Some Random Thoughts...

I've been wandering through the various blogs I follow, and I was intrigued by the variety of writers.  Amongst the newest additions to my list is a blog from a schoolmate that I just discovered (see my previous post), the blog of my great-niece semestering in Italy (by the way, there's a lot of broad-spanned generations in my family, my twin girls are about the same age as this great-niece and her twin), the blog of a Southern sushi chef, the blog of writer E.J. Copperman, and a blog on literary agents. These have been added to a developing list of blogs that includes several authors and agents, more cooking blogs, blogs belonging to more relatives (okay, 4 of them are written by 3 of my kids and a niece) and several NPR-related blogs. I'm not trying to impress you, these are really what i follow. There's also a couple on gardening and DIY. Together, these pretty well embody my interests, professional and otherwise.

It's generally accepted as a given that someplace someone on the Internet tracks our purchases and our visits to web sites, and that from this information they build marketing profiles. And if they track my blog-visits, they probably pretty much have  me figured out. But.... I love to skew things. 

For instance, my browsing on eBay has led me to look at a lot of computer equipment. Have I ever mentioned that we've been into computers since 1985? Or that we have our own home network? And that we all have multiple devices? At one time I was planning on setting up a home computing museum based on our outdated equipment (hey, we started with Commodore 64!) but I've been voted down. So, we've recycled most of our stuff. Except for the units I've strategically hidden in the piles of boxes in the garage....shhh, don't tell. 

Other items I've sought out on eBay  include lots of the usual: books, records, dvds, plants, spices, and Christmas decorations. The less than usual include mortician's tools, space souvenirs, items to celebrate Day of the Dead, knives, Chein metal toys, and even cars (yep, bought a van on eBay once).

Then there's the subjects I've 'googled': Robin Sage, marijuana, classic boats, poisonous plants,  cob buildings, underwater concrete, snakes, paranormal activity, and scads and scads of  diseases. Every new one I add, my husband thinks the FBI is going to come knocking. So far we're good.

But I really don't know what those trackers must think of me. Grin.

And we begin again

I looked with shock at my last post, as I realized it was from last spring.

Son noted in said post has just passed thru the living room saying he only reads my blog to see if he's mentioned. Guess what, Mack?

He is now a senior; our last offspring will be graduating this year and heading off to some unknown institution of advanced learning. The final 4 years of 6 kids educated thru college.

You know we just had our 26th first day of school? Scary.
***
I had an intriguing experience last night and this morning. I came across a blog written by a high school classmate of mine. Like most of us, he blogs about things he's interested in. One of them is history, including his personal history and the years spent growing up in our hometown. I scanned his blog, choosing to read a handful of entries he'd written, anything with the old town's name in it. I finally had to write him a note, praising one entry especially, the post he'd written about the sounds of the village. It evoked such a response, bringing me right back to the time we lived there and the people we knew. What got to me the most, and I should have told him, was that he wrote about the very sort of things I think about when I think of that time. From his perspective, of course, but the same people and places and events. Maybe it should be noted that our graduating class had only 86 students, and it was a centralized school district populated by farms and a village with one stoplight and 4 churches. Still, the feeling was a bit uncanny.

He replied to my comment, glad to have heard from me, but saying I was a real writer and he was not. I will tell him that to me a real writer is someone who writes from the heart. Now, a published writer is maybe something else again, but there are published writers I would say are not real writers. He is.

Besides being a humbling compliment, the whole thing has inspired me to return to my blogs. I need to be a real writer on-line again. So I will be back soon, with updates on Blackwater and our family, and life. It's going to be good.

Long time passing

A long long time. No, not since I wrote. A long time I've been waiting for my son to get back from his trip to the zoo.  A high school trip which has run late all day. Sigh.

New Technology

Is absolutely amazing. Will have to blog more when I am more used to new phone.

A Isn't for Alligator....yet

So, well, I said I was going to write about the alligator. And I will. Sometime. But right now I have other things to talk about.

Like, Alyeska. Alyeska is a mountain resort in Alaska that was established in the early 1960's in Girdwood, Alaska, about 35 miles southeast of Anchorage. The mountain itself is called Alyeska, which is actually an Aleut word meaning 'mainland', 'great country' or 'great land'. It is also the archaic name for Alaska.

And, it is the name of our new puppy, a 6-week-old blonde husky/shepherd/plus mix.









Isn't she adorable?



She is tiny now, and she will probably only grow to be a medium-sized dog. She is playful but very quiet as puppies go. Kacey discovered the online ad for her. When I called up about her, it turned out she was the last of 7 to go, and she was located in a housing area where the streets we drove on bore familiar names. We turned right on Tennessee, left on Nashville, and found her home at Cookville. Now, I'm always one for choosing animals based on 'signs', and these were very good ones indeed.

She spent the ride from there to the school to pick up Mack burrowing for shade in Michael's arms. She's been very brave about meeting her new alpha/mama, Anneke. And we think the two of them will get along fine. Right now they do pretty well, although Anneke can't follow this little critter closely enough. And, when they are outside, Anneke still has to go first.

Here's Anneke. She's a shepherd/collie/and maybe husky mix. And she 'talks' like a collie.

I was informed that Alyeska is my puppy. My husband told me that he felt a little left out of the whole process, so, even though he thought she was neat and he wasn't disappointed, for now Ally was going to be my dog. Well, that lasted for about a half an hour. He was the one taking her around the backyard and talking to her and rubbing her belly. Right now he's taking pictures for me to upload. (there will be more posted at facebook for anyone who is also my friend there)

Now, Michael is staying with us for a bit while he pulls his life together, earning some money, getting more experience in his chosen fields, buying a car. Oddly enough, while he has no desire to stay in Fayetteville -- it's not his hometown, after all, which is Nashville -- he is at least finding some solutions here. We're all agreed that he is basically sticking around long enough to take the best way out of here, but it is working better than he might have thought.

