Lifescapes

hey thanks!

Good ideas here, guys. Keep 'em coming. China and Ruby want me to tell you that they're beginning to see how all this might come together. It'll take some work, though, and maybe a few weeks. If we can pull it off, we'll post the news here.

Reading note: "What I fear in writing is the safe decision."--Anne Rice

am I crazy?

Another blog? Am I crazy or what? You tell me.

I'm trying to figure out whether I want to set up a blog and let China and Ruby have a go at it: in other words, fictional characters blogging in their own voices--something the blogosphere calls a "character blog."

This idea has been nagging at me for two or three years now--ever since Unthymely Death came out. I wrote most of the stories in that collection for Country Living Gardener's website, back in 1999. That was fun, because it allowed me to write stories with a gazillion hyperlinked "extras": recipes, herb lore, gardening tips, and so on. It was hard to do back then, though, because the stories all had to be fed through a story editor and a web editor, and there were always mistakes in the links. The project took an incredible amount of work, but I learned a great deal about story construction, using hyperlinked "extra" text, and so on. Now, blogging software has taken the kinks out of the posting process (although I have thought of some infernally clever ways to put the kinks back in), so it's mainly a matter of finding the time to do this--and making sure that China (and Ruby too, if she's interested) have something to say that you might want to hear.

So let's hear it. Is this something you'd care to read? What do you think would be the advantages in it? The disadvantages? What kinds of content would you like to see? Mostly Thyme & Seasons herbie stuff (recipes, garden tips, lore, etc), or more about China's and Ruby's personal lives? Would you like to see other Pecan Springs characters having their say, or would you prefer to keep it to China and Ruby.

Or should I just scuttle whole idea and go back to trying to figure out how to get out of the friggin' STUCK place in the current book? Is this mad scheme just another way to avoid writing?

If you have suggestions, please post them as contents. As I say, I'm trying to write my way out of a hole, and if you email me, I'll want to pull my head out of the hole and reply.

Reading Note: "Ideas have come from the strangest places."--Joyce Carol Oates

indigo bunting

(Indigo Bunting, USGS photo)

The morning walks are the best part of the outdoor day here, now that the summer heat has fallen on us with its usual unrelenting ferocity.

It's the season of our summer birds, one of which is the male indigo bunting (a better photo here) that pours out his scrambled melody from the very top of the highest tree. I've read that these birds return to their breeding grounds throughout their lives, and that the male's song is unique to the neighborhood in which he grew up. He shares this song, more or less, with other males of adjacent territories, while neighbors a few miles away sing a slightly different song. Song and place are thus inextricably bound up together, song bound to earth's body. I've also read that when these buntings migrate, they use the stars for guidance, having learned as young birds to recognize the patterns in the heavens. Ah, all that wisdom of song and astronomy, of native ground and native music, encoded in that tiny brain!

Yesterday evening, Bill and I watched both the male and the female indigos making insect-gathering forays from the fence along our south meadow into the tall grass. I imagine their nest nearby, a cup of woven grasses fastened to a low shrub with elastic lashings of spider webs and lined with leaves and downy milkweed fluff. And I imagine the tiny chicks gazing up out of this soft cup at the stars, memorizing their positions so that they will know how to come back home again, mooring yet-to-be-learned songs to the familiar stars.

Reading Note, from Staying Put: Making a Home in a Restless World, by Scott Russell Sanders:

The only sure antidote to oblivion is the creation. So I loop my sentences around the trunks of maples, hook them into the parched soil, anchor them to rock, to moon and stars, wrap them tenderly around the ankles of those I love. From down in the pit I give a tug, to make sure my rope of words is firmly hooked into the world, and then up I climb.

forecast: showers

I know, I know, some of you have way too much rain and you wish it would quit, but that's not us, not now. So when we got a solid soaker, an inch yesterday, I was compelled to document the fact that water was actually falling out of the sky. Since this is the beginning of our driest months, we're happy. We've had a little off and on over the past six weeks (that's why the grass looks passably green), but this was especially nice. Brought a rainbow with it, too. In the foreground are salvias and the Mexican oregano (Poliomentha longiflora), some wayward goldenrod, and an antique rose--can't remember which one this is. Nothing much is blooming in this bed now, or throughout the garden. We're moving into summer dormancy. But that's certainly not true of the wildscape of the meadows beyond, which are bright with color: sunflowers, Texas bluebells, purple bee balm, basketflowers, squaw-weed, brown-eyed susan. Sometimes I ask myself why I bother to keep a garden.

The pointy tree in the left background is a bald cypress we planted (with five others) in 1988. She's some 25 feet high now, and still a growing girl. Twelve of her offspring, grown from tiny seedlings we found sprouted around her, are growing upcreek and down, some of them topping twelve feet. We named this little creek Pecan Creek--might want to change that someday, to Cypress Creek.

Moving forward with the book, nearly 66,000 words now. I have to start getting serious about tying up the loose plot ends. And since this is one of the Cottage Tales (#4, The Tale of Hawthorn House), most of the plot ends will be tied up. The exception, of course, is Beatrix's plot. It's her life I'm writing about, and this is only 1908.

