The Shadow Warriors on Multiple Reading Devices

Sometimes, an item stays on one's "to do" list for a long time, and merging together the chapters of The Shadow Warriors and formatting the novel for Smashwords is one of those tasks.  Finally got the MS together and did the reformatting.  Lots of errors, and I was ready to set my hair on fire, then suddenly the doc was okay.  I remember how much work the formatting for Booksurge (now Createspace) was.  OMG.  Then a year ago, Amazon offered to format the novel for the Kindle for chump change.   But if I wanted The Shadow Warriors available on the Nook and other e-readers, well, there was Smashwords to smash through.  The MS had been on at least five computers, maybe more, and as many permutations of Word.  I suspect it was written on Word Perfect.  You get the idea.  Operate on the patient and there's a lot of adhesions from old surgeries, shall we say.   Ick.   

All of the e-publishers want basically the same kind of formatting now, so one has to suck it up (!) and learn good habits.  Still, it's hard to break the bad old habits.  I learned to write on a typewriter for cryin' out loud.  So it goes.  I want this to proceed well, because I am hoping to get the novel out there on all the various e-readers in time for holiday shopping.  In the meantime, my own holiday shopping is falling behind.  We did put the wreath up today, and the lights are up due to some excellent New England weather.  So there is good karma all round.  Let's hope it stays for a while.

Grapeshot

Earla of second best stuffing fame

Earla and Grapeshot 

My mom Earla, was a great cook, and I hope I take after her.  Her fried chicken was second only to my Grandma's.  Those Kansas ladies sure did know how to fry a chicken.  As a kid, I loved her spaghetti and meatballs, which she seldom made.  She made a lot of old standards:  meatloaf, roast beef (well done) roast pork, chicken, burgers, casseroles (although I don't recall any.)  Surely she made casseroles.  In later years, she became a typical sixties cook with short cuts and Campbell's soup.  She made a mean rum cake from a cake mix.  The ladies who had always had to cook from scratch  gravitated to short cuts.  Who can blame them?   These were the days before permaprest clothing and appliances that did everything.  My mother belonged to Eastern Star, Woman's Club, Garden Club  and she entered contests (and won) like crazy.  If she had been born in my day, she would have had a career.  She was the best gardener ever, and knew trees, flowers and nature.  Could hook a trout with a fly.   Cleaned like it was indeed next to godliness.  Nagged me for my own good.  Made me help at home.  Big time.  I cleaned the bathroom sink every morning, ironed everything except my Dad's shirts, mowed the lawn, painted the fence (like Tom Sawyer) and made meatloaf once every fortnight.  Dried the dishes since I was old enough to until we (thank you, God) got a dishwasher.  Cleaned my room.  Picked the beetles off my Grandma's potatoes.  Put upon, mind you.

We never appreciate our parents when young, only after they're old or gone.  What a shame.  My granddaughter (her great granddaughter) gobbled down Earla's stuffing like crazy.  How I wish my mom were here to see that.  She would have laughed, but been pleased.  I'm so happy I found the recipe again. 

A lost recipe is a terrible thing.   Thanks for everything mom.  I have you to be thankful for. 

The Cat with Glasses

The formerly orange cat, now perhaps the ginger or kumquat cat, maybe even the apricot cat, who has been somewhat feisty of late--the warrior cat? He will have a dinner of Fancy Feast Classic Tender Beef, Meow Mix, Fresh Catnip, water, and maybe a spot of milk.  He doesn't eat people food except for an occasional tidbit of cooked chicken breast.  All that good, lean protein, dontchaknow? 

Happy Thanksgiving!

We all have blessings to be thankful for.  Don't let tomorrow's shopping frenzy impinge on your holiday.  Take time to be with loved ones and count the things you have to be thankful for:  family, friends, maybe even a job, hobbies, talents, and nature.  We just fed the cows who were waiting (and bawling) for the farmer who loads them up with stale bread and muffins.  We also fed assorted squirrels, birds and the mouse under the front porch.   Share your bounty.  I hope you gave to the homeless.  They deserve a holiday, too. 

I still recall as a  high school girl helping to take baskets to needy families.  One woman cried.  Some of the dwellings didn't smell very good.  It was a real eye opener.  I wore lots of hand-me-downs (including old hockey skates instead of figure skates) but this was a punch in the gut that I really had it good.  Not everyone does. 

