Back from the Arizona Mountains

Yes there are mountains in Arizona blooming with purple cinquefoil, Cowboy's Fried Egg, and Black-Eyed Susan. The aspen trees flutter in the breeze, the lodge-pole pines tower over the meadows and the horses, what can I say about the horses?

I'll show you what I mean:

Submission Season

It's summer and toodling through various writing sites this week, I remembered that August kicks off "Submission Season," the time when college literary types head back to school and brace for the mudslide of submissions coming their way. This might be a literal description at the University of Iowa after the flooding this past year, but hopefully the Hawkeyes will return to freshly scrubbed floors, gleaming walls, and no dead fish hiding in the school server.

August means it's time for writers to polish their pieces one more time, buy 9X12 envelopes, and a slew of postage. I'm ready, but scared. I've got a lot to do, but I absolutely must send out. It's the only way to get oneself read. So I too must brace myself.

A writer friend reminded me last week that for her, July is the beginning of a new writing season. July because for Sharon and me, as well as Jim, Ellen, and the rest of my old Iowa Summer Writing Festival buds that's the month we used to meet in Iowa City to attend workshops, drink Blue Moon, and work up a sweat (literally) at keyboards only to have our butts frozen off at the EPB.

I hope it happened this year. I hope they all went. I did not. Haven't for the last two years and have to admit this year, I really missed it. Maybe it was the pictures of the campus underwater my sister sent me triggering my angst. Or maybe it was just realizing that I'm so out of touch now, me in California and my "Iowa" friends scattered over the country: Sharon in Galesburg, Jim in Chicago, Ellen in St. Louis. I also miss Elizabeth, Lisa, and Enza. We had good times. But that was then and this is now. And now means getting writing, get submitting!

This DRIVE to SUBMIT has paid off. I started two years ago with the goal of 100 rejections. Yes. I know. That's weird. But for me if my goal is called a DRIVE to PUBLISH, it's too easy to get disheartened, so I changed the language. What that did for me was gave me something I had power over. No one can stop me from writing something, sticking it in an envelope, and sending it out. That's in my power. Also in my power is the make that submission the best piece I can.

With those goals, I've had actual PUBLISHING success. Not big success. The editors from Tin House and McSweeneys (actually McSweeney's owes me a rejection, but since I can barely navigate their site, it's okay) are not pounding down my door yet, YET, but enough success to keep me striving and if there's one thing I've learned, it's the necessity for persistence. Persistence has over the last two years gotten me three pieces in print, three publications on line with two other pieces accepted, one coming out in August at Women's Quality Fiction and another in the fall at EDF. So now I'm into my third submission season and I've got to make the best of it. (Yes, Jane, I hear you. The novel. THE NOVEL!)

Art has its way with me

Okay. If you haven't read my ADD post, now might be a good time. I don't know what's going on, but the last couple years have blown apart my left brain, leaving it strewn across the landscape like so many abandoned PDAs, and crowned my right brain as Grand Empress of the Skull. I guess this must have something to do with the REPRESSION of creative flow and the sudden release of constraints, but whatever it is, it's damned fun. So far this year I have painted fifteen pictures and in October a friend has generously granted me the opportunity to show at his business what I can do with a tube of acrylic metal paint, wire, and crap I gather from the streets of South Pas. If you thought I was done with you guys, you're wrong. Invitations forthcoming.

Meanwhile, here's ONE direction all this exploding brain matter has taken me.



Now back to the book.

More EDF good news and a lesson learned from whittling

MY heart still hip-hops into my throat when I open my Yahoo account and see on the
"From" line of an email, the words "everyone@everydayfiction.com."

It's the line that appears when they are sending a rejection, an acceptance...or actually maybe a rewrite. Any which way, I always take a moment before I open it. If I prayed, I guess you'd say that's what I'm doing. Luckily for me, they like my "Stranger on the Porch" bit and are going to publish it sometime in the future. Hooray!

This is actually a piece I've adapted from my novel. As I've said before, I've been struggling to keep the seat of my pants in the chair. When I'm doing one thing, I'm often distracted by another. In this case, the idea of writing a 1000 words has so much more appeal than rewriting 80,000 words. But I have resisted the lure of flash so far this month even though titles and ideas on how to make those titles work assault me at the sink, in the shower, on my walks. Then one day--mid-anguish/temptation--I had a revelation.

Since I use a dramatic arc in each chapter by opening with conflict, torturing my character, and finally having her take some action--the same dramatic arc that I use for a story as a whole--I wondered if I could cadge something from the novel to satisfy my need to send off a submission to EDF and thereby not get totally out of the world of my novel characters. Write flash but have it benefit the novel too. Maybe chapter 1?

I took a look. Yep the arc was there, but I'd have to whittle it down to fit the 1000 word criterion. Wow. An amazing thing happened during this process.

Because I wanted to flash the chapter, I brought to it a much more critical eye, and suddenly realized how much better it was turning out. The whole experience reinforced my belief that parameters create in a writer the ability to dig deep and come up with something better than if there are no parameters.

What happens in this first chapter of my novel is not straight forward, and I've often changed it, edited it, played with it. But this time I knew I had to achieve more clarity for it to stand on its own as flash. The images became sharper, the character more interesting. Whittling worked again. What an incredible lesson I keep learning over and over.

Now my hope is that people like it. That it stands on its own. I hope it's as good for you guys as it was for me.

A.D.D.

I don't think I officially have A.D.D, but I often feel as if I do. I'm constantly wanting to start something new, to pull something surprising out of my brain, and see what it will develop into. And this is actually a good thing, especially when I'm beginning a new project, but unfortunately all those flashes of inspiration seem to strike me when I'm trying to settle down and do the drudge work of editing.

Did I say "drudge work." I can't believe I typed that. I love to edit and have professed for years that if I can only get past that initial draft, I know I can craft something that works. There is something magical about reading one's own words aloud and realizing, hmmm, that doesn't work quite right. What about this? What about that? A cliche? Let me see if I can just spin that a little to the left. So what is going on here?

It's the novel. That multi-drafted cyper-folder with its "fits and starts" (there you go: cliche. I'll catch it later. Hmm maybe not), calling and repelling me all at the same time.

I made a vow this year that this was going to be it. I would get that dang book into the kind of shape that would allow me to start my agent search. But with me, as soon as I vow, I procrastinate. It titillates me to make a commitment and then renege. I actually feel that titillation in my body. Ooh, make a promise and break it? Why? I think there's a tiny part of me that is ready for the looney bin. Or maybe its latent teen rebellion, the one I never had.

I do get things done. I did vow when I quit my job that I would build my writing portfolio and I've done that. And my skills have become sharper, my ability to see what works and doesn't work more accurate. So yes. I am making progress with the portfolio goal. But I did vow when I quit my job that I would also finish the novel and market it and that is still the flamingo around my neck.

I don't know what it is about writing a book that is so darn hard, but part of it for me is that it activates my interest in everything else. Since I committed to finishing the book, I have helped remodel the back of my house, taken up jewelry making, dabbled in polymer clay, and PMC, and painting, as well as supersized my exercise program. These "hobbies" have been so much fun and I'm eating up all the new awarenesses that these interests bring to me. But. I sit down at the keyboard and think...hmmm, just an hour with all that color behind me on the work table might give me just the bump I need.

But I know that I must do the book first. Before the bump. Because if I can just remember that the writing offers its own bump, I could make progress.

I need to stay focused. I need to stop farting around, but I don't know how many times I need to say this to actually DO it. Today. I will work on the book before I touch a pair of pliers or open a tube of paint. TWO HOURS MINIMUM. I need to borrow Marley's chains.

TAGGED

by Alan Beard

I've been 'tagged,' whatever that means, by Alan Beard, author of Taking Doreen Out of the Sky. The editor of the great 'Short Review' Tania Hershman tagged Alan to answer some questions and Alan, in turn, tagged me. Here I go with more info than you ever wanted!

1) What were you doing ten years ago?
1998? I was walking everywhere and very fit because I let my son use my car to get he and his sister to school. It was a good thing. What I remember about it is that being without a car, time slowed down. I know that sounds weird, but it's true. I remember I wrote every morning. I'd had no success in placing any piece anywhere, but I hosted a writing group every Thursday (maybe it was Wednesday) around my dining room table.

