Welcome to my blog Upstate Girl, (a.k.a Follow Your Bliss Part II), I am an independently published author. This blog is all about writing and the stuff that inspires me to write, the joys and obstacles that come along with the writer's life, and my fascination with the psychology of people and what makes them tick...the human condition, as is...and my love for words, playing with them and making sense of them...and I throw in a few photos from my acre of the world just to make things pretty...sometimes there are things I have no words for, only pictures will do.

*Copyright notice* All photos, writing, and artwork are mine (
© Laura J. Wellner), unless otherwise noted, please be a peach, if you'd like to use my work for a project or you just love it and must have it, message me and we'll work out the details...it's simple...JUST ASK, please.
Showing posts with label Dusty Waters. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Dusty Waters. Show all posts

Saturday, May 3, 2014

Thoughts on writing...some advice

Me with Dusty Waters at my first book signing, May, 2009
I’ve always wanted to be a writer, since I could scribble, I wanted to write something that mattered—it took a long time to get there, I had a good deal of false starts. It’s been 15 years since I wrote the manuscript Washed Glass and saw it through to the finish. (Oh, I thought I knew what I was doing, but I totally had no idea.) This effort is still unpublished and certainly nowhere near ready to have a cover designed for it. It’s a densely written monster that has everything and the kitchen sink in it, and it’s rife with first-novel-itis, but I know the story is good enough to take the time to make it right—not every first manuscript is good enough. Even tho’ I do cringe a little when I think about going back to it, but now that I know more about what I’m doing, I know what I must do, so I will revisit where I started all those years ago—someday. I will always have a soft spot for it—it was my first, from there, the rest of my work with words followed, and they nod with reverence to what happened before them because without Washed Glass, Dusty Waters and The Fractured Hues of White Light wouldn't have happened. 

My "Girls"

For what it’s worth, here’s my advice for aspiring writers (young and old):

It’s never too late to start. Just do it.

Write. Even if it’s pure nonsense, if it’s there in your head, write it. Unfortunately, we learn from our mistakes, and you’re not going to learn by being afraid of fucking up.

Read—read a lot—especially read outside your comfort zone, if you have resisted reading the classics, read them—experience them and learn from them. Keep your mind wide open to receive knowledge, grow your mind, grow your vocabulary—read the dictionary (you know, one of those old-fashioned cloth bound books illustrated with line art, get one.) Familiarize yourself with the basic rules of grammar and punctuation too. Keep a Thesaurus handy.  Honestly, you’ll need something to do during those dead zones when you’re not staring out the window thinking.

Be humble.
Write and write some more.
No, you’re not crazy, you’re writing a book. Keep writingjust let it flow.
Be brave.
Write.

Here are the Don’ts:

Don’t listen to those dissenting voices within you or from the others who are on the outside looking in—for goodness sakes, don’t let anyone tell you “you can’t do that” because it’s hard. Damn right it’s hard and don’t you forget it.

Don’t rely on spell check and grammar check on your computer to catch your errors because words like dairies and diaries are both spelled correctly and if you’re a little bit dyslexic at all it’s easy enough to screw them up. The brain has this amazing self-correction thing it does when you’re too close to your writing and you know what you want to say, so beware when dealing with words, especially when writing tens of thousands of them.

Don’t be a hermit.
Don’t forget to live.
Don’t forget to breathe.
Write.

So you finished writing your manuscript—your first book. Do a happy dance, scream, laugh, and cry. Tell all your friends and family—celebrate. It’s a wonderful thing, it’s an accomplishment, and an achievement worthy of a pat on the back.

Don’t be surprised if you feel sad—because you will. You will “miss” being there, being in your head with your characters—it can be a little scary to feel depressed like that, but don’t worry, you’re all right.

Do you think you’re done with it?

"Done" means it has a beginning and an end with a bunch of shit happening in the middle. I know it will be hard to do it, but walk away from it—leave it for months—start something new or just write nonsense. Keep reading more books to pass the time. No matter how tempting it is to fool around with it, leave it alone. Forget it long enough to “forget it” in a sense that will allow you to be objective when you read it again.

It’s nice if you can find a first reader who can honestly tell you what they think of it—it’s nice if the first reader doesn’t sit on it for months and not read it. A book, especially a raw first draft isn’t easy to hand off to someone and expect them to read it—it’s not like showing someone a drawing you made—reading is an investment of time—and first drafts can be SO ROUGH it’s not fun to read them.  When you do go back to it, be honest with yourself—is it how you envisioned it? Aim high, raise the bar for yourself, take pride in your work, OWN IT. Edit the darn thing—make it bleed red ink—be prepared, this process can go on for several drafts. If you can find an editor that you can afford—one you can trust to work within your vision, go for it. But not everyone can afford one, not everyone has access to such creatures, so it’s good for a writer to learn how to self-edit.

I do my own editing partly because I’m a control freak, and partly because I love doing it—I love the whole process of revising and editing. I will read a chapter backwards, sentence by sentence just to take it out of the flow to make sure it’s what I want it to say. Then I will read the chapter forwards again to see if I catch anything wonky. I go through it until I make no more changes. Then I leave it alone to forget it, then read it again. If I make no changes, that’s a good thing. I’ve been known to take the scissors to a chapter that I had thought was perfect two weeks ago and reorganize the paragraphs, tape it back together, make the revision, and then start over reading it in the new configuration. I read it and revise it until I make it right.

