurance likely does NOT protect him from this sort of privacy breach – only when it occurred to him he personally would be financially liable – did he stop defending his butthead action of reading a story sent to him through the mail while wearing those hideous metaglasses. He’s not feeling well. I wonder if the “better vision” he claims he has from those things is the thing making him sick. AI is making me sick.  

At a meeting an environmental rights woman who says she champions artists, passed around a Generative Anti Intelligence rendering of a float that as explained was going to have people dressed up throwing boxes representing books, as well as chicken people catching eggs. There were more things, but it is for a parade that begins in less than a week. I’m sure ChatGP told her this would be easy and volunteers would appear like magic. Maybe they will, but I couldn’t believe she didn’t think to ask an artist to sketch out the little cartoon she had made from “her ideas.”

I do apologize for being so down on this crapware, but I have taken up pen and paper and I’ve been spending a lot of time in nature. I planted peonies today and most of the houseplants were moved outside for summer. I’ve been piecing together a “thing” floating around in notebooks. It started with two…flash sized bits that are not part of a novel and I’m learning to pick out notes on a mini keyboard in the shape of a green hippo in case it turns into a musical.

Sounds exciting, doesn’t it? It does to me, a very happy Luddite who had a working phone until this latest nonsense. I hope you are well. It’s been rough emotionally to see no one that claimed their second amendment was important is doing a blessed thing to defend their fellow Americans being abused by these ice agents or stopping the military from entwining with the Israeli military – I mean – what the f are you doing, guys? Pretend I’m Jody Foster if it helps.

Ah well. Another month down. I read “Yesteryear” in a day – what a romp. I read “Remarkably Bright Creatures” in a day – lovely and twee. I am up to 3 books read for the year and since I can’t even access my email contact list on my phone anymore, I guess I’ll be reading even more. F the tech.

Thank you for stopping by and for the read! Sorry for the lack of photos this month. Cheers and good tidings to you!

A Semi-Candidate Statement about running, but not hard

I had worked out a doable plan to collect signatures to be on this year’s ballot, but then the weather defeated the idea. Being a victim of gun violence, the death of Melissa Hortman made me pull back to reassesses safety vulnerabilities for me and my family. I wasn’t far off from restarting my bid when this pointless war crippled my plans due to rising gas prices.

I do want to serve as representative to this weirdly drawn legislative district I grew up in and love. I would fight so hard for her and all the people. In my heart, I know I’d be effective and solve drainage problems among the others plaguing New York District 23rd. I will absolutely serve if I win by a miraculous write-in vote, but at this time I have decided to take a dedicated run off the table for now. I guess I support Gies…I guess.

That truly made me sad to type those two paragraphs.

Here it is, Wednesday, a whole day before the end of the month and if you’re wondering what exciting things I’ve been up to, it’s mostly been filing and putting things away. I even succeeded in getting two boxes of donations into my car AND a trash bag of broken, threadbare, and or unsuitable for donation items got tossed in the bin.

I cannot stress how downright delightful it is to walk into the mud room now, with all those things sorted and put away. It is still crowded and will be until we take out the firewood shelf in the other room and do another round of seasonal furniture adjustment, but it’s such an “ah” to walk in there now. If I can keep the cats out, I even have the chance to stretch out and quietly read for a bit.

I would be done with Isabel Allende’s book by now if I didn’t have to slog through a stupid war in the book whilst living with the nightmare of our service people stuck on the ocean and having food rationed. The stories that are peeping through are brutal. Only 13 dead the so-called president exclaims…maybe 13 in the first few minutes. Who knows the current, true count? I never would have voted for this; I would be gathering other members and working to write legislation to end it.

C’est la vie. Save the Cat is being perused. I’m not keen on writing the story that popped into my head as outrageous enough to actually work. I’m not keen on going through the novel writing process anymore. It’s long and brutal and if I don’t enjoy driving with one headlight, I certainly don’t want to write that way…which is why novel writing book is out. I’m thinking of becoming a plotter.