2) What 5 Things are on your to-do list today?
**Work on the novel. I've listed the chapter numbers on scratch paper and as I edit each one I cross it out. Just started this process for the millioneth time a couple days ago. I'm on Chapter 6 and determined to get to the end this time.
**Walk at 8:30, this weird cross-country ski thing (on the streets of SoPas) I do now every Monday and Friday with Estelle and her band of acolytes.
**Go to lunch with my mom-in-law and some far-flung cousins in from Oklahoma.
**Cook dinner.
**Welcome my husband back from London. I have missed him!

3) What would you do with a billion dollars?
Revamp the education system in the United States. Encourage the culture to elevate the position of "teacher" to the status of JDs, MBAs, and MDs. All those kids who go to law school because they have no idea what they want to do would go to hard to get into grad schools to learn how to really teach and to develop new and effective strategies. I know. The teaching to teach and the strategies happens, but if a country cannot lure its brightest citizens to the profession, then the profession needs to be put on a par with those that do lure. What is that lure? Money, yes, but also cache, status, and satisfaction in actually contributing to society.

5) List the places you have lived.
Louisiana, Iowa, California, in my head.

6) List the jobs you have had
Parks and rec, retail sales, counter person at Rusty's Roast Beef, as well as store manager, district manager, buyer, and teacher. Did I say wife and mom and mistress of Risuli and Cinder?

7) List the people you'd like to know more about.
Not so much "know about" but rather to go to lunch with: Joyce Carol Oates, Carol Shields (alas), Harper Lee, Margaret Atwood, W. Somerset Maugham, Pablo Picasso, Abigail Adams, Jane Addams, Helen Keller, and Joshua from "So you think you can dance."

BTW, the numbering isn't mine though I probably messed it up somewhere!

Another Lesson From Reality TV: Emulate those who succeed

Project Runway is my absolute favorite reality show. Although my other favorites feature real talent and creativity, PR features the kind of creativity that I relate to. Not saying I could do what they do anymore than I can sing or dance. I can't sew anything but a curtain panel, but I'm talking about deeper stuff, that digging into the hidden corners of the right brain when doing art and finding originality. That's what two designers were able to do on last night's premier of Project Runway, Season 5.

What is originality? Talent and imagination, certainly, but also a third component, knowing what to do with it. One could say a person either is talented or not, has imagination or doesn't, but I don't believe that. Like everything else in our genes, the amount of talent and imagination varies, but of more consequence is what we do with what we have. Last night's first episode of PR is a good example of what I mean. There is talent and imagination in each contestant, but two of them also showed that third component: savvy, the wisdom and shrewdness to pay attention to those who succeeded rather than to those who failed.

I can't remember their names, Blond Tattoo Girl and Wistful Guy is what I'll call them here. BTG and WG are obviously students of the show and so were familiar with last night's challenge: Season 1's grocery store outfit, and they were successful because they looked to the winner of that challenge while everyone else focused on what previous contestants had done wrong. That shift of perspective last night made all the difference.

Here's the set-up. The contestants were taken to a grocery store and given $75.00 to purchase materials to fashion an outfit. Tim Gunn told them to think about the WOW factor, to come up with something that would "blow the judges' socks off." Austin Scarlett, the competitor who WON this challenge four years ago, pointed out that he succeeded by delivering the unexpected. The name of that episode was "Innovation" and his design, a bustier sundress made of corn husks, transformed an ordinary agricultural product into a snazzy little summer number. Yet despite these admonishments, many of the contestants headed straight for the easy-way-out aisle.

The most obvious and forgiving "materials" to purchase are, of course, trashbags, shower curtains, and table cloths. My immediate thought as they scurried into the aisles to buy these exact items was "These guys have thought about this challenge." Of course they have. Me too. Everytime I take onions and avocados out of their plastic netted bags I think 'evening gown yoke.' But unfortunately, this year's designers focused on the contestants who floundered with seemingly unsewable products, and they were determined not to fall into the same trap.

All except Blond Tattoo Girl and Wistful Guy. They paid attention to the winner of that challenge. They recognized Austin's inventiveness and had considered about how they too could innovate. WG made probably one of the most impossible choices. He bought plastic drinking cups. As one of the judges said, "Exactly what ANYONE would hurry to grab for this challenge." But it worked. He molded--literally with an iron--a corset top and bell skirt that looked wearable and was definitely sexy. He remembered the word "innovation" and by the silhouette he chose, he also remembered the corn-husk design. He kept it simple and pretty, AND used the unusable.

This worked for BTG, too, who won the challenge. SHE was crazy-creative with her vaccuum cleaner bags, her coffee filters, her tacks, and her binder spirals. Again I'm positive she's thought about it before the show, asked herself, "What would I do if..." Her dye and bleach treatment to the bags created a fresh and artistic skirt. The burn-out filters worked humorously with the tacks for the bodice. It was charming. I was pleased she won.

So why am I--a writer--spending all this time on this topic? Because this first episode of the season carries with it a potent message: emulate those who succeed, not those who lose.

How many times has a writer, a friend, or even me, said, "I read the worst book. I know what's wrong with it, so I know what not to do!"

Is this what any creative person should think about? An artist? A designer? A writer? Or should he or she instead, study what's hanging on the walls of the Norton Simon and MOOLA? Watch what's coming down the runway at Olypus Fashion Week? Or read closely for the content, the structure, the language of To Kill a Mockingbird or The Yiddish Policeman's Union or Tess of the D'Urbevilles and shout out loud, "Now this is the kind of art I want to do!"

The two best pieces last night were created by savvy designers who listened, who studied the winners, who dug to the center of their imaginations, and who executed with confidence and verve. That's the kind of writer I want to be. An original.

Not Knowing Shouldn't Keep Me from Not Doing

"The single largest advantage a veteran writer has over the beginner is this tolerance for not knowing." --Ron Carlson from Ron Carlson Writes a Story.

It's funny how I'll read a book about writing or even just a piece of literature and then I go on and on about it for days. This time it's Ron Carlson. Last week he helped me write a whole story which I've submitted to Flash Fiction On-line, a new venue for me. And this week he's helping me stay in the chair for my novel. I'm bolstering that with keeping track of the time in the chair and how much I accomplish. I started work at 9:13 this morning. BTW, I shouldn't be typing this right now. I've now been distracted for about 10 minutes! Dang, and it's 10:08 AM. That means I managed to work less than an hour before I figured out a way to goof off. Back to WCB. It's now 10:09.

It's 4:28 and I'm three chapters in having done more editing than I would have thought. But I've learned a lot writing my flashes this year about what I don't have to say so I think these chapters are tighter and therefore, better. As for my seat of the pants in the chair, I haven't been very good. I would be six chapters in if I'd just stayed the course. I tried to work outside away from the phone and internet but it's been hot here today and the garage isn't air conditioned so I gave up and came into the chill of the house where there is email and EDF forums to read, food, and HGTV. Yish.

But I am begun really this time. I have to keep up my momentum because I do not want to reread these chapters again until I'm finished. I taped a note on the fridge that says "Aren't you sick of the first 125 pages and aren't you curious to see what you wrote after that?" I'm gonna feed my dog now and maybe come back up for chapter 4. I'm going to hold myself accountable to YOU out there.

Okay. I did it. It's 8:30 and Chapter 4 is in the vault. I'm feeling as if I'm in a rhythm now so hopefully tomorrow with be more of the same.

Monsoon accepted at QWF

Good news in the last couple of days. My story "Monsoon" has been accepted by Quality Women's Fiction. And what is amazing is that the editor thinks it will be out first of August so that's a treat.

Hmmm a good writing day...

I forgot how it feels. And I have to say it feels like a swim in a cool pool on a 106 degree day, a frosted Margarita with crunchy salt, a deep tissue massage in the shade of a bongo tree. UH, well, I've been working with words too long today. I can't think of anything better. But I feel good. Writing. Lots of words on paper. Nothing better. And I owe it to Ron Carlson.

