My World and Welcome to It
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Writer as Middle Child: It’s a Thing.
My friend Jack Mingo says that writers are middle children who just want to speak uninterrupted. He may be right. I’m a middle child. Can’t you tell? I’m one of five children. Our mom developed a color code to keep us organized, and that was the color of your beach towel, your swim bag, your cardigan, your home-sewn dress. My elder sister was blue; my younger sister was purple. I was red. (I still am.) My brothers were both green, or else one was green and one was light blue. But my mom had it down, and that’s all that mattered. We lived in three- and four-bedroom homes, and if…
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Girls Gone Wild
I’ve been trying to get to work this morning. The key word is “trying.” I have been up since 5:30 a.m., doing laundry, making school lunches, getting a healthy-on-the-go breakfast ready for the girls, doing my nails and all the other myriad things moms have to do. I have makeup on one eye, hair gel on my fingers and am trying to do a last few things before running out the door to get to work early. My youngest throws her backpack over her shoulder and is heading through the living room toward the front door, toaster waffles in hand, when the little maple syrup cup spills on the carpet. Instead…
- appreciation, Catching Up, gratitude, indie pub, My World and Welcome to It, novel, poetry, random, tea, work, writing
What I’ve learned: Publishing and the march of times
When I was in my twenties and reading voraciously and spewing poetry on the page like a hydrant hit by a drunk driver, I wanted to get published more than I wanted a happy marriage, a suburban house and 2.5 children. In fact, I didn’t have a happy marriage, although we did get that house, and three whole children; my desire to be published outlasted everything but the children, who are grown up and doing very well on their own now; thanks for asking. I subscribed to Writers Digest and Byline Magazine, and kept a journal and wrote every single day, if I could, if I didn’t have sick babies…
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On the Road: How 10 of My Readings Went Wrong
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wet paint
I just did my nails in the uber-fashionable, yet timeless, design of blue sky with white fluffy clouds. I once painted my daughters’ ceiling like that, with a roller and sponges, so they could lie in bed and dream of sunny skies. This looks the same, on a very small scale. I appreciate the nudge for a new look from my 20-something daughters (I have four of them) because I tend to get in the rut of pink or red nails. Same as last time, because it’s so easy. Too easy, maybe. That’s how we do — same as last time. I’ll have the usual. Whatever’s easy. But sameness isn’t…
- authors, book biz, Books, indie pub, My World and Welcome to It, Portland, The Doris Diaries, Travel, work, writing
Big plans, big big plans
Busy days. (Note to self: why is “busy” spelled this way but sounds like “bizzy”?) I know, I’m addicted to busy, but life is full and there’s always a lot to do. Indulge me, will you? April and May were full of Tongues of Angels adventures, because Indie-Visible released the novel as a 10-year anniversary edition, and I was all over the place online, in several blog-carnations. It was good. It was busy, but it was good. That firmly under way, I turned to finishing off the second of the volumes of collected diaries, and all the proofing, indexing and final approvals needed. All to good ends, friends, because the…
