What are the odds of this happening? At the writer's group last Monday, one writer mentions being from Tennessee. I ask, "do you have any Cherokee blood?" She says "yes." Another writer pops up that she, too, does. I make three.
None of us looks the least bit native American, except for high cheekbones. But lots of people have high cheekbones. Actually, I have native American on both sides, because my great grandfather was part Canadian French, part Indian, much to the consternation of the family. It was one of those things never spoken of. The great grandchildren think it's an honor and are proud of it. My mother and two of her brothers looked like they carried the bloodline.
One of these days when I have $200 to throw around, I'd like to get one of those DNA tests that show one's ethnic composition from all over the world. Wouldn't that be cool? So many of us have an eighth or a sixteenth of Cherokee. I wonder if anyone has ever explored the millions that make up the new Cherokee Nation?
Always wondering about some damn thing.
Grapeshot
Monday, October 30, 2006
Sunday, October 29, 2006
Woolgathering
Omigod! Massive embarassment and stupidity at the supermarket yesterday. Almost through the store. Last stop the deli counter. 4-5 clerks working behind counter, but only two of them waiting on customers. Woman in front of me order multiple items. Down by the seafood, a tall blonde kind of blowsy woman chats with the fishmonger and has a loud infectious laugh. I am watching her and waiting and even thinking, "she might make a good character."
Finally my turn, and I order my 1/2 pound of imported ham (less water and fewer preservative). In the meantime, Significant Other has decided to pick up a bottle of plonk.
I grab the cart and meet him at the checkout counter. Remember that I still need the shrimp on sale and I can't find them and have to ask twice and finally get my paws on one and return to the checkout. The comestibles, as they say, are about half scanned, and something looks weird. Milk we didn't buy. Junkfood we didn't buy. Pork chops and broccoli we did buy. Ye gods, it's the wrong cart! S.O. is a notorious woolgatherer in checkout lines, and has not noticed that these are not our groceries. I did the woolgathering at the deli counter.
I go chasing off to find the right cart which is by the deli counter where I left it. I look around for someone cartless and even ask a couple shoppers, but no one is missing a cart. Back at the checkout line, chastened, the foreign cart and its contents have disappeared. Maybe they announced the problem over the P.A. system and all was made well. Keep looking for a mad customer, but all seems normal. Can't help laughing at us. I know from experience that the checkout lady could have scanned hand grenades and Kalashnikovs and S.O. would have not noticed a thing in his pleasant daydreams.
Laughed all the way home. Tonight, I cooked the veggies and the pork chops and S.O. asked where the wine was. Ooops! The wine was in the stranger's cart. Wonder if they noticed. If not, there's going to be heap big mystery of how could I have bought this wine?
Gather ye wool while ye may.
Grapeshot
Finally my turn, and I order my 1/2 pound of imported ham (less water and fewer preservative). In the meantime, Significant Other has decided to pick up a bottle of plonk.
I grab the cart and meet him at the checkout counter. Remember that I still need the shrimp on sale and I can't find them and have to ask twice and finally get my paws on one and return to the checkout. The comestibles, as they say, are about half scanned, and something looks weird. Milk we didn't buy. Junkfood we didn't buy. Pork chops and broccoli we did buy. Ye gods, it's the wrong cart! S.O. is a notorious woolgatherer in checkout lines, and has not noticed that these are not our groceries. I did the woolgathering at the deli counter.
I go chasing off to find the right cart which is by the deli counter where I left it. I look around for someone cartless and even ask a couple shoppers, but no one is missing a cart. Back at the checkout line, chastened, the foreign cart and its contents have disappeared. Maybe they announced the problem over the P.A. system and all was made well. Keep looking for a mad customer, but all seems normal. Can't help laughing at us. I know from experience that the checkout lady could have scanned hand grenades and Kalashnikovs and S.O. would have not noticed a thing in his pleasant daydreams.
Laughed all the way home. Tonight, I cooked the veggies and the pork chops and S.O. asked where the wine was. Ooops! The wine was in the stranger's cart. Wonder if they noticed. If not, there's going to be heap big mystery of how could I have bought this wine?
Gather ye wool while ye may.
Grapeshot
Saturday, October 28, 2006
Music Hath Charms
Thursday, we attended Rice professor of composition and theory Anthony Brandt’s lecture on “Music and the Mind.” Dr. Brandt explored how music's abstract and universal nature makes it especially relevant to the scientific understanding of the human mind. During his talk, Dr. Brandt played musical examples to emphasize his points, using both classical and modern music. Beethoven’s 2nd symphony was one of the pieces referenced. There were many learned questions after the lecture, and I was much too inhibited to mention that we have had a long series of cats who enjoyed bathing to classical music, in time, and occasionally without missing a beat. No, I didn't mention that.
The lecture was in the Hotel Marlowe, which had flown under my radar. The hotel is one of those trendy jewel box places and is across from the Cambridgeside Galleria. The wine and hors d’oeuvres met expectations, even exceeded them, the lecture was lively and stimulating and we noticed a noisy convivial crowd in the bar, which definitely needs to be explored further.
Afterward, we went into the mall to run an errand. The disparity between the Mall and the Hotel could hardly have been greater, and I think this is a class thing, partly economic but not wholly. Images I left the mall with: two young women riding on the same step of a down escalator. One is talking on her cell; the other is looking at her cell. Victoria’s Secret at the end of the day, the store in deshabille. Panty counter looks like a fetishist has mauled them all and made off with most. General air of defeat except for one young customer who is buying a skid load of pantyhose. And here I thought they were outré.
Last night at Symphony Hall for the Beethoven/Mozart concert. The Handel & Haydn Society as been generous to the max and invited long-time ticket holders to invites guests for $5 a pop. A refreshing number of young people in the crowd. S.O. swears he sees Jack Welsh, a famous but not young person. We have been trekking so symphony hall for so long that the faces in the crowd all seem somewhat familiar.
About symphony hall there is the following to say: those folks in Texas that fired the schoolteacher for taking the kids to an art museum where there are, gasp, naked statues had better stay away! Ye gods is there ever a goodly supply of naked men and women, too, as big as life with this and that draped here and there but exposing all. I couldn’t have liked it more. Noticed all the musical exposition, repetition and confirmation. The Mozart piece was a clarinet piece, with an old fashioned clarinet that looked like a pipe to be smoked. Certainly not the squeaky affair I played in high school.
We walked to Copley to catch the train. Lots of young folks in costumes and girls in pretty clothes and high heels. New Year’s Eve, 1998 we were in Wichita Kansas at the Holiday Inn, and we noticed that the girls and women were dressed to the nines while lots of guys wore their best sweat shirts. I thought this was a trend in middle America but now realize it’s all over even in Paparazzi on Dartmouth Street. Definitely a disconnect.
One more thing. Both in Park Street Station and on the Red Line en route to Braintree, people were eating greasy fast food that really smelled disgusting. The subway car wasn’t any too clean. I thought of Singapore and flogging and found the idea not altogether displeasing.
Onward,
Grapeshot
The lecture was in the Hotel Marlowe, which had flown under my radar. The hotel is one of those trendy jewel box places and is across from the Cambridgeside Galleria. The wine and hors d’oeuvres met expectations, even exceeded them, the lecture was lively and stimulating and we noticed a noisy convivial crowd in the bar, which definitely needs to be explored further.
Afterward, we went into the mall to run an errand. The disparity between the Mall and the Hotel could hardly have been greater, and I think this is a class thing, partly economic but not wholly. Images I left the mall with: two young women riding on the same step of a down escalator. One is talking on her cell; the other is looking at her cell. Victoria’s Secret at the end of the day, the store in deshabille. Panty counter looks like a fetishist has mauled them all and made off with most. General air of defeat except for one young customer who is buying a skid load of pantyhose. And here I thought they were outré.
Last night at Symphony Hall for the Beethoven/Mozart concert. The Handel & Haydn Society as been generous to the max and invited long-time ticket holders to invites guests for $5 a pop. A refreshing number of young people in the crowd. S.O. swears he sees Jack Welsh, a famous but not young person. We have been trekking so symphony hall for so long that the faces in the crowd all seem somewhat familiar.
About symphony hall there is the following to say: those folks in Texas that fired the schoolteacher for taking the kids to an art museum where there are, gasp, naked statues had better stay away! Ye gods is there ever a goodly supply of naked men and women, too, as big as life with this and that draped here and there but exposing all. I couldn’t have liked it more. Noticed all the musical exposition, repetition and confirmation. The Mozart piece was a clarinet piece, with an old fashioned clarinet that looked like a pipe to be smoked. Certainly not the squeaky affair I played in high school.