I read Ron Carlson's book Ron Carlson Writes a Story recently and he reminded me that the most important thing a writer can do is "stay in the chair." He nailed me on the hopping-up to pee, eat, catch something on TIVO, paint a picture, nap. I do it all, I confess. Today was different.

Actually it was amazing. I probably have six or seven stories at various stages of development, plus, of course, that dang novel hanging around my neck like a flamingo. So my plan was to pick something (one story in particular has been making good progress this week) and stay in the chair. But after I finished the Sudoku--Tuesday's is easy--and was cleaning up the kitchen, I got a surprise. A title popped unbidden (?) into my mind.

Now title-popping happens to me all the time and though I jot them down with a vague idea of what the story idea could be, they evaporate more easily than that Margarita up there on a 106 degree day. Today was different.

With the title, Dani-Girl's Rules for Getting Everything Right, also came the story, one I'd fooled around with about ten years ago. To my conscious mind, the two, title and story, didn't seem to belong together, but the miraculous unconscious was looking out for me. I marched upstairs, grabbed my Ron Carlson book as a guide, and sat down in the chair.

In his book, Carlson takes the reader through one of his own stories from beginning to end, almost sentence by sentence. He wrote it in one day by staying in the room, and reconstructs just how that story evolved. By doing this, he becomes a coach, explaining his thought process just as he'd coached himself years ago when he wrote it.

He starts by telling how he started by writing a good telling opening sentence.

So I did.

The minute the nose of my Honda Civic points north on the 5, my hands begin to sweat, my breath goes shallow, and somewhere down in my lower intestinal tract, I feel a rumbling very similar to distant thunder, only not as pleasant. “Don’t Go Home” is the first cardinal rule in Dani-Girl’s Guide to Getting Everything Right and after a lifetime in a tract house in Lomita with my German-Irish father, Rule 1 is easy to follow. After all, he’s the reason I designed the guide.

That worked to keep me in the chair. I went back to Carlson.

He tells me to write another one. And I do. And another and I didn't get up even though my butt got sore and I had to pee, I wrote until I had 1400 words, beginning, middle, and end. It needs revision, it needs readers to help me see the flaws, but hey, I have a story!

Sounds so simple. I wonder that I don't remember this simple trick--the staying in the chair trick. I know I won't be able to do it every day, but I will try not to forget that I can do more than I do every day. Thank you Mr. Carlson. I hope writers everywhere pick up your little tome and take a seat.

July EDF Calendar

July’s Table of Contents For Every Day Fiction

July 1 Sarah Black Wood from the River
July 2 Alex Watson Beloaralsk
July 3 Alex Moisi Garden Furniture and the Apocalypse
July 4 DJ Barber The First Fourth
July 5 K.C. Ball The Mixture
July 6 Kevin Shamel To Save the Disco
July 7 Milan Smith A Bad Day Got Better
July 8 Sarah Hilary Post-Apoc Play (in beta)
July 9 Brian Dolton If We Were Briar Roses
July 10 Kim McDougall Touched
July 11 B. Teuscher Rain
July 12 Kathleen Mack One Toke Over
July 13 A.C. Wise The Chupacabra in Love
July 14 David Macpherson Forbidden Planet
July 15 Peter Tupper Sparkers
July 16 Oonah V Joslin Division
July 17 Edward Caputo Gruff
July 18 Venkatesh Vedam Hello
July 19 Allison Sherman Garden of Promises
July 20 Bill Ward Gandolo of the Watchful Eye
July 21 Nicholas Ozment The Only Difference Between Men and Boys…
July 22 Carlos Navarro The Killer Fog
July 23 Nick Logan The Next Move
July 24 Bill West Eternity
July 25 Scott M. Sandridge Sleep Paralysis
July 26 Joanna M. Weston The Train
July 27 Frank Roger Hellish Paradise
July 28 Jonathan Pinnock Cock Up
July 29 Megan Arkenberg The Soucouyant
July 30 Madeline Mora-Summonte A Quarter For Your Thoughts
July 31 Amy Sisson The Lion Tamer’s Sock

Iowa Pix

Most of these were taken by my sister in Iowa. These are some familiar Iowa City and Coralville pix.

1. Coralville Strip, showing CopyWorks where I've spent many a hectic afternoon.

2. This is the parking lot of Jane's hairdresser's salon on the strip.

3. This is the bridge by the EPB going into Coralville.

4. The Heartland Inn in Coralville.

5. The Iowa House. I always stayed here and requested a river view. Now I'm not so sure!

6. The Mayflower, Sharon, for you.

7. Jane's commute along Hwy 30!

Water

First Louisiana. That's where I was born. Down the bayou. More hard ground back then. The gulf moves inland bringing salt water to fresh water wild life. Louisiana provides 30% of the nation's sea food. Or did until Katrina. Brush Island sank with the rest of the barrier and Houma is almost a coastal city.

Now Iowa. I lived in a little town in the northeast called Alpha. 113 people until the Halversons moved out, leaving only 98 of us. Then we moved. I thought I'd come to California to be a Mouseketeer. Don't laugh. I was 6. Alpha has a creek, cutting through town that I was forbidden to play near. Today it may be more of a river.

My sister lives in Mount Vernon Iowa. She has three kids and works at the University of Iowa 30 miles away in Iowa City. I used to go back there in the summer to take writing classes from grads of the famous Iowa Writers Workshop. The names of authors are pressed into the sidewalk on brass plaques. Mecca. The ped bridge across the Iowa River which takes one from the Student Union to the art gallery is underwater.

In case you're addicted to good fiction

June’s Table of Contents at Every Day Fiction

Be sure to vote after you read each story

June 1 Brian Dolton The Gray World
June 2 Greg Likins Cavedweller 2.0
June 3 Tels Merrick Say It With Flowers
June 4 R. L. Copple The Captain’s Chair
June 5 Catherine J Gardner Burying Sam
June 6 Gay Degani Spring Melt
June 7 Margaret B. Davidson Homecoming
June 8 Harold N. Walters Stumped
June 9 Ann Wilkes The Heist
June 10 Sylvia Spruck Wrigley Listen
June 11 Nick Logan Desert Island Solitaire, or, A Good Cigar Is A Smoke
June 12 Lee Beavington Second Opinion
June 13 Bill Ward Junkyard Rats
June 14 Jennifer Tatroe When She Comes to It
June 15 Gianna De Persiis Vona Sacrifice
June 16 Madeline Mora-Summonte The Salute of the Old And Crotchety
June 17 Rosie de la Mare A Moment
June 18 Nicola Horn The End
June 19 Kevin Shamel Mail
June 20 Milton T. Burton The Watchers
June 21 Chaz Siu Prodigal Piano
June 22 Oonah V Joslin Missy’s Summer
June 23 Sarah Hilary Waste of Space
June 24 Andrew Males Mars Ascent
June 25 Mark Ward The Devil and the Details
June 26 Jason Stout Larry Legend
June 27 Frank Roger The End of Time
June 28 Kurt Rice A Legacy of War
June 29 Gustavo Bondoni Virtuoso
June 30 Harley Crowley There When You Need Them

Spring Melt JUNE 6 EDF Be There!

My story "Spring Melt" will be published by Everyday Fiction on June 6. I'm hoping everyone will stop by for a quick read. It's only 1000 words so it won't put much of a dent (dint??) in any one's work day.

Everyday Fiction has been a terrific boost for me as a writer who needs a lot of reassurance. It has provided me with a place for people to see how and what I write. Print is so hard to share when it comes to short stories. While I am thrilled to have a piece published by THEMA, it's not something people can actually put their hands on easily. The two anthologies are available through Amazon, but I'm in the dark as to whether any one out there has bought them, let alone read my stories.

But EDF is instant gratification. Of course they have to say "yes" but if they do, then it's out there, being read by fellow writers, friends, family, strangers, even my PMC teacher.

The Day After

Yesterday. Me on line, interviewed by Jordan Lapp at Everyday Fiction. Wow. I have to say I am extremely excited. It's such a boost to know that after all these years, I actually have something to say that people--writers in particular--just might want to hear. I admit my ego has been deep-tissue massaged!

