Wednesday, September 21, 2011

In a Writing Funk

My writing seems so stale, so . . . blah.  It's like I've lost my mojo, fiction-wise.  The short story set in the 1950's?  Every word is like pulling teeth.  It's a bit autobiographical--should be easy to write.  Not.  The 1928 California novel?  I've been doing research for a donkey's age.  Have pages of character descriptions, settings, but no plot details, just an overall story arc.  That should be enough.  Again, each word has to be pulled out of my head like a high-forceps delivery and it comes kicking and screaming.  I don't know if this is writer's block or just the feeling of a long-haul slog to publication that is taking forever, so long in fact, that my enthusiasm has, well, shall we say waned? 
Should I start a totally new project while waiting for these others to show some life or should I write poetry for a while, something totally different?  Must admit I'm flummoxed. 
Here's hoping an upcoming European vacation will inspire and encourage.  Need to scrape up the stamina to format my East German book (World of Mirrors) for Kindle and Smashwords.  Need to put the last edits of my fem jep novel.  Those books didn't exactly write themselves, but hey, they're complete and I'm more or less happy with them.
  Last night at a meeting a writer friend announced he had just completed a first draft, 70,000 words.  Normally that seems like a thin little chicken sh__ of a book, but today it seems huge.  I would kill for 70,000 words. A  year has passed and I've not done much at all.  Mostly editing.  If you edit long enough you forget how to write, is that it? 
This week I was actually wondering if I could drink and write at the same time in the mode of Hemingway and Faulkner.  Don't think so.  Would fall asleep at my computer. 
The author perhaps musing about a terrible first draft?
What to do?  I believe the answer is the title of this blog.  Suck It Up and plant butt in chair.  Give myself permission to write a sh__tty first draft. Yup. Onward. 

Monday, September 19, 2011

The Pain of Changing Computers

A while back, I switched from PC to a MAC, a move that still seems right.  There was pain involved, mostly from having to get off my old version of Microsoft Money and find a new financial tracking system.  I tried the "lite" version of Quicken, which was, frankly a piece of crap for the MAC.  After a lot of research I opted for I-Bank, which has been  o.k. except when I did a conversion and for some reason the system decided Euros rather than dollars was my "currency."  Once this happens, you can't go back, and I had to do a ton of work to bring things back to a working state.  I have learned to do the reporting, and I still have the ancient PC and the ancient Money which I can run old reports off of as needed.  We have a small rental property out of state and I treat my writing as a business, so there is much financial info to keep track of, and I also help out another relative with finances.  This is  a time suck, and for unexplained reasons I make more mistakes using I-Bank than Money.  It does have some good features, but  I loved Money most, one of the best products Microsoft ever made and then they discontinued it.  Go figure.  Beta vs. VHS all over again.  The best product doesn't always win out. 

When I switched computers, the Apple folks saved my emails and my bookmarks, but they were always hard to access and now I can't remember where I stashed them.  A computer search turned up nothing.  The worst thing is that for my 1928 California book, I had done enormous amount of research and without the bookmarks it's, well, it's gone.  I can probably find it again, but it's going to be difficult, and another time suck.   Fortunately, a few things are saved directly to my hard drive, and those gems are still available.  Getting back to the novel now, and I have to recreate the research.

There was a wonderful group of painters in California in the 1920's and I'm using some of that history in my book.  This book is NOT crime fiction, and I'm having little trouble with that.  After six crime fiction books, one just tends to keep writing it, whether anyone buys it or not.  (See the title of this blog).  One of these days I will trek to Southern California to do the remaining research.  Once I have a first draft manuscript.  Maybe I'll try Nanowrimo (National Novel Writing Month).  Naturally this book will be longer than 50K words, and Nanowrino tends to produce shitty first drafts, but at this point, any draft is better than no draft.

