Produce, Life, and Writing

I finished my Alaskan mystery on Friday.  Needless to say I felt I’d really accomplished a goal.  I’d wanted to have the work done before the end of August.  I’d been doing major revisions though I’d written it and polished it once a few years ago.  At that time, I thought it was the best it could be.

Never happens that way.  At least for me.  After a bit of time I can always go back and see immediately things I could do better.  But that’s not just true of my writing.  It’s in most anything I do.  Like redecorating a room.  Or putting out Christmas decorations. Playing around with a recipe.  (You know—if it was good this way, maybe if I changed such and so, it would be fantastic)

 So writing and finishing a manuscript is never done.  Just like life.  You work at life until you die.  Always trying to make it and yourself better.

Well, writers do the same with their work.  Always trying to make it better—at least until they no longer can.  It’s been published—hallelujah—or we’ve finally realized the book really isn’t something we want “out there” but we’ve learned so much about writing in the meantime.  So the time, the energy, the words, the story weren’t a waste.

You might be wondering about now.  Since I’ve been talking about writing, polishing, and striving always for the best my work and I can be, why the photos of produce?

No, I’m not into growing such things, but I love eating them.  And today I got an email photo from a friend who does vegetable gardening.  He’d been away for a week and came home to an abundance of ready crops.  Says he’s learned a lesson and won’t do it again.  So he’s made a revision, of sorts, a gardening revision.

 And being a farmer, a gardener, a writer—all take patience and a plan for the next project the next year’s crops.  Ongoing assessment to make the next project, garden or field more successful.  So I give you produce to view.  And chose those we find abundant in Wisconsin about now.

 Why the basket of Bing cherries?  Remember my finishing my Alaskan mystery manuscript?  Well, my dear hubby got me those as a treat for coming in ahead of my deadline.  Yum, yum. 

Memories of a Friend on Her Birthday

Lakeshore Stroll

One who no longer walks with me.  She was the first friend I ever had who has shared my name.  I never met her until into my thirties and we never lived in the same city. 

 She was a “neighborhood girl” of my hubby’s when he was growing up.  She married his best friend.  Since my hubby’s parents and sister were all deceased when I met him, his taking me “home” to meet these two life-long friends equated to his family.

 We bonded immediately.

Wedding Gift Quilt

 She was a wife, a mother, a daughter, an RN, a friend to many.  Those she loved she generously gave of her talents and she had many.  She baked, cooked, canned, gardened, kept house, sewed, did “handwork,” knitted, crocheted, and quilted.  That I know of.  She likely had other talents as well.

 Like many of us she was always fighting those extra pounds, and losing to that special dessert she just had to make and, then of course, taste.

 She was an avid reader.  When she heard I wanted to get back into writing fiction, she offered to read my work.  Her confidence in my skills bolstered and improved my first efforts.  I’m quite sure she’s one of the reasons I’m persistent to this day in a field that demands that trait and is littered with the skeletons of those who “gave up the fight.”

 I remember a camping trip we were on.  The kids were swimming.  We were watching from the beach and reading, a joy we shared.  Then we started talking about any fantasy we might have. 

 She grinned.  “All the time I want to read and never have to diet again.” I wanted to be published.  I’ll never forget that moment.  Neither did she.

 Several years later, she got her wish.  After battling an aggressive form of breast cancer and going through many difficult treatments, she was cancer-free.  But the treatments had done damage to her lungs and heart.  No longer could she do all the things she had done.  Too weak.  Now she had time to read all she wanted.  She could eat all she wanted, too. 

Cross stitch work in hall

She made a quilt for our wedding gift. I see it every day and think of her.  She did a beautiful piece of needlework that hangs outside my office where I see it every day.  She’s no longer here in body, but she’s ever in my thoughts. 

I miss her.  So do all she touched.  I know she’s counting down the weeks until Black Ribbon Affair is released.  She was one of its first readers.

Do-Overs

Mini Dahlia

What’s a “do-over”? 

Could be many different things.  For me, it’s what I sometimes refer to a revision, especially when I’m layering in and filling out the personalities, background, quirks, flaws and virtues of my main characters in a manuscript.  

That’s what I’ve been working on in the past few weeks.  And I a thought hit me. 

My characters in this process really get do-overs, not so they’re perfect, but so they work perfectly in the lives I create for them within the pages of the book.