The trick now is to actually live up to all that "experience" I claim I have. Like any self-respecting self-doubter, I'm a wee bit worried. Notice the "wee." All this attention has whittled "wee" down from "quite." And I'm finally old enough--waaaay old enough--to know I have to ignore that doubt and move on. So I thought I should blog to dust away any remaining detritus of angst. Nothing like the act of writing to make writing easier.

As it turns out, a friend from Goodreads sent me a lovely note this morning. He had a question about my time. I thought I might answer that question here.

He asked: Interested to know how much work you do (A lot of reading too!) – and still bring up kids etc. I’ve got teenage daughters and tend to blame them for lack of production but it’s laziness!

My Answer: I need to clarify about my kids. They are basically launched, though I still get weekly phone calls from my daughter! So I have more time. Not that there aren't family obligations, there are, but they are no longer interrupting me at the computer to ask what time dinner is or to beg me to read an essay due in fifteen minutes.

For years I wrote in whatever cracks and spaces I could find. And I was able to do it by keeping my writing in the front of my brain. This is the trick that Jerry Cleaver discusses in his book Immediate Fiction. He allows that we all have busy schedules and distractions, but suggests even one fifteen minute period with the work will keep a writer in the game.

I wrote in a daze for years, mind cluttered with REAL LIFE, but I still learned what I could about writing and wrote some trite, unimaginative stuff. I taught Freshman Comp at a community college and decided I would never focus on my writing if I didn't quit my job, so I did.

Remembering an old Tupperware axiom, Your intention gets your attention, I promised myself I would get published. And to my surprise, all my years of kind of writing--learning to write, getting better at writing, discovering my voice--and kind of submitting--sending off one piece at a time and waiting six months to be rejected before sending it off again--finally led to seeing my stories in print.

Even though I'm beginning to write decent stuff, I have a long way to go, but I am relishing every little positive thing. And I am so grateful to discover Everyday Fiction because they accept 365 pieces a year. Best odds out there I think!!!

I've grown into the gift of time as I've gotten older. And I am grateful for it.

As for the reading, I'm addicted to audio tapes (free at most public libraries) and since I hate mundane chores (emptying the dishwasher, running to the dry cleaners, exercising) I am usually plugged into some good book. There's something special about being read to. The words come through the sense of hearing and highlight the "music" of writing. Listen to anything by Carole Shields.

Often too, there is cross pollination. If you believe in Jung's collective unconscious, you'll understand. For example, I might be stuck in a story. I've been to the library and just picked up some obscure book because it was THERE and when I start listening, up pops a slice of synchronicity. Something clicks. The author gives me a clue to help me solve some knotty writing problem.

This synchronicity happens with novels, short stories read the regular way, the newspaper or a TV program, but it doesn't happen if I haven't kept my story in the front of my brain.

What the REAL WORLD calls "laziness," writers call contemplation. There can't be any good stuff coming out of fingertips if we don't loll around checking out navel fuzz. My husband was on a business trip last week and I declared to everyone I knew that all I would do was write and to stand off. But I goofed off. Uninterrupted, unadulterated, mostly peopleless goofing-off. And I loved it, my pleasure tinged only with the slightest guilt.

But then I got fed up with myself, got out my egg timer ,and set it for one hour and made myself focus on my novel outline (boring mundane stuff I hate), but I once I got started--it took three one-hour forced chain-gang sessions--I didn't need the timer any more. Suddenly I was filled up with all kinds of solutions. While I'd been lazy, I also had been mulling, trusting in my subconscious to work out the details, aiming all my cells toward the next step in the process.

Now I feel exhilarated about my project. Again. The underlying truth for me is to have faith in my own process. Finally, after all these years, I know I can do it and I will do it. Then I get to feel that glow .

About Focus, Passion, and Risk: RISK

An instructor at UCLA Extension once told me that writers must be risk-takers. I was devastated by this bit of news--in those days I was always looking for an excuse NOT to write--and this comment proved that being a writer wasn't something I could do. After all, I was a coward. I wouldn't even get on a roller coaster. And my survival mode since I was a little kid was to keep everybody--and I mean EVERYBODY--happy, to give them what they wanted which meant the very act of writing was risky.

Why? Because writing takes focus. Writing takes passion. Writers take RISKS. And what about time? What would happen if I couldn't fulfill everyone's expectations in REAL LIFE? What would happen if I couldn't fulfill anyone's expectation in my WRITING LIFE? Danger, Will Robinson. Danger.

Lucky for me, I was reading Natalie Goldberg at the time. I don't remember which book, but she said something about how our fear is greatest when we are about to escape our own orbits. Her advice was to charge toward the greatest fear, face it, and shatter it. I determined this was exactly what I needed to do, confront my fears instead of avoiding them, in life and in writing.

I went to Magic Mountain and rode roller coasters. It was amazing. I loved it. And the most important part is that it showed me that I could conquer my fears. The memory of that first roller coaster ride (I didn't count Space Mountain ) has kept me at the keyboard.

My life has changed through my writing. Striving to write, spending my time alone at the computer, ignoring my family felt selfish, uncomfortable, dangerous. After all, who the hell was I, anyway? But I did it and began to believe in myself and my right to write, growing with each unhappy and discouraging moment, each tidbit of praise.

It's taken me a very long time to learn that success in writing doesn't have so much to do with talent or lack of talent, or being in the right place at the right time, or even knowing what magazines might publish. While these are important aspects to making a living, they aren't important to the writing itself. Success in writing for me must be defined in a larger way: learning to accept myself as who I am, accepting not only that I want to write, but that I don't need anyone's permission to sit down at the computer and spend hours doing it. And it's not only okay for me to write about who I am, how I feel, think, and understand life, but necessary to do so for the work to be good. Once I accepted these truths, I could begin to look outward toward sharing with others.

I'm just beginning to find places that will accept my work and it is thrilling, but more important for me has been my own acceptance of myself. To be oneself, expose oneself, and then face an indifferent and skeptical crowd, that's the risk every writer takes. I can do it. I am doing it. I'm still on the roller coaster and loving it.

About Focus, Passion, and Risk: Passion

The first time I heard the word “passion” in reference to me, I was stunned and flattered. It happened this way. I’d signed up for a writing class at UCLA extension. This was back in the late-eighties when I was finally trying to write again and Real Life and two children had derailed me. Giving it another shot. I’d written a screenplay that proved I knew how to place words on paper, but discovered I had no idea how to tell a story. I didn’t get structure. So I decided to go to school.

But as Real Life always finds a way to thwart our plans, we were going on spring break, taking our kids up to the mountains to ski and I had to miss the first class. I sent a letter to the instructor asking him to please not drop me. I wasn’t all that familiar with extension then, and didn’t realize if the school's got your money, you can miss the whole course and no one cares.

I spent an afternoon composing the note. After all it would be the instructor’s introduction to me, and I wanted to get off on the right foot. I don’t remember exactly what I ended up with, but it was light, a little humorous, and short, all things I knew should bring me a little slack for not appearing at the first class.

And it worked. The instructor wrote back that he looked forward to having me in class and was impressed with my passion for writing. Passion for writing? How had that come across? I was surprised, but pleased. I couldn’t wait for the class. I hadn’t thought I had it in me to be passionate about anything. Little old conservative, dull ME?

It was a great class. I worked hard, my writing improved, and the instructor encouraged me to enter the Diane Thomas competition sponsored by the Writers Program at UCLA extension. I did, and didn’t win, but I found out that, indeed, I had a passion to write.

I never thought the word “passion” had any relevance to me or my world. Even though I wrote fairly well, majored in English, had placed second in a high school writing contest sponsored by the Atlantic Monthly, I didn’t feel I had the “IT” factor. The best I thought I could expect was to write a good letter and have fun with the hobby of writing screenplays. But somewhere in the back of my mind—or was it something buried in that intrepid muscle pumping blood somewhere deep in my chest—I felt I could have “IT,” IF I worked hard enough, couldn’t I? If I learned some of the skills, at least I might develop some “it,” albeit not in capitals?

So “passion” came with the actual “doing.” Taking a class, getting good feedback (as well as developing a thick skin to repel the bad feedback), and focusing on the writing itself. I’ve been distracted from writing off and on since then, but I haven’t abandoned it in twenty or so years.