We walked to Copley to catch the train. Lots of young folks in costumes and girls in pretty clothes and high heels. New Year’s Eve, 1998 we were in Wichita Kansas at the Holiday Inn, and we noticed that the girls and women were dressed to the nines while lots of guys wore their best sweat shirts. I thought this was a trend in middle America but now realize it’s all over even in Paparazzi on Dartmouth Street. Definitely a disconnect.
One more thing. Both in Park Street Station and on the Red Line en route to Braintree, people were eating greasy fast food that really smelled disgusting. The subway car wasn’t any too clean. I thought of Singapore and flogging and found the idea not altogether displeasing.
Onward,
Grapeshot
Friday, October 27, 2006
Culture Vulture
I confess! I like music and art galleries and museums, theater and all that high-brow long-hair stuff, although my brow ain't high and my hair is medium.
Part of the Adirondacks trip was a stop on the way back at Mass MOCA.
http://www.massmoca.org/visual_arts/visual_arts.html
North Adams, MA is on first glimpse an unlikely place for an art museum, but the old mill buildings that display the art are great exhibition spaces, with an emphasis on space: high ceilings, big rooms, big windows, and no fancy ceilings or moldings to distract from the art, which of course, is modern, this being the Museum of Contemporary Art. A clever intelligence was behind some of the less arty elements, like the restrooms and the cafes. The ladies room was obviously an old restroom from the factory, with the metal doors on the stalls and a certain grunge, now a certain spotless cool grunge, with the old fashioned sink the the old-fashioned lights. Worth a trip, even if nature doesn't call. The cafe used, for example, big Sears tool chests on wheels to keep the silverware and table items handy. Food and wine good, and the snack bar had excellent soups!
We saw several exhibits, some of which seem to be gone, except for Artists Making History (strongly recommend) thru April 22, 2007 and House of Oracles, Feb 25, 2007.
One of the exhibits was a series of photographs of various spots in North Adams: churches, schools, parks, cemeteries, and the viewer was invited to write a brief memory of familiar spots. The jottings were then put in a little plastic sleeve and hung by the photos. I read some. The most intriguing comment was about a church where someone wrote "I lost my virginity here."
North Adams has been revitalized by the museum, while the old buildings give new vitality to the art displayed. It's definitely worth a visit, especially in the fall. And you are close to the Berkshires with all that area has to offer. Beautiful scenery, art and music. That's almost as good as it gets.
Grapeshot
Part of the Adirondacks trip was a stop on the way back at Mass MOCA.
http://www.massmoca.org/visual_arts/visual_arts.html
North Adams, MA is on first glimpse an unlikely place for an art museum, but the old mill buildings that display the art are great exhibition spaces, with an emphasis on space: high ceilings, big rooms, big windows, and no fancy ceilings or moldings to distract from the art, which of course, is modern, this being the Museum of Contemporary Art. A clever intelligence was behind some of the less arty elements, like the restrooms and the cafes. The ladies room was obviously an old restroom from the factory, with the metal doors on the stalls and a certain grunge, now a certain spotless cool grunge, with the old fashioned sink the the old-fashioned lights. Worth a trip, even if nature doesn't call. The cafe used, for example, big Sears tool chests on wheels to keep the silverware and table items handy. Food and wine good, and the snack bar had excellent soups!
We saw several exhibits, some of which seem to be gone, except for Artists Making History (strongly recommend) thru April 22, 2007 and House of Oracles, Feb 25, 2007.
One of the exhibits was a series of photographs of various spots in North Adams: churches, schools, parks, cemeteries, and the viewer was invited to write a brief memory of familiar spots. The jottings were then put in a little plastic sleeve and hung by the photos. I read some. The most intriguing comment was about a church where someone wrote "I lost my virginity here."
North Adams has been revitalized by the museum, while the old buildings give new vitality to the art displayed. It's definitely worth a visit, especially in the fall. And you are close to the Berkshires with all that area has to offer. Beautiful scenery, art and music. That's almost as good as it gets.
Grapeshot
Thursday, October 26, 2006
A Really Good Sentence
Catching up on yesterday's news, including NY Times. (October 25). Reading review of The Beautiful Cigar Girl by Daniel Shashower. The reviewer is William Grimes. He said this, speaking of Edgar Allen Poe,
"Grandiose and self-loathing, always eager to bite the hand that fed him, Poe lurches through the book, drunk and desheveled, like a mangled saint."
"Like a mangled saint." Isn't that great? And how wonderful to come up with such a phrase under the pressure of deadlines and read the 326 page book.
From the review, the book sounds like an excellent read in the good sense of the phrase, not a "quick read" in the pass 3 hours on the plane sense of the phrase.
I am going to go to the gym and heft some weight. On the treadmill, I can finish the Maisie Dobbs book I'm currently reading. Speaking of a good read, there's nothing like a good book to make the miles on the treadmill go quickly.
Let's hear it for good books!
"Grandiose and self-loathing, always eager to bite the hand that fed him, Poe lurches through the book, drunk and desheveled, like a mangled saint."
"Like a mangled saint." Isn't that great? And how wonderful to come up with such a phrase under the pressure of deadlines and read the 326 page book.
From the review, the book sounds like an excellent read in the good sense of the phrase, not a "quick read" in the pass 3 hours on the plane sense of the phrase.
I am going to go to the gym and heft some weight. On the treadmill, I can finish the Maisie Dobbs book I'm currently reading. Speaking of a good read, there's nothing like a good book to make the miles on the treadmill go quickly.
Let's hear it for good books!
Progress!
Finally and at last I rewrote the first scenes of World of Mirrors, keeping the prologue. Hope it works. What is next is to tweak it 76 times as crime novelist Jerry Healy advises. And not send out until tweaked.
Re-writing one query and the first chapter has me psyched. What's next? Working on a talk I have to give about blogging. Found a great link (a great LONG link) yesterday about why blog?
http://sandhill.typepad.com/sandhill_trek/2004/11/why_do_we_blog.html
If I get the speech done today, then what? Dance in the fallen leaves? Well, maybe better spread the manure and soil on the garden after hard-frost tidy-up.
I dance around in the kitchen to Zazie singing Desenchantee (forgive lack of accents). Cat looks at me like I'm possessed. Well? At least I don't attach the rug in the entry hall with kicking and biting.
A lecture on music tonight. Beetoven concert tomorrow. The slough still have little blobs of red leaves among the brown. But winter comes. Until then, a little night music.
Grapeshot
Re-writing one query and the first chapter has me psyched. What's next? Working on a talk I have to give about blogging. Found a great link (a great LONG link) yesterday about why blog?
http://sandhill.typepad.com/sandhill_trek/2004/11/why_do_we_blog.html
If I get the speech done today, then what? Dance in the fallen leaves? Well, maybe better spread the manure and soil on the garden after hard-frost tidy-up.
I dance around in the kitchen to Zazie singing Desenchantee (forgive lack of accents). Cat looks at me like I'm possessed. Well? At least I don't attach the rug in the entry hall with kicking and biting.
A lecture on music tonight. Beetoven concert tomorrow. The slough still have little blobs of red leaves among the brown. But winter comes. Until then, a little night music.
Grapeshot
Tuesday, October 24, 2006
Literary Progress
My Promiscuous Mode query has been rewritten. Then I had to write it again to get rid of passive voice sentences. Now it conforms to what "Miss Snark" said to do. Since I wasn't getting anywhere with the other one, it can't hurt and may help. It's going out to two agents tomorrow.
I'm tearing apart the beginning of World of Mirrors one more time to get rid of 5 pages that are O.K. but are wrong for this book. After a fairly grim prologue we get a scene that seems definitely like women's fiction, not suspense. Goodbye, adios, adieu. One can construct the most consummate sentences but if they don't belong in the book then they must go. One of many writer's laments. Maybe those sentences weren't even consummate.
Once I heard the writer Tim O' Brien talk about slaving and slaving to get a perfect sentence. More work, more sweat, more sentences and pretty soon, voila, the pefect paragraph. Hours and hours and even days of effort and pretty soon the chapter is completed. Read the chapter. Admire it. Alas, it's a wonderful chapter, but it doesn't belong in this book. O'Brien (The Things They Carried) is a powerful writer, and if he does that, then what hope is there for the rest of us?
Now I really really need to update my web site. And finish Festival Madness. And sell a bunch of stuff on Ebay. And spend quality time with the cats. Which do you think I'll do first?
Meow.
I'm tearing apart the beginning of World of Mirrors one more time to get rid of 5 pages that are O.K. but are wrong for this book. After a fairly grim prologue we get a scene that seems definitely like women's fiction, not suspense. Goodbye, adios, adieu. One can construct the most consummate sentences but if they don't belong in the book then they must go. One of many writer's laments. Maybe those sentences weren't even consummate.