However, Alex was Michael's dog, and Alex is no longer here. So it's not too surprising that Michael spent a good amount of time today getting Alyeska and Anneke acquainted, and running Alyeska around the yard. Astute readers will notice from the pictures of Alex that Alyeska currently resembles him (as we say) only a lot. That may change as the husky markings come in darker, but for now the resemblance is soothing. And having something to care for and care about is important to Michael.

That's the story of our new family member. We'll update periodically. -- most current update: Alyeska is zonked out on our bedroom floor and Anneke is checking on her. Oh, and the cats don't much care, so long as they're fed.

Tag, You're It!

Tags.

I was thinking about tags the other day as I was working at home.
Tags are very useful things.

HTML is what is called a ‘markup language’ used to create web pages on the Internet. It uses keywords inside angle brackets to describe web pages. These bracketed words normally come in pairs referred to as tags. The first is called the start or opening tag, and the second is called the end or closing tag. Between them is the code and text used to format the web pageÅfs appearance and content. There are tags to make print bold and tags to make italics. There are tags to place pictures on pages and tags to put in links. Tags are essential to building web pages, and therefore anything you see on the Internet, from profound literature to cluttering trash.

Lobster trap tags are plastic tags used in Maine to identify lobster traps the way hospital bracelets (another type of tag) identify patients. The information on these tags includes the fisherman’s license number and the zone in which the person works. They’re color-coded and marked with the year. Each fisherman pays for his or her tags (20¢ apiece in 2002, the date of the book I was reading), and they are limited in how many they can buy, a way of controlling how many traps they can set legally so that areas are not over-fished (over-lobstered?).

At St. Paul’s-in-the-Pines Episcopal Church, parishioners wear nametags on certain Sundays so that visitors will know who people are. This is, of course, one of the most common uses of tags, to identify something or someone.

Then there are dog tags _ for both humans and dogs. One identifies who and what one is, the other identifies to whom the other belongs. (Some people would claim dog tags for humans also identify to whom the wearer belongs.)

There are auto registration tags to identify registered cars. There are hunting tags, to identify registered hunters. There are tags in advertising, sometimes referred to as taglines, that are meant to help our brain register a product in memory, so that we will buy it when next we shop. “Beef. It’s what’s for dinner.”

Price tags are used to show what something is worth – at least in terms of how much a person is expected to pay for it. Sometimes the original price is slashed and a new one written in, indicating the bargain you’re getting. That can be a reflection of an item losing its value, but sometimes it’s merely about what shopping traffic will bear.

Tagged as a verb can mean to be given a name or a nickname, like Shorty or Tank. Being tagged means being chosen for something, whether it is to belong to a group or to fulfill a task. Being tagged can also mean being caught and marked, so that one can be kept track of and studied, or so one can be ‘It’.

So, in life, we are tagged. Tagged with a name, tagged to belong, tagged to participate. These tags change as we journey. We lose some and acquire others as we age and travel and develop. And each tag we acquire has its own purpose.

It’s a good idea to examine a tag when it’s applied to us. What is its purpose? Is it to identify who we are, who we belong to, or what we are worth?

Take a look. What are your tags?

Just a Word...

Just wanted to let you folks know that my professional web site and new writing blog "A Writer's Work is Never Done" are under RE-Construction. However, some changes to the blog are complete, in case you want to wander over there. I'm posting book reviews. Mostly right now they are older ones, but they still apply to the books in question. I'll be adding new ones, along with a caveat statement about not receiving anything for the review. *sigh* I'm getting very tired of people's suspicious and litigious natures.

It is very hot here at Blackwater. But I'm so excited. We've received the SUBAC cement we need to fix our dam and causeway. Gotta start pluggin' them thar holes, accordin' to the waterworks guy. We've got leaks that make our lagoon nearly empty out when they temporarily close the gates on the dam upstream.

This summer we've discovered we have freesia. It's all over the place, too, it just hasn't bloomed. We had one gorgeous stalk of flaming orange and red. I'll post a picture as soon as I get my hands on it. We have several bunnies, very BRAVE bunnies who like to tease our dog by springing off right in front of her nose.

We've lost Alex (see previous post); now we have also lost one of our kitties, Pearl. She's the second cat this year, too. We've always had animals, and we take the losses pretty hard. However, we had good years with all of them, and they knew they were loved.

It's only the middle of July, but a lot of pre-school year planning is afoot, especially for the college twins. They've been helping us clear things out here at Blackwater, inside and out. Sorting, weeding, re-arranging. I think they're going to miss the big work at the creek, though. It's too hot and too overgrown and too -- well, snakey -- to do the work right now. It will probably be done after they return to school. As for those snakes, sightings have numbered about 9, with one very dramatic one at a picnic in June. A black snake crossed the yard as we watched, disappearing into the terrace garden. We were only a few feet away, and he was stretched out as he crawled. We think he was about five feet long, which seems to be average for snakes around here.

Next time I'll tell you about the alligator.

A is for Alex

Today’s post is going to be about Alex. I was going to write about the alligator, but that will wait – I’ll get to it,
but Alex takes precedence.