It’s taken me a long time to accept who I am and what I can do, to understand that the passion was always there, but might have gone undeveloped if I hadn’t made the conscious effort to focus on the skills needed to produce a structured, polished piece of writing. I’m still not there, but I “get it” now. As Curt Rosengren says on his website, “Passion is the energy that comes from bringing more of YOU into what you do.”

About Focus, Passion, and Risk: Focus First

"Writers write." Who said that? Flannery O'Connor or Stephen King? I can't remember, but the veracity of the statement cannot be challenged. No words on paper: no tome.

The better question might be, “How do writers manage to write in REAL LIFE?” How do they come up with a steady stream of sentences, paragraphs, story beats? Maybe some are born with enough talent and drive to block out the temptations of the Friday morning Sudoku, but for most of us, the world is full of enticements, obligations, distractions, and bicyclists smashing into trashcans, pounding on doors to harass owners about city-dictated trashcan placement. These intrusions challenge our ability to meet writing goals, but retaining focus, an outlined plan to commit to writing, helps us remain in office chairs, fingers flitting over keys, heads hunched toward screens.

But how can I ignore husband, kids, friends? Don't I need to exercise, shop for healthy food? Stay up on the election news? Clean up after my 15-year-old Labrador? Do I have to skip Project Runway, American Idol, Without A Trace?

It’s a balance, and focusing on that balance leads to symbiotic interplay between the two. In other words, pay off.

Family? Friends? We have to have them. Can't really live--or write--without them and all those obnoxious, needy, freeway-jamming, gum-chewing, rude and crude other people too. They are our characters, and the subsequent drama of their--and our--tangled relationships provide us with themes and plots. So letting people muddy up our lives? Gotta happen.

Then there's the issue of health, exercise, brushing teeth, and that no sugar rule. And the need to refill Julia Cameron's proverbial well with sunny days of rebelling against routine and late nights devoted to deep substantial reading. Plots build themselves on early morning walks, scene by scene, block by block. "To Build a Fire" gave birth to my story "Richie's Last Shot" and The Red Tent to "Honeymoon at the Oasis Hotel." Are these distractions or assets? Both.

As for the news, election or not, jury duty, the media, the Lakers, pop culture, and the biggest distraction: TV? Acts of living can shatter anyone's focus, but while they confuse us, they provide us with insights, while they frustrate us, they bring us understanding, while they subject us to banality and routine, they teach us the rhythm of patterns. These lessons, in turn, gift us with material from which we pull universal truths, the heart of good writing.

Awareness of how REAL LIFE devours both our time and our passion is all-important. The solution is deciding to do something about it--Plan. Follow through. Rejoice. And accept the idea that spending time in the act of writing is a blessing.

I used to believe that "having talent" meant writers were born, not made, and were compelled to write day and night. With no effort on their part, they could separate themselves from what other people wanted them to do and instead, blissfully compose epic novels. That certainly wasn't me. I had tasks to do at home, sometimes a job, demands of family, obligations to others. Since I was overwhelmed by RL, I wrote sporadically, fitfully, so I couldn't have been "born to write." I took this logic another step: "Not born to write" must mean I have no talent. I let this idea defeat me. Since I struggled to overcome distractions to writing, I must not have been born to write. If I was, I would let nothing stand in my way.

I don't believe this anymore. People who want to write eventually figure out some way to navigate the obstacles. They will find a balance. Writing is a choice. And choice demands focus--and action. After all, writers write.

No please! Not another blog about blogging!

Okay. After today I will never write another blog about not blogging. I promise. But I am really bad at this.

It's not that I don't think about blogging. I do. But then I stop myself. "Oh," I say. "THAT'S a good idea. I should save that and write an article and try and get it REALLY PUBLISHED." Of course, I never finish--sometimes never start--said article.

It's not that I don't like blogging. I love it. It's fun because it doesn't feel real when I first sit down to write. It's a journal. A diary of everyday thoughts. I'm free to not please an editor, a reader, no one but myself. Then I reconsider. "Hmmmm, people (all one of my fan base) might actually read what I write. I'd better make it good because I don't want to, you know, embarrass myself." So I end up spending hours rewriting and editing and then realize I shouldn't publish this masterpiece HERE. I should try and get it REALLY PUBLISHED.

It's not that I don't have time. I'm blessed with time that I sometimes waste. I could probably write a blog and an article and have hours left over for my book, my short stories, and a nap. Yet I am lazy, tremulous, distracted, worried, and completely disorganized.

JCO-how the hell do you do it?

Indeed, I know the answer. Focus, passion, and the willingness to risk being bad. Even Professor Oates isn't perfect all the time (not that that keeps her out of the America's Best series year after year). Tomorrow I'll write about focus. (See how I'm tricking myself into blogging manana?)

Can You Say "BLLLLUUURRRRR"

In this first post of 2008, let me just say I have no memory of November and December of 2007, so if I did anything embarrassing or illegal, just give me fair warning and I'll head to a nunnery in Italy and do a few hundred Hail Marys.


Highlights from the blur appear like cows in a tornado. Whish. Here it is. Whoosh. There it goes. Finishing a small remodel, hosting the college friend weekend, having a party for my son and his new fiancee, selling jewelry in a boutique, signing for the anthology, all good things, but overwhelming. Now it's a new year, the rain has freshened the air, and it's time to get on with the year of the Book and the Body.


Although I have over 90,000 words written for What Came Before, most of it needs editing. Every time I tried to get into that deep place last year, the blur got me. This year that will be different. Mostly because I am tired of having an unfinished book hanging over my head, but also because I believe in that book. And no time has been wasted. Not at all. My divergence into short stories is unregretted. I managed to get a short story in the mystery anthology Little Sisters and "One Question" posted at Every Day Fiction. These have given me that little extra shove I needed to believe in myself.


The body. HMMM. Too old to neglect. Sugar has a way of landing on my hips and creating jello. I have to be self-disciplined. Eat right and exercise more. Predictable I know, but also necessary. Staying healthy will also enhance my efforts in writing so it's all good.


First post of 2008. We're off.

What's New?

No excuses for not being around, but I'm back. Here's what been going on:

"Oh Hell," the second story featuring Nikki Hyland, Slacker Detective, has been published in the new anthology Little Sisters, Volume 1, edited by Loretta Scott Miller and is now available at Amazon.com.

The launch is Saturday, December 15, from 2-4 PM at Mystery & Imagination in Glendale. Hope to see you there.

BOOKFELLOWS/MYSTERY AND IMAGINATION is located in the Los Angeles area, at 238 N. Brand Blvd. in Glendale, California 91203

Also:

My story "One Question" has been selected to arrive in your mailbox on December 19 via the website Every Day Fiction. Sign up now for under-a-thousand-words of flash fiction each and every day.

I've lost a whole continent!

And despite having lost a considerable amount of ground, I don't have time to write now either. But I will.

Trying not to lose blogging ground...

Today's post may be somewhat incoherent as I am very tired today. It seems as if I've had no time lately to just contemplate--my navel or otherwise. Jewelry, writing, those breakfast room chairs I just had to stencil!! And I cut the stencil myself since I couldn't fine anything else I liked. Off in a million directions with lots of crowd immersion and traffic stress. But today, it's really back to basics which for me means priority 1: the novel.

And I do have some momentum going. Last week I squeezed in some work every day and it's looking good. I did some minor editing of the first 70 pages and today I begin to revise parts that have only been touch a couple of times. It's exciting because PROGRESS seems imminent.

This isn't much of a blog, but it's all my brain can conjure. (I'm so tired I typed conger!! What is the hidden meaning of that? Slithering eels gnawing holes in my brain?? I may need to take a nap!)

Thank goodness I have only one or two readers out there!

To Bead or Not to Bead

What a hectic two weeks and it's all good.

First. Last week (was it only LAST week?) I was bent over my computer trying to get to the end of my short story "Oh Hell!" to meet a May 31 deadline. Second. This week I was bent over my work bench trying to create some "Koi" specific necklaces for a June 6 deadline. Results? I'm tired, but it's that self-satisfied kind of exhaustion that comes with hard work and recognition that your efforts are appreciated.