The new novel is also an "historical" which I've never written.  But I have characters and a setting and a plot.  That should make the writing easy, right?  Right?  Wrong.  Guess I'll just have to plunge into it and put the period stuff and the slang and the music and the rest in later.   Or not.

The Writer's Desk Top, Inordinately Neat
Someone said there are three rules for writing a novel, but no one knows what they are.  Amen.

Saturday, September 17, 2011

The Grade School Lunchroom in All Its Yuckiness

Grade School Cafeteria
I went to school in Northeastern Colorado, the part of the state where there is dry land farming, sugar beets, and no skiing.  Because there is farming, the farm kids were always bussed into town to the schools, which were larger than the ordinary small town schools.
My school always had a lunchroom with hot lunches.  I suppose the government subsidized these lunches.  They were cheap and they were terrible, served up by plump ladies with red faces and hair nets.
As a kid, I was always a picky eater.  Usually I didn't actually eat the lunch; I ate a piece of bread or a roll (always white, of course), drank a carton of whole milk and ate the dessert, usually clear Jello, but sometimes something better, a piece of sheet cake or maybe pudding or tapioca.
The worst of a bad progression of entrees was a disgusting white hamburger gravy served over mashed potatoes.  As a kid, the only potatoes I liked were French fries and potato chips.  And I hated anything in a cream sauce.  Yuck!  The second worst thing was stewed tomatoes, where canned tomatoes were heated up and a bunch of saltines were dumped into them. Tasteless tomatoes mingling with soggy crackers.  Some kids actually liked it, but  I can feel my bile rising just writing about these culinary abominations.
We never got junk food.  I was a skinny little thing, due to being sick a lot and I didn't usually care if I ate or not.  If that were true now, I would be incredibly svelte.  
Wednesdays they actually served something I liked.  First of all, Wednesday was chocolate milk day!  As if that weren't wonderful enough, they served what we in New England call American Chop Suey.  It's ground beef, macaroni, tomatoes and seasonings baked in a casserole or even cooked up in a skillet.  It actually tasted good.
In high school, things were not much improved, but we could go into town and grab a burger.  Once, in junior high, we had a food fight, making a huge mess and bringing down the wrath of practically everyone.  What can I say?  It was fun.  We were rebels without a cause.
In college, in the great state of Texas, they served margarine.  Texas was always big on margarine, a faux food if there ever was one.  You will never see "all natural" on a package of margarine.  This, of course, was before people knew that it was margarine that was lethal and not good healthy butter.  In college, the cafeteria put mushrooms, which I hated, into the meatloaf.  I learned to eat mushrooms when I first ate them fresh and not the slimy gunk that came out of a can or jar.
The college cafeteria also served broccoli and Brussels sprouts which I finally learned to eat.  My favorite lunch at college was grits and gravy with sausage and cabbage.  By and large the cafeteria food was bad, but by then I was discovering restaurant food, albeit cheap, and learned to love thin-crust pizza, Mexican, Asian, Middle Eastern, Indian, and seafood.
A word about seafood.  The college cafeteria served such old leathery shrimp tasting of iodine and not much else  that I stopped liking shrimp, a heretofore favorite food for the longest time. 
As a worker bee, I discovered every cafeteria had something one could eat, even if it was the salad bar, especially if it was the salad bar.  At one place, they used to dump the old salad bar into the vegetable soup and one would encounter the occasional raisin.  Finally I got smart and frugal and began to pack my lunch most days, shunning the burgers and pizza, too, too dull and ordinary and the bad entrees that reminded me of being back in school. 
One cafeteria did make a terrific grilled roast beef and provolone sandwich.  Who knew?  And it was in New England that I discovered the macaroni casserole I had been eating my entire life was called "American Chop Suey."  I add plenty of garlic, onion, herbs and spices to mine.  Dump a lot of Parmesan on top.  Viva Italia.
What is your worst food memory as a kid?  Gloppy hamburger gravy on watery mashed potatoes, anyone?