Reading hard copy is always a good idea.

It does get better—trust me on this.

Final thoughts:
Keep writing. 
Don’t settle.
Make it right. Make it perfect.
Practice, Patience, Persistence.


(For the record, I won't edit anyone's work, so don't ask...you can't pay me enough to do it.)

Friday, November 26, 2010

The day after Thanksgiving...

Blue on Rust, Leaves (Sumac on Maple)

Briar and Weeds

Fossils and Weeds

A Solitary Leaf

Shell and Leaf

Pale Green Viola Leaf

Viola Leaf on a Rock

Leaves

 Thankfulness...

I got up at 6AM yesterday morning, and had the nigh 20lb bird stuffed and in the oven by 7AM, the routine is a familiar path, I plodded along all through the morning making preparations, then got halfway upstairs to change, and ran back to the living room to turn on the Macy's Parade just in time to see Santa Claus...(it wouldn't be right to miss Santa!) Although we had a fraction of the family around the table than in past years, yet still keeping to the tradition as we've known it...my Fred's mother passed away almost two weeks ago, and so it's been a time...as our niece insisted, "Grandma would have wanted us to be together today." And so we did gather around as a family to begin the process of moving on, and we enjoyed our company and talked. It was lovely in spite of moments of missing her...and missing Grandpa (our second Thanksgiving without him.) We're still in that emotional period of loss, slightly numb, yet sharp in feeling...we're seeking a foothold on the latest version of "normal". Time will tell. Today I'm in that fatigue zone...painfully tired, which is typical FMS, I'm used to it, and push through it (how easy it would have been to go back to bed and sleep the day away!), but in spite of it, I worked on my paintings today, for some reason, on days when I'm this tired writing is impossible, but the act of painting flourishes in that intuitive flow that is beautiful, and it felt right. If anything, I am thankful for my determination.

Leftovers for dinner tonight...mmmmm...and tomorrow TURKEY SOUP! (I love that more than the dinner.)


I haven't been able to keep up with the last three Literary Blog Hop activities through the Blue Bookcase, but have enjoyed the conversations that have emerged since the first one I hooked up with earlier this month. As I noted in the side bar of my blog, Dusty Waters is now available as an e-book on the B&N Nook (as part of the B&N PubIt! program, released on 11/19.) It took well over a month to accomplish it, I had slowly worked my way through both books to get them properly formatted, but only put up the one. The Fractured Hues of White Light will be saved aside for release at another time since I'm still in the early giveaway mode of the paperback at Goodreads. I downloaded the Nook app for my laptop so I could sample the technology, and purchased Virginia Woolf's early novel Night and Day just for fun (since my most favorite paper back is falling apart) ...it is a temptation to buy more books, but I will restrain myself for now, and make selections of old favorites in due time. No matter the convenience of the e-book and all the other arguments that make them the bees knees I still love the intimacy of a solitary book made of paper, and will gladly make room for more of them on my to-read pile. Will I purchase an actual Nook? Probably...I've become slightly smitten with the gadget during my careful investigation of gadgets. Will I convert one (or both) of the books for Kindle? Eventually, it is quite possible with all the available conversion tools out there to 'make it so'...I'm in no rush (if there's anyone who wants it bad enough for their Kindle they can send me an email and say "pretty please" and I'll see what I can do about it sooner than later.) For now, the Nook is the test...it is one more test in my indie publishing experiment, I'm going to see how it goes as I continue to muddle along at my own pace. It is just how I am...it is how I do what I do.

Wednesday, October 6, 2010

Editing...

The Children's Moon


I took this photo on Saturday morning/early afternoon while lounging in the sunshine on one of the Adirondack chairs, I saw the little sliver of pale moon in the blue...I've always liked seeing it there during the day so I zoomed in with my little point n' shoot and caught it...


I finished reading through my latest manuscript Drinking from the Fishbowl on Saturday afternoon (the last time I worked on it was in 2008, so I had to get to know it again)...so now I have started over from the beginning, and will go deeper this time, it should move along as I have a firm grasp on the book as a whole and I pretty much know what needs to be done with it. It's a big book...after awhile I stopped keeping track of the page count, tho' the last I knew it was 530 or something...(The Fractured Hues of White Light in the double-spaced Word file was 516, and printed as a 437 page paperback so...I'm figuring Fishbowl will still weigh in under 500 pages by the time it goes to print). I'm not going to make a fuss about the size, there's not much I can do about it, the story will be told in it's own way, if what's there is good and it's got purpose, it's staying, I'm not going to strip the spirit out of it...I'll trust that if a reader likes what I do, and wants to read it, the size won't scare them off. I'll be brutal with it while going through the editing process (last time I edited this one, I whittled it down from 575 pages or something crazy like that. One earlier draft had ballooned to 703 pages, so I'm quite adept at being a brutal editor with my own work. Yes, I've kept track of the progress of my multiple drafts.) Page count/word count is a bugaboo when it comes to agents and publishers, they don't like anything too much over 100,000 words, yet, big books still get published (Jonathan Strange and Dr. Norrell, The Historian, The Time Traveler's Wife are beefy popular tomes), people still buy them...one of these days I'll come up with a less complicated slim story... someday, but in the meantime, this is what I have, and I'm not waiting around for 'my ship to come in'...