Don't overeat.  Small portions, and only scant seconds. Eat plenty of veggies.  You can do it.  Wine in moderation.  Turn off the football while dinner is in progress, for God's sake.  This sage (!) advice comes to you from Grapeshot who is on her way to the garden to pick sage, thyme, parsley and oregano, all that is left, but what a harvest! It all goes under the turkey's skin. 

Pensées and other thoughts

The bad cat Thisbe is staring at me with love in her eyes.  She just hurled on the sofa and is asking forgiveness.   That sofa was around when God was a boy.   We're actually thinking of having it reupholstered and  put it back in the living room.  It is an old down-filled Dunbar that we bought years ago ($65) at a house sale in Deerfield, Il.   You are forgiven, Thisbe.

Yesterday I trekked through the Braintree Mall with a 12-year-old young lady, and the term shop til you drop was never more apt.  I was dropping.  She was still raring to go.  We arrived home with lots of parcels, including 2 pieces of cheesecake from (natch) The Cheesecake Factory, and a whole bunch of stuff from The Body Shop til you drop.

I  barely had energy to make lentil soup garnished with homemade croutons and kielbasa.   Tasty.  Today was  Turkey Day - 1, and I did the cranberries, the pumpkin tarts and prepped for the vegetable and the dressing.   Cooked up two kinds of tacos for dinner.    The guest said that they are better than restaurant tacos. I do a whole rigamarole with reconstituted pepper, black beans, red pepper and red jalapeno,  8  garnishes, the whole nine yards.  Now I am yawning, but well situated for the morrow.  We have a mildly ambitious menu, so I should be able to cope.  Now it's bedtime.

I'm reading two of my manuscripts on my Kindle--you email them to your Kindle account and they load them onto the device for chump change.  It is really easy to find typos on the Kindle.  I bookmark them, and then do a scan on the MS as I go thru the bookmarks.  Works like a dream.  Highly recommend.

The formerly orange cat can also be described as kumquat.  This is not the cat who vomited on the couch.  The cats are happy with a new catnip plant.  Many nibbles. 

We are feeding the poor starving squirrels.  Our oaks produced NO ACORNS this year.   A friend brought me a bushel basket of them from New York.  We also bought corn and have been throwing out stale bread.   And the pumpkin has been chewed up royally.  An opportunistc mouse has taken up residence under the front porch to partake of all the sudden delicacies.  I love it.

Happy Thanksgiving to all.  Tomorrow I'll have a photo of a cat wearing glasses . . . and cattitude.  Can you wait? 

Grapeshot

Thanksgiving food thoughts

A few years ago, I published the New York Times old recipe for turkey stuffing, and it must be (even more than Mary Seagull) the most popular post ever, so I'm providing a link below.

We writers are a picky bunch when it comes to word usage, we like le mot juste.  It drives me crazy to see embryo and foetus universally misused.  Didn't anyone ever take biology?  The other word constantly used wrong, even in food magazines is stuffing and dressing.  If it don't go inside the bird it ain't stuffing, it's dressing.  Sometimes one needs bad grammar to emphasize a point.This may become my new battleground.  I mean are you stuffing your freaking stove top?
This year, with a vegetarian at table, we have had to make some accommodation.  No disgusting Tofurky, of course.  Turns my stomach to think of it.  Kierkegaard said, "sin bravely," and I feel the same way about vegetarians.  If you don't eat meat, well, then don't eat "faux" meat.  Have the courage to stand for your convictions.  This year, therefore, I'm not doing the world's best stuffing (and at our house, except for this year, we stuff), but rather a dressing. "The world's best" contains meat.   I'm using the second best recipe.  My mom's.  Except I lost it, or maybe I tossed it.  Last year I searched all over the Internet and couldn't find.  This year, I found it in spades, and all the comments all said, "my mother used to make this."  Amen.