Finding Nemos

Darn, wouldn’t we all like that to happen for ourselves at times?  Yeah, we all know about diets, career changes, broken relationships, changing our lifestyles for the better, do-overs of a sort.  But not the same.  People still remember the “old” way we were.  Sometimes they even want that “old” way to return.

 Or how about those times in our lives when we made some really bad choices, humdingers that changed how the rest of our lives and relationships played out?  Honest now, if you’ve been in that kind of do-over situation, got the chance to move on, don’t you wish sometimes deep down, the memories, even the actual facts might really go away?  You know a real do-over, clean slate, hit delete and never retrieve revision of our lives.  

When I considered this concept and thought about those times I really needed a do-over, I realized once again the fiction is what I can create.  Or escape to in a book or movie.  In real life, if we’re lucky, smart, and very strong, we get “moving-ons.” 

Beluga Whale Tail

You know, pick yourself up, lick whatever “wounds” need tending, figure out what went wrong, determine never to get in that kind of situation again, make a plan, and then work to make sure you accomplish the goal. 

What about those niggling reminders?  Use them, just like the characters in the books.  Keep yourself moving on, not waiting for a “do-over.” 

That only happens in writing—or Witness Protection.   

What’s your take on this?  I’d like to know.  

See you next week.

A Saturday Wedding

 

Lake from from lawn

Summer.

Weddings.

Lakeside.  Historic Home. On the lawn. Happy couple.  Proud parents.  Surrounded by family and friends.  Perfect setting.  Right?

The ceremony

You could feel the love surrounding the young couple.  That emotion billowed outward.  When the ceremony began, ugly clouds threatened rain.  (I had my trusty rain preventer-the umbrella I carry in such situations and then it NEVER rains.)   When the bridal couple were officially proclaimed husband and wife, the sun broke through the clouds and shoved those nasty clouds  out of the yard and off to the lake.

 Maybe that’s prophetic.  Or maybe it reflects how they met:  in the lighting department of a Home Depot store.  Sounds like a great start for a book, don’t you think?

 I always get choked up at weddings.  Doesn’t matter if the wedding centers on a family member, a friend, or the child of a friend.  They remind me of my wedding day, the vows my dear hubby and I took—in sickness and health, good times or bad—we’ve encountered them all and still enjoy each other and depend on our love for each other. (Happy tears were in abundance at the ceremony.  I wasn’t alone in the emotion.)

A bouquet

That’s always my wish for each couple I watch.  Expect to argue, but making up’s great.  Even better if you do the arguing well, you emerge stronger.  Expect sometimes to shoulder all the burdens and responsibilities; your spouse will have to do the same.  It’s the circle of love. 

Love isn’t easy.  Marriage is tough, but if you choose well, have the right attitude, it’s well worth the ride and all the little love surprises through the years.

So what’s your wish for a married couple?

Table flowers

Some Peope Travel

Some like me, stay home and write.

However, I’ve been to Alaska several times since my son and his family live up there.  Anytime I can view photos or hear about someone’s recent trip there, I tell them. “Fire away.”   

Recently, my neighbor returned from a long trip up there. 

 She started out in Fairbanks, took the Alaskan Railroad to Denali National Park, got on the train again and traveled down to Whittier where she boarded a ship and cruised and did day trips on land to points south.  She flew home out of Vancouver. 

Alaskan Travel

So today, I’m giving you a photo glimpse of her 21 day trip.  Enjoy.  Like I did.

 

 

 

 

 

Paddle boat Chena River

Juneau

Glacier Bay National Park

Alaska from the air

Humpback Whale pod

A Whale's Tail

Waterfalls Near Ketchikan

Vancouver Airport Sunset

Family Reunions, Reminiscing & Writing

Yesterday, I went to a Zero picnic.  In actuality, we were honoring my uncle who turned 90 this year.  Got it?  The zero concept?  But he’s NO zero in the lives of us who were there.  

Others there had a zero in this year: our anniversary year ended with zero; one of his son’s entered another decade—that zero again.  I think a few cousins had done the same since always my aunts would be pregnant about the same time.  His children kept telling my uncle we were celebrating all those milestones since he’s not one to was a “fuss.” 

We all agreed this was the best way to get together.  It’s been funerals over the past several years—if we’ve seen each other at all. 

We represented several states what with the four generations that were there.  The furthest—Washington. Our grandparents, I’m sure, were looking over the gathering and saying to each other: “It’s about time they all got together.” :-)

My uncle makes a great draw.  A WWII vet who served in Alaska, a US border that actually came under attack a few times.  A postal worker until he retired, and during that time he worked a second job.  He raised a large family and he and my aunt brought them up well.  When he retired, he started another career working in the maintenance department for our local school system.  Even now he putters around his home to keep things in tip-top shape. 