This book is the second one I wrote in this group of books that I have spent the last eleven years writing...it's centered on the relationship of three friends, Georgia Sullivan, Eugene Riley, and Bailey Muldoon... yes, it is a tangled triangle, and it is written with the intention of a "soap opera" feel to it, but it is more serious, more psychological, prickly and squirmy, tho' it has it's own sense of humor, and perhaps a bit too honest...I love how at times it's just so absurd...but you know, people with their tangled web of emotions are very often ridiculous when they're young and foolish and full of drama, especially when it comes to love and the fulfillment of our dreams...how we plan out our lives only to have obstacles pop up and send us on a different path...of course, some readers will hate it, some will love it...it depends on how they approach it, if they take it too seriously they'll miss the point...if they think it's too absurd, well...it is what it is, everyone comes to a book with their own tools, I have my way of seeing things...in the end, I have to trust the reader to judge for themselves...

Fishbowl is connected to Dusty Waters and The Fractured Hues of White Light as well, the character, Katharine, emerges again as an influence, and Guthrie Ryder has a small role...Aloysius Farnesworth is there in spirit too...so, the community of characters grows and overlaps much in the way life does...I'm enjoying myself immensely...

I've begun to explore E-books again, tho' I still haven't purchased one of the gadgets as I prefer a solid book made of paper over a gadget that requires batteries (I love reading by candlelight when the power goes out!) Well, I've decided that it wouldn't hurt to make one of the books available...Smashwords seems to be the go to place to get 'em done, but first, I have to strip the PDF down to a basic, format-less Word document... this will take some time...but I'm OCD enough to actually enjoy doing it! I've started with The Fractured Hues of White Light (I'm up to chapter 5) only because it's easier, Dusty Waters has way too many interesting visual bits that required special formatting in it's current form, so I don't know if it's going to be possible to do it and have it look like anything on an e-book device. (I wonder how a book like The House of Leaves looks as an E-book? That one has all kinds of cool bits making it a visual experience.)

(Note: most of this post was written on Sunday morning, intended to post on Sunday afternoon, but I had trouble uploading photos, so I saved the draft, and gave up! So here I am this morning, giving it another try...)

Anyway...the gray skies of the last couple of days have given way to blue again...I don't think the little pale moon will be out there, but the gold finches are busy in the coneflowers...I've finally shook off the cold that I've been battling with for a week, and so it's just allergies again...

Sunday, July 25, 2010

It's been a 'real' week...

Admiral with wings closed...his bright pretty stuff is on the inside, but I think love the subtle patterns on the outside of the wings more...

Two Tiger Swallowtails...

It's so hard to "catch" one flutterbye holding still, but two within inches of each other, tougher, man, I'm tellin' you, I was clicking the button faster than the little Fuji could keep up, I knew I'd get at least one photo of the moment worth saving...

So here is my cluttered old drafting table where I work...yup, that is paint stains on the table top from paintings made long ago...


I had the dreaded Blue Screen of Death visit my laptop last week Wednesday, and now it's back, fixed and has gained two little brothers, a Dell Mini (that I bought immediately with the little bit of money I've saved for a new computer) and a 500GB portable hard drive (thank goodness I had just gotten paid)...it could've been a virus or an error in the mechanism that tripped up the gadget...whatever, the good news is none of my writing or photos were lost (most everything was backed up), tho' my email and address book is gone, bookmarks missing, which is very annoying, all necessary software is reloaded...I'm heading back toward normal operations. Tho' I'm still cringing every time I turn it on now...if I happen to be not listening for it and miss the Windows start-up chime, I become concerned...that will wear off eventually...

Live and learn...always...

Writing a book and putting it out for people to read is one of those major 'live and learn' lessons...I updated my Q&A at Goodreads this morning, and added another excerpt from The Fractured Hues of White Light for readers to browse...after I pasted the piece into place, I noticed the word 'mediations' on page 66 ...dang, darn, drat and damn! Did I use the wrong word? I think I meant to say "meditations", but suddenly I'm not sure. I'll tell you now, it's been that way for years, as soon as I found it, I dug into the archives and found it consistently written as 'mediations' all along! ARRRGH! But in my mind, today, I read it as 'meditations' and now I'm second guessing myself. How does one miss that? Easy, the mind fills in what isn't there while you're reading along, no matter how careful. I'm not going to make myself nuts about it (tho' I know I will because that's how I am, I am totally obsessing about it that's why I'm writing about it.) Just in case I'm wrong about what I meant to say, I've marked it for changes later with a post-it note tucked in my proof copy, I'm sure I'll find more changes to make and it will be better to do it all at once rather than piece meal changes that wind up costing money and time. No matter how careful I am, I still miss stuff...and this was proofread by another pair of eyes too, so she could've caught it way back during that early draft. Good grief. I suppose in some in context, it works, Sylvester could be 'mediating' within himself (relaxing mediations) while he was fly-fishing in the stream and thinking about the stuff bugging him, but no, I think I meant 'relaxing meditations' because he was trying to find a zone of comfort within himself. Ah, well, nobody's perfect. Well, I'm in good company, there are books published by the best and biggest publishing houses with grammatical slip-ups and wrong words and they have paid editors working on it (usually very overworked and also very human), so I shouldn't be kicking myself for being sloppy... but I tend to hold the bar for myself higher than most...it's just the way I am (If my name's on it, I want it to be right!) I know toward the end of the process I was becoming a bit cross-eyed from looking at it for so long. I'm not overly anxious to proofread it again right away...but I know I will be picking it up sooner rather than later...