Yesterday, June 14, 2010, Alexander Graham Cookie Dog left us after 12 1/2 years of being our friend, jokester, protector, and sage. Noble was a word coined for him. He was witty and wise and caring. And humorous. It was he who taught US to let him outside by snatching up a shoe or stuffed animal and bringing it to the back door, big grin on his face.

He was patient, discerning what we meant when we said ‘back up’, and carefully, like a well-trained semi driver, extricating himself from close quarters whenever necessary.

He greeted visitors with enthusiasm and authority – sometimes a little more than they were prepared for.

He proved his superiority of speed by racing the cars that passed in front of our house, running parallel behind his fence, reaching the opposite end of our property ahead of the cars 90% of the time. He presented himself at the gate to greet us when he heard our cars drive up – recognizing the motors when we were still a block away.

Although he hated thunder and lightning, he never deserted our sides if we were watching a storm from the doorway. He was always, always near one of us in the house, often no more than a foot away.

At our new house, he taught himself to go down the stairs between the floors. I guess the enclosed stairwell and carpet made it easier, but he conquered the thing all on his own. And oh, he was proud! Equally proud of the last few walks he took around Blackwater. He ambled all around his usual trail, sniffing and eating grass, slurping from the bucket, sniffing the air to try and figure out which way one of the local rabbits had gone. He grinned at us as he climbed the hill and even the stairs. He had to have been in pain, but he was pleased with himself for having done it.









During the week of his final illness, he complained little, content to have us visit him and talk and rub his head, hand-feeding him ice and food. Michael, his boy, is still living away. His instructions were “Do what is best for Alex.” Only by keeping that as our guide did we have the courage to help Alex leave. He was an incredible dog.

I want to try to say something different about the value of animal companions. Not just the things that all animal people know and non-animal people don’t get. I want to help you understand what animal people mean when they say their pets love them and that pets are people too.

Can you grasp what it means to have a being care for you so much that they will not let go? Not just they won’t go into another room to get out of your way. Not just they won’t let you leave the house without plopping down mournfully in front of the door, or wiggling and jumping ecstatically beyond all reason when you return. And not only that they will lie down beside (or on top!) of you when you are sick in bed. No, I mean a being, a dog or a cat or even a parrot, so close to you that they cannot, they refuse to, let go and die.

Alex was the product of a chance encounter between two purebreds. His father was a golden retriever, his mother a white German shepherd. Both breeds known for loyalty, and also, unfortunately, hip dysplasia. The same genetic background that led to the condition that ended his life was also the same background that disposed him to love his family. And he did.

We had it on good authority that if we were not home, he didn’t care about protecting the house. He only protected it when we were in it. He would insinuate himself into the smallest of spaces to lay inches from our feet – resulting in more than a few trip-ups, after which he would gaze at us regretfully with those deep brown eyes. And when Michael left for college, while he never flagged in his love for the rest of us, he was a tad dimmer until Mike came home for break. Only Michael could tell you all the things Alex saw him through, or the confidences he held. I simply know that getting Alex for that 9-year-old son of ours was one of the best parenting decisions we ever made.

Alex loved us so much that in his pain, it was our visits more than the ice or food or care that gave him satisfaction and pleasure. He would turn his head – which was hard for him – just to see where we were. And, he wouldn’t let go. He could not bring himself to leave the family he loved. We had to make him go. It was, as Mike requested, the best thing for him.

Okay, I’ve not said anything animal lovers don’t already know. To those of you who profess not to understand why people want animals around or why we will go to the lengths we will to have them around, consider the depth of love it takes for anyone to accept any circumstance, any pain, any hardship, just to stay with the ones they love. That, my friends, is a love so pure that it is exemplified in only a few other instances in our lives.

We are privileged to have been so loved by Alexander. We are privileged to receive love from other animals we know or have known. These are remarkable creatures, protectors and purveyors of love and companionship, who only seek minimal return for what they give. If only we could tap into the vein of altruism that seems to flow so freely in them. If only all of us would seek, and find, its Source.

===

So, thank you, Alexander Graham Cookie Dog, for the lessons and the love.
RIP Big Dog. There's no one like you.

Proud to Be From Middle Tennessee

It's a new day here at Blackwater.


Michael has now graduated from the University of Rochester. He had completed his freshman year there before we came to North Carolina. It was not an easy thing for him to spend his first summer home helping us get ready to leave. Nashville will always be the home of his heart, as it will for most of us.

Nashville finds a way to be home for many of the people who leave it. No matter how wonderful the place you go to, no matter how long you live there, a piece of you always belongs to Nashville.

This was made obvious to us as we watched on the first weekend in May as dozens of places we knew and loved were drenched, flooded, even washed away by 13 inches of rain that fell over two days onto a city that is built on rock coated with a couple feet of topsoil. While nowhere near the epic destruction that was Katrina, this flood is nevertheless the most monumental and overwhelming natural disaster that has ever struck Middle Tennessee. The area of damage is the size of the state of New Jersey. About 30 people lost their lives; a modest number compared to disasters like Haiti or Katrina. 30,000 kept their lives but lost much of their belongings, including their homes. Damage, private and municipal and corporate, is estimated at over 2 billion dollars in Nashville alone. Approximately 50 other counties were affected, some to a much greater extent than Nashville.

Our Nashville house was built on a hill, and apparently the new owners bought a generator (which could run the sump pump to keep the basement clear of ground water), as that was the only sound reported in the neighborhood Sunday morning. That section was without power for 14 hours. Some people in the city had none for days. The area just down the street and down the hill from our old house was blocked off due to flooding. The river is only a few blocks away. Luckily the horses were evacuated off the Tennessee Walking Horse farm that borders the neighborhood right next to the river.