He was always around to help.  Family members, friends, organizations, and church.  He had a reputation for enjoying his meals.  My brothers always wanted to be around him at large gatherings because he was near the front of the line and always knew what foods were  tastiest. My grandfather once remarked we should set out plates for us and a platter for Gene.  Yet he remains tall and wiry. 

He knew all the stats for golf, baseball, football, and who knows what else.  I remember coming into his home at times and he’d have two radios going with different games while the TV had a third.  If the weather allowed, he’d get us kids outside to play some kind of ball.  Since I was such a klutz, this wasn’t my favorite activity, but everyone else loved it.  I helped with dishes or kitchen work and learned lots of family history and gossip that way. 

I talked and listened yesterday.  Everyone was “remembering when” in their conversations.  We should have recorded those talks.  When I looked around, I saw such strong family resemblances within my cousins and their families.  Why?  Because my uncle married my mother’s sister, his sister married my mother’s brother.  

But it wasn’t just the facial structures that contained similarities through the generations.  Mannerisms, speech patterns, so much of what I observed reminded me of relatives no longer with us. 

All this boils within me today.  Perhaps someday a tidbit from yesterday will serve to create a scene or the idea for a character.  Even if not, yesterday and the man we were celebrating will always remain in my heart.

From A Stay-at-home

 

Many writers I know are packing their bags and checking their tickets.  Like pilgrims seeking knowledge of their faith, these writers are heading to their knowledge source.

This week the Romance Writers of America™ will be holding their annual conference in Washington, D.C. 

And I won’t be there. :-(

I know many of my colleagues will be and I intend to enjoy the conference and mine their new wisdom once they return.  On Saturday evening, the huge awards ceremony will be held.  This is the “Oscars” for our organization where the best of the best of published romance genre novels are awarded the Rita™ and the unpublished best are recognized with the Golden Heart™.

 Of course, I’m sending all my positive thoughts toward DC that my dear friend, Virginia McCullough will win the Golden Heart in her category.  If for no other reason, I wish I were there if/when she wins.  :-) 

But conferences are so incredibly energizing and draining at the same time.  Being around writers and industrial professionals for several days lifts writers who tend to be solitary individuals to a whole different world.  Everyone knows what we’re talking about and feeling.  They get it—since they have had the same feelings and experiences. 

I hope all the conference attendees get so much more from this conference than they hoped for.  May the workshops you attend inspire you and answer your questions.  May the networking you do lead you to new options for placing your work, using your talents, or promoting yourself and your work.

And finally, may your travels be safe and hassle-free.  Those of us not there with you physically will be with you all in spirit. 

Have a great conference.

Independence Day Memories

 July 4^th. Hotdogs and chips. Parades. Fireworks. Beach parties and backyard picnics. Good times always.

 Celebrating July 4^th involves that and much more for me.

 Watching fireworks from a hospital room is one. My second son, John, whom I’ve written about before in the December 2008 post “Remembering John,” was born a few days before the 4^th.  Those were the days when a birth meant five days’ stay in the hospital. So I watched the fireworks light up the sky above the Lake Michigan shoreline—from three stories up, holding my beautiful brown-haired baby boy in my arms. First time I ever saw fireworks from anything other than ground level.

 Since John is no longer with us and the holiday falls so close to his birthday, I especially grieve for him and remember him on every 4^th. Growing up, he so enjoyed the fireworks and the outdoor fun surrounding this holiday.

 Independence Day and fireworks also played a big part in another major memory I have.

 Maine, July 4^th.  I was sitting on a hillside overlooking the peaceful and scenic Boothbay Harbor. My husband and I were visiting my friend Stella over the holiday. We settled into our seats to watch the fireworks light up the harbor.

Boy did they!  Something went wrong and all the fireworks went off at one time. The noise threatened ear drums. We felt the shock waves while seated on the hill. In a cacophonous ninety seconds ablaze with myriad patterns and colors in the inky night sky, we watched the most awesome fireworks display I’ve ever seen.

More amazing and better? No one was injured or killed. A miracle, really. I still think of that spectacle every July 4^th.

 A third memory really involves several. A few years after my youngest son’s accident which left him very disabled, one of his nurses, a young man asked permission to do fireworks here so my son could enjoy them safely. We live on a lake and our neighbors agreed. So each Independence Day we host fireworks which our son organizes with great enthusiasm. Over the years his friends, nurses and their families have gathered along with our neighbors, their friends and families to watch the “fireworks” from our own yards.