I heard about this website called I Write Like (http://iwl.me/) in which you paste a sample of your writing and it compares your writing to samples of the famous in their database (tho' I'm sure it's limited)...so for the heck of it, I tucked in a small sample from chapter 1 of Dusty Waters (it was a dark and stormy night last night, so it was a fun thing to do) and it came up that I write like Nabokov... I'm not sure what to think of that...it's good, but a little intimidating...I can see this being a time wasting sort of thing...probably addicting...so I stopped at that and probably won't go back...it might say I write like Stephen King next...not that there's anything wrong with that...

I'm glad to have my laptop back, and I'm glad to be working on my blogs again...last weekend I was so out of sorts...

Saturday, December 12, 2009

A Rusty Heart...

I photographed this old paver sitting on our back step a few weeks back, I've meant to post it, but lost the pictures, but found them again...I tucked them in a funny place during one of my "cleaning sprees" in my laptop...any way...a rusty bit of metal that I found in the flowerbed had been sitting on it for over a year, the old bit crumbled when I poked at it, and found the picture it made...

Then this leaf caught my eye just before Thanksgiving...


A lovely bit of bronze corrosion on a concrete pedestal...I love that green!



Playing with black and white pictures...grape vines this time...


And some frosty leaves...

We're dipping into the 20's...it feels extra wintery...the snow stayed north of the NYS Thruway in the Tug Hill Plateau, so here in the southern hills the acre only received a dusting of snow and a glaze of ice that is nearly all gone...lots of wind, and the old farmhouse made its usual creaks and groans...I'm staying snug and quiet, I'm very tired. I've been editing Drinking from the Fishbowl this week, I just back tracked to chapter 1 today to add in a bit that came to mind, it's a small bit, but needed to be said for a bit that comes along later...again, just a small bit, but it's details like it that make writing such a beautiful thing, it feels good to be working again. My Fred is working on the design for The Fractured Hues of White Light, he's looking for the right fonts to show me, White Light has its own personality, so it needs its own look...it's not looking like we'll be getting it out in time for Christmas...oh, well, that's okay, marketing Dusty Waters is keeping me busy enough...I just wrapped up the giveaway of 5 copies of Dusty Waters at Goodreads.com and mailed out the books yesterday...it's always a treat to meet new readers! There are times I can't believe I'm published...

psst...I love it!

Saturday, October 10, 2009

Here I am...

In a field of stones there are big ones and little ones...and here I am, the little stone wedged in between the big ones...I am an independent author, independently published. Field Stone Press got its name from those beautiful old bones of the earth, their composition an amalgam of the ages, we find them strewn about our Upstate New York acre, they are collected, piled, lined up, weathered by the elements, and revered as precious. Life is too precious.

Looking out my window, I'm finally seeing the sunshine after a week of rain and scattered peeks of sun. It's so beautiful. Although I do complain about it, I do believe there is something special about the weather in Upstate New York that generates great writers. So many have hailed from here, or just passed through underneath the prevalent gray sky. I wonder. The profusion of overcast days certainly can make one gritty around the edges; some places have trouble with the Dog Days of summer bringing out the worst in folks, but in Upstate New York, the sun comes out and that spectacular blue sky that can make the most surly character giddy. I think the lull of gray skies keeps writers inside writing since there is no temptation to go outside and play — ah, but writers will write no matter the weather. At least I can feel that I’m in good company when I sit at my computer patiently contemplating one paragraph at a time during those precious hours I maintain in my studio. Often I’m bemoaning the fact that it’s already eleven o’clock at night and I have to get up and go to work the next day. So, I walk my dog before bed to decompress, looking for the stars, hoping to see a sign of a clear sky—sometimes it is this upward glance that provides a resolution for that one elusive character quirk or just the right name. I’ve pulled many ideas out of the sky; I live on a rather large hill seven miles outside of Syracuse, so there’s nothing but sky out here.

There are many times that suffusion of gray comes down as fog, and my world takes on a different quality—isolated; it is a rich atmosphere for a writer’s garden of thoughts. How many plot knots have I worked the kinks out of while my hands have been immersed in the soil of my garden on a fine sunny day, having the soft, sweet tail of a cat brush my arm as it passes through, its paws relishing in the freshly tilled dirt. Happily, there have not been many kinks for me to work out, it’s more likely that new stories are found amongst the weeds, stones, and cat leavings. Sometimes I forgo the garden to just sun myself in my favorite chair on the front porch while hummingbirds buzz at the bee balm; my dog resting his head on my barefoot, as the latest red pen sits poised, ready to stab at a manuscript lying in my lap. You see I have a good life on my hill, so pastoral — this is how I want you to picture me — this is how you will know me.

This journey that I've started, becoming a writer, is the result of years of hard work and pure joy. It is perhaps the bravest thing I've ever done writing my books, and then putting the first one, Dusty Waters, into the hands of readers. (I thank those who have already purchased and read my little ghost story, your support is most appreciated!)