Once I heard the writer Tim O' Brien talk about slaving and slaving to get a perfect sentence. More work, more sweat, more sentences and pretty soon, voila, the pefect paragraph. Hours and hours and even days of effort and pretty soon the chapter is completed. Read the chapter. Admire it. Alas, it's a wonderful chapter, but it doesn't belong in this book. O'Brien (The Things They Carried) is a powerful writer, and if he does that, then what hope is there for the rest of us?
Now I really really need to update my web site. And finish Festival Madness. And sell a bunch of stuff on Ebay. And spend quality time with the cats. Which do you think I'll do first?
Meow.
Monday, October 23, 2006
Whither the Passion?
One of the things I noticed when reading my book was the energy, the passion if you will that seemed to jump off every page. How do we writer's get that? Is it even a good thing? And how will I get it back? Maybe it has something to do with genre. The Shadow Warriors wasn't a mystery, and it wasn't even suspense, really, although of course there was a lot of suspense generated because stuff kept happening and I was taking the reader on a pretty good ride. It wasn't a "literary novel" either. I thought about marketing it as "a novel of technology and desire," and you can probably guess how far that got me. Anything that bends the genre, known as a genre bender is hard to market because the work doesn't fit into the bookstores and the publishers cozy little niche. Kind of makes you wonder how Griffin and Sabine ever got published.
But TSW was obviously something I had to write and loved writing, and it was so painful that it did not get the kind of literary boost it deserved, but I am getting an inkling that this happens to lots of books, good, bad and indifferent. You can write a good book that will never see the light of day. Life is not fair. Literature is not fair. Publishing is a business now ruled by bean counters and marketing.
Have to confess I have no respect for marketing. Anyplace I ever worked, marketing couldn't use regular mail but always had couriers running around, couldn't ever understand that Information Systems did not read their mind and if they wanted to do something requiring the computer (and what didn't) that they would actually have to tell us ahead of time, not the day after. Can't tell you how many times that happened. Marketing was the natural enemy of information systems, as cats are to dogs. So it doesn't surprise me that marketing wouldn't know how to sell that book, not that they ever got the chance.
How to get the passion back? Each book has a song associated with it, that I play over and over and over again, a song that sort of defines the book in my head on a symbolic level. Playing that song would be one way, but how else? I'm thinking. How to get the passion back into the text? Real big problem.
Grapeshot
But TSW was obviously something I had to write and loved writing, and it was so painful that it did not get the kind of literary boost it deserved, but I am getting an inkling that this happens to lots of books, good, bad and indifferent. You can write a good book that will never see the light of day. Life is not fair. Literature is not fair. Publishing is a business now ruled by bean counters and marketing.
Have to confess I have no respect for marketing. Anyplace I ever worked, marketing couldn't use regular mail but always had couriers running around, couldn't ever understand that Information Systems did not read their mind and if they wanted to do something requiring the computer (and what didn't) that they would actually have to tell us ahead of time, not the day after. Can't tell you how many times that happened. Marketing was the natural enemy of information systems, as cats are to dogs. So it doesn't surprise me that marketing wouldn't know how to sell that book, not that they ever got the chance.
How to get the passion back? Each book has a song associated with it, that I play over and over and over again, a song that sort of defines the book in my head on a symbolic level. Playing that song would be one way, but how else? I'm thinking. How to get the passion back into the text? Real big problem.
Grapeshot
Sunday, October 22, 2006
Blog Fog Smog Hog
Yesterday evening, I spent a long time on a long blog post and then saw the message that I wasn't connected and couldn't save. Couldn't copy, couldn't print--lost the whole damn post which was a lament about my book in print and how sad and get out the violins and pour the 100 proof booze and let's all cry in our drinks about the fate of books and authors and bad luck. You get the idea. I had really bared my soul, never a good idea, and now I'm kinda glad the post was lost.
I read my book and was struck by how lively it was and all the good detail and plot turns and how had I ever managed to pull that off and why hadn't a major publisher ever taken it. Still don't know. Move on. Move on. Now I am unhappy with Festival Madness which seems kind of pedestrian next to The Shadow Warriors. The thing with TSW was that I didn't know where the plot was going from one minute to the next so I surprised myself with all the twists and turns and surprises. For Festival Madness I always had a plot and a synopsis and knew who the characters were and who the killer was and all that stuff from day one and so it has been kind of a slog to get from beginning to end and maybe that isn't a good thing. Of course I didn't plan to be writing about Ultralights and small planes and the Adirondacks, but the plot seems more pedestrian and less twisty. Hmmmm.
I worked and reworked and slaved, no other word, for years on The Shadow Warriors, and it shows. The characters are really cool and the settings, all the detail takes you to Singapore, Hong Kong, Cambridge, MA, Germany, and so forth. Hadn't realized how the hard work to take the reader there had paid off. I must have been reading Story or something. Don't think it was the critique group who didn't particularly like the story. Well, whatcha gonna do?
Work harder on Festival Madness which isn't even finished yet, and yet again and always suck it up.
I read my book and was struck by how lively it was and all the good detail and plot turns and how had I ever managed to pull that off and why hadn't a major publisher ever taken it. Still don't know. Move on. Move on. Now I am unhappy with Festival Madness which seems kind of pedestrian next to The Shadow Warriors. The thing with TSW was that I didn't know where the plot was going from one minute to the next so I surprised myself with all the twists and turns and surprises. For Festival Madness I always had a plot and a synopsis and knew who the characters were and who the killer was and all that stuff from day one and so it has been kind of a slog to get from beginning to end and maybe that isn't a good thing. Of course I didn't plan to be writing about Ultralights and small planes and the Adirondacks, but the plot seems more pedestrian and less twisty. Hmmmm.
I worked and reworked and slaved, no other word, for years on The Shadow Warriors, and it shows. The characters are really cool and the settings, all the detail takes you to Singapore, Hong Kong, Cambridge, MA, Germany, and so forth. Hadn't realized how the hard work to take the reader there had paid off. I must have been reading Story or something. Don't think it was the critique group who didn't particularly like the story. Well, whatcha gonna do?
Work harder on Festival Madness which isn't even finished yet, and yet again and always suck it up.
Friday, October 20, 2006
MInd Like A Sieve
Writing, cooking, going to the gym, cleaning, querying, filing, brushing the cat, and writing a one-paragraph description of Promiscuous Mode. The rain pours down and there is a 52 mile backup going west on the Mass Pike. Life is full. Ran across a writing blog with good advice that we all should follow, if we write.
www.robertwwalker.blogspot.com
I'm trying to get ready for a library "event" and realize that the book I'll be pushing was written so long ago that I don't remember every little comma, hell, I don't even remember some of the charcter's names. It is really hard to go back to The Shadow Warriors (2003) for examples of research, characters, plot, locales, and all that good stuff. So what am I doing? You guessed it! I am reading my own book. Ouch! One sees things that could be just a little bit better. I'm 3 books beyond my first. Amazing, really, what does stay in one's head! The sex scenes! LOL Just joking.
Grapeshot
www.robertwwalker.blogspot.com
I'm trying to get ready for a library "event" and realize that the book I'll be pushing was written so long ago that I don't remember every little comma, hell, I don't even remember some of the charcter's names. It is really hard to go back to The Shadow Warriors (2003) for examples of research, characters, plot, locales, and all that good stuff. So what am I doing? You guessed it! I am reading my own book. Ouch! One sees things that could be just a little bit better. I'm 3 books beyond my first. Amazing, really, what does stay in one's head! The sex scenes! LOL Just joking.
Grapeshot
Thursday, October 19, 2006
Naughty Mickey Mouse - Shame! Shame!
I kept seeing references to the big flap at Disneyland Paris with the practically porno goings on that someone (perhaps secretly) caught on video. It certainly is bad video, and with pruient curiosity finally getting the better of me, I googled around until I found it. One cannot, after all, be rigorously literary all the time. Have to admit I laughed out loud, mostly from the static character faces with their innocent, goofy frozen grins and the (rather harmless) lewd activities. In fact the whole thing struck me as harmless, just some employees goofing off before work, and of course it was the French, those uber-schwein, who sexualize everything. Well, Vive La France, I say, with the never-too-buried rebel coming to the fore, along with the high school sophomore.