Now I was a godawful squeamish eater as a kid, and I didn't like any kind of potatoes except French fries and chips.  Can you believe that?  But I did like my mom's stuffing (it was inside the turkey cavity).  So I am going to give you
1)  The World's Best.  It originally called for ground veal, but since I am not eating baby animals anymore, I substitute ground turkey or chicken and can't tell the difference.  When I say I'm not eating baby animals anymore, that means lamb and veal.  I don't buy it or order it, but if I'm a guest in someone's home, I eat it without comment.  Like the lamb in Portugal in the little hill town of Monsaraz. The potatoes were cooked in the lamb broth.  I felt so guilty enjoying every bite.

Significant Other likes to say, "In an emergency,  the devil eats flies."  Make of that what you will.

Here's a link to the original blog post: The World Best Turkey Stuffing Recipe

First of all, the holiday menu Chez Grapeshot  I found a bunch of Ina Garten recipes in Good Housekeeping and am using three of them.

Thanksgiving Menu  2011

Ina Garten's Herb Roasted turkey with Pan Gravy

Wild-Rice Stuffed Squash (Martha Stewart)

Earla' Old Time Potato Dressing

String Beans with Shallots (Ina Garten)

Cranberry Fruit Conserve (Ina Garten)

Pumpkin Chiffon Tarts

Wine and/or Cider

Now to the second best.  Earla's Old Time Potato Dressing (may also be eaten as we did in my childhood, as a stuffing). Ready in one hour.  Serves six or more.  From allrecipes.com by Lauren Buckner with a few changes by moi.

Ingredients:
1 large onion, chopped fine
3/4 cup finely chopped celery
1/4 cup (or more) butter
1/4 turkey or chicken broth.  I'm using vegetable broth.
8 slices day old white bread, cubed with crusts removed
3 cups mashed potatoes (you can cheat and use prepared dry potato flakes to make 3 cups)
1 egg, beaten
1 1/2 t. poultry seasoning  (I'll used fresh thyme, summer savory, and the herbs that constitute poultry stuffing).
1 t. kosher salt
1/2 t. freshly ground black pepper
1/4 t. ground nutmeg (I always do fresh)

Directions:

1. In a skillet, saute onion and celery in butter until tender.  Remove from the heat; stir in broth.  In a large bowl, combine bread cubes, prepared potatoes, egg and all seasonings.  Sir in onion mixture.  If mixture seems dry, add more melted butter or broth. Transfer to a greased  2-qt. baking dish.  Cover and bake at 325 degrees F. for  40 minutes.  Uncover and bake for another 15-20 minutes until the top is browned and a  meat thermometer reads 160 degrees.  You can also put a little extra butter, salt and pepper on top and place under a broiler until browned and bubbly.

Hint:  put in a shallow dish and you will have room for the stuffing AND the turkey in the same oven.  A little extra onion or some shallots or green onion would not be amiss.

I will post the recipe for pumpkin tarts in a subsequent post.  Another lost recipe, except I lost it last week.  So annoying.  It's not like anyone broke into the house and stole it!

We are off to Roche Bros. to buy groceries.  Larder is bare with no trips to the store since the 6th.  Yikes.  I always buy whatever I can in advance.  Cranberries have been in freezer already for a spell.  I have a big sage plant and some thyme and oregano, even parsley and chives that are still thriving in the garden.  It is such a pleasure to have a late harvest.

Eat well.

Grapeshot

New England Crimebake: another rip-roaring success

So here I am, sleep deprived, stomach full of sort-of-junky food, wine-soaked, high on energy and the excitement of an entire weekend devoted to learning about writing, talking about writing, writers, agents, editors, celebrities, write, write, write.  Met wonderful authors like Nancy Pickard and Barry Eisler whom one doesn't rub elbows with every day,  So great making new friends and seeing old colleagues. Believe it or not a big ballroom full of writers, all with egos is still a magic place.  So cool to connect with old friends that one doesn't see often enough and learning good news about others, (way to go, Edith) and hearing fascinating talks on forensics and art thefts and all the stuff we crime fiction writers get off on.  

When you're on a committee you are always aware of the white underbelly of the event, praying that nothing major goes wrong, and hoping to smooth over the little minor unavoidable things that do go wrong. No crises of note.

I found a bunch of new authors that I MUST READ, and was reminded of others--got to get that book or in the case of some, got to read that book I already got.