With a sky like that behind my barn...why not aim high? I believe, I've rambled enough for one day...and that's the news from the windswept hilltop in Upstate New York...

Wednesday, August 26, 2009

Dedication...

For those of us who fight the good fight - the hope still lives, and the dream shall never die.

When I decided upon this dedication in my novel, Dusty Waters, it was around the time of the Democratic Convention, and that old rabble rouser, Teddy Kennedy, did us proud, roaring onto the stage in spite of his illness that we knew by then would eventually rob our country of the last of the Kennedy boys. He lived a long life like a cat with nine lives. The beauty of the man was that he wasn't perfect, and he acknowledged that...the best part, he served our country with a conscience and dedication...he might not have been right all the time...but you can't crap on the guy for trying...at least he learned how to compromise...to agree to disagree, and reach out for common ground.

Yes, this dedication fit the spirit of the folksinger in my novel...it fit the spirit of a time...the spirit of a generation...the spirit of our nation...and the spirit of a man who inspired us to keep fighting the good fight.

Here's to the spirit...the hope still lives, and the dream shall never die.

Bobby, Teddy, and Jack, 1962 (AP)

Monday, July 27, 2009

And the winners of the Goodreads giveaway are....


Adele from Albanvale, Victoria, AU

Vicki from Rockville, Maryland, USA

Beth from Plymouth, Massachusetts, USA

Anna from Fenton Missouri, USA

Robin from Laguna Beach, California, USA


Congratulations, your books are on their way!

Sunday, July 26, 2009

This year, I'm taller than the sunflowers...and sadly, I don't have very many of them, it's this crappy cold and rainy summer we're having...

As you can see, Crouching Tigger-Hidden Pooh has found plenty of catnip...
I have so much catnip in the garden it's no wonder I don't have every cat in the county in my yard...
I was chasing flutter-byes yesterday...the Tiger and Admiral settled happily on the Cone Flowers (they're doing just fine in spite of the weather!)
My weedy garden...
This is Love in the Mist...I have no idea how I got it in my garden, probably came in a mixed packet that I sprinkled around once...I really love this little white flower!

Close up of Love in the Mist blooming...

When I wasn't chasing flutter-byes and photographing flowers yesterday (it was a rare, hot summer day yesterday, it was GORGEOUS!) I was painting on my portable studio table (I'll post pictures of that over at Follow Your Bliss) and working on The Fractured Hues of White Light...I'm visiting with chapter 3 (again) and juggled some sentences around (again)...there's a paragraph that I'd like to find a new home for, but it seems happy right where it is this morning...I'll leave it alone for now. I'll read the rest of the chapter today...it's really come together quite nicely...

My Goodreads giveaway of Dusty Waters: A Ghost Story ends midnight tonight! I'm so thrilled with the response that it has gotten...I really don't know what it means yet, but I intend to keep muddling along in search of readers...

Thanks for stopping by!

Looking out the window, it's hard to tell if it's going to rain or not...the prevalent gray has come back, tho' it's warmer (mid-70's already), thunderstorms likely later with another cold front passing through...(psst...we don't need any more rain, I wish it would rain somewhere else, preferably somewhere that needs it!)

Sunday, July 12, 2009

Sunday afternoon...


Yesterday was a very busy day for me, a book signing in Johnson City NY, then a Gallery closing reception in Syracuse, they overlapped and we (my Fred and I) made it to both, I'm exhausted today...but I did enjoy a bit of sunshine on the porch early this morning, with my laptop in lap, a cup of coffee, and my doggy buddy, Max, at my feet (his black fur smelling sunshine sweet!) The humming birds were buzzing the bee balm, at one point three were buzzing quietly together in the same clump of balm...well, until they bumped into each other and they started to squabble, chipping and spraying poop at each other...good grief!

My flower garden is looking wild from all the rain, and because of my back, I can't do the maintenance that I usually do to tame it...but the photo opportunities have still been a delight!

Along with my self-promotion of Dusty Waters through Good Reads, I've been working pretty steady on The Fractured Hues of White Light, I'd really like to get it ready to publish sometime in August or September...but I keep fussing around with chapter 3...it's a good kind of fussing because I'm tying up loose ends and filling in a crucial time in my character Sylvester's life that also has an influence in two of my other novels, and it's sort of helping me write the one currently named Wish, which has been "on hold" for nearly two years...

Allow me to explain, the nifty thing about my books is this interconnection of the characters...the books are individuals, they're not written to be read in any order or anything like that...but the characters know one another, their lives overlap in a variety of ways...just like life, people know one another, sometimes briefly, sometimes longer (or forever)...life goes on for these people after the novel is finished...they show up in the background of another story, moving on beyond their story...or in a time or place before...depends on which book...but the familiarity is there...a community...it's been growing for a long time...

So...White Light...yes, this odd book about the autistic artist Samantha Ryder...I do love this book, it only gets better with every visit...it's my garden that I'm tending this summer...she's bloomed to 520 pages (at one point during the early drafts she was tipping into 600 pages, so she's "streamlined" now...) I'm immersed into this world for now, and I'll know when she's ready to go to print...just not yet! I'm going to take my sweet old time!