I’ve not committed to anything. The joy I have in the kitchen is nothing compared to hearing happy people thanking me for the delicious cookies I made…but even if I did start a bakery, I know that payoff wouldn’t be enough with the money to sustain me. I’d lose the joy, and without the joy, the sweets are average and average is a couple bucks on the grocery shelf which already exists, so why bother, you know? I am considering a swap with a local restaurant though, a cheesecake delivered on Thursday for two fish fry dinners on Friday sort of thing. If you’re in the Springville-Boston area, let me know.

Ha! Why not put lovely thoughts out into the universe? Much better than letting incompetent Epsteinaires blow up rockets, especially when Artemis II shows how you do it with grace and style – by listening to women and working respectfully alongside them.

The trillium is in bloom! Enjoy the spring and thank you for stopping by for the read! I appreciate it and I appreciate you!

Welcome to Chaos: Spring in Western New York

Hello and how are you doing? This morning we had warmth and the sun, then a downpour that was overwhelming our drainage system, and now that it’s night, I am praying the creek stays low and in its banks. I also made cookies and went out to photograph the crocuses.

A very intelligent woman named Eileen had a phrase that described my recent months – The Tyranny of the Couch. When we bring in wood for the winter, the place where we stack it limits what furniture can comfortably fit in the main room. I’d opted to have the pull-out sofa and coffee table. While great for lounging around watching movies when there was time, I had no space to comfortably write downstairs. And without that, I wasn’t writing unless I had to.

Where the energy came from, I’m uncertain, but late Sunday afternoon, I had cleared a pathway to switch out the big round table for the sofa. Most all of the fiddly bits found homes soon after. Even I am surprised at how well the new placement of furniture is already working out. Last night I worked on my next novel section to exchange for next Tuesday’s meeting and I typed the 629-word story I wrote by hand last Thursday night for Friday morning’s group into a file.  

I honestly don’t know what I’m going to write most of the time, and that handwritten story? It’s called “The Wombat Job” and it surprises me how nicely it’s told. Tight as is, but in a few weeks – if I don’t forget about it – I have a few places I might submit it to once I polish. Very likely I’ll remember how disappointing the whole publishing endeavor is and it’ll remain curled up in a cute little rtf file forever instead. Sigh. People laughed at the laugh spots, too…ah well, RIP little flash, it was nice knowing you for a bit.

Seriously, I do hope I have a chance to share that story – and maybe write more, but that’s in the future. It’s quite difficult to plan for any future when dumb white men are running around getting military personnel killed because the dumb white men didn’t listen to any DEI hire that probably kept telling them attacking Iran was a stupid move. Idiots.

Speaking of not listening, Husband has been fitted for hearing aids. He did a two-week trial and it wasn’t great because of the fit, but he did hear better, so away we go into the world where he has less ability to say, “I didn’t hear that part,” about whatever I ask him to do. He did make this light for me though.

What I’m asking you to do is realize I am happy you stopped by and for the read. Thanks for hanging around, checking in. It’s been a rough twelve months and all I’m getting for it on Friday is older, ffs. Yes, I’ll be wishing the wish we’ve all been wishing for, but as Friday is Good Friday, I’m afraid that even if it did happen, he’d pop back up on Sunday in robot form to torment us for all eternity, so, I’m weighing my decision to wish for that. Maybe I’ll wish for the impossible instead – like an agent wanting to represent my work and maybe a free trip to Italy, too. Why not?

May all your dreams and wishes be beautiful and realized at the proper time. You rock! Cheers and all that until next time!

Spirited Thanks

Usually, I take a picture of our Thanksgiving table. Sometimes I send it in a text with a greeting to others. This year, besides a few two-word exchanges, the once sweet stress day filled with relatives I might only see then passed quietly with no photographs. We ended up watching the Macy Parade – brava! A bit later, the dog watched the first twenty minutes of the Westminster Dog Show with interest, then retrieved a ball for us to throw.

The snow arrived, but not a deep one. On Friday, the ceiling painting commenced and now patches are on the wall. They will be buffed out and painted next weekend – fingers crossed. By then, I should have the coppers cleaned and arranged in a pattern to be hung on the kitchen wall. Before there was a triangle shape filled with them, now I’m considering a border instead, but I don’t think that would quite work.