We've had a tough fall with Irene, big trip to Europe,  bad colds, the Halloween storm, and then busy, busy with the Crimebake event, winterizing the garden, and now, ye gods, Thanksgiving is upon us but at least I have a menu, which will translate to a bill of materials, AKA grocery list, and eventually a meal. 

The  weary will have little rest because along with playing catch up, we gotta write now, that the energy is pumped, the ideas are percolating, the advice is still in memory, and all systems are go.  Gotta write!!!

And I'm thinking of changing the name of this blog from Suck It Up to Crazy is Good.  As everyone knows, the definition of insanity is to keep doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.  And yet a writer may write book after book after book expecting,  well, expecting to find an agent, a publisher, readers, you know.  And sometimes this doesn't happen.  So we are crazy, but in a good way.  That's how I'm looking at it now.  Crazy in a good way.  Crazy in a persistent  way.  Okay, maybe just crazy.

No food in the house, 4 weeks behind on Boardwalk, house not passing the white glove, hell, maybe not even the gray glove test, desk the usual mess, filing piling up.  Yeah, well, gotta write!!

How To Get the Most Out of The New England Crimebake Mystery Conference

From the Crimebake committee: 

Welcome to Crime Bake

Top Ten Ways to Get the Most from Your Conference

#1. Be Prepared. Make a list of your goals, outlining what you’d like to achieve while you are here: Talk Kansas and Kalifornia with Guests of Honor Nancy Pickard and Barry Eisler, talk art and artistic thievery with Anthony Amore, pitch Terri Bischoff your charming Maine lobstah cozy, etc. Get ready to make the most of every hour!

#2. Do Your Homework. Read the program. Know which sessions you’d like to attend, and why. Study the panelists and their bios—note the agents who represent your sub-genre, the authors who write the dialogue, plot, character, etc., you came here to master.

#3. Make Friends. A stranger at Crime Bake is just a friend/agent/editor you haven’t met/pitched/flattered yet. Introduce yourself to everyone hanging at the bar, sitting next to you at the panels, lurking around in a trench coat at the Banquet. Anyone with a Crime Bake badge is fair game.

#4. Participate! There’s a time for discretion—and this is not it. Ask questions during the Q&A at every panel; sign up for a pitch session with an agent (if you’ve got no particular project to pitch, ask a market-related question); network big-time at Breakfast with the Authors.

#5. Meet Everyone. (And we mean everyone, living, published, and unpublished.) Don’t be shy. This bears repeating: Don’t be shy. Approach anyone and everyone you ever wanted to meet: Ask Hallie Ephron about Hollywood’s take on her thriller; treat John Willig to a martini (the bar is where the agents and editors hang out—truly, madly, deeply); buy Michael Palmer’s novel and chat him up while he signs it. If you really are shy, grab the nearest Crime Bake staffer and wrangle an intro.

#6. Ask for Assistance. The conference and hotel staffers are here to help you—whether you need an introduction or a blanket, a last-minute pitch session (because you’ve finally gathered your courage) or a cab to the nearby new mall, Legacy Place (but why shop when you can buy John Willig a martini?).

#7. Keep an Open Mind. The agent you pitched doesn’t do paranormal cat mysteries—or does cozies and just signed one too much like yours. The author spelled your mother’s name wrong when s/he signed the book you hoped to give her for Christmas. You spilled a drink all over that agent you were wooing at the cocktail party. Whatever happens—good, bad, or contractual—remember that this is a learning experience and rejection is an inevitable part of the process. Nothing worth spilling blood over—except on the page.

#8. Go for Blood, Er, Broke. This is a jam-packed weekend—don’t miss out on anything. Spring for a master class, stay up late in the bar, dance the night away Saturday night. This is an immersion experience: Immerse yourself in the writing dream. You can sleep when you’re published.

#9. Buy Books! Buying books for your favorite Crime Bake authors to sign is not just fun, it’s another smart way to network. Buy them early (that is, before the given author’s panel) so you don’t have to stand in line so long. Remember: Someday we’ll be buying yours.

#10. Stay in Touch. Exchange business cards and e-mails, join MWA and SinC, form your own writers’ group. Set yourself up for a great year of writing, networking, and publishing…until next year’s spectacular 11th Annual New England Crime Bake!