In the likely event you haven't treated yourself to a good laugh lately, join the fun. Not for the kiddies, but I think they wouldn't have a clue anyway. All in good clean bad dirty fun. It took my mind off my publishing troubles for about 3 minutes.
http://www.dailymotion.com/flash/flvplayer.swf?rev=1160445799&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.dailymotion.com%2Fget%2F11%2F320x240%2Fflv%2F814752.flv%3Fkey%3D3746ca35b3b698ad08940ba7fc95df921273e63%26log%3D1%26log_blog_key%3D7dpzczaLaMNyr3pXa%26log_referer%3D&previewURL=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.dailymotion.com%2Fmedia%2Fdyn%2Fpreview%2F320x240%2F814752.jpg%3F20061010161250&autoStart=0&estatEnabled=1&estatClient=players_dm&estatSection=blog
Back to business,
Grapeshot
In the likely event you haven't treated yourself to a good laugh lately, join the fun. Not for the kiddies, but I think they wouldn't have a clue anyway. All in good clean bad dirty fun. It took my mind off my publishing troubles for about 3 minutes.
http://www.dailymotion.com/flash/flvplayer.swf?rev=1160445799&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.dailymotion.com%2Fget%2F11%2F320x240%2Fflv%2F814752.flv%3Fkey%3D3746ca35b3b698ad08940ba7fc95df921273e63%26log%3D1%26log_blog_key%3D7dpzczaLaMNyr3pXa%26log_referer%3D&previewURL=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.dailymotion.com%2Fmedia%2Fdyn%2Fpreview%2F320x240%2F814752.jpg%3F20061010161250&autoStart=0&estatEnabled=1&estatClient=players_dm&estatSection=blog
Back to business,
Grapeshot
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
Long Lake Country Store
Country Store in Long Lake, Adirondacks, New York
The eye keeps returning to the poster of the guy with the gun. Must be a movie ad. Speaking of films, I am going to watch 'Hoot' on cable tonight. Anyone for "Spotted Owl Helper?"
One of the nice things about the Adirondacks is that cell phone don't work in much of the park Yippee!
Onward,
Grapeshot
The Interpretation of Murder
Yesterday the Wall Street Journal had a front page article about a crime novel, The Interpretation of Murder, a debut murder mystery. The novel caught the eye of publishing house Henry Holt & Co. who promoted it relentlessly and early with a megabucks budget. So far, sales are disppointing. What is selling like hot cakes is The Thirteenth Tale, a gothic novel. Why does one novel capture the public's imagination, attention and pocket book, and another languish? Publishers want to know. Writer's sure as hell want to know.
I was going to give you a long post about this, then I discovered that while the WSJ was lying on my desk waiting for me to apply butt to chair, M.J. Rose had already provided an instructive article.
If you're intereted in the story, which is bound to have all "debut novelists" riveted, read Rose's blog:
http://mjroseblog.typepad.com/buzz_balls_hype/
Grapeshot
I was going to give you a long post about this, then I discovered that while the WSJ was lying on my desk waiting for me to apply butt to chair, M.J. Rose had already provided an instructive article.
If you're intereted in the story, which is bound to have all "debut novelists" riveted, read Rose's blog:
http://mjroseblog.typepad.com/buzz_balls_hype/
Grapeshot
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
Blue Mountain Lake
Looking at the photo keeps me calm. It was taken from the snack bar (cafe) at the Adirondack Museum in Blue Mountain Lake. The museum was informative, interesting, novel, challenging: everything a museum should be. And the weather just couldn't be beat.
I am in one of those horrible periods of self-doubt, which is to say doubting myself as a writer and wondering if I am ever going to get any of these damn books published. In a few weeks I'll be at a writer's conference where I can schmooze (which I do badly) with some agents and editors. Maybe something will happen there. I need to perfect my pitches and redo (for the umteenth time) the beginning of World of Mirrors, which is starting to nag me with the unsettling feeling that maybe the beginning could be just a little better. Once I complete Festival Madness, it will go on the shelf for a few month in order that I get some distance. During that period I want to write 3 short stories and redo my web site. Maybe I will set my hair on fire, too. Maybe not.
As Kurt Vonnegut says, so it goes. And goes and goes and goes.
With grave doubts,
Grapeshot
Feeding Desire
Feeding Desire
Cooper-Hewitt National Design Museum
2 East 91st Street, New York, NY 10128
www.cooperhewitt.org
Try to see this before October 29th.
Grapeshot
Cooper-Hewitt National Design Museum
2 East 91st Street, New York, NY 10128
www.cooperhewitt.org
Try to see this before October 29th.
Grapeshot
Keep It Simple
In the Sunday supplements, which consist of 500 pages of trash ads, one for Longhorn steak house caught my eye. This chain has never been on my radar, and for a good steak I go to the meat market or the supermarket and hand the steak to S.O. to cook on the grill, or we go out and spread really big bucks at a snazzy steak house, but not very often. Mostly, we grill our own, and splurge at D'Agostino's Meat Market in Mansfield which has very good meat by the way. The Best Ribs In the Universe came from them. Friendly folks, too.
Anyway, the photo in the Longhorn Ad, was a steak, in theory. I say in theory, because you could hardly see the steak it was so gloppped up by lobster, sauce, apasaragus, and well, you get the idea. Lobster is all right. I eat lobster rolls every summer. Lobster Bisque is good. Huge hunks of lobster dipped in butter is a delicacy I no longer indulge in. Overeating it made me lose my appetite for same. Pity. But why would you want to dilute the flavor of a perfectly good steak by piling it with lobster and then Dijon butter sauce and asparagus? Xtreme surf and turf Asparagus, sure, on the side. Give me a dab of Bernaise or Bordelaise any day, but hold the lobster with the Dijon butter sauce. What do you bet the sauce is made from a mix? Wonder if it's real butter. Looks like it has cheese, too. Omigod.
Sunday night, we cooked a top round roast on the grill. Indirect heat, Barbecue of the Americas rub (www.penzeys.com) salt and pepper. Got it medium rare. Cooked a big side of yukon gold potatoes, carrots, celery, garlic, onions (lots of onions) tossed with fresh herbs. Used a mix of bacon grease and canola oil, the perfect yin yang for the potatoes. Did you know bacon fat has less cholesterol than butter? I thought not. A few sun dried tomatoes soaked and added at the end. Really good veggies. Could have eaten the side instead of the meat. Ate them both.
Now I have to get out all my mom's collection of serving silver. In the exhibit yesterday, there was a tool called a marrow spoon. For getting marrow out of the bone. As a kid I loved round steak marrow. I think I remember a pewter marrow spoon. And all sorts of cool tools. Noticed no steak knives in the exhibit. Wonder why. Maybe they weren't called same. My dad called big knives toad stabbers. Don't you love it?
Grapeshot
Anyway, the photo in the Longhorn Ad, was a steak, in theory. I say in theory, because you could hardly see the steak it was so gloppped up by lobster, sauce, apasaragus, and well, you get the idea. Lobster is all right. I eat lobster rolls every summer. Lobster Bisque is good. Huge hunks of lobster dipped in butter is a delicacy I no longer indulge in. Overeating it made me lose my appetite for same. Pity. But why would you want to dilute the flavor of a perfectly good steak by piling it with lobster and then Dijon butter sauce and asparagus? Xtreme surf and turf Asparagus, sure, on the side. Give me a dab of Bernaise or Bordelaise any day, but hold the lobster with the Dijon butter sauce. What do you bet the sauce is made from a mix? Wonder if it's real butter. Looks like it has cheese, too. Omigod.
Sunday night, we cooked a top round roast on the grill. Indirect heat, Barbecue of the Americas rub (www.penzeys.com) salt and pepper. Got it medium rare. Cooked a big side of yukon gold potatoes, carrots, celery, garlic, onions (lots of onions) tossed with fresh herbs. Used a mix of bacon grease and canola oil, the perfect yin yang for the potatoes. Did you know bacon fat has less cholesterol than butter? I thought not. A few sun dried tomatoes soaked and added at the end. Really good veggies. Could have eaten the side instead of the meat. Ate them both.
Now I have to get out all my mom's collection of serving silver. In the exhibit yesterday, there was a tool called a marrow spoon. For getting marrow out of the bone. As a kid I loved round steak marrow. I think I remember a pewter marrow spoon. And all sorts of cool tools. Noticed no steak knives in the exhibit. Wonder why. Maybe they weren't called same. My dad called big knives toad stabbers. Don't you love it?
Grapeshot
Monday, October 16, 2006
Adirondacks ad infinitum
Well, not quite. Here is another Adirondack photo. This is the stream/river in the area of the big Boy Scout Reservation, open to the public when the scouts aren't in residence. Cam you see the canoist just to the right of center? The canoe is white.
This morning we drove down to the Big Apple, took in 2 shows at the Cooper-Hewitt Museum, one ironically enough featuring America's great vacation areas such as the Adirondacks as painted by Frederick Church and others. In my mind, the paintings didn't rally do justice to the scenery. What boggled the mind was the women riding and climbing and fishing in their long, full skirts, hats and non-sports shoes.