My writing excitement of last month was dampened with both the discovery that instead of new management, the NaNoWriMo site is gone entirely and finding out the story I thought was a book is a short story. A different part of my being that I hadn’t considered an asset before niggled its way into my mind and since then, I am plotting out a different future.

I won’t say I’m done writing, but I watch women writers work so hard on craft, then have to spend so much time on promotion. I don’t want to do that. Sure, I believe in my work, my characters, my plots, but to do the interviews and visit bookclubs? At this point in my life, that isn’t my jam.

A recent newsletter from On The Premises, advised that a writer should be known for something. I read that and not so much disagreed, but wondered how true that can be. I thought about my own work, sharing thoughts with other writers, prizes I’ve won, working at two litmags, and then I wandered over to the question of “What are you most proud of?” hoping to stumble on “what I wanted to be known for” in writing, but the answer that came to mind had nothing to do with literature and now I’m slowly taking steps to do a scary thing that is likely to be ugly at points. I apologize for the vagueness here, but until I have a more concrete base (which is forming nicely) I’m basically only telling people in person because of certain restrictions. 

Otherwise, my desire for a tidier house remains and I am continuing to whittle away at clutter. Of course Husband just complained about a drill bit that keeps falling out and my suggestion that he throw away the faulty bit resulted in a confession that there are at least 6 of these fairly useless things adrift, so yeah, I guess clutter morphs instead of disappears, doesn’t it?

Our sycamore turned into a Christmas tree with a star shaped leaf on top and natural ball ornaments hanging from the branches, so technically, we have decorated for the holidays.

I hope your November was a delight and may the month ahead be an easy carefree one for you. Thank you for stopping by and for the read! YOU are very much appreciated!!!

Boo to you

It is the scary season and since I’m writing this after editing pages to send to the awesome writing club at the library AND editing and printing copies of the next installment of a weird little tale for the Friday group AND it’s Wednesday, not a last minute Friday scribbled post, we all ought to be terrified that I’m ahead of schedule on anything, let alone multiples.

Actually, what it means is that the writing is returning to a primary status…or so I hope.

How are you? How are your thoughts? Are you holding up, ok? I’m writing and thinking specifically of some of you – especially those who’ve mentioned/let it be known that they have ever read this blog –and I’m sending a warm virtual hug to you all now. It’s been rough, hasn’t it?

What helped push me through was cracking open the Halloween box and inserting new batteries into old toys. I haven’t decorated for a few years so it was fabulous to find things I’d forgotten about. The Frankenstein is a wind up; the ghost walks while the Addam’s Family theme plays with howls; the witch cackles and lights up; the red-eyed monster groans. The animal occupants of the house want to destroy them all.

A lot has been made of community and reaching out lately. I have been, but sometimes it’s like a drug and I crave more. NaNoWriMo is coming up and I soured on the thing after it was revealed that Grant and others fed the project drafts to train bots. I miss the community though, and intend to participate this year even if it makes me a hypocrite. Uploading drafts is not a requirement for participation and now robots think sentences like, “The dog was green—purple—no aqua—look up color of mermaid hair lunch, I mean God” is a valid sentence, so there are those points to consider. Writing is so friggin’ hard and while I like to work alone, I also like to mingle with other writers, so that’s what I’ll be doing. I think. I am out of practice. And writing is hard. Okay, the disciple required to sit down and write, developing that is the hard part. A lot of times, the writing is easy.  

There was something called Flannelfest at Kissing Bridge so we went and I haven’t viewed the footage yet (so I’m not sure what was recorded) but I threw an axe and I am quite adequate at it. Husband climbed the rock wall that was set up. We rode the lift through the foliage and walked down. We watched a log chopping competition, then split a chicken dinner. It was nice to escape the world for a few hours among the beautiful trees.

We said No Kings by being there.

I’m sharing a new part of my daily view. Many thanks to Cat and Mike at Wolniewicz Pottery for my beautiful new sugar bowl. Isn’t it gorgeous?

May your daily look out the window also bring you light and delight. Thank you for stopping by and for the read! Happy Halloween. YOU matter!