Nashville is in a basin bubbled by hills, through which the Cumberland River snakes. The first two days the flooding was due to the continuous rain; the next day it was due to the river and its tributaries trying to carry away the run-off and groundwaters that had swelled their banks. Hills became islands, and the valleys became rivers, lakes, and ponds which you entered at your peril.

Downtown was flooded; Symphony Hall (yes, Music City caters to all kinds of tunes) had 11 feet of water in a 12 foot basement-the Concert Hall was barely spared; Sound Check, a company which stores musical equipment for many of country music's finest, had its storage facility flooded, and several musicians lost their equipment; Opryland Hotel flooded to ten feet, guests were displaced to a local high school and then other hotels. And then there were the neighborhoods, people's homes. Two feet of water, four feet, eight feet, twelve. One house, half submerged, caught fire, and the occupants were rescued by a neighbor on a jet ski.

A neighbor.

In the middle of dazing surrealty, neighbors, ordinary people, were helping neighbors. And friends. And strangers.

Our daughter and son-in-law still live in Nashville. They were fine. But for several hours they didn't hear from his brother. His family was okay, but cut off from everyone by flooded roads. No word from his brother, until much later, when he finally phoned in.

He and his townhouse neighbors had been busy taking down a fence so they could get their cars out to move to safety. In the process, he fried his iPhone. My son-in-law told me he hadn't been worried. His brother was like our Michael, always in the thick of things, helping out. He has returned to helping people, and our daughter and son-in-law have also spent much of their time helping with clean-up and aid.

Since that weekend,, the city has been awash, not with floodwaters, but with people setting things right, getting back to normal, assessing damage and making plans, and making appeals for money, because this task is too monumental for them to handle alone.

They've stepped up, not only to help themselves, but more often to help out someone else. Ordinary people as well as people we might think of as too much above the ordinary to care. The country music and entertainment industry as well as many local and national corporations that either call Nashville home or do business in Nashville have already raised over 3 million dollars to help those who need it. Over $3,000,000 in response to telethons and radiothons worked by people who live there and who care about the rest of the community. From musicians who must rebuild their own homes and studios to the kids who are going to a different school because they've been displaced from their home, everyone is helping everyone.

And that's Nashville. With all its flaws, and there are some big ones, Nashville is a community where people care about each other and do something about it. It is the biggest small town in the nation. When everything is on the line, Nashville does it right.

Two of our kids, including graduate Michael, once had the opportunity to write essays for a book, "Proud to be From Middle Tennessee". I am, we are, he is, and we always will be, proud to be from middle Tennessee.


I would be remiss not to note that nearby Raleigh radio station WQDR, this year's recipient of an ACM award for Best Country Music Station, also stepped up during the first week, not only publicizing what had happened (as so many national outlets neglected to do), but organizing relief efforts. In three days they had 3 semis loaded with goods and $6000 that they personally took to Music City to deliver. Man, when it comes to places to live, can we pick 'em or what?

And one more thing, please, remember to return to Nashville. Like New Orleans, the best thing you can do is remember these cities. Visit them and their people, share their lifestyle, and enjoy yourself. Nashville is still open for business. The CMA Music Festival 2010--what used to be known as Fan Fair--is still on for June. Y'all need to come on by.

Return to Blackwater

Each year you live in a place, you change your habitat a little. People are like that. Paint a window here; plant a flower there. We’re no different.

If anything, we’re worse.

We can’t seem to leave anything alone, even if it doesn’t need change. Although, to be honest, quite a few things need attention here before we’ll be satisfied.

This year we are finishing making our island back into an island. Aerial photos have shown us that a one time the creek flowed freely around the entire thing. Then, apparently, a tree fell. It was cut into pieces and left in place to rot. Subsequently the area silted up, and it was no longer a true island. Until we started to intervene.

With the catastrophic flood that took out part of our causeway, we moved into action. We started refilling the gap between causeway and land with dirt dug up where the old stream had run. As we came across pieces of the trunk, we stood them on end, creating a sort of palisade on that side of the island, with the trench running alongside. We’ve stopped digging about three feet from breaking through to the water. And that’s how it’s stayed for about a year.

We want to get a bridge from the ‘shore’ to the island up before we break through, and that involves some quik-crete as well as some underwater concrete to finish repairing the dam part of the causeway. Both tasks need to be completed before we break through. However, we think that’s happening this summer.

We have, meanwhile, cleared the mat of vegetation that over-hung the creek and the turtle-log. Now, the turtles love this. The log gets a clear shot of sun most or the day, and we have a daily count of 8-11 turtles, all at once, sunning themselves on that log! I don’t think they’re going to be happy when we take it out, but we have to do something, because it is at water level, and we run the risk of stuff getting caught on it. So, it has to go, at least partly. We’d like to cut it and turn the pieces parallel to the banks, keeping a sun spot for the turtles but clearing the waterflow. Of course, we need a chain saw first. Somehow I can’t seem to convince anyone (myself included) that cutting an 8” log by hand is a good idea!

*update: as of 4/9/10, the decision was made to keep the log as it is. The turtles have won! We’ll just have to clear away debris as the need arises. If the log breaks, we’ll deal with it then. But we still need a chain-saw for clearing other fallen trees around the place.