The second show, Feeding Desire, Design and Tools of the Table, 1500-2005, and sponsored by Tiffany, was fascinating. Eating is a communal activity (at least it should be) and in the bad old days folks had to take their silverware along with them when they were invited out. This let to all sorts of cool carrying cases and folding forks. Part of the exhibit was a video of paintings of banquets through the ages. Some of the more fantastic modern tableware looked exceedingly uncomfortable, like it might jab you in the finger. No tableware, no matter how humble was left unexhibited, including the airline silver, (small and elegant and simple) and plastic picnicwear and even the wood forks and camping utensils.
We grabbed a quick bite at the Guggenheim, and beat it back toward Boston, getting into the rush hour around Bridgeport.
Between Boston and NYC the colors are best in the north. New York still doesn't have that heavy color of fall, nor does Connecticutt in the south. The red maples this year are tempermental, and appear to be losing their red leaves as they turn. Bummer.
Sunday, October 15, 2006
Pensées
Long Lake in the morning mistSignificant Other used the Cannnon film camera, not the digital camera, and to me the photo looks better than digital.
This was the view out of our motel room in the a.m. The motel, seen in an earlier photo, had 3 things going for it: 1) the view, 2) an excellent and powerful shower head and 3) cleanliness. Not a bad location either.
I looked at the NY Times Best Seller list and the Boston Globe Best Seller list today. They intersect, to be sure, but Boston is always more "literary." I think the Globe list surveys independent book stores that get more "serious" readers.
A list taken from Cosco and Walmart would still be different. Or your local grocery store. Most of the readers I know who are "serious" readers like to patronize the independent book stores. I buy books all over, except not at Walmart (we do buy kitty litter there) including used ones from Amazon. When resources are limited, one isn't too picky.
I have discovered Jacqueline Winspear and Maisy Dobbs, via Pardonable Lies. Loved it. This is the first writer for a long time who has really held my interest and attention. With no bad language and no sex. And barely a murder. I have another one of her books that I will start next. So excited to find a new writer I can love. I actually saw her at the MWA event at the New York Yacht Club, the big anniversary party at Edgar's week. Miss Winspear won a skid load of prizes for Maisy Dobbs, which I will surely read, and that was the first novel that kicked off the series. First published by Soho Press. I had great hopes for Soho which alas, came to naught along with many other writing hopes. But hope, as they say, springs eternal, or I wouldn't be in the wilds of the Adirondacks doing research for my 5th novel with only one in print.
Annie my cat has joined me and is lounging by the printer. Tomorrow we're (not with Annie) doing a power drive to the Big Apple because I want to see the eating utentil exhibit at the Cooper-Hewitt before it closes. Somehow, art exhibits and concerts and all that stuff somehow inspires my writing and feeds the creative vein. Now I actually need to do some writing.
Cheers!
Grapeshot
Saturday, October 14, 2006
Long Lake at Dusk
Back to the scenery. It ain't all unmade beds and counter meals! This is sort of the yin and yang of writing. Describing the beauty and the ordinariness as well. In the details we take the reader right into the scene. I am reminded of Stephen Shore's photographs. He took fantastic photos of meals in diners, motel rooms, road trips, the telling details of life on the road.
I made some killer brownies this morning to take to a birthday party. Last night we had colcannon, a concoction of mashed potatoes, cabbage, scallions, milk, and lots and lots of butter. Served with thick sliced bacon. Yum! The recipe is from Vincent Price's old cookbook, and while it's kind of peasant food, I doubt if the poor folk were pouring on the butter and chomping down the bacon. It's nice when the seasons change and we can go from salady food and something quick on the grill to the substantial entrees. The cabbage was so fresh and green and the Yukon gold potatoes were everything a potato should be. It froze last night, but we covered the tomatoes. Trying to get those last few vine ripened.
Grapeshot
Friday, October 13, 2006
The Local Diner
While my characters are crazy with worry waiting for the fog to lift, they will have breakfast in a diner that looks very much like this one. The sugar dispenser and the salt and pepper shakers have been around since the flood. Same for the cups and glasses. Red formica on the counter. Pensive customer waiting for breakfast. It is Sunday morning and there is one (stale) pastry left in the cake saver thingy down the counter. All the locals know better than to order it. The diner is busy from seven to eleven. Help is cheerful. Food good and copious. I wonder if there is a sign on the menu "food so good you'd think you cooked it yourself." Bon Apetite!
Grapeshot
It ain't all just pretty scenery
Research for a novel isn't just pretty scenery. There's also the nitty-gritty. How the motel room looks, and a breakfast diner. Behold. Note orange naugahyde chair on right. Faux panelling on walls. The tiny nightstand clock. Paintings, lamp, bedspread, rug. All good details, if the characters have to spend any time here. And believe me, they will.
I love my characters but I also go out of my way to put obstacles and frustrations in their paths.
Grapeshot
Long Lake from the Sea Plane
The Adirondacks have beaucoup long skinny lakes with a river running into and out of each end of the lake. The jagged shoreline and the trees in color paint a scene worthy of a calendar photo. Beaver dams are plentiful with the Busy Ones having dammed up a slew of lakes. Beavers are actually not the nuisances they are made out to be but can benefit an area.
Grapeshot
Grapeshot
The Seaplane is a great way to see the Adirondacks
This is the group that flew with Bob the pilot. The takeoff was long and the engine sounded like a lawnmower revving up, but we skimmed over the trees and banked for a view of forests, lakes, beaver dams and waterfalls. The landing was smooth, smooth, smooth. Altogether a good experience. More photos to follow. I got some great ideas from the trip and in spite of all the recent rejections, I am pleased with the way Festival Madness is coming along.
Aloha,
Grapeshot
Thursday, October 12, 2006
The Last Rose of Summer, Gerlach, Nevada
The shed in the next yard. In the foreground are green tomatoes (ready for frying) and a spindly rose. What is interesting to me is the pattern of decay of the roof of the shed, and the blowsy effect of the shed, the greenery tilting this way and that and the dried plants echoing the roof.
Betty, the lady across the street has a 'one for the books' garden which she works all the time. Hollyhocks grow well in Gerlach. Life at the End of the Road is not bad.
Grapeshot
Photo by Chiefmegashear
Intern@lalalandliterary
One more rejection via email from intern@neveryoumind.com. At least this letter was timely and courteous and actually called me by name. Said feel free to submit to them again. Of course a rejection coming from the intern is somewhat unsettling. I am hoping she gets the dirty job of emailing the rejects, not that she is the one who does the rejecting.
In the meantime, I'm going to do some cutting and rearranging of the beginning of World of Mirrors. Nothing major, just cut some "stuff" from the beginning.
Then I'm going to write the ending of Festival Madness and piece it together backwards until I can fit things together. Worked from the middle when I started the book and that seemed to work all right. Whatever works, works.
My desk is a hideous mess which wouldn't be so bad if I hadn't cleaned it off yesterday. Two meetings will do that.
Significant Other is cutting a CD of photos from the Adirondack Trip including some taken from the sea plane. So stay tuned. A roll of film from the non-digital camera came out blank. We are still scratching our heads. The peach tree is Gerlach has been feeding all of Gerlach and much of the Bay Area. How do you like them apples?
Grapeshot
In the meantime, I'm going to do some cutting and rearranging of the beginning of World of Mirrors. Nothing major, just cut some "stuff" from the beginning.
Then I'm going to write the ending of Festival Madness and piece it together backwards until I can fit things together. Worked from the middle when I started the book and that seemed to work all right. Whatever works, works.
My desk is a hideous mess which wouldn't be so bad if I hadn't cleaned it off yesterday. Two meetings will do that.
Significant Other is cutting a CD of photos from the Adirondack Trip including some taken from the sea plane. So stay tuned. A roll of film from the non-digital camera came out blank. We are still scratching our heads. The peach tree is Gerlach has been feeding all of Gerlach and much of the Bay Area. How do you like them apples?
Grapeshot
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
The Twelve Days of Agents
I can't seem to shut up about this. Sing to the tune of Twelve Days of Christmas. With feeling. And Gusto.
The Twelve Days of Literary Agents ©
On the first day of querying, an agent sent to me,
A “not right for us” in my SASE.
On the second day of querying, an agent sent to me,
Two “does not fit our needs” responses
And a “not right for us” in my SASE.
On the third day of querying an agent sent to me,
Three no new clients notices
Two “does not fit our needs” responses
And a “not right for us” in my SASE.
On the fourth day of querying an agent sent to me,
Four cookie cutter form letters
Three no new clients notices
Two “does not fit our needs” responses
And a “not right for us” in my SASE.
On the fifth day of querying an agent sent to me,
Five “addressee unknowns” envelopes
Four cookie cutter form letters
Three no new clients notices
Two “does not fit our needs” responses
And a “not right for us” in my SASE.