Last Saturday, after turning my new short story (7000 words in need of a honing, tightening, motif insertion editing job), I received the terrific news that the editor of the Little Sisters, Volume 1 anthology had accepted my draft. Hooray!! Edits to start in July. I can't wait to see Loretta's notes.

Loretta Scott Miller, a mystery writer and publisher, has a passion for helping new writers (Too many times the "call for submission" editors specify "young"!!!) As a Sister-in-Crime, she created an anthology to publish those writers who seriously pursue the mystery-suspense genre and have joined Sisters-in-Crime.* She is also on the look-out for novels by emerging writers. She can be reached at Shannon Road Press.

So that adventure was terrific. Now it's on to the book and to FINISH the edit.

However, I have also fallen into a beading frenzy. Since going with my mother-in-law to Tucson in February for the Gem and Jewelry show, I've been hooked. My original goal was to bead while watching T.V. or rather, while NOT watching T.V when my husband is on one of his click-click-click nights. Keep him company but also to do something with my hands. Stringing works well in this capacity, so I've made a lot of necklaces to learn how to do it better and started giving them away. My friends have been generous with their praise so I finally took them into a local shop called Koi. The owner is an extremely nice person and was willing to look at what I had. She bought four of my necklaces. Hooray!!!

A friend of mine has expressed a concern that beading might supplant writing in my life and I have to admit, sometimes it's tempting. Let's face it, something new always seems more exciting than something you've done for a long time. And it is FUN.

So now to the question, to bead or not to bead.

One of the major snags in my writing process is intensity. This isn't the same thing as passion. Intensity is more binding, more limiting, more apt to paralyze. More like being UPTIGHT. Passion opens the heart, allows you to take risks, frees your mind.

Writing has been so important to me for so long that it's worn me out. I wanted to please. I wanted to make people love my writing. And wanted to do it right. And all that concern about acceptance played into my self doubt. Sapped up my passion. Where in those desires was my initial reason for writing? No where. And it ceased to be fun.

Eventually, I got tired of trying to please anyone but myself. To let go and let it be fun again. That doesn't mean being self-indulgent and not working hard. Using my craft to create something good is always the goal. Now I want to focus on what will please me. This idea of "doing it for myself" is also my attitude toward beading.

Stringing little necklaces in front of the T.V. has helped me to appreciate the lesson of acquiring skills without worrying about being perfect, published, or praised. No one session is any more important than anything else I might do. I don't have to have stellar results EVERY TIME.

I work at my beads, practice to get better, play with it. I am relaxed and my whole ego is not tied up in whether or not anyone will like my jewelry. I'm not saying I'm not pleased when someone says "This is pretty. " I am saying, wow, I like it too. Cool.

And sometimes its better if I'm not paying much attention. My best ideas and combinations for beads come when I'm distracted by the noise in the room, the conversational between me and Tim. When I'm distracted, I let the creative part of me to seep out, unedited, uncensored.

I've noticed this too in writing. Best place for me for writing is the elliptical at the gym with my Ipod on, folding laundry, taking a shower, sleeping. I'm not trying to so hard then. I'm distracted by other things and the creativity has a chance to emerge.

When I sat down to write this, I was thinking that beading had shown me this lesson of relaxation, but I now realize that I've learned it through writing too. When I started beading, it was always in my mind to "give it up to the universe" and "what happens happens." And I can see that's exactly where I arrived in my writing about two years ago. And putting words on paper became fun again.

I love writing. I won't quit. And I've come to believe that beading will actually enhance my efforts to write. It's a better "break" from writing than the hours I've spent playing "Bejeweled."


*Becoming a member is a great idea because the meetings are packed with speakers on crime, police methodology, pathology, etc. The membership includes professional writers, as-yet unpublished writers, and fans. This coming weekend, the Los Angeles Chapter is holding their conference "No Crime Unpublished." Go here if you're interested. You can sign up at the door.

Talent and Skill

I've been MIA again but I have excuses.

(1) Daughter home for a week or so
(2) Son home for Memorial Day
(3) Meeting a deadline--today--

I'm taking a quick break from working on a new short story, tentatively called "Oh, Hell." I had a successful morning so I'm treating myself to emails and blogs. But this has to be short.

What I wanted to address was the need for patience. I am not a patient person. Never have been. And when in the past (a rolling, long-ago past) I couldn't master something immediately, I assumed I had no talent and no skills and I gave up.

No talent. No skills.

These are two distinct attributes. Having talent is terrific and it certainly makes following your passion rewarding, but talent is only half the formula.

Having skill is absolutely necessary (watch American Idol if you don't believe me). But getting these skills isn't an immediate process. And if you're talking about becoming an expert at anything, you're talking YEARS of practice. That's where patience comes in.

I think it was Robert McKee (the writing coach whose book STORY is an excellent resource) who said that all we can do is to "take out our little bit of talent," push it around every day, apply our hard-earned skills and hopefully, that will result in something worthwhile. I'm sure I don't have that quote right, but you get the gist. It takes both talent and skill to become good at anything and skill takes patience.

I realized this this morning. I have to mail my story to the powers that be and last night when I went to bed I was miserable. Things at the end of my story were not working out. The whole thing felt stupid and, heaven forbid, CORNY. In the old days, I would have felt doomed. I would have thought of quitting. I would believe to the depths of my being that my writing sucked. And I sucked.

But this morning, I remembered I have developed a skill set to help me solve the problems in my story. Hmmmm. Imagine that!

I read about two or three pages in the middle, did a little editing, and suddenly I knew how to solve the story problem at the end. My mind was asking questions that only an "expert" would know to ask.

I moved away from the computer and started to scribble notes of what exactly had to happen for the whole story to make sense. I was so shocked at how easy it was, I started doubting it would work. But I typing the notes, I sure it does work. And it isn't corny. Maybe a little corny, but I still have time to fix that. Wow, it's working!!!

I'm not saying here that what I do is brilliant or even interesting to anyone else. But it is to me. To see that I will allow myself to make mistakes, to go on tangents, to think I suck, and then get back to work. To take out my "little bit of talent" and my years of practice, and actually be able to have answers, know what comes next, delight myself with a surprising ending, that for me, is success. And when I discover the NEXT problem, I will have skills to solve that too.

This idea of having patience--and I suppose, FAITH IN THE WRITING PROCESS--is a gift to me. A gift I've given myself over the years by focusing on learning the skills I need to do what I want, and letting my little bit of talent take care of itself.

Idol Thoughts

I have a few things to say about American Idol before the season gets filed in the TV archives. Many people have told me and I have often read on-line that this has been "the most boring season yet. Worst year ever. No talent. AI is done. The phenomena is over. It's going downhill."

Wait! Worst year ever? NO TALENT?

Can you say Melinda, Lakisha, Jordin, Blake, Gina, Chris, even Phil if he'd kept a stetson on his balding* head and truly channeled Garth? Excuse me, but when did a lot of talent turn into NO TALENT? You see, this is the problem. We hard-core Idol fans are desensitized. We're experts now, so the slightest break in a warble becomes a reason to dismiss someone as a hack, has-been, get rid of 'em no talent. We want the BEST? And we got it. Think about it. Would any of the superstar guests actually get into the top twelve today? Which ones? Akon? Gwen? Barry? uh-hem.

Of course, getting rid of the contestants is the whole point and so the unpredictability of both the performances and the results is the hook, and it works. It worked this year too.

"Idol's going down hill?" I get cranky when people start making sweeping statements based on a 10% dip in a couple of shows. Let's face it, part of the dip is do to some valiant efforts of competing networks, and the age of AI itself. There will be attrition. There always is. So what's the problem this year?

2007 may have produced the most talent ever. And this talent weeded out most of those who might have brought controversy to the show. There were so many strong, interesting voices and personalities--especially among the ladies--that there was no room of those who might develop as the season went on. We even had to lose two fabulous competitors in Stephanie Edwards and Sabrina Sloan.

The only weak link in the beginning appeared to be the men and they were more diverse than the women. However, the men failed to step up and it was only the numbers quotas (12 guys, 12 girls and later 6 guys, 6 girls) that kept some of them on the stage. The final twelve all gave at least one good performance (I would argue this is not true for Sanjaya, but there are those including the judges who thought he acquitted himself well on Latin night).