We’ve seen the heron this spring, heard and seen owls, too. The lizards are venturing out, and as I was transplanting some ornamental grass, a very tiny red snake I accidentally picked up with the shovel decided he was not at all afraid of me and gazed at me with a very perturbed expression. I think it was a red-bellied snake as it was thin and only a foot long and seemed to be making a face at me with its lip, a characteristic of these snakes. There are fish in the creek, and the water is gradually completing its spring self-cleaning.

*update #2: on 4/11/10, Robin saw – and touched – a toad, and Dave saw a Luna moth waiting out the evening on a tree. It was a male who had probably hatched in the mid-day and was setting its wings prior to its first night flight. Apparently they fly after midnight.

We’ve moved most of the plants we want to save out of the garden area, and are setting about digging that up. At the same time we’re (who am I kidding here, this one’s my baby) cleaning the rose terrace of weeds and establishing new plants and setting up an herb rock garden on the sandhill (digging down to and adding loamier soil). Like I said, we can’t seem to leave anything alone, and this is just outside!

Tell us about your plans for modifying your environment—we’d love to hear.

Final update before posting: We went to the Cape Fear Valley Botanical Garden and got all sorts of ideas on things to get to plant. They’re having a plant sale on the 24^th, too. But we jumped the gun and picked up a couple things from Lowe’s after we got back from the Gardens.

The photo below -- taken by Dave -- is of turtles on our turtle log. Currently the record count is 14. And, if you look at the creek water, you'll understand why we call our home Blackwater!

photo by dk minnick

Return of the Queen

In a brief respite from the Internet world, our heroine has been spending her time involved in such pursuits as humongous writing projects that refused to free her from their clutches, squirreling away a prodigious amount of Christmas decorations, counseling the next generation, arresting and jailing the various forms of forms sneaking about the house determined to snare her in the consequences of an absent-minded mistake, all while working in her mundane jobs (mundane as in non-magical, here) at home and at large.

As she segues into a new segment of the year, she is moving on to the NEXT humongous writing projects that will, we hope, be more merciful, and away from the nefarious deeds and influences of so-called necessary paperwork designed to keep her from her true callings, family and free-form figment-making and pixilated participle production.

Stay tuned as our heroine resolves to live up to these laudatory goals and marches onward into the parallel universe to assail us with the inflexible if dubious challenge, Can you survive until April without buying Easter candy in the drugstore and eating it in secret?

Film at eleven.

Post-NaNo Blog

It can be said that intense activity is the theft of time, or at least our awareness of its passing. No better proof of this for me than what happened on December 3^rd. I woke up that morning, rubbing my fuzzy head, and thinking (I am not, as Dave Barry would say, making this up) “Wow, November already, where did October go?” only to feel like I’d been hit over the head as I realized that November was also already gone, given over to my baptism into the craziness known as NaNoWriMo.

Now, I worked my part-time job through NaNo. I took my son to school, talked to my other kids by phone, even fed them Thanksgiving Dinner. I spent time with my husband, AND I wrote. I did, by the way, pass the 50,000 word mark but not the 90,000. I let myself off the hook after 50,000, refusing to drive myself totally to distraction. But I made a respectable 63,069, finishing over 2/3s of the book. Once I’ve caught up on other writing projects, I will take up the rough draft again, complete it, and move on to the next phases of revision.

So, enough said about quantity and about losing track of an entire month. What else did I get out of NaNo? Well, I got a renewed sense of my family’s support, especially my husband’s.

See, Dave has long had good cause for a love/hate relationship with my writing. He likes it – he especially enjoys my blogs (thanks, sweetie). But, the man had to put up with my bringing a typewriter along on our honeymoon so I could finish a story for a contest. He is an early riser, mainly due to his work, but that forces him to be an early sleeper as well. I’m a night owl through and through. When it comes to writing, I am clearly still on college time. And being a mom got me used to going several days on a few hours sleep each night before I collapse into catch-up coma. So…. I’m staying up when he would much rather I retire. The man likes me in the same room when he turns out the light.

We have also collaborated on writing projects, and it’s always gone surprisingly well, um, almost always. But again, that means we get to critique each other’s words and that can be ---- well, dicey.

This all goes to say that having him agree to my trying NaNoWriMo and then to go through the entire month without complaining about my writing, nay, the man cheered me on, is major proof of his support. Add to that the encouragement from sons and daughters and all their significant others, and from other friends and colleagues ---well, it makes a grown woman cry.

NaNoWriMo also showed me how quickly I actually can work, and that was a big surprise. I’ve always been a thoughtful writer. Thoughtful in the sense that I had to think a lot about what I was writing. If I wasn’t sure I was in the mood, or if I wasn’t satisfied with the last segment, I often didn’t push myself forward. That word count hanging over your head in NaNo makes you move forward. Sometimes in your push, you don’t notice when your plot takes a swerve or is hi-jacked by one of your characters. Even though I had chosen a theme and style that had a fairly well-laid-out direction, I was still taken by surprise a few times during the writing. I found, however, that so long as I had a direction I was going in, I could write rough draft material at the rate of 1000 words per hour. To me, that is amazing. Realizing that is like conquering driving long distances. When you realize that you can actually cover 500 miles in just a day, suddenly driving across the country isn’t so daunting. Same with writing a book. Assuming you have something you want to say and that writing is your thing, learning you can work at high speed grants you confidence you can tackle large projects.

Then there is the tangible benefit. What I had at the outset was a concept and a bunch of notes. What I have now is most of a rough draft of a perfectly good novel. At least, I hope it’s perfectly good. It will be eventually.

I’m glad I did it. I will do it again. And, I might even try other writing marathons. Especially if I have a project ready to start. It’s a great way to get it going.