On the sixth day of querying an agent sent to me,
Six “going to pass” notes
Five “addressee unknowns” envelopes
Four cookie cutter form letters
Three no new clients notices
Two “does not fit our needs” responses
And a “not right for us” in my SASE.
On the seventh day of querying an agent sent to me,
Seven “please try elsewhere” missives
Six “going to pass” notes
Five “addressee unknowns” envelopes
Four cookie cutter form letters
Three no new clients notices
Two “does not fit our needs” responses
And a “not right for us” in my SASE.
On the eighth day of querying, an agent sent to me,
Eight “not interested” messages
Seven “please try elsewhere” missives
Six “going to pass” notes
Five “addressee unknowns” envelopes
Four cookie cutter form letters
Three no new clients notices
Two “does not fit our needs” responses
And a “not right for us” in my SASE.
On the ninth day of querying, an agent sent to me,
Nine “I’ve retired” memos
Eight “not interested” messages
Seven “please try elsewhere” missives
Six “going to pass” notes
Five “addressee unknowns” envelopes
Four cookie cutter form letters
Three no new clients notices
Two “does not fit our needs” responses
And a “not right for us” in my SASE.
On the tenth day of querying an agent sent to me,
Ten “not the right agent” answers
Nine “I’ve retired” memos
Eight “not interested” messages
Seven “please try elsewhere” missives
Six “going to pass” notes
Five “addressee unknowns” envelopes
Four cookie cutter form letters
Three no new clients notices
Two “does not fit our needs” responses
And a “not right for us” in my SASE.
On the eleventh day of querying an agent sent to me,
Eleven “must be recommended” advisements
Ten “not the right agent” answers
Nine “I’ve retired” memos
Eight “sorry not interested” messages
Seven “please try elsewhere” missives
Six “going to pass” notes
Five “addressee unknowns” envelopes
Four cookie cutter form letters
Three no new clients notices
Two “does not fit our needs” responses
And a “not right for us” in my SASE.
On the twelfth day of querying an agent sent to me,
Twelve “not keen on the story” remarks
Eleven “must be recommended” advisements
Ten “not the right agent” answers
Nine “I’ve retired” memos
Eight “sorry not interested” messages
Seven “please try elsewhere” missives
Six “going to take a pass” notes
Five “addressee unknowns” envelopes
Four cookie cutter form letters
Three no new clients notices
Two “does not fit our needs” responses
And a “not right for us” in my SASE. ©
The Twelve Days of Literary Agents ©
On the first day of querying, an agent sent to me,
A “not right for us” in my SASE.
On the second day of querying, an agent sent to me,
Two “does not fit our needs” responses
And a “not right for us” in my SASE.
On the third day of querying an agent sent to me,
Three no new clients notices
Two “does not fit our needs” responses
And a “not right for us” in my SASE.
On the fourth day of querying an agent sent to me,
Four cookie cutter form letters
Three no new clients notices
Two “does not fit our needs” responses
And a “not right for us” in my SASE.
On the fifth day of querying an agent sent to me,
Five “addressee unknowns” envelopes
Four cookie cutter form letters
Three no new clients notices
Two “does not fit our needs” responses
And a “not right for us” in my SASE.
On the sixth day of querying an agent sent to me,
Six “going to pass” notes
Five “addressee unknowns” envelopes
Four cookie cutter form letters
Three no new clients notices
Two “does not fit our needs” responses
And a “not right for us” in my SASE.
On the seventh day of querying an agent sent to me,
Seven “please try elsewhere” missives
Six “going to pass” notes
Five “addressee unknowns” envelopes
Four cookie cutter form letters
Three no new clients notices
Two “does not fit our needs” responses
And a “not right for us” in my SASE.
On the eighth day of querying, an agent sent to me,
Eight “not interested” messages
Seven “please try elsewhere” missives
Six “going to pass” notes
Five “addressee unknowns” envelopes
Four cookie cutter form letters
Three no new clients notices
Two “does not fit our needs” responses
And a “not right for us” in my SASE.
On the ninth day of querying, an agent sent to me,
Nine “I’ve retired” memos
Eight “not interested” messages
Seven “please try elsewhere” missives
Six “going to pass” notes
Five “addressee unknowns” envelopes
Four cookie cutter form letters
Three no new clients notices
Two “does not fit our needs” responses
And a “not right for us” in my SASE.
On the tenth day of querying an agent sent to me,
Ten “not the right agent” answers
Nine “I’ve retired” memos
Eight “not interested” messages
Seven “please try elsewhere” missives
Six “going to pass” notes
Five “addressee unknowns” envelopes
Four cookie cutter form letters
Three no new clients notices
Two “does not fit our needs” responses
And a “not right for us” in my SASE.
On the eleventh day of querying an agent sent to me,
Eleven “must be recommended” advisements
Ten “not the right agent” answers
Nine “I’ve retired” memos
Eight “sorry not interested” messages
Seven “please try elsewhere” missives
Six “going to pass” notes
Five “addressee unknowns” envelopes
Four cookie cutter form letters
Three no new clients notices
Two “does not fit our needs” responses
And a “not right for us” in my SASE.
On the twelfth day of querying an agent sent to me,
Twelve “not keen on the story” remarks
Eleven “must be recommended” advisements
Ten “not the right agent” answers
Nine “I’ve retired” memos
Eight “sorry not interested” messages
Seven “please try elsewhere” missives
Six “going to take a pass” notes
Five “addressee unknowns” envelopes
Four cookie cutter form letters
Three no new clients notices
Two “does not fit our needs” responses
And a “not right for us” in my SASE. ©
Five Rejections!
I'm still brooding about a gawdawful day with five (5) rejection letters. I took two actions, one smart, one stupid. The smart one was to look for more agents to query. Stupid was to actually email the agent who sent the off center, higgelty-piggelty rejection letter with faded print and weird little dots all over the page. I told him the form letter did not represent his agency well. So what the hell, I burned a bridge. The way I feel tonight I could send nasty letters to every agent who ever sent an icky form letter, particularly a form letter which mostly apologizes for being a form letter.
More and more literary agents are not accepting queries. More and more small publishers are not accepting submissions. How do you like them apples? Catch-22.
Based on something I read in Miss Snark, my queries will get a revision. Don't know if this will help. Honest to god, I am like the fat person who seizes on every goddamn diet, follows it, doesn't lose weight and on to the next! Grapefruit, fiber, no carbs, good carbs, the Atkins, South Beach, Raratonga, that's me in agenting. It's really pathetic.
Come to think of it, I will quit this snivelling post and read Miss Snark.
More and more literary agents are not accepting queries. More and more small publishers are not accepting submissions. How do you like them apples? Catch-22.
Based on something I read in Miss Snark, my queries will get a revision. Don't know if this will help. Honest to god, I am like the fat person who seizes on every goddamn diet, follows it, doesn't lose weight and on to the next! Grapefruit, fiber, no carbs, good carbs, the Atkins, South Beach, Raratonga, that's me in agenting. It's really pathetic.
Come to think of it, I will quit this snivelling post and read Miss Snark.
Bad News/Good News Scenario
Jeeminy Criminy! Between email and SnailMail, I had 5 rejections today. Must be a record. 3 form letters, one on such a poor reproduction of the (once) original letter that it looked like it had gone thru a 1980's fax machine. I mean, really! Two came in my email, one courteous and one that called my novel a cozy and when I had the temerity to question if she was answering the right email, I received a link to a "which genre is it" web site and the description of cozy was nothing like World of Mirrors. I suppose the agent was trying to steer me in the right direction, but well, you know, sheisse. I am reading A Death in Vienna which is one of those international spy thrillers and there is an awful lot about the protag's personal life and character and all that sort of thing, along with ungodly coincidences and the bad guys always 6 jumps ahead of the good guys a la Helen McInnes. It smarts to be accused of something the best seller folks are doing.
The good news is that I figured out several major plot points for the ending of Festival Madness while en scene in the Adirondacks, which really rock, by the way. We took a ride in a seaplane, and reveled in local color as well as museums, food, outfitters, lakes, rivers and all that good stuff. I still have a few details to work out, but it was so exhilarating to come up with a good plot twist. Of course, she thought ruefully, what mattereth it , if the freaking books never sell, but this is the book I hope I am doing everything absolutely right from dropping a body on page 3 to merge the plots and subplots into one big whole.
On the other hand, 5 rejects in one day! That does smart. So along with unpacking and laundry, there is some serious sucking up to do. Sigh!