A rain soaked rose, ain't she lovely?

Friday, July 3, 2009

The turtle...


My Fred carved this little turtle for me out of a chip of alabaster...he's so sweet (both of them, the turtle and my Fred!)

This is an old photo of me holding one of the orphan bunnies that we helped "get bigger" before releasing it back to the wild, what a pleasure to hold this tiny life in my hands and have it not be afraid of me, sweet little thing! I haven't had one yet this year, but they're around, growing into bigger bunnies...I've kept Max's nosy-nose out of the weeds so he isn't picking them up and bringing them to me (he's very gentle with them, such a good boy)...and I've been very "cruel" by keeping the cats inside until the babies are bigger...I can't bear hearing that pitiful cry as Crouching Tigger-Hidden Pooh carries one off, it breaks my heart...(Tiggy-Pooh is right here, eyes cracked open as if he KNOWS I'm writing about him!)

Go back to sleep kitties, it's windy outside...(that is the doggy bed...but the doggy never gets to sleep on it!)

Anyway...back to the turtle...I loved the tale of the tortoise and the hare way back...and still do...I've always been of the turtle sensibility through much of my time...slow-pokey toes, easy as she goes, living inside a protective shell...withdrawing when under threat, not sticking my neck out until it's safe...it's usually when I behave like a silly bunny that's when I get the smack down...know what I mean, jellybean? Been there, done that, got crap on my new t-shirt...

I've been immersed in editing my novel The Fractured Hues of White Light since March...and I believe it's as close to being publishable as it ever will be...I'm tempted to read it through one more time before turning it over to my Fred for him to do his design voo-doo to "make it so"...I'm grappling with the cover...I want to use a drawing...but I know color is important...so something that might fade from a stream of consciousness sketchbook doodle on the back to the glory of color on the front might be the way to go...the spine might be a "rainbow" of color...not sure...the brain is working it out...I'm kinda stuck on yellow being the main color...I have a few ideas...a few...I need to slop some watercolor around and see what happens...

I've been intrigued by this weeks NEWSWEEK...WHAT TO READ NOW...the fifty books that make sense of our times is chock full of suggested reading that might not normally make it on any top fifty, maybe the top 100 or 200 (if there's such a thing as a top 200)...and I loved The Write Stuff by Jon Meacham in which writers have their say in an honest roundtable conversation about writing and being published... Susan Orlean said the first book she bought on Kindle was by...Susan Orlean. (Of course it was, I'd do the same thing and be tickled pink that I could do it! Wouldn't you? Is it so terrible to want to exhibit some pride in what you do?) The conversation is similar to the series of conversations with editors and agents that I've read in Poets and Writers lately...all very informative, all very exciting...and at times disheartening...it's sometimes a real mood swing reading this stuff while being a writer...

The Now, Read it Again article by David Gates about revisiting favorite books is also a treat...and I especially loved reading The Reluctant Poet Laureate by Louisa Thomas about Kay Ryan, that one seemed extra special because I love her poem Turtle (yes, we're back to the turtle) the article quoted a piece of it...and I'm going to quote it here:

She lives/ below luck-level, never imagining/ some lottery will change her load of pottery to wings./ Her only levity is patience,/ the sport of truly chastened things.

Oh, yes...YES. My sentiments exactly...you see, I have some metaphorical crap on my new t-shirt because now that I'm really doing something with my books, self-publishing them as a publisher (Field Stone Press has started to receive junk mail, YAY!) and I've invested in a advertising campaign on Good Reads, and I'm doing a giveaway of 5 copies of Dusty Waters (ends on July 27th, click the icon on the side bar to check it out or join in!) I'm very excited by all of this progress that I'm making...and freaking out too because I've poked my head out a little more than I'm used to...I mean, jeepers creepers, people are buying my book, people are reading it...OMG imagine that! I'm still in the red...no profit yet, but that's okay, really, I never expected to make millions of dollars (not in a million years.) Maybe, just maybe, someone other than my son will post a review on Amazon.com...maybe...maybe...maybe...maybe the book will be banned or publicly burned (torches and pitchforks, oh, my)...wouldn't that be sweet? Well, maybe not (she tucks her head inside).

There's a whole lot of maybes...I completely understand Kay Ryan's reluctance to be in the position of representing 'capital-P Poetry'...I've spent plenty of time huddled over my creativity, always hiding what I was working on within the protective cradle-curve of my arm, fearing that the stray glance would see it and somehow they'd ruin it by noticing it...fearing the opinion of others, fearing someone would accuse me of being a "show off"...sometimes living up to the expectations of others is more than I can stand...or good grief, being a role model...holy shit, that's a lot of responsibility! (I'm relieved to read in Joyce Carol Oates journal that she often feels stunned by it too: "...might be that I am embarrassed at taking credit for whatever I do. If it's good I am embarrassed; if considered bad, embarrassed. By attributing my work to forces beyond my control I am distanced from it. I think that, briefly, explains the falsifications I have loved so dearly. Innocence masking experience.")

Anyway...I just want to write my books, get them out there into the hands of people who would like to read the experience between the covers, and I want to do it honestly...I don't know if they're going to like what they read or not...I can't apologize if they don't...I writes it as I sees it, okay? I made it up...half the time it surprises me what I write, so...ah, whatever...I can't please everybody...I just hope people will read my work with an open mind...