Should you do something similar? Set a crazy goal and try to live up to it? Work in overdrive on a major project and see if you can accomplish it in record time and manner? Sure! Go for it! Challenges are good, particularly if they are genuinely productive. This one has been terrific for me, and I’d love to see the same for you.

Meanwhile, enjoy your family and the holiday season. Never know when the urge to drop it all for one of those challenges might strike.

NaNo #5

I haven’t had time to blog much this month. While my NaNoWriMo count looks fine, I’m not quite on target for what I wanted. On the other hand, if I don’t make 90,000 words, it won’t be that bad. I’ll still have a great start on this book.

It’s curious. It still seems like one long dialogue, or maybe conversation, amongst the main characters. And it keeps stretching. I don’t know if it’s because I write in small doses broken up by leaving my desk for a drink of tea, petting the cat, checking ‘So You Think You Can Dance. stirring the fudge, etc. or if it’s just this story. As I’ve said elsewhere, we’re talking a road trip with five sisters, there’s going to be talk, even mostly talk.

When writing this way, moving ever forward, it’s harder to keep track of where you’ve been and where you are. I don’t mean in an organizational sense. I have notes and lists and all of that. More like real-life time, events keep piling on, and eventually it all becomes one long blurry stream. But, to mix a metaphor or two, the way it’s stretching, I’m going to have to take an ax to it to get a reasonable final draft. Maybe it’s a mini-series.

I’m losing some steam as I get closer to the 50,000 words I’m actually committed to. I think this says something, too. I didn’t completely commit to 90,000. I didn’t want to scare myself, since I wasn’t even sure I’d make the 50,000. So, while my determination to hit the 50k is paying off, my less-than-determination to hit 90k is also showing. There is something to be said for officially committing to a project.

Real life is interfering, too. My job picks up towards the end of the month; Thanksgiving, with its round of transporting the college kids back and forth and its mounds of food, is coming up; and I still have work to do on my other wip. So, if NaNoWriMo begins to take a back seat when I’m at 46,000+ words, I guess it’s okay. So long as I hit that 50k. Let ‘er roll.

NaNo #4

Aahhh. It is officially Day #7 in NaNoWriMo-land. I haven’t written on Nano yet today, but that time is coming later this afternoon. I did promise to post about it, so that’s what I’m here for.

On most of my blogs, you can find a little blue icon that will show you my updated word count. For those of you who don’t want to search it out, the count stands at 21,345 words. I am officially on-target for my unofficial goal of 90,000, and I’m way ahead of where I need to be to meet the NaNoWriMo goal of 50,000. Go, me!

Here’s the thing: I don’t find it that hard to sit down and write this way. Since I work part-time, and since I find it incredibly easy to ignore mundane things like housework (note to old friends: I am getting better at doing my housework as a rule, really!), spending the time is easy.

Even more so since we are all computer friendlies at our house. It’s common for hubby and me to be in our office, back to back, working/playing on our computers. We share interesting information we find, TV stuff (hubby has a TV card), and swap pictures and writings. It’s one of the cool things about our marriage. Teenage son is also on the computer a lot. He’ll wander in and out of the office occasionally, but where many families spend an evening with the TV or games, we spend it with computers (okay, TV, too) and books.

As for the writing itself, I’m making myself only write. I have to plot, yes, but much of the book’s direction is dictated by a map. Literally, since this story is about a road trip. I compiled a lot of material before Nov. 1^st, too, so a lot of general planning was done. I knew the premise for so long that it’s pretty well embedded in me. Subconsciously that seems to be driving things.

I’ve found myself foreshadowing almost without thought. Nuances of character and dialogue have crept in. Conversations between characters have naturally flowed in the direction I needed.

Now, there was a plot turn that took me by surprise, and to be honest, I had to write it twice because there was a fundamental discrepancy that needed correcting or it would just confuse me. But other than things of that sort, I’ve not gone back to change – or even re-read anything. I do have an unresolved POV problem. I keep trying to write in third person, and the book keeps tricking me into writing in first.

Forcing myself to move forward and simply keep going seems to be the key to making NaNoWriMo work. As for finishing the process and turning it into a ‘real’ book, I’m not that daunted by it. I know how easy it is to work with material already written and reshape and revise it.

Okay, maybe easy isn’t the word. But, revising is working with something that already exists. It has become tangible, and it cries out for modification, polish and completion. That is different from the story simmering inside you that can be ignored for a while, or the one partly written down that can be dropped for months because ‘you’re already working on it.’ There is something about getting a complete draft down that compels you to work on it until you have the final version.

That is why NaNoWriMo works, children. It motivates you to do one thing: get words on paper. Those words take on a life that demands attention until it is full-grown. And then, if you’ve done a really good job, you can demand that it go out and earn something.

[*okay, okay, apologies to those out there who think I’ve oversimplified the process. Of course, I did. I want those who are seriously thinking about writing, seriously, mind you, to move past the fear and enter the realm of adventure and possibilities writers inhabit. There is a great deal of work involved in those simple steps I described. However, if you’re serious and willing to put the work in, it is eminently do-able.]

NaNo #3

I swear, this is true. I’m not just stringing random words together. These actually make a story. And I am at:

10,021 words!!

I can’t believe it either.

Will this pace last? Stay tuned.

Nano #2

Nov 1 – Well, it’s 9:00 EST, and I’ve made it through the day. Besides taking my son to investigate the Society of Creative Anachronisms, I’ve written 4 chapters for 5562 words. At this rate my book will be even bigger than the 90,000 I anticipate. I know I’m getting plot down, and character, but I’ve a feeling I’ll be doing some backfilling on place and description. We’ll see.