And the Top 12 bonded. They didn't even seem to resent the fact that Sanjaya stole the stage from more worthy candidates. The biggest factor to the "It's boring" comment is that every one of the final 12 idols seemed to be genuinely friendly, passionate, caring, non-controversial, unrebellious, and well, NICE. Anyone will tell you, "nice" is boring. The only two who provided any attitude were Sanjaya and Lakisha. SANJAYA! How can a show have Sanjaya in it and be boring? And Lakisha, her 'tude was subtle and wouldn't even have shown if the rest of them weren't wearing those toothy grins.

But what most people fail to talk about is the good that American Idol does. Why it ultimately succeeds every season. Idol creates uncommon common ground. While it's always different each season, the basic elements of the show bring people together, exposing them to a wider variety of music and talent than any other program before. While the demographic may be younger (I have no idea about the stats), the audience overall is composed of people of all ages, colors, tastes.

My daughter still can't get over the fact that Chris Daughtry lost. I still miss George Huff. This year my mother-in-law loves Melinda, can't understand a word of Blake's music (it all sounds alike), and claims a great injustice has been done. But, every Friday at lunch, we engage in a lively conversation about music, people who strive, digging deep to keep one's determination, living through disappointment. All because of Idol. This is bad? This is boring? A show that brings together generations to discuss life lessons such as what it takes to do the best you can, to be critiqued and live through it, to be dumped from the show and end up on the charts for, what, over 20 weeks?

No. The premise and the people aren't boring, but the audience demands lively entertainment and the show is often crass, over dramatic, stagy, and manipulative. And that CAN get boring. It's up to the producers to respond by listening to the fans and to continually refine the format.

Who will win? Bottom line: it doesn't matter. What IS really important , as in real life, is the journey and where it takes you.


*I mean no offense to bald people. There's good bald (Chris Daughtry, Michael Stipe, Ben Kingsley, Bruce Willis, Telly Savalas) and bad bald (Donald Trump, Britney Spears). Sorry Phil. Take a hint from Kenny. He is NEVER without a hat.

Savoring the Unexpected

Yesterday I ran errands until after six, coming home hot, ragged, annoyed because the library has misplaced three tapes I know I turned in. The new gate didn't work right. The dog was barking. The trash in the kitchen smelled. I dropped my purse on the floor, grabbed the plastic garbage liner, and took it outside to the curb. Back on the porch, I noticed among the scattered mags and ads, a familiar white envelope. Manuscript size. Addressed to me by me.

In my world this spells R-E-J-E-C-T-I-O-N. I let go an expletive and scooped up the envelope. Must be "One Question," a flash piece, I thought, because it's so light.

I tore it open. A minute of true confusion. A check? Who would paper-clip a check on a rejection?

Waitaminute.

"Dear Gay Degani,

Your manuscript "Hawaiian Hair" has been accepted..."

Omigod.

Yep. As Annie Potts yells in Ghostbusters, her voice echoing through the empty fire station the boys spent their last dimes renting ("Three mortgages? Everyone has three mortgages these days") : WE GOT ONE!!!

So. "Hawaiian Hair" will be in the fall 2007 issue of THEMA, Written in Stone.

If you are interested in purchasing a copy of the current issue, THEMA, Rage Over a Penny, shown above, or the Written in Stone issue in the fall, follow this link to the THEMA website.

Or if you would like to subscribe to THEMA, here is that information.
Subscription price: $20 per year for three issues ($30/year outside the US)
Single issue, back issue (see below), and sample copy price: $10 per copy ($15 outside the US).
Postage and handling: 1-3 copies, free; 4-8 copies, add $5; 9-15, add $8; more than 15, C.O.D.
Make check payable to THEMA Literary Society and mail to: THEMA, Box 8747, Metairie, LA 70011-8747

Mom's Day Mambo

Nice weekend for mothers. I'm a mother and I got my turn too. And I will avoid making the obvious comments such as Mother's Day is a Hallmark holiday. Which it is.

What worked for me yesterday was 1) a nap in the middle of the day. A nap not stolen when no one was around but a BALD-FACED nap that everyone knew about. 2) My husband did the driveway shuffle with my car AND went to the grocery to buy salad-fixins for Mother's Day dinner at his mother's. 3) My daughter put away the dishes from the dishwasher and came up early with us to the mother-in-law's. 4) Wonderful Mother's Day cards. 5) Beading with my daughter and mother-in-law. 6) A giant bouquet of flowers. 7) NO HASSLES and NO THINKING on my part!!! Wow. That ain't bad. Maybe even perfecto!!!

Time

Not much time today. It's Friday and as always I have things to do on Fridays. However a sense of routine is a good thing. At least for me. When I'm free-floating out there in the real world, I tend to waste time and I'm running out of that commodity.

I'm so torn between not wasting time and doing what I'm in the mood to do. The arguments on both sides of the issue are seductive. I'm older. I don't have forty years ahead of me to hone skills, make mistakes, do what I was put here on earth to do. I don't have thirty. I may, if I'm lucky, have twenty. And maybe not twenty COHERENT years. I can already feel the hot breath of forgetfulness steaming up the hairs on the back of my neck.

But if I only have twenty years, why not indulge myself? Do what I want? Haven't I earned the right to live life exactly how I choose? If I need or WANT a nap, what's wrong with stripping down in the middle of the day and crawling between cool sheets? If I want to wander through an antique mall for hours even though I can't put one more leg of furniture in my house, what's the harm?

None really. But I can't shake the feeling that what I do with my time should be of some use to someone other than myself. And if I want to "change the world" writing probably falls into the self-indulgent category, so where does that leave me?

Indecisive. Fearful of wasting time while defiantly wanting to waste time. In other words, a mess.

Cheering from the Peanut Gallery

Since Tim is travelling, Hillary and I watched "American's Next Top Model" and the results from "American Idol" without so much as one male eye roll.

Actually, I want to address this "male eye roll" thing.

Men in general, the average man on the street, has been reluctant to embrace Idol (also "America's Next Top Model" and "Project Runway," the class shows of their ilk) as anything but an obligation to keep the little woman sitting next to him on the couch. Can you imagine a bunch of bruisers crowded around the TV set with beer and pizza, yelling "Atta girl, LaKisha!" with no estrogen around?

Most men think "American Idol" is a fad, and a cheesy fad at that--it IS cheesy much of the time--but hold on. What's the difference between spending two hours watching grass grow at a Dodger game and spending two hours watching Paula clap her hands together like a little kid?

Both are competitions. People who want to win do their best to beat out other people who want to win.

Both have created job opportunities for unknown talents and for people who aren't "the talent."

Both can be classified as "reality TV"--whatever that means. We get to watch semi-amateurs and paid professionals vie to stay in the game as long as they can and set up opportunities (contracts, endorsements, trips to Japan) for more glorious futures.

Both draw audiences from all walks of life, all ages, with all kinds of music tastes, though most have never heard of emo, trance, techno, techno-emo, underground emo, Crunk, etc.

Both competitions are seen in person or on TV.

Both are watched live or taped. It's still the director who chooses what we see.

Both create a "culture" including adjunct TV shows, media events, and bigger competitions.

Both are "topics of conversations" whenever we run into people we don't have much to say to.

Both feature people who can hit it out of the park and thrill us.

Both are loved because of the unpredictability of the competition.

Both are loved because of the drama of the competition.

Both give us "heroes" and make us fans.

Both give us flawed human beings who annoy and disappoint us.

Both feature people we wonder "How the hell did this person get this far?" At least on "American Idol," Sanjaya wasn't paid a million dollars for every missed lay-up.

Both contain life lessons about perserverence, passion, self-confidence, as well as disappointment, manipulation, and self-doubt.

Both are metaphors for life.

And both gave us its own version of Paula Abdul: Laker girl and "American Idol" judge. Now isn't that a life lesson in itself?

Okay okay now EVERYONE is rolling their eyes.

American IDOL Final FOUR

I love American Idol, but haven't written about it in this space before. (Hmmm...maybe once a while back). Usually I unspool my jewels on the Iowa board, but since I'm committed to doing a better job on this blog, I'm stealing from myself.

Despite the scorning of disco music for 30 years, the BeeGee oeurve sounds current. After all, the Bee Gees were the first boy band. (Even I won't call the BEATLES a "boy band").