Andy Rooney, R.I.P

I always liked Andy Rooney.  The more curmudgeonly he was, the better I liked him.  There's something appealing about a grumpy old man, at least one that you only have to listen to a few minutes every week.  The Daily Beast had a write up about Rooney, and I was horrified by some of the snarky comments. 

No one was abashed or ashamed to speak ill of the dead.  Rooney was not universally beloved.  One would think those who didn't care for his weekly rant would have had the courtesy to shut up, but they didn't.  From the "handles" on the Daily Beast site I would guess that most of the negative comments were made by young men.  Youngish men. 

Old people have a hard row to hold in this country.  No one likes them or likes to be around them.  Maybe they remind young people of the future coming their way like a freight train.  Hollywood ignores them except for an occasional comedy about The Bucket List or Grumpy Old Men. Nothing really believable.  They're anathema on TV.  When was the last time you saw a senior citizen in an ad that wasn't for false teeth fixative or Depends?   The best an old person can hope to be is invisible.  Rooney, of course, was not.  He spoke his mind, always a dangerous trait.


In England, they've always had cool television shows about seniors, and frequently they are even the stars.  Of course they are not rocket scientists or brain surgeons, but they have weight and occupy space. 
The Republicans who have a lot of rich old people, want to dismantle Medicare and Social Security.  They have no clue, and the middle class folks supporting the Tea Party have even less clue.  One could even say they are clueless.

I have a friend who is impoverished.  I mean he has zilch due to bad judgment in the market and too many ex-wives.  Yet he always identifies with the Republicans and the upper classes.  Thinks he's one of them.  Go figure.  Without social security and Medicare he would not have the proverbial pot.

Andy Rooney was a true patriot who never was shy about speaking his mind.  We need more Andy Rooneys in this country, more loud old curmudgeons. People who bravely shout, "Horsefeathers!"  or "Balderdash!"  Rooney was never afraid to put a stake in the ground and he didn't hide behind anonymous screen names.  Today The Daily Beast really was a Beast.   Slouching toward wherever. 

Grapeshot

What I Wore: an exurban matron confesses

Every Sunday the New York Times Style section has a column entitled What I Wore.   Naturally what one wears in Manhattan is totally different than in suburbia, or exurbia, especially when the snow snaps the branches and the power goes out for days.  Ya gotta stay warm. 

The New York Times: What I Wore

What I Wore

 

Thursday, 8: a.m. aerobics/weight training class.  First time in my gray New Balance Cross Trainers.  Black mid-calf gym pants and a Beefy T from Bruno's in Gerlach, Nevada, "Where the Pavement Ends and the West Begins."  Later I changed into a new Vera Wang white, navy and black tie-died effect cotton shirt, and navy Chaps corduroy slacks and a vintage Jaeger navy wool blazer.  Maybe too matchy-matchy? Off to visit my friend D. who recently broke her arm.  It was raining, so it tossed on a tan Burberry rain waterproof windbreaker. Arrived with a plant, fresh muffins and chocolates.

Friday:  to run some local errands, I pull on the navy Chaps cords again and a grey long-sleeved shirt I bought years ago in Hudson, NY.  Kind of fleecy but not fleece.  Wore my black Nike walking shoes from Nordstrom's.  Love their practicality.

Saturday:  grocery shopping.  Would you believe the Chaps navy cords again?  I tossed on a purple Gap t-shirt and a pink sweatshirt with Palm Beach in green script on the front. Purchased at the late, lamented Wellesley used clothing sale, the year before it closed.  To dine at the neighbors, I decided on brown NYDJ jeans and a cotton sweater with big blocks of various shades of brown and tan.  Wore a vintage Neiman-Marcus thick cashmere cardigan.  Brown Sperry oxfords, because we were on foot  and the snow was coming down like crazy. 

Later that night we hear the branches cracking and falling.  The power goes off. 

Sunday:  power still off.  Decide I can really get one more day out of the navy corduroy Chaps.  Jockey long undershirt with a thick greige cable knit cashmere turtleneck from Neiman-Marcus provide more layers.  This is yet another vintage sweater.  Cable knit is good again as is the color.  Yowza!  Smart Wool socks from Clarks to keep my tootsies warm in the now chilly house.  Bjorn sheepskin slippers are amazingly toasty, especially in front of a roaring fire with the snow melting off the broken branches outside.  Cat is on my lap.  We decide to have berry pancakes and bacon to keep Jack Frost at bay.    I spend the rest of the day reading the manuscript for my latest novel on my Kindle.