Grapeshot
The good news is that I figured out several major plot points for the ending of Festival Madness while en scene in the Adirondacks, which really rock, by the way. We took a ride in a seaplane, and reveled in local color as well as museums, food, outfitters, lakes, rivers and all that good stuff. I still have a few details to work out, but it was so exhilarating to come up with a good plot twist. Of course, she thought ruefully, what mattereth it , if the freaking books never sell, but this is the book I hope I am doing everything absolutely right from dropping a body on page 3 to merge the plots and subplots into one big whole.
On the other hand, 5 rejects in one day! That does smart. So along with unpacking and laundry, there is some serious sucking up to do. Sigh!
Grapeshot
Thursday, October 05, 2006
Off to the Adirondacks
This is not the Adirondacks, but a house in Montana. S.O. and I are off for a weekend of exploring lakes, streams, mountains, cafes, rivers, flora, fauna in the huge Adirondack park west of here.
My novel, Festival Madness, concludes there, in the wilderness, and I need to get local color and also to figure out how this is going to work. I am hoping to see something that will inspire an exciting denouement.
We are loaded down with cameras, notecards, local airports, restaurants, sweaters, lunches, and food for a few days in the Berkshires which will follow the Adirondack weekend.
A writer writes, as I am fond of saying, but a writer also does great amounts of research. There are a couple places on this earth that I can write "cold," without reference to anything except memory, but for everything place else I need ;hotos, menus, note cards. Nothing beats being there, for how else can a writer take the reader there? To the there of there which is there and no where else. So all this is a long way of saying I won't be posting for a few days. I'll come back with ideas and scenery, so stay tuned.
Grapeshot
Wednesday, October 04, 2006
Gerlach, Nevada - Dusk at the end of the road
At West Point on Saturday, the band played the Star-Spangled banner at a brisk tempo, not like a dirge. I absolutely despise "treatments" by rock stars, etc. that to me, deface the anthem.
Here the banner waves against the darkening sky, with a big propane tank in the foreground and the little trailers in the distance, and of course the dark hills jutting into the blue. Americana, one could say. The old fashioned values of neighborliness are still honored. The historic wooden water tower by the railroad tracks has been restored.
Today I watched a monarch butterly feed on the marigolds, the most prosaic of flowers, for almost an hour. I wanted to tell her to hie off to Mexico with the flock. This is the 2nd time I've noticed that the marigolds are magnetic to the monarchs in the fall. When I was working, I never got to observe such phenomena, not the frog in the garden or the little black salamanders under the bucket of potting soil. Not the monarch or the hummingbird or the bull frogs by the slough.
The colors are turning in our neck of the woods. Blotches of red everywhere. I wish the monarchs would hurry south.
Photo by Chiefmegashear.
Grapeshot
Cheese Twists
I know. I know. This should be a post about writing.
The bad news is that I have just discovered my novel has gone astray- all the tension has disappeared. Too much fol-der-ole. Now I have to fix it. The good new is that just about anything can be fixed. I will discuss how I am going about this is a subsequent post. Right now, it's time for a recipe.
Back when I was an almost perfect corporate wife, we entertained Significant Other's office people frequently. One woman always arrived with the following goodies which were exceedingly welcome. She gave me the recipe, which I just started making a few years ago. Believe it or not, these travel well and keep well. One of these days I'll do a bit of experimenting and determine how to make the dough in a cuisinart. You can probably figure it out. Beware! These things are addictive and they ain't low-cal.
Cheese Twists
1 cup freshly grated Swiss Cheese
3 T. grated Cheddar cheese
3 T. grated Parmesan cheese
¾ cup + 2 T. butter
2 ½ cups flour
1 t. salt
1 egg, well beaten
1 ½ T. milk
1 T. poppy seeds
1 T. coarse (Kosher) salt ( or less, to taste)
Combine grated cheeses. Mix with a fork until
mixture is like coarse meal. Sift together flour
and salt. Add ½ cup of the cheese mixture. *
Cut in butter with pastry blender. Stir in egg and
milk. Round up like pie crust.
Divide dough in half; chill both portions for 1 hour
(or overnight).
Add 1 T. poppy seeds and 1 T. coarse salt to remaining cheese mixture.
Using half of the dough at a time, roll
out on a lightly floured board to a little less than ¼ inch.
Brush with a little egg white; sprinkle evenly with half of the
Remaining poppyseed cheese mixture.
Cut into strips 3 inches by one-half inch. Place on
ungreased baking sheet. Bake in moderate hot oven,
375 degrees, for about 15 minutes or until golden.
Repeat with remaining half of dough.
Makes 60 to 72 straws.
These can be frozen.
*Refrigerate remaining cheese mixture until needed.
The bad news is that I have just discovered my novel has gone astray- all the tension has disappeared. Too much fol-der-ole. Now I have to fix it. The good new is that just about anything can be fixed. I will discuss how I am going about this is a subsequent post. Right now, it's time for a recipe.
Back when I was an almost perfect corporate wife, we entertained Significant Other's office people frequently. One woman always arrived with the following goodies which were exceedingly welcome. She gave me the recipe, which I just started making a few years ago. Believe it or not, these travel well and keep well. One of these days I'll do a bit of experimenting and determine how to make the dough in a cuisinart. You can probably figure it out. Beware! These things are addictive and they ain't low-cal.
Cheese Twists
1 cup freshly grated Swiss Cheese
3 T. grated Cheddar cheese
3 T. grated Parmesan cheese
¾ cup + 2 T. butter
2 ½ cups flour
1 t. salt
1 egg, well beaten
1 ½ T. milk
1 T. poppy seeds
1 T. coarse (Kosher) salt ( or less, to taste)
Combine grated cheeses. Mix with a fork until
mixture is like coarse meal. Sift together flour
and salt. Add ½ cup of the cheese mixture. *
Cut in butter with pastry blender. Stir in egg and
milk. Round up like pie crust.
Divide dough in half; chill both portions for 1 hour
(or overnight).
Add 1 T. poppy seeds and 1 T. coarse salt to remaining cheese mixture.
Using half of the dough at a time, roll
out on a lightly floured board to a little less than ¼ inch.
Brush with a little egg white; sprinkle evenly with half of the
Remaining poppyseed cheese mixture.
Cut into strips 3 inches by one-half inch. Place on
ungreased baking sheet. Bake in moderate hot oven,
375 degrees, for about 15 minutes or until golden.
Repeat with remaining half of dough.
Makes 60 to 72 straws.
These can be frozen.
*Refrigerate remaining cheese mixture until needed.
Peachy Keen
The prolific peach tree in Gerlach. Sun, water and food have combined to create an extravaganza of peaches this year.
Tuesday, October 03, 2006
Still Life With Stones and Peach
These photos were taken by Chiefmegashear.There is a prolific peach tree in the little yard in Gerlach, that has been producing pies, jam,crisps, crumbles, cobblers and grilled peaches. This year's harvest has been especially bountiful. When the desert receives water, the crops are amazing.
More Gerlach, Nevada: Bare Hills With Moon
Gerlach is one of those magic places at the end of the road. It doesn't look like much during the day: gas station, restaurant, lots of trailers, the water tank, a small post office, new school. No stores. No noise. No malls. No suburbs. Just a sleepy little town. Neighborliness is endemic. And peacefulness. And scenery to chew on. My god, those hills.
I will lift mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help.
I read this week that the King James Bible had been translated and put together by a committee. Can you imagine? An example of divine inspiration if there ever was one.
Photograph is by Chiefmegashear.
Grapeshot
Monday, October 02, 2006
Gerlach, Nevada
After everyone goes home from Burning Man, there is still Gerlach, in the desert, with its natural beauty. The stillness, the colors and the vast landscape relax the soul.
Festival Madness
Festival Madness is my Work In Process Novel, now 417 pages of print and coming up to the exciting climax which I am trying to put into place without using up huge quantities of words. In the Sunday Globe, I finally found a photo of my "villian" who is really pretty cute and my protagonist likes him, defends him and doesn't realize he is a very bad guy. What makes Festival Madness unique is that the entire middle of the novel takes place at the Burning Man Festival (sic) in Black Rock City, Nevada.
You do know about Burning Man, don't you? Well, if not, just google it. I google everything. Wonder if google as a verb has hit any of the dictionaries yet.
So many things have to be set in place before the killer is revealed and the denoument (good old English class word) can take place. Writing is work in so many ways. Think of a plot, fill in the holes, think up characters, locales, scenes, conflict, lots of conflict, and keep everything in your head while writing it all down in a unique voice. Jeez! I have to confess that once I hit 70,000 words it is hard to remember every little thing. If I have to keep looking up the same thing, I set a bookmark. These are cool word shortcuts that are very useful. The "find" command is also very useful, as is search and destroy. I think so many people are writing now because word processing makes it easi(er). It still ain't easy, but the idea of typed pages and changes and all that retyping is more than daunting. My first draft is usually pretty garbagey, but I keep hacking away at all the bad stuff and trying to turn it into good words.