I’m having to use whatever time I get to the fullest, as I don’t know when other things will interfere. But this has been a great start. As to plot twists, it’s a little early yet, but I seem to be moving in a direction of possibilities. Pretty good for right now.

Best of all, this is fun!

NaNo #1

Hello Facebookers, Twitterers, and Readers of My Blogs:

As noted, you’re all getting the same updates, at least for now. Maybe I’ll rotate them thru the week as I go.

Oct 31 – final countdown. At 12:01 am on Nov 1 (remember, we don’t officially change clocks until 2am) I will begin writing. I plan to go until 2:00 am, just because I can. Then bed and back to writing in the a.m. I’m excited about this… and I’ll let you know how it all goes tomorrow

I've Really Stuck My Neck Out This Time...

My kids will tell you -- really, just ask -- that I've developed an annoying habit over the years. My husband rather likes it, but the kids don't.

The habit is one of practicality and self-survival: I won't commit to anything unless I am ABSOLUTELY CERTAIN (yes, I'm yelling at top of my lungs) that I can do it. Which means they get a lot of "No." "Maybe..." and the perennial favorite (not!) "We'll see." I've had children threaten to defect and run away screaming over my refusal to commit. Dad thinks I'm merely being prudent and honest.

So, now what have I gone and done?

Uhh -- signed up for NaNoWriMo. Yup. Gonna write me a book in 30 days and -- of course, fifty thousand -- that's FIFTY THOUSAND -- words are not enough. I have to try and write NINETY THOUSAND WORDS in 30 days. Publicly. And I've said I would. And so, at peril of life, limb, job, homelife and possibly children and husband, I have to try,

Why, oh, why am I doing this?

Theoretically it's to jumpstart my new project. It's also to have an excuse to act like a college kid again and not get my husband mad at me. And, it's a challenge, and one I can take on willingly. Lordy knows there's not too many of those around!

Probably I'll annoy people, but luckily everyone in the family writes to some extent, or they're artistic in other ways, so they all understand the passion part of this. They have, however, already expressed annoyance at my announcement that I might not blog or FB or Twitter as much, so I've also had to commit to posting periodic updates. They may be identical on all my blogs and the social networks, but people will just have to check to see.

I will say that prepping for the event has already given me a good start on the material of my novel. And I don't remember when I've felt so enthusiastic over starting something, or over meeting new people (I'll meet with fellow WriMos here in Fayetteville at least once). So clearly, succeed or not, this has already been good for me.

Which brings me to my other point for today. Not everyone writes, poor souls. But everyone does something they love. If you have let your passion languish, even if it's with good reason, this is a great time to pick it up and dust it off and launch it once again. Find that thing that you love to do and throw yourself into it. Maybe in a new way or with a new twist, but let yourself get excited about it. Have fun, create/produce, and feel great!

Aww, shuckee durn....

There is absolutely no better motivator for blogging than a very thoughtful friend who compliments your writing and bestows the latest blogging award on you. Wonderful Kaye Barley of Meanderings and Muses has passed along to me the "Honest Scrap Award".

It's a lovely award whose purpose is to reward bloggers who write from the heart. Well, gee. I can't think of a nicer thing someone could say about Blackwater Tales. It's what I intended all along. So, thank you, Kaye, for all your support.

Now this award has a couple of requirements. I must pass it along to 7 other worthy blogs, and I must list 10 honest things about myself (actually, awarding 7 others is optional, but I want to).


Beyond Understanding

Little House in the Suburbs

Hey, There's a Dead Guy in the Living Room

L.J. Sellers

Stick to Your Hips and its sister site Living Well... Eating Thin

A Good Blog is Hard to Find



These blogs focus on different things, but each blogger is passionate about what they are saying. I can read them any time and they touch some part of me in a thoughtful or thought-provoking way. Check them out.

As for 10 honest things about myself:

Well. Hmm. How deep do I have to go here, or should I ask, how deep will I get myself in with this?

How about 10 things I maybe should have done but didn't (honestly)?

• gotten my Master's degree
• written more thank you notes
• driven to Eugene (OR) anyway
• gone up in the hot air balloon
• taken another tap class
• re-done the kitchen floor in our last house (sooner)
• asked the guy on Student Court for a raincheck on that drink
• bought more stock -- ANY stock
• gotten a horse
• focused harder on my writing sooner

Whew. That last one was hard to write. I don't believe in regrets, you see. However, sometimes I have to admit to mistakes, and I do think there are things I could have done better, the last item on the list possibly being the most important. But, as most people know, life has a way of interfering with your plans. And while we can have it all, we can't usually have it all all at once. So I just have to deal with the fact that I didn't settle down sooner. Perhaps, like a lot of writers, I just wasn't ready to say what I need to say. I'd like to think that, because it's the only consolation I'll get. That and firing myself up and making up for lost time.

So, in keeping with writing from the heart, I urge everyone, follow your passion. follow it as quickly and as fully as you know how. And beyond that, no regrets.

Oh! And if you haven't already, sign up for NaNoWriMo, National Novel Writing Month and write 50,000 words in 30 days!

The Things We 'Love'

Recently Kaye Barley had a blogpost on Meanderings and Muses about inanimate objects to which we are inordinately attached, things that someone else would either look away from or go “Whaaa?” in complete bewilderment over the attraction. Well, honestly, I think I have plenty of those, but I want to take the discussion a step further.

Into the realm of TV land.