Like I said earlier, I'm agonizing over what to do for the cover of White Light, and NEWSWEEK had an article about that too...My Favorite Covers by Chip Kidd... and Poets and Writers also had a great article about interior book design...loved that too...

And finally, a delightful treat, an excerpt of Homer and Langley by E. L. Doctorow...so I've started a new list on my Good Reads profile...To-Buy...

Seeing my book being added to readers "To-Read" lists is exciting...and knowing that over 200 people are vying for my 5 free copies is freaking me out (in a good way)...

It's been a week of immersion...I think I've rambled enough...

Thanks for visiting...

Monday, June 22, 2009

Practice, Patience, Persistence...

Foggy out there...but clearing off...I'm on vacation this week and it would be nice to see the sun...I keep hearing these predictions that this year will be the year without summer...well, the way I see it...if it ain't snowing, it's summer...if it rains all summer, it's just wet...it fills my well, waters my garden. NOAA, the Farmer's Almanac, sunspots, global warming, the jet stream, volcano spew, El Nino, La Nina...whatever...weather is a crapshoot...shit happens.

I'm in the midst of making final edits of my novel The Fractured Hues of White Light...I'm looking to self-publish this book too...let's just say, I've lost confidence in the publishing industry, maybe they'll get their shit together, maybe not...it's tough to trust the consistency of agencies and editors when they can be cut loose at any time and your book can lose it's one and only advocate...so, I'm my one and only advocate (well, not really, I have my Fred too!) So Field Stone Press has happened...of course, I'm discovering that as a self-published writer, I'm shut out of many things because I'm not taken seriously...yet...

My becoming a writer has happened through practice, patience, and persistence...I don't expect to make millions of dollars doing it, but don't say I don't aim high, I do every day I sit down in front of my laptop and make things happen...some days I'm stunned by the things that I've created in spite of obstacles and frustrations...and the voices that say "You can't..." Well, I have...Dusty Waters is just the beginning...

Today I just made one small professional step by becoming an associate member of PEN American...it's part of getting "out there"...PEN is about freedom of expression...as a self-published writer, I'm all about that...

Friday, June 5, 2009

Honorable Mention at the 2009 New York Book Festival!

I hadn't heard a peep about it...so I checked the website...and then I started screaming, I won...OMG...not the big prize, but honorable mention...wow, not bad for a last minute entry on a whim...not a bad showing for a little self-published piece of literary fiction by an unknown writer from Upstate New York!

Why blow me down...

Entry fee...$50.00

Winning an honorable mention...priceless...

Oh Happy Day!

Saturday, May 23, 2009

On Flowers in the garden and "Gritty Realism"


This is the "Granny" of lilacs...she's a big ole girl and lives happily in my yard, she's so tall, I can look out my bedroom window and see these gorgeous blooms when I open my eyes in the morning...the season for lilacs does not last long enough! They're beginning to fade...usually, since we're cooler here in the 'upper elevations', my lady outlasts the lilacs in the city below, but this year has been so peculiar, they bloomed earlier...usually I would have her lingering into June...on her shady side, I found a few blooms that have not yet started to turn brown, they break my heart they're so beautiful!


But now, just in time for Memorial Day, the spirea has started to bloom by my porch (don't they look like a shower of fireworks?), this one on the corner has overwhelmed my variegated hosta below! I'll trim it back after she finishes blooming so the hosta can breathe!

Next week the Irises will be in bloom...the stalks with the buds have come up these last few warm days, and there are little yellow points at the top...soon, very soon!

The little chipmunk mommy has been visiting for 'eats' at the hand pump in the morning, I got lucky with the camera and snapped a quick shot of her before she ran off...

I've been on vacation, and spending much of my time in the garden, I have made some new artwork (I will post later at Follow Your Bliss), and made progress with some of my writing...weeding always helps with working out the plot knots in the brain...unfortunately, my back hasn't been too pleased with my being in the garden, I take frequent breaks, rest, read, write, make art, then go back, do a little more...and repeat the process...Max has been loving the time outside...
He often finds a shady and weedy place just like this one and "vanishes" from sight, which often sends me searching for him, calling his name (becoming frantic) and I'll finally catch site of those ears perking above the tall grass...and then the wagging tail ("I'm right here, can't you see me wagging my tail?")...eventually, he tips over and shows me his "stuff"...but you don't need to see his stuff...and I think he'd be very embarrassed if I photographed his exposed belly (he is very camera shy) and then posted it on my blog for the world to see!

I've been spending lots of porch time with the laptop doing edits on my novel The Fractured Hues of White Light, which I'm hoping to have published this summer...I was tweaking a paragraph in Chapter 7 today and then something hit me and I started writing fresh new lines...this paragraph I have dismembered and put back together several times over the course of two weeks, and now this! Oh I was joyfully writing, and then after I was done I couldn't believe I did this! What the hell am I doing? This book is done, why am I adding new work? But no, it isn't new, Samantha and Guthrie are still walking on the beach, they're still having the same discussion...the memory from a long time ago is there, only left unsaid between them, and I reminded them of it, and it just came together beautifully. (Deep sigh) I love when that happens! This work that I do...writing...I'm still trying to get a handle on it...even ten years after I started really doing it...it's still a mystery to me, the "how come" of it. (I can still hear that voice in my head saying "Why can't you write something nice?", it's usually said in my mother's voice...you know the one, that nagging vicious critic.)

