"Busy:" Not a Good Thing All the Time

Has it really been four months since I last posted?  Oh dear.  I knew this was happening, but I've been sweeping it under the rug.  I have long been neglecting writing.  Oh, my keyboard hasn't been completely idle.  Far from it.  I've been busy with plenty of copywriting projects, which are great.  I enjoy them.  But fiction has been the forgotten kid at day care, who sits in the corner and doesn't have any friends.  It makes me cry.

In addition to copywriting, I also bought a dilapidated 100 year old house and restored and sold it.  Couldn't be more pleased with the results and the buyers, really.  I saved a little piece of my hometown, and it makes my heart sing.

I've been very much involved with my town's trolley tours, and that is extremely rewarding and wonderful.

I've been doing some good reading.  That's definitely a plus.  In fact, I recently finished Can't Wait to Get to Heaven by Fannie Flagg.  Here's the little semi-review I wrote of it on Squidoo:  Can't Wait to Get to Heaven by Fannie Flagg

To quote Dr. Seuss, "these things are fun, and fun is good."  If I had to pick one thing to edge out, I'm not sure what it would be.  None of them.  But writing fiction has been edged out of my life lately, and I just can't have that.

In truth, this life is so busy, that I really can't wait to get to Heaven.  Busy is not always good.  But when I take a breath and make time, I promise, I will write fiction.  I have to, because it is who I am.

What do you do when you're afraid? (Review of a children's book)

It's a good question.  Everyone experiences fear.  What if you could give your child the best tool for facing his or her fears before life gets big and bad?

Here's a review of a sweet children's book by Max Lucado:

Stuck in a Stinky Den

Truth: What's in a bad read?

As a writer, I feel compelled to do a lot of reading.  Specifically, I have tried to keep up with the recent trends in writing.  No, I haven't read any sparkly vampire novels.  I don't plan to, either.  But within the last few months, I have read some Sophie Kinsella, some popular non-fiction, and a few up-and-coming Christian authors.  I've also read Clyde Edgerton and Eudora Welty lately, just to balance out trend with true talent and greatness.

I had become aware of a semi-local author, though, who had done extremely well (and shall remain nameless).  I had never read any of her work.  I figured that I should, just in case I ever have the chance to meet her, so I can say, "Oh, I really enjoyed your novel, (whatever title here), and it had a profound impact on the way I see blah blah."  The reason I had never read her work was because it's all just mainstream paperback read-on-the-beach type stuff.  It's not the kind of thing college kids study in English classes.  But I thought there had to be some redeeming quality, since she has made it to the "top," so to speak, in sales.  Like a good student, I embarked upon a quest to find out what that redeeming quality was.

I downloaded one of her books to my Kindle Fire.  

I began to read.

It was horrible.  I mean, it was really, really bad.  The dialogue was extremely contrived.  The characters were completely annoying.  The circumstances were laughably unrealistic and unlikely.  I can't even fathom who her readers are.  This woman must be a fantastic marketer, or at least better at marketing than she is at writing.  I made it to the second or third page, then I just chalked up the dollars I'd spent as a lesson learned.  After that, I felt like I needed a shower, and a whole lot of Fannie Flagg and Flannery O'Connor to bring me back.

So what's the lesson?  That writing junk will make you millions?

Yuck.  I'll make my millions another way, thank you.  Pass the Rick Bragg, please, so I can get back to some good reading.

Have you ever been abysmally disappointed in a book purchase?  If it's my book, please don't tell me about it.

Flash Fiction: Welcome Home

Continuing with the back-to-school theme, please enjoy the following piece of flash fiction:

WELCOME HOME

The slow drip in the kitchen sink went ting for the thousandth time.  She sat by the window, waiting for her boy.  Snapshots of summer flashed in her memory:  riding in the car with the windows down, throwing a ball in the back yard, running on the beach, and falling asleep together to the crickets’ song.  She closed her eyes for a moment and just missed him.

At the sound of the school bus, her white, long-haired tail thumped the floor rhythmically.  Then came the boy’s footsteps on the gravel outside.  She stood up and danced, her claws clacking on the floorboards.  

Master Bedroom

Andrew  Wyeth

Buy This at Allposters.com

The Pros and Cons of "Back to School"

The smell of fresh school supplies.  The new clothes lined up in the closet, waiting to be worn for the first time.  The quiet solitude in the house with no one driving you crazy 24/7.  Yes, a new school year is a blessed time.

But it comes with its cons, too.  My son and I woke up many summer mornings asking, “What are we going to do today?”  We would then proceed to make an adventure of the day, whether it was a field trip, a project, movie day, or whatever.  I’m going to miss that for the next few months.  What a sweet, fun time it was.