Barry Gibb. What was up with those teeth? Why can't the English--who've conquered the world a couple of times--get basic skills of orthodontia and enamel RIGHT? BUT. I'm a BEE GEE fan from way back. Love him. B.G.'s gone through a lot and looks it, but wow, he's the real deal. And a good mentor from what I could decipher. (Teeth).

Melinda-The consummate professional, and since I don't really know how a "back-up singer" would approach a particular song, Simon was all wet about her first "joint." (Randy-speak) She did what she said she wanted to do which was to make a solo out of a group song. And it sounded excellent proving this woman can do anything. The second song totally ROCKED. I be downloadin' today.

Blake-While I thought his first number was good, it felt a little too trance-y to me. I know young kids might like it, but I missed the original beats. Seemed like the arrangement was missing a bass line? (I don't have a clue what that means, but that's what it FELT like. Blame the judges for teaching me lingo without clear definitions. Pitchy? Lower register? See what I mean?). Blake's second "joint" was terrific. Worthy of a first single release from his album.

Lakisha-I won't even bother. Anyone else hear that sucking sound?

Jordin-Wow and double WOW. I liked both her songs, but especially the first which was perfect-o. And I loved the second one too. Maybe she isn't quite Babs, but who is? By the way, the Babs/Barry "Guilty" album is worth downloading. Anyway Jordin's either got me mesmerized or the judges are looney-toons about the second song not working. Oh, wait. Two of them are!!!

Row, Row, Row my boat...

You've heard of continental drift, I'm sure. How as the earth formed and reshaped itself, the continents moved closer together, then farther apart, back again? Still do? Not a scientifically accurate explanation*, but that's not the point. The point is WE drift too.

It is the rare human being (writer) who doesn't suddenly find herself in a different landscape far from the one where she wanted to be. Sometimes the new island, mountain top, whatever, is pretty damn pleasant and for a moment, when she realizes where she is, she thinks maybe she'll stay.

After all, the place she used to be is a bare speck on the horizon. From where she sits now, that speck seems rugged and untamed, jungle-like, and a good rowing distance away. A hard row. And she's never learned to sail, can't crank an outboard. For her it's strong arms, back, and legs all pulling together or nothing. And that's soooo much work. Easier to stay put in this new place...

But no. Can't do that. Gotta get out the row boat, patch the leaks, and get rowing. And next time when playing in the vast sea becomes a temptation, she's gotta point the prow straight back to the jungle, and pull it up into the sand.

*I googled "continental drift": In 1915, the German geologist and meteorologist Alfred Wegener first proposed the theory of continental drift, which states that parts of the Earth's crust slowly drift atop a liquid core. The fossil record supports and gives credence to the theories of continental drift and plate tectonics.

Gone long enough to be forgotten

Yes, even the powers that be at Blogger forgot who I am. Either that or they've figured out a way to make me "join." So here I am, back, but with little time at present to say the things I'd like to say. Do I dare to commit to loyal perseverance AGAIN??? Why not?? Life is full of new beginnings. Thank goodness.

Blank Square

There is nothing I like better than to check my calendar and find there is NOTHING ON IT. One plain blank square! A day without an obligation to anyone else. Hooray!!! Of course the painter will still be here working on our remodeling project, but he's quiet, pleasant, and efficient so I've gotten used to him. And there is the DOG. In her great age--almost fourteen--she has learned how to manipulate me even better than the rest of my family so I will have to attend to our walk and her other doggy needs, but basically, THE DAY IS MINE.

I'm trying to build the momentum to finish revising my novel. I lost it completely this fall between the remodel, the onset of Christmas, and trying to market short stories. At least the last was writing related. I've sent out about 55 submissions and received about 28 rejections since last August. I expect an onslaught of rejections now that the holidays are over and the college lit students strive to meet their deadlines. I'm sure that my stories have been tossed into corners too. It happens. I sent out three stories in quantity and a couple additional ones to a contest or two. This brings me into a new realm of writing: actually sending out stuff I write. So that's a positive. Still, the novel has been shoved on the back burner, occasionally stirred and tasted, but few new ingredients added to the stew.

Now it's time to move it to the front. I've already started. I've rewritten or rather edited three chapters and have reread and reedited two of them. Once I do chapter three, I'm taking them off the stove and setting them in the window to cool. I will try very hard not to nibble on them until the whole dinner is cooked. What an analogy. Sorry about that but sometimes I can't help myself. Oh well. It's time to head out for the garage. I'm trying to stay accountable in this space to my writing and perhaps that will prove the nudge I need.

Accountability, uh-oh!

Okay so I wrote my goals yesterday and it was exhilerating. However, I never did make it out to the garage! Is that crazy? By the time I got dressed and walked the dog and did all those things I need to do before I can actually go out, some one called and then it was 11:15 and the parade of workman were due to come from 12-4 and I can't be in the garage then. I made stew instead of writing, and I threw away all the fattening left overs.

While I waited for the repair men I did start a review of The March. I have a hair up my butt about it because the praise is so profuse and while I liked it, enjoyed reading it, it's no Tess of the D'urbevilles and I don't understand how I'll ever succeed when literary books feel shallow to me and yet they win prizes. I just don't get it.

I'm still working on the review to get the sarcasm out of it...or at least to justify the sarcasm and will post it on my blog sometime in the next couple of days. So I can't really say "I didn't write," but I can't really say I did.

Here's a clarification. General fooling around writing counts 1/4 of a point compared to fiction writing on either a short story or the novel.

That way I won't be saying I wrote a thank you note and using that as my "writing" for the day. That doesn't count this year!!!!

Fresh Start

Okay so the end of 2006 fell in a hole. It's done, over, finito. Now for the NEW YEAR and a FRESH START.

January Goals

1. Write. I am a writer. My goal is to write every day, long and hard, and in a professional manner, so that I will actually finish my book and also develop and complete other writing projects.

I will think in terms of DAILY hours at the computer, not minutes, in order to complete my book as well as work on the thousand other writing projects I have.

2. Be accountable. I will report here every day even if my message is brief, even if all I write is "I didn't write." The reason? If I force myself to post about writing, then I will force myself to notice of the amount of time and effort I put into writing. If I don't write, then perhaps I will get tired of typing "I didn't write" and TAKE action.

3. Commit. Whether I write for five minutes or five hours,I will write EVERY SINGLE DAY. No missing. If I am pressed for time, then I will write with the egg timer set so that I know once I fulfill my commitment to write--even for 5 minutes--I can guiltlessly attend to "real life" business. No wasting time, feeling sorry for myself, wandering to the refrigerator to get a snack, doing a quick sudoku, taking the Spider Solitaire detour. I will get what I have to do in "real life" done, and get back to the writing.

4. Have fun. One of the reasons I write is because it's fun. It is PLAY despite the fact that I am serious about it. But I often forget to allow the "fun" to happen because I am either worried about who will tell me it sucks--voices in my head as I type--or I go straight to the point, how useless this all is because I'll never finish. I'm giving that up. Right now.

Actually. I think I have already given it up.

I have a right to write and to have fun. Give up the worry. Just do it. I often forget that nothing can be perfect the first time around, so I must insist when I get stuck to move on, change scenes, be creative about my approach.

5. Market. Continue on my quest to send out work. Use revising shorter stuff as a break from the novel but allow myself to use my hours to write and market rather than waste time with tv or computer games or visiting that big white appliance that lies in wait for me in the kitchen.

I did not achieve my goal of 100 rejections this past year. I will start fresh and send out again and again. I still have several prospects out in the market ether and perhaps one or two might yield something, but I will not focus on the result once the decision is out of my hands. What I will focus on is getting good stuff into into its best shape and continuing to put it out there. As I do this, hopefully I will learn what works and doesn't work, not just through the rejections, but through the experience of shaping and reworking my stuff.

6. Read. Read long hard and well. Think about what I'm reading, why it works or doesn't work for me. Read fiction and non-fiction. Explore areas of interest and non-interest because ya never know.

7. Explore. Explore long hard and well. Every experience will enrich my real life and my writing life. But don't let the exploring take over the writing. Writing first. Writing first.