Thursday, September 15, 2011

The Best Homemade Tabouleh by Pat Deuson

Today's post is by guest blogger and fellow writer Pat Deuson!  Pat has a new novel, Superior Longing,  coming out today.  What could be more exciting than that?  Well, maybe food.  Food is endlessly varied, tasty and it gives us writers the energy to keep going.   
Pat Deuson, Novelist and Cook

Tabouleh is a tasty, nutritious  Middle Eastern dish that Pat has recently discovered.  Here's what she has to say about it. 

Tabouleh, so colorful and fresh. . . tasty, too



Food is a big part of the lives of Neva, Linnea and all those who live and work at Cooks Inn. It's a big part of my life too. I'm an avid cook and spend as much time cooking [sometimes more] than I do writing. This week-end I rediscovered tabouleh.
Like all folk recipes there are as many as there are cooks. It's got a flexibility that allows creativity as much as use it up, don't throw it out thrift. So when people were unexpectedly coming for lunch on a beautiful California afternoon, sandwiches, veg beans from the freezer, tabouleh with garden tomatoes and fresh peach and raspberry compote came to mind. So how do you make tabouleh ?
You start with kasha. What is kasha? Cracked grain. There are a lot of grains that can be cracked and I've tried several. The one I prefer is wheat. I think it takes a special kind of person to eat buckwheat groat kasha, but it's often the one find you find mentioned.
Raw grain is tough to chew and needs to be softened, which will take a fairly long time. You can do this yourself or buy kasha in a processed form so it's as easy to cook as processed couscous. I've seen couscous made by hand in Morocco many times. It is a lengthy and involved process, the cooking even more so. Processed couscous and kasha are much much easier and faster. But even processed kasha needs to be softened and hydrated. The easiest way I've found is to bring 1 3/4 cup of water to a boil, add 1 cup of kasha, a pinch of salt, reduce heat and cook for 5 minutes, remove from heat and let stand for about 10 more minutes. Fluff lightly with a fork.
After that the fun begins. Do you have some grilled or poached chicken to dice,  a little roasted corn, or some diced tomatoes just dripping with summer time goodness? Or some arugula and toasted pecans with cukes and sweet balsamic vinegar mellowed by some savory olive oil? Season with salt/pepper and serve it warm or room temperature. Or do you want a summer salad - tabouleh - for those impromptu guests who you know will set the table while you chop garden tomatoes, cukes. a bit of fresh mint, some green or red onion all sauced with some good olive oil, lemon juice and salt and pepper? They will love it.

For more of Neva Moore and the doings in and about Cooks Inn, the first book in the series, Superior Longing, published by Echelon press, is out today!  The first ebook of this series is available on Kindle, Nook, Omnilit and Smashwords. Pat is currently writing the next book, Collective Instinct.


Neva blogs and post around the net at these sites:
https://www.facebook.com/pages/Superior-Longing/130098057083303?sk=wall
http://cooksinn.blogspot.com/
http://superiorlonging.blogspot.com/
Pat is also found blogging or posting:
https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=1229310389
http://twitter.com/#!/pdeuson


Try the recipe and pick up a copy of Superior Longing from Echelon Press.  





Sunday, September 11, 2011

Remembering September 11th and the Warrior Grandma

To a degree, I think we all have 9-11 related  PTSD, and the photos and remembrances bring it all back. I have been dreading this date.  I heard planes flying over the house late last night and wondered, "what is that all about?"  Then I heard Amtrak, running late, and thought it was yet another plane.  Always the paranoia, and the images burnt into one's mind.

I remember flying shortly after 9/11, and psyching myself up to kill with bare hands, telling myself I could do it.  Ludicrous, but I was ready, because the phrase, "we fought them tooth and nail" was in my head, and if tooth and nail are your sole weapons, then that's what you use.  I debated wearing pantyhose.  They would make a good garrotte.  The energy required to psych myself up was exhausting.  I told myself I came from a long line of warriors and I could be one, too, if necessary.  Now it seems a little crazy.  But not totally crazy, because two of the planes left from Boston, the ones that hit the towers. 