There are other cons, too, though.  No more staying in pajamas until 2pm.  Okay, I only did that twice all summer, and it grossed me out both times.  But seriously, that early morning rush is a price to pay.  You have to get up and make sure the lunchboxes are packed and the homework folders are squared away.  Making breakfast brings its own challenges, too, when your child easily tires of eating the same things over and over.  The mad dash is on, folks.

And as I nearly ran out the door the other morning without brushing my hair, I was reminded of a friend who, last year, accidentally left home without shoes.  She drove her son to school barefoot, walked him in barefoot, and returned home barefoot.  So, in the spirit of the back to school rush, I am reposting the following link about a friend who wore two different shoes to work one day. 

Mismatched shoes

What absent-minded thing have you done when in a rush?

I did it.

Rowan Oak Was the...
Stephen  Alvarez
Buy This at Allposters.com

I finally did it.  I wrote a novel.  There is still plenty to be done.  I have to revise – probably more than I realize.  In fact, I’m fairly certain “revise” is an understatement.  And I still have to find an agent – haven’t even started looking yet.  I’ve published my other two books in the new-fangled DIY fashion, but I’d rather like to try the traditional route this time.  I started another novel about four or five years ago, and I never got beyond about thirty-five thousand words.  Just couldn’t figure out what to do with it, I guess.  Then, in between moving twice and changing computers, I *lost* what I had written.  Ugh.  So I started over with a new story, new characters, new everything on November 1, 2012, and I finished on July 11, 2013.  Not too bad.

In the early evening, I knew how close I was to finishing.  I received my latest copy of Garden & Gun magazine and was reading a book review written by none other than the master of the pen himself, Clyde Edgerton.  I began reflecting on my own style and how far short it falls of my opinion of Edgerton’s work.  He offered a quote from the book he was reviewing.  It was so poetic, so esoteric, so like something I would have been assigned to read in college.  The author was pictured wearing a wool suit and looking very Faulkner-esque and intimidating.  I hung my head even farther down.  Could I ever attain this type of literary greatness?  Shaking my head, I opened the lid of my laptop an hour later and wrote from my heart.  The last chapter, the last words.

I hardly realized what I had done, though, until this morning.  I had a warm, fuzzy sense of accomplishment when I typed the words, saved, and shut down the computer last night.  But it didn’t hit me that I had actually come to the end of “banging out the first draft” for the first time in my life.  Fast forward to this morning. I was getting a new watch battery at the jewelry store and found a bracelet I was tempted to buy.  I thought, Oh, that’s ridiculous.  Impulsive.  I can’t buy that.  Maybe if I were celebrating some accomplishment.  First, it occurred to me that the new trolley tour project in which I have been involved finally launched its inaugural tours last week.  I could have celebrated that, but decided that wasn't exactly worthy of jewelry.  Then, as I walked away from the counter, I remembered that I had finished writing the first draft last night.  Well, that’s something.

Later in the morning, I whizzed into the Beaner’s drive-through for a cinnamon chai tea.  I shook my head at myself once again, wondering how I could justify blowing nearly $5 on a tall cup of tea, no matter how delicious.  But as I drove away, the weight of my accomplishment fell on me like a boulder.  This is a first in my lifetime.  I laid down perfectionism, pushed through, and I finished!  I did it.  I became misty-eyed.  I thanked God, and I asked for His help with the rest of the project.  And I sipped that $5 cinnamon chai tea, without guilt, all the way home.  I deserved it.

People-Listening

"Party Line,"...
Lawrence  Toney
Buy This at Allposters.com

I love people-watching.  Even more, though, I love people-listening.  No, not eavesdropping.  Eavesdropping is when you are listening to someone secretly, when you shouldn’t be listening, like in the poster above.  But people-listening is the stuff of which great short stories are made.  Made, I tell you!

Now, I believe wholeheartedly that when people are having an audible conversation in a doctor’s waiting room, it’s because I’m invited to listen.  If they didn’t want anyone to hear, they would go outside.  And if I went to the door to listen to them secretly, that would be eavesdropping.

So, bearing all of that in mind, I share with you the following gem that I overheard in the waiting room of a doctor’s office this morning.  These ladies were sitting less than 10 feet from me.  They obviously wanted me to enjoy their lively conversation, and I did.  The very first sentence, which is pure poetry, drew me in.

Teenaged girl:  Some nasty boy put his fat foot in my flip flop and stretched it out.

Mama:  Tell that nasty boy he owes you $50.

Teenaged girl:  He don’t have $50.

Mama:  Send him to me.

Teenaged girl:  For real?

Mama:  Yep.  I’ll take that $50 outta his skin.  Who is he?

Teenaged girl:  Robert *****.  You know Betty *****?

Mama:  Yes.  She’s no longer living, though, is she?

Teenaged girl (laughing):  Yes, she is.  She’s Robert’s mother.

You’re welcome.  Have a nice day.

I love the south.