What all these memories reinforce for me the link of love and friendship with a July 4^th celebration. Those are the greatest gifts we can give to another, especially when we are free and independent to do so. For a true friend, a life-long love, a family love nurtures independence within each other as well as a positive dependence for each other.

 I guess this is why I, for one, will always carry my memories and reflect upon them during this holiday time. It’s also why I write what I write the stories I do.  I see those themes come through with each book.

 Those are also the qualities I hope people will remember these qualities about when I no longer watch fireworks and celebrate Independence Day.

 Do you have a special memory tied into Independence Day?

An Alaskan Cabin

I’m revising a manuscript now which has my two main characters from Black Ribbon  Affair once again finding themselves in the midst of danger.

 Since they spend most of the book in Alaska, I’ve been going online daily and taking a look at the Anchorage Daily News.  They always have some of the greatest photos that give the flavor of the state. 

This week I came across a photo that appealed to me on so many levels.  It also reflects that distinctive attitude toward life that defines many who live in Alaska.

So, why did this photo appeal to me?

First, humor.  I laughed and still do every time I think of it.  I’ve gone back each day since to view it. 

 Second, I think about the old saying: between a rock and a hard place. This photo surely represents that.

Third, optimism. The fisherman who built that cabin and uses it reeks of a positive attitude.

 As a person and a writer, particularly a writer in the throes of revision, I need all three of those qualities. 

 Every day things happen that are unexpected.  Sometimes not especially good things, both in writing and life.  However, seeing the humor and getting a good laugh from the situation will always help solve the problem or find the new direction in life or with a revision. 

But often at times we are faced with problems and solutions which don’t have easy outcomes.  That old rock and a hard place element.  Maybe it means totally redoing a book that doesn’t work or setting it aside for a time.  Or in life, maybe it means learning to live your life with conditions that you can’t change for many reasons—an illness, a death, deepening economic woes, changing relationships, a weather disaster.  You know.  I’m sure you’ve all been there. 

Handling that kind of ongoing stress is best done with optimism and humor.  Whether in life or in writing or revising a book.  I know.  I’ve been there. In daily living and with books.  I love finding humor and optimism in places I least expect them.  That’s why I’ll never forget the photo of the cabin.

Any of you have something solid that keeps you going when that rock and a hard place lingers too long?

Bits & Pieces

Iris Survivors

These past few days have been crazy and far from usual.  Thursday afternoon I was working in my office when we lost power.  Fortunately, I’d backed up a few moments prior to that. Maybe 10 minutes passed and the power came on.  I reset all the clocks etc and booted up my computer to start work again.

Maybe twenty minutes later, I’m well into my work and whammo, the power fades again and disappears for another 15 or 20 minutes.

 No, I don’t know why.  The skies were blue, the breeze gentle and no utility crews were working around here.  Weird…

 Later that night we got terrible storms, high winds, lots of lightning, and 3 inches of rain.  It stopped for  a few hours, long enough to clean up the debris and started in again.  Incredible lightening, huge hail, odd colored skies, and so much rain. At one point a weak tornado touched down about 10 miles away.  The winds took down power lines and many are still without power and have flooding issues to deal with.

Peaceful blue

 We are fortunate not to have any damage or serious flooding.  We’ll probably get a bumper crop of mosquitoes in a few days as water is standing in any low lying area and with the heat and humidity the storm left us, the puddles aren’t drying up fast.

But once again I can use my office and my computer without worry. I’m counting my blessings and feeling lucky to have to pick up only some small trees branches and bits of flowers ripped up by Mother Nature.

 Life contains surprises, just like a good book should.  I didn’t like having my routine broken these past two days, but it some ways it’s made life a bit more interesting.  Made me realize hidden elements about people I know just a bit or a lot.  This knowledge can also be useful in building characters for books or plots within those books.

Today is peaceful.  The sky is an incredible shade of deep blue.  A few puffy white clouds sometimes float by.  The lake is calm and a deeper blue than the sky.  Many boats, jet skies, kayakers and canoeists are enjoying the lake and the heat.  Once I have the patio back in order we plan to sit there and enjoy this first blast of summer.

 Sunday was Father’s Day.  A time for remembering our dads.  A time for remembering and honoring all dads.  To all those dads who are part of my life and memories of my past, thank you.