I keep a list of slang, words and sayings I might want to use. The first five words on the list are: tenebrous, duress, razzle-dazzle, bada-bing and jimjams. Good words! You get the idea. I've actually used jimjams already. English has scads of good words. Scads. There's a pretty good word.
I am reading a Death in Vienna and it is well written with a good sense of place. My only carps so far is that the bad guys are always 3 jumps ahead of the good guys (remember Helen MacInnes?) and coincidence seems to be playing a big part. Hell, it's only a book. The problem is that when you write you know the rules and when they get broken you notice, but rules are made to be broken although there are them that would dispute those words.
I haven't heard how things are in Frisco, Texas today. Hope they are getting abelly full of being a laughing stock. Probably too dense and self-righteous to realize. At least nobody brought a gun to school. Are there more really sick people in the world because there are just more people? This is something I've wondered for a long time.
Goodnight from Massachusetts.
Grapeshot
I
You do know about Burning Man, don't you? Well, if not, just google it. I google everything. Wonder if google as a verb has hit any of the dictionaries yet.
So many things have to be set in place before the killer is revealed and the denoument (good old English class word) can take place. Writing is work in so many ways. Think of a plot, fill in the holes, think up characters, locales, scenes, conflict, lots of conflict, and keep everything in your head while writing it all down in a unique voice. Jeez! I have to confess that once I hit 70,000 words it is hard to remember every little thing. If I have to keep looking up the same thing, I set a bookmark. These are cool word shortcuts that are very useful. The "find" command is also very useful, as is search and destroy. I think so many people are writing now because word processing makes it easi(er). It still ain't easy, but the idea of typed pages and changes and all that retyping is more than daunting. My first draft is usually pretty garbagey, but I keep hacking away at all the bad stuff and trying to turn it into good words.
I keep a list of slang, words and sayings I might want to use. The first five words on the list are: tenebrous, duress, razzle-dazzle, bada-bing and jimjams. Good words! You get the idea. I've actually used jimjams already. English has scads of good words. Scads. There's a pretty good word.
I am reading a Death in Vienna and it is well written with a good sense of place. My only carps so far is that the bad guys are always 3 jumps ahead of the good guys (remember Helen MacInnes?) and coincidence seems to be playing a big part. Hell, it's only a book. The problem is that when you write you know the rules and when they get broken you notice, but rules are made to be broken although there are them that would dispute those words.
I haven't heard how things are in Frisco, Texas today. Hope they are getting abelly full of being a laughing stock. Probably too dense and self-righteous to realize. At least nobody brought a gun to school. Are there more really sick people in the world because there are just more people? This is something I've wondered for a long time.
Goodnight from Massachusetts.
Grapeshot
I
Sunday, October 01, 2006
Hannah, Bar the Door! There's Nudes in the Art Museum!
Let me preface this by stating my great grandpa was an itinterant Baptist preacher who rode a mule through the mountains of North Georgia preaching the Good Word.
And in the years between 1910 and 1920, a good portion on the family moved from North Georgia to Texas, stayed thru part of the Depression and then moved back to Georgia. I have deep redneck roots, and proud of them.
There is a difference, however, between Southern Baptist, and crazed, out-of-control whiny-butt stupid-assed parent. Click on the following link:
http://www.nytimes.com/2006/09/30/education/30teacher.html?_r=1&ref=education&oref=slogin
The teacher, with a bunch of chaperones, took the kiddies on a field trip to an art musuem. There, they saw a naked something: man, woman, faun. The teacher lost her job. Are we living in a demented world or what? I hope that family doesn't ever venture to Florence and run across naked as a jaybird David in a square. What do they do? Blindfold the kids and lead them out of there? Freak out and sue the city of Florence for unbridled art? Have a pray-in?
Confession: when I was in junior high, my girl friend and I collected stamps. Somewhere we read about and saw an ad for the Naked Maja and just Had to Have That Stamp! We sent away for it on the sly, and it duly arrived. My mom knew I was collecting stamps and wouldn't have cared anyhow. We inspected the stamp. By god, it was indeed a naked woman. How about that? And that was kind of the end of it. Cool stamp. Glad I have it in my collection. On to the next exotic country with really colorful stamps, lots of birds and animals. http://www.artchive.com/artchive/G/goya/goya_nude_maja.jpg.html
The weasle ass here isn't the parent, although it is hard to imagine anyone actually complaining about a nude statue in an art museum. This isn't France where "an astounding canvas by Courbet called The Origin of the World, which now hangs in the Musee d'Orsay in Paris. " (Slate). I wonder if the French kiddies traispe through the Musee d'Orsay. I wonder whether anyone even notices. Yeah, they must.
The weasle ass is the school board and the administration. Can you imagine a more spineless, reactionary bunch? I'm glad none of my progeny had to suffer thru that school. http://www.friscoisd.org/ Another confession: oldest child (male) in museum with father. Sculpture of woman's upper torso on view, probably brass, shall we say lovingly polished. "Wow, Daddy, look at those bosoms!" Daddy looked and had a good chuckle. Was child warped for life? I don't think so.
So my fantasy is to have thousands of people (with a lot of sharp lawyers along) show up in that weird Texas town and take off their clothes and run around au naturel when school lets out. That would be something to talk about.
Who would they arrest 10,000 people? Or maybe have an aging Hugh Hefner and his playmates come to town for a parade and to share some philsophy. The ideas are coming in like kamikazees. I'll bet you can think up some fun stuff, too. Rodin, Michelangeo, Goya, Picasso.
Bet they aren't reading Catcher in the Rye in that school. Bet they aren't reading Song of Solomon or much else of literary value. See Dick run. Dick is running the hell out of there. Jane is right behind them. They are running from narrow-mindedness and prudery. They are running like hell.
Grapeshot
And in the years between 1910 and 1920, a good portion on the family moved from North Georgia to Texas, stayed thru part of the Depression and then moved back to Georgia. I have deep redneck roots, and proud of them.
There is a difference, however, between Southern Baptist, and crazed, out-of-control whiny-butt stupid-assed parent. Click on the following link:
http://www.nytimes.com/2006/09/30/education/30teacher.html?_r=1&ref=education&oref=slogin
The teacher, with a bunch of chaperones, took the kiddies on a field trip to an art musuem. There, they saw a naked something: man, woman, faun. The teacher lost her job. Are we living in a demented world or what? I hope that family doesn't ever venture to Florence and run across naked as a jaybird David in a square. What do they do? Blindfold the kids and lead them out of there? Freak out and sue the city of Florence for unbridled art? Have a pray-in?
Confession: when I was in junior high, my girl friend and I collected stamps. Somewhere we read about and saw an ad for the Naked Maja and just Had to Have That Stamp! We sent away for it on the sly, and it duly arrived. My mom knew I was collecting stamps and wouldn't have cared anyhow. We inspected the stamp. By god, it was indeed a naked woman. How about that? And that was kind of the end of it. Cool stamp. Glad I have it in my collection. On to the next exotic country with really colorful stamps, lots of birds and animals. http://www.artchive.com/artchive/G/goya/goya_nude_maja.jpg.html
The weasle ass here isn't the parent, although it is hard to imagine anyone actually complaining about a nude statue in an art museum. This isn't France where "an astounding canvas by Courbet called The Origin of the World, which now hangs in the Musee d'Orsay in Paris. " (Slate). I wonder if the French kiddies traispe through the Musee d'Orsay. I wonder whether anyone even notices. Yeah, they must.
The weasle ass is the school board and the administration. Can you imagine a more spineless, reactionary bunch? I'm glad none of my progeny had to suffer thru that school. http://www.friscoisd.org/ Another confession: oldest child (male) in museum with father. Sculpture of woman's upper torso on view, probably brass, shall we say lovingly polished. "Wow, Daddy, look at those bosoms!" Daddy looked and had a good chuckle. Was child warped for life? I don't think so.
So my fantasy is to have thousands of people (with a lot of sharp lawyers along) show up in that weird Texas town and take off their clothes and run around au naturel when school lets out. That would be something to talk about.
Who would they arrest 10,000 people? Or maybe have an aging Hugh Hefner and his playmates come to town for a parade and to share some philsophy. The ideas are coming in like kamikazees. I'll bet you can think up some fun stuff, too. Rodin, Michelangeo, Goya, Picasso.
Bet they aren't reading Catcher in the Rye in that school. Bet they aren't reading Song of Solomon or much else of literary value. See Dick run. Dick is running the hell out of there. Jane is right behind them. They are running from narrow-mindedness and prudery. They are running like hell.
Grapeshot
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