I flew into Baltimore and drove to Hagerstown for a programming course, because a colleague refused to fly.  All the anthrax paranoia in Washington added to the general paranoia.  In Hagertown, my cell phone didn't work, and I drove aimlessly through the town and took a walk around the duck pond in the park.  Ate alone at a Mexican restaurant.  Had that strange feeling I was the last person on earth.  I could not concentrate on the course. 

At home, I found a old flag pin, probably my Dad's  and bought another one.  Whenever I run across them in the drawer I remember.    Whenever I fly over New York and don't see the towers, I remember. 

No one was able to write fiction for a while, and we all wondered if we would ever write again.  We read "cozy" type Miss Marple  mysteries, because they had little violence and in the end justice was always done.  I wrote some poetry and bided my time. The weekend before September 11th, we had gone to see Apocalypse Now Redux.  The audience was a weird mixture of Viet Nam Vets and Cambridge and Boston academia.  Violence and especially the threat of violence permeated the movie.  I wouldn't have been able to watch it a week later. 

Writers finally began writing again, but anyone passing through airport security today knows we're not back to normal. Still, it's been a long time since I boarded a plane ready to kill.  The Warrior Grandma.  How stupid is that? 

Since Irene, the hummingbirds in our garden are my heroes.  Even in the worst wind, they swooped and flew and defied the storm.  When the tree fell, they came to investigate.  Sometimes they buzz the dining room window when we're having dinner, like they're saying hello or bon appetit.  I like their aerial acrobatics and their pugnacious spirit.  They aren't afraid of anything.  We could do worse than imitate the hummingbirds.

Thursday, September 08, 2011

Will my iPod post to blogger? Let's see.

New Blogger

Trying to use the new blogger screen.  Jury still out.  Old one more graphically satisfying.  Print too fine on new screen and I would always have to increase the size.  Crashing bore.  Couldn't find stats at first.  Love the stats.  Maybe later.

Goodnight Irene and Hello Lee, you SOB and Hooray for Hawaiian Breakfasts

The rains came, and came and came.  It pour buckets and then cats and dogs.  Cold, icky, omnipresent rain.  From Lee, I understand.  Irene didn't dump nearly this much on us.  Phooey!

We want to go into town tonight to a PEN event.  Looks like it may have stopped.  I do hope so.  Can I make a confession?  Last night we ate canned corned beef hash and Spam the night before.  The "confession" is that both tasted wonderful.  Low salt Spam, of course, with baked beans (vegetarian) and a salad of asparagus and cucumbers.  Last night we had asparagus and tomato, looked so lovely, and fresh broccoli, buttered.  Hit the spot with the salty corned beef hash.  I sauteed extra onions and cleared a spot in the center of the skillet for a fried egg for S.O.  Then we had homemade peach ice cream for dessert.

Sometimes I see elderly people who have that "lean and hungry" look.  I think they are leading the low-fat lifestyle.  No one will ever say that about us.Sometimes we even have wine with lunch with occasional forays into forbidden pastures.  Yup.  Ah, and the leftover Spam sauteed with eggs was delish.  Our whole family likes Spam, and my youngest was pleased to discover that a Hawaiian breakfast was Spam, rice and eggs.  Spam is very popular in Asia.  Go figure.  One of the New England travel writers was always complaining about that.  So be it.

Off to the post office, now the the rains have abated.  Feeling somewhat frisky.

Grapeshot

Tuesday, September 06, 2011

My New Heroes are the Hummingbirds

This is a great site with lots of wonderful facts and information about hummingbirds.

The World of Hummingbirds

They are so feisty and fearless.  I love to sit on our deck overlooking the wetlands and watch the hummingbirds in the edge of the woodlands and on the feeder in the flower garden.