Tasks neglected like middle children

My attempts at strict discipline, whether adhering to an exercise schedule or in regards to an aspect of writing, are often effective…for a short while. I haven’t had much success with that approach recently, instead I’m rumbaing around, task to task, tidying in preparation for an upcoming avalanche of writing.(I love it when I surprise myself writing – especially in conveying such a hopeful idea  in light of the current situation with a government shut down looming and all the other limp baby eggplant energy slopping around all over the place.)But what kind of writing? I love a good flash, but I also like the massive headache of a novel. What to do? What to do?

I took a walk. I have taken several walks. I talked to one of the dearest people I know on Zoom today and one of things I heard myself saying – how I tackle areas of the house depends on what other tasks there are to do, and depending on my attitude, I’ll either do the hardest, or the easiest thing. I think that’s been part of my problem, I have a book I’m polishing, I pretty much know the next book I want to write (but haven’t put time into yet) and that was it. Realizing I didn’t have a different option sparked an idea for another novel so MAYBE this will lead to writing the easier of the two since the one I came up with in the woods hasn’t gelled at all yet.

Such dreams, eh?

Except not writing is an annoyance. And I’m sick of not, thus I’m sitting here, typing to you on the pink machine, asserting future writing could soon be occurring while getting a little scared about facing a blank page in the morning. Or as part of a shadow NaNoWriMo in November. I don’t know, but how do you like my winter writing digs?

Isn’t it insane that it’s October tomorrow? I bought two small pink mums for the outside entrance table. I hope to get a white pumpkin and paint on black polka dots to sit between them before I take a picture. I was up in the loft a few weeks ago. I should have pulled the Halloween tub then, but I had nowhere to put it. Why not? Ah, yes, the fun bit…

Husband took the van in for an inspection/check engine light and yaddah, yaddah, yaddah, everything he had crammed into every conceivable spot had to be removed and then rearranged into a smaller van and yes, Husband owns a lot of carpentry tools and fiddly bits and now we get to find homes for those unvanned things and yes, it’s just as much tedious fun as you can imagine.

So that’s the haps from here. The leaves are changing and I might get to the bulbs this year. I keep meaning to move them, that is never the most nor least pressing issue around here. Oh, we did make it out to Still on the Hill to hear JT & the Law play and if you ever get a chance, you should too. Have a fantastic month. Eat the rich, tally ho, and all of that until next time! Thank you for stopping by and for the read!

(My favorite sycamore in the back 40 has developed a smiling face!)

Procrastinating on my writing goals the Marie Kondo way

Learning to tidy like Kondo has been the recent goal. I enjoy it. The folding is satisfying. Being able to see all the options shirts and pants is amazing. Even my socks feel better. With the positive outcomes of this method, I needed to refrain from two different tidying tasks today because I had cooking and laundry to accomplish and falling into the trance of easier upkeep and item retrieval wasn’t the option I wish it had become.

On the last day of May, it was cool enough for a wood fire. (And yes, Husband DID remember we’d been married 25 years and brought home roses.) A flip switched and we were in the hot part of summer. The garden – such as it is – went in late. Each year I care less about the lawn but do keep the labyrinth and the paths to it under control. I’ve weeded the steps and moss twice, but they insist on returning and the hummingbirds! I can’t believe how much I’m feeding them. The orange lilies are out and again this year, the mountain laurel bloomed. I moved a lot of wood and when I was ready to split, the heat dome formed. Today, rain. It’s always like this – matching activity to the weather – but this month was filled with constant movement both inside and out and I’m tired.

It is Monday and I have the loveliest problems.

Another one: A few of the characters, some of the plot, certain conversations, and the one scene from the book I abandoned last year have been intruding on my thoughts and have begun to annoy me. The idea of rewriting Ellie’s Elephants had been my concern until this nattering grew incessant. My idea is to do a private form Camp NaNo in July and see how 50,000 words shakes out.

One of the intense senses I have is that a main character either changed or I’d gotten her wrong the first time. Maybe I’ll find that this is a different character. As I’d been ignoring this call, I haven’t transcribed things she has said. Her job is more pronounced, as well as a few of her compromises made for friends. The theme is tending toward revenge held up to a mirror. I hate discussing work I haven’t written, but parts of it were written and I hate the idea of writing/rewriting a book at all right now, (What indulgent ostrich behavior!) but it might be a thing that keeps me sane. Not that I was ever diagnosed as sane, but you know what I mean.