Monday:  Brrrr. Power still off.  House cold.  Finally ditched the Chaps navy cords for my faded green cords from Lee.  Topped them with the white Jockey undershirt and a pale green tweed cashmere sweater, thick and soft, a vintage from Brooks Brothers. It retains body heat, especially when topped with the brown cashmere cardigan.  A fresh pair of Clarks Smart Wool socks with the right shades of brown and green complimented the selections.  Monday night is writing group.  To go out, I wore my Barbour quilted brown jacket.  Not too shabby. Charged my cell phone. Whoopee!

Tuesday:  Still no power at home and not at the 'Y' either, so I had to skip my workout.  Wore the green Lee cords and the Brooks Brother's sweater again.  We drove to the Volkswagen dealer in North Attleboro and I recharged my Kindle and picked up email on my IPOD while the car was serviced.  I wore a red Lands End Fleece pullover.  We decided to see The Three Musketeers, and were getting ready to leave when voila, the lights came on, and the various appliances began to beep or hum.  Music to the ears.  Was able to ditch the red fleece pullover as the house warmed up.

Wednesday:  nada on the calendar.  I love Wednesdays.  I stayed in my fleecy tan Nautica robe and P.J.s all morning, making chicken soup from the thawed breasts.  The tree men came and ground up the fallen branches.  I took a shower and washed my hair, glad for the balmy bathroom.  For a walk around the neighborhood, I wore blue denim NYDJ jeans and a black cotton sweater from Land's End.  Almost 70 degrees outside.  My New Balance sneakers felt good.  Wore the Barbour coat without a clutch of sweaters.

So it's been a week of various fashion statements, all of them in casual pants and vintage cashmere sweaters.  Isn't that what living in the country is all about, even when the lights are on?  Oh yes, one last thing.  When I say "vintage," well, that's a code word for "old."   

Climate Change

Oak in front yard took a hit, limb-wise

Anyone who doesn't believe in the current climate change has to be living in a cave for the past few years.  In August, Hurricane Irene roared up the East Coast and left us with tree damage and no power for 4 days.  At least it was warm, but the contents of the fridge/freezer had to be quickly cooked or tossed.  We grilled (and ate) a lot of chicken breasts.
Now in late October, a Nor'easter ripped into us and the power was out for 3 days.  It was cold, but the upside was we just shoveled some icy snow into the cooler.  We also shivered and cowered (cats, too) in front of the fireplace.  Oddly enough, I slept very well in the 52 degree room with a ton of bedding. 

Beech tree destroyed in the neighborhood

It was so sad to see so many gorgeous, mature beeches with no limbs.  Our neighbor lost a  beautiful Japanese maple, now forever misshapen.  In August, we had some warning, and I did all the laundry, ran the dishwasher, and did all the "storm tasks" in advance.  Sunday morning, we were digging out the candles and the hurricane lamp.  Another casualty was the discovery that the globe of my grandparents hurricane lamp had  broken.  Beautiful etched glass.  I wanted to weep. 

For some odd reason, the kitchen phone, which  had been on the fritz since early October, decided to start working again when the power came back on.   And S.O.'s old watch, bound for the repair shop, also began to work.  Is that crazy or what?   Maybe some of you read the Sunday New York Times Column in the Style section, "what I wore."  Stay tuned for a not-quite-so-upscale take on What I Wore by an exurban dweller in the  style-deprived South Shore.  

I had a chance to read my novel (no title yet) on the Kindle and did some editing.  Man, it is almost impossible to get the typos out of a MS.  The Kindle is a great way to check on your formatting and catch other errors.  Easy to see problems.  Very happy I had the time to read it.  AND I found some passages that can be cut, too, a joy since the word count is, shall we say,  kind of high.

O.K.  Enough.  Have to perform stage two of the chicken soup.  We always eat well during these weather crises.  We ate a whole quart of thawing coffee ice cream.  Ice Cream Soup is actually pretty good. 

  Remind me to stock the freeze with something besides chicken breasts. 

As ever,

Grapeshot