Monday, September 05, 2011

Burning Man and I wasn't there

The Man burned Saturday and the Temple on Sunday, and I wasn't there.  And my name was selected for the airport food service, Bites of Passage.   The Burning Man theme for 2011 was "Rites of Passage."  Ha. Ha.  They always pick a great theme.  50,000 burners.  Hard to imagine.  From space the city was beautiful, so orderly and so neat, but we know the view from the ground was much different.  Ah god, I missed the fire dancers, and the vehicles belching flames and the techno music and waking at dawn half-frozen and center camp and the general ambiance, which must be experienced to be understood.  Not there!  Crap.

And our Internet service was down for 8 of the last 9 days, so I could not query literary agents about Festival Madness, my Burning Man novel. 

However, good things can still happen.  Will happen?  Must happen?  Whatever.

What is normal, anyhow?

They say a picture is worth a thousand words and that is true.  The first photo is the big oak that fell across my wild flower garden, and destroyed the lilac and another lovely bush.  No power for 4 days, then a day of scrambling to do laundry, run the dishswasher, etc., and the freakin' Internet went out completely or slowed down to a molasses in January crawl. 

The second photo is on Long Island where the foxes lived.  Three at one blow.  

After Irene, we were troopers, out scouting for ice, scouting for Wi-Fi and "D" Batteries, a rare commodity.  The wind rose at 6:30 Sunday morning and I jumped out of bed and made a batch of pesto genovese.  Ran the dish washer, and settled down to watch the storm on CNN.  At 10:30 a.m., before the storm actually hit us, the lights went out, not to be seen again until Wednesday night.  As bad as Hurricane Gloria in 1985. 

We have a gas stove and since I am squeamish about pilot lights, I lit the gas with big long fireplace matches.  Gas also meant hot water to hand wash dishes in, and hot showers, all Good Things. 

For Sunday dinner we had a delicious orzo salad with olive, anise, eggplant and zucchini.  By Monday the steak in the downstairs freezer was beginning to defrost so we had two nights of shish kebabs on the grill with lots of nice veggies.  By Tuesday, the chicken was thawing and I cooked a huge amount of chicken breasts for -- you guessed it chicken pesto.  I also cooked some chicken tenders a la chicken parm and we ate those one night.  We had the presence of mind to finish the ice cream on Sunday. 

During the storm, the hummingbirds were swooping around like crazy and they actually drank all their nectar.  All the birds were very interested in the fallen tree, and the thistle seed feeder and 2nd suet feeder were practically dragging the ground, but the birds immediately found these feeders and like the cozy feeling of being incased in leaves.

Of course some big mean hawk showed up, but I don't think he caught anyone.  When I went out early Monday morning to bring in the paper, a turtle dove was sitting on the front porch, looking  a wee bit lost.  My garden proper was relatively undamaged and the flowers did like the rain, and the cucumbers kept us supplied with salad. 

We fed the cows and the calves were leaping all over the pasture and having  a great time.  S.O. took a movie which i will post.  The Muscovy ducks that hang out with the cows have two cute ducklings.    The rooster crows every morning and we do realize we live in a neighborhood where there is still "agriculture."  Hooray for agriculture.

I will post again soon now that the lights and the Internet are back.  Reading by candlelight is no fun, but we did have 5 flashlights, 2 camp lanterns, a hurricane lantern, and 16 candles.   We just cursed the darkness a little bit.  Saw The Help and The Debt, both good.  Movies are a wonderful way to spend an evening when your house is darker than a tomb.

We aren't eating any chicken this week, no siree.  Total O.D. on chicken.  Hamburgers and pork tenderloin and yummy swordfish.  Even during the storm, life was good and it was lovely sitting on the deck for days and just watching the birds, squirrels and chipmunks.  Hardly anything beats watching the birds.  Well, maybe the Red Sox.

As Ever,

Grapeshot