Last night, while reading The Journal of Joyce Carol Oates, 1973-1982, I found a passage from 1975 that she wrote about her writing process...I have read dozens of her books, have admired her work since I was a teenager when I first read Wonderland, and now I'm finally reading the things that I've needed to "hear" as a writer...this is a small part that I read last night...

"Gritty realism" and that sort of thing. "Uncompromising." "Lifts the lid off." Etc. One does want that - but more, far more. ... The challenge is to wed the naturalistic and the symbolic, the realistic and the abstract, the utterly convincing story and the parable...that is, to bring together the psychological and the mythic in one character at all moments...and to wed time and eternity in a seamless whole. So it is rather like walking a tightrope. One does want surface realism, but one wants just as much an allegorical or mythic universality, relating not to surfaces but to the inner experience, the life of the soul itself. Those who do not believe in the "soul" will hate this kind of writing, not knowing what it attempts; those who do not believe in the "world" (because they are very religious, or politically conservative, or neurotic) will detest the naturalism, the feel of "gritty reality" even when it isn't gritty but is rather attractive. Only those readers who are, somehow, in the center...as I am...who share my vision, however unclear it is...necessarily unclear...will be able to respond to my work without distorting or misreading or rejecting it. This is a risk I take gladly. Though perhaps I have no choice. (Joyce Carol Oates, January 12, 1975)

I couldn't have said it better myself! She wrote this when I was just beginning to think of this stuff (12 going on 13) , I knew then that I wanted to write books, and there were stories inside my head, but I didn't have the words yet...and my penmanship was crappy. Now the words have arrived (thank goodness for laptops), and are in print. (Some of them.) I know what it is that I'm trying to do with my books...and just reading this section of her journal last night made me feel 'right' about what I've done with Dusty Waters and the others...these prickly little novels of mine...they are mine, I take ownership of them, the words, and I love my characters to pieces...I'm just so happy to have finally made them, to commit my time and energy toward the effort of making them...

I have no choice. This is what comes. It hasn't been easy writing them, the immersion is so complete while writing...making a drawing or a painting feels so fantastic, it's more immediate, I get my hands dirty, and then I'm done...writing is a whole different beast...more demanding...time consuming, all consuming...exhausting...terrible and beautiful. I love it. I'm addicted to it...it's like waking from a dream, a sleep with no rest...

Very strange. It is very strange indeed.

Saturday, May 2, 2009

National Free Comic Book Day...and my book signing at Fat Cats


Here I am at the book signing for local authors at Fat Cats in Johnson City NY...


Me and my Fred...and of course...I had my pencils and sketchbook on hand to keep my busy hands and mind busy while sitting still...


And to top off the day...the Kentucky Derby, Mine That Bird and Calvin Borel at 50-1
What an awesome bit of riding on a muddy track!


(photo by Robb Carr/AP)

Saturday, April 4, 2009

Journal entry


Willy Big looking at me upside-down...


What Gets Your Goat?
That my insurance company denied my MRI back in November because they didn't believe my three numb toes were enough evidence to bother...my new insurance company okayed it in March, and I have a herniated disk in my back. I'm pissed and in pain, I'm not a happy camper.


What am I doing right now?

Tucked in bed with my heating pad on my sore back, laptop in lap. A fat tabby has a paw on my knee, another fat tabby is lounging nearby, and my faithful dog is staring at me with hopeful ears anticipating his after dinner walkies...



What's the weather at the acre?

It's snowing sideways and the wind is howling too (just like January revisited, WTF?) The crocuses that looked so sweet yesterday are purple mush in the slush.



What music has my interest lately?

Metric, an alternative band that my Fred discovered online, and ever since, I've been shopping for all of their CD's. I just got their new album Fantasies as an MP3 download this week, it's awesome...I particularly love the songs Help I'm Alive and Gimme Sympathy, they rock! Visit their MySpace page: http://www.myspace.com/metric





What did I accomplish today?

I did our taxes. We're getting money back.
I updated my other Blog Follow Your Bliss...posted pictures of some bones of the earth...
Did some shameless self promotion of Dusty Waters...



What am I working on (creatively)?

I'm editing chapter 9 of The Fractured Hues of White Light (I totally love this book!)



What books I'm reading these days (other than my own)?

The World of Pooh, A. A. Milne (a comfort book that I've had since I was very young and was sick with one of the childhood diseases.)

This one just arrived in the mail today: The Journal of Joyce Carol Oates 1973-1982 (for inspiration)



What's for dinner?

Leftover takeout Chinese food. I think someone threw out my egg roll by mistake. Dang.



Any plans tonight?

I'm going to watch tonight's movie on PBS's Classic Movie Night is Inherit the Wind
and I'll work on some nifty little bits of artwork...
Do some very gentle yoga for my back.



Who'd you rather be, The Beatles or The Rollin' Stones?
-Metric, Gimme Sympathy





Willy Big on the doggy bed, he has some serious belly fuzz...he's plush like a stuffed animal...but weighs about 12lbs...once upon a time, he was Willy Little...