I’m aiming – as I think I’m always subconsciously striving for – is a level of clean or organized that I feel I have permission to write without complaint. No one complains, but the level of self-esteem I derive from a clean house is obnoxious. People can see whether a house is clean, they are unlikely to read my draft no matter how good it makes me feel to write it.

I suppose that’s the long way around of saying I’m starting a new project and I’m afraid.

Sending hugs to you if you need them. Thank you for stopping by and for the read!

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 8th.   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!

Whiz. Bang. No Boom.

Now I can describe it as dread – the ever-present feeling overshadowing everything in my life since the bad PSA result arrived in November. The results of Husband’s biopsy were negative on all counts and since he received that wonderful news on Thursday morning, I’ve been decompressing. It’s been a physical sensation as well as a spiritual one – the lifting. It was a mental gulp of oxygen from holding back on plans not knowing if things were going to change – or how. An obligation I took on earlier was beginning to chafe as it grew nearer, but now I look forward to doing it. Hosting a writing club in a library is a lot easier to deal with than ordering stairlifts.

Yes, back to that. Assembling with other writers begins Tuesday February 4.th If you’re interested, send me an email because I can’t get the PDF to insert. I’ll bring cookies. Kidding. Well, maybe. I’m nervous about being in charge, but if it brings someone out who’s better suited to lead, I’ll feel good about getting something going in that direction.

And timing! I’d no sooner gotten PDF’s back from the librarian at one library, when the West Falls-Colden Library’s librarian called about a different writer’s group new meeting times – as if I wasn’t confused enough!

That group led by Joe Marren met again this morning. I entered the building and the new volunteer coordinator stood by the desk, hampering the swift dash downstairs I’d planned to make before the meeting’s start to check out the used books. She wanted to know if I’d come back and cover the Saturday shift again. There was more talk – and I left it up in the air – but I might. I mean, one of the first things I did after texting the good news to immediate family was look up the conference I went to last year. I haven’t been thinking in terms of “my” next move for a long time, so I want to explore before I commit.

I’ve had limited time with my writing and it’s been primarily used to work micros to death. The one I read at group today was met with silence, which is nerve-wracking, but also a sign that it packed a punch – and for a drabble, I think that’s impressive. Now to submit it. Aye, there’s the rub – putting my work out where it could face rejection. Or acceptance.

Maybe I’m not ready for either quite yet, but I am close. And close is far as I plan to get tonight while another early morning looms.

Thank you so much for stopping by and for the read!

The Prompt Witch

The Halloween decoration box came down from the closet after our company left and for the first time since Covid, I decorated with glee. I even picked up new light strands that were discounted at Lowe’s. They are fairy lights, so I’ll reuse them. The strand I already set up in the office ran through its set of patterns and when it reached the flashy bit, I used that as a prompt to pull my eyes away from the screen, so they are beneficial, too.

Speaking of prompts, today I was the Prompt Witch at Buffalo State for my co-appearance with the poet Karen J. Weyant for the Drop Hammer Series. I bought her book, “Avoiding the Rapture,” and so should you. Great turn out and fantastic questions! Thank you Kim Chinquee for the invitation – and an acceptance for the Endurance Issue of Elm Leaves Journal– and congratulations on your soon to be new releases!

The days have been uncharacteristically pleasant, so I’ve been trying to soak in the beauty while taking care of outside tasks that don’t need to be done, but being inside in such nice weather feels like a crime. I resented being sent outside as a child since I had books and comfortable places to sit inside, now I’m compelled.

The writing continues though the pace is uneven. I’ve restarted keeping a small book to tally my accomplishments each week. There used to be a lively board on Zoetrope called Friday Fess-Up where people would list their S,R, and A’s (submissions, rejections, and acceptances.) I’ve got three S’s, an R, and an A so far, which isn’t too shabby, but I can do better, so off I go to do that…or take a nap.

Spreading the magic of story is tiring work. I loved doing it today, and if you were there, thank you!

Thank you for stopping in for the read!