I already know the answer to this, as does the television industry, because a great deal of money has been made for years off re-runs, syndication, and videos. How many of us have just loved a television show, or identified with one, to the extent that its ending was akin to losing a relative? In fact, probably more grievous than losing certain relatives.

We know the kinds of numbers Dallas and M*A*S*H and Seinfeld sent up on their finales. Record numbers of people watching the final hours of these television lives. We had invited these characters into our homes and our lives, and we didn’t want to let them go. We didn’t want their stories to end. (I’m sure I’m not the only one still wondering, where Hawkeye Pierce is today.)

Fan devotion can run deep, a fact some actors appreciate while others shy away from it. But I think, our involvement with television shows is at once different and deeper than mere celebrity adulation or fantasy.

This month, two shows that hold a great deal of meaning for me are ending. Reading Rainbow has completed its 26 year run on PBS. I don’t accept the reasons they’ve given for ending the show. ‘Studies’ notwithstanding, I don’t think it is public television’s job to teach our children to read. You need interaction for that. Some shows do provide reinforcement for what parents and teachers do, but a one-sided non-interactive program won’t cut it. Computer software does it better; live people do it best. However, what Reading Rainbow accomplished was to inspire children to read beyond those years when the ‘how-to’ learning is done. Host LeVar Burton made it cool to like books. He showed where books could take us in entertaining and educational ways. He let kids see that their opinions of books mattered, and challenged them to write their own in Reading Rainbow’s book-writing contest. Should this show have ended? No. It could have evolved, maybe gotten a new host if LeVar was busy. But such a program leaves an enormous hole in PBS’ line-up. My kids (all six of them) and my husband and I shed a tear over the loss of this video ‘friend’ from their childhood. It was a part of their preschool and after-school lives. We still own several of the books covered on the show, and one of my children has an Honorable Mention from the writing contest. And they even remember some of the music from the dance numbers! Reading Rainbow and all it did and could have accomplished are already sorely missed.

The second show that is ending – and I may take a lot of ribbing for this – is The Guiding Light. Starting on radio in 1937 and making various metamorphoses until it became an hourlong TV show, Guiding Light is the oldest soap opera in existence, 72 years old. It will end – forever, they say – on September 18, 2009.

Now, let me say that I am not a woman who spends her whole day watching soaps. And I’ve only been a dedicated fan to a few. But I have either watched or ‘kept track of’ Guiding Light since I was introduced to it in 1983. The storyline at the time involved a character named Annabelle Reardon, who was wonderfully portrayed by Harley Jane Kozak. That plotline, and the writing and the acting drew me into this soap opera like no other. The fact that I shared a maiden name with one of the stars (Kim Zimmer) didn’t hurt, either.

So Guiding Light became my backdrop to raising our six kids. Eventually it became something I shared with them, talking about story lines, quality of acting or writing, or the philanthropic things the members of the cast and crew did. I would even use GL moments as teachable moments; soap operas are nothing if not morality tales.

I appreciated the writing, the soliloquies, the sometimes off-the-wall plotlines, always portrayed with sincere emotion – which was, I think, what sold some of the most over-the-top scenes. I even toyed with the idea of trying to write for GL, but – I have to admit – I chickened out.

I have a Guiding Light bracelet my husband ordered for me. I contributed to one of their on-line projects. And I was even able to break the ‘6 degrees from Kevin Bacon’ via Guiding Light, because a childhood friend had walk-on roles twice, putting me at most 3 degrees from Mr. Bacon.

The only time I ever even considered ‘dumping’ the show from my viewing habits, was when they lost continuity. I’m used to soaps aging their children off-screen and then bringing them back. However, it was both disappointing and aggravating to see GL back up a character. A character who’d left the show for boarding school as a fifteen-year-old came back four real years later as – a fifteen-year-old and proceeded to relive her teenage years with a new troubled teen storyline. I’m afraid I’ve never forgiven the writers or producers for that.

I’m hating the fact that the show is ending. I think it got a raw deal from the producers; I think it could have adapted. I hate seeing anything that has lasted so long be ended. I tend to go for records and longevity.

But, I don’t think I’ve yet gotten down to what is really behind all this. Television shows, regardless of their quality, sort of become the soundtrack of our lives. Sometimes they help us ‘remember when’ as we look back on styles that have changed or events that have been covered in story. Sometimes it’s just an ‘oh yeah, I remember watching that when I was going through my divorce or when the kids had the flu’. Maybe watching Robert Young talk to Bud did provide us a clue as to how Father could know best. But mostly these shows become the familiar photograph of the living room with the net curtains, the chicken always served on Sunday, the gathering around a piano to sing Christmas carols. They are part of what ‘we always did’.

When the writing and acting is good, television shows help us work out things in our own daily lives. Not that they replace interaction with living human beings (or even human beings on the internet!), but if the writers and actors have done their job right, there is a conclusion, a take-away a person can get to mull over and see if it applies to his own life. Sometimes a show just lets us see that our own lives aren’t so bad after all.

I’ve gone a long way to say something that is probably very simple. Humans can attach themselves to anything, I think. Things, places, even television shows, take on a value far beyond the intrinsic as they are woven into the fabric of our lives. We invest emotion in them, because they represent a segment of our lives that is important to us. We use them to hang onto the feelings, the memories, the essence of who we are and who we’ve been. So, I’ll be silly and shed some tears for shows that drop the curtain, books that close the cover, and raggedy old stuffed toys that gaze at me with scuffed up beaded eyes. They’ve been witnesses and sound tracks to the movie of my life, and I’ll hang on to them until I absolutely have to let them go.