Speaking of Beatrix, you do know about the film, don't you? Miss Potter has now finished shooting at Yew Tree Farm in Cumbria, which is to be the outdoor set for Hill Top Farm. Hill Top has been recently covered with temporary scaffolding for roof and gutter repairs, which may be the reason they didn't film there--or maybe the Trust just didn't want a couple of hundred members of the film crew tramping through the gardens. Interiors were filmed on the Isle of Man, with some scenes shot in London. The director's assistant has been keeping an on-set blog with a photo of Renee Zellweger costumed as Beatrix. USA release is planned for Jan. 12, so don't make any other plans for that evening.

Personally, I think Beatrix would be horrified by all this commotion. But then, I don't think she would like my mysteries, either.

Reading note, from Through the Pages of My Life and my Encounters with Beatrix Potter, a memoir by Willow Taylor, published by the Beatrix Potter Society:

I sometimes wonder how Beatrix Potter would react if she were to return to Sawrey and see Hill Top as it is today... She never liked crowds of people; she liked the peace and tranquility of the village. She would probably oust everybody... She used to sit for hours on Castle Rock, the promontory above Hill Top, sketching and meditating. From there she could view the whole village and the full length of Esthwaite Water.

some days the magic works

...and some days it doesn't. But today it did. For the first time since I got back from book tour, which has been . . . how long? six weeks? I really feel good about the work. It's not just that I managed to make my word-count quota and then some (2300 words today, which is terrific)--it's that they are good words. They came out fast and on track, and while they can use some polish, they're keepers, not words that I'll throw away tomorrow. At last, I feel that there's some momentum going here, enough (I hope) to pull me through the rest of the project. So far, I've put only 58 writing days into it. But all the work that was involved with getting Hearts out into the world interrupted this book, which has now been been spread out over five calendar months, a very long time for me. Usually, I try to set aside three calender months for a book. The longer the calendar time, the more draggy the writing process tends to feel. I was interested to see that Karen MacInerney fell into the same sort of situation recently. I guess it happens to everybody.

Speaking of Karen, I've been reading her book, Murder on the Rocks, which is a very good read, especially if you like cozies. This is the first in her Gray Whale Inn series, with another (Dead and Berried--what a great title!) coming next year. Karen has been celebrating: she recently sold her "reluctant werewolf" chick lit mystery to Ballantine. She says that the working title is "Wolf in Chic Clothing," which makes me smile. Check out some of Karen's work. She's good, she's serious, and she's committed. It takes all three to make it in this business. Oh, yes. Takes luck, too. Lots of luck.

Reading Note. "Writers kid themselves--about themselves and other people. Take the talk about writing methods. Writing is just work--there's no secret. If you dictate or use a pen or type or type with your toes--it is just work."--Sinclair Lewis

especially the thistles

Back home today and back at work, after a hard weekend at the Lavender Festival at Madeline and Tom Wadja's Willow Pond Farm in Fairfield PA--fun, interesting, lively, but hot, very hot, which made it difficult to work. The Friday and Saturday attendance was good, but by the time Sunday rolled around, the heat (in the upper 80s and low 90s) kept some people away. The workers and vendors felt it the most, I think. We were all pretty wilted by the time it was over. (I had to leave early for a flight back to Texas--through Dallas, thank heaven. If I'd had connections through Houston, I'd probably still be there. In some places, they've had ten inches of rain in the last couple of days, and even the major highways are still flooded tonight.)

But the lavender was lovely, the lavender crafts and goodies were terrific, and Deb Beamer of the Mechanicsburg Mystery Bookshop hauled big boxes of books and stayed cheerful through all the heat. (Thanks, Deb! you're a peach.) Tom and Madeline and their friends put so much work into this event, and their care and attention show in all the wondeful details. I met a gazillion of China's and Ruby's friends from Maryland and Virginia and Pennsylvania and New York and West Virginia, so I'm very glad I went.

Came home to a sweetly green garden, after nearly an inch of rain here on Friday night, for which Bill and I are very grateful, as well as our cows and sheep, who will have green grass a little longer this summer because of this nice rain--with maybe more on the way tomorrow. (Houston doesn't need it, but we certainly do!) The dogs were wet from the tips of their noses to the tips of their tails after their morning walk, and wriggling with delight in a glorious world that was full of wet smells of rabbit and mouse and possum and raccoon. Everything glittered magically as the sun rose, and the air was like honey. This morning, even the thistles looked beautiful. Especially the thistles.

Reading note, with thistles in mind, from Mary Oliver's Long Life: "What does it mean, say the words, that the earth is so beautiful? And what shall I do about it? What is the gift that I should bring to the world? What is the life that I should live?"

on the road again

I'll be speaking at the Pennsylvania Lavender Festival this weekend (Saturday and Sunday), with Deb Beamer of the Mystery Bookstore in Mechanicsburg, who will be selling books. I'm told that the lavender is especially nice right now (just the right amount of rain and sunshine!) the weather is supposed to be good, and the program is full of lots and lots of lavender-flavored fun. So if you're in the area, do come. I'd love to see you!

And while we're talking about programs and getting out and about, I'll give you a heads-up on a special memoir workshop I'll be doing for Story Circle next spring, at the Festival Hill retreat center in Round Top TX. I know, I know--it's nine whole months away. But there are only 60 places. They will fill up fast, and we'll have a long waiting list. So if you're interested, better check it out now. There's an installment plan for the registration fees.

Reading note, two chapter headnotes from LAVENDER LIES, one of China's mysteries celebrating lavender's lovely ambiguities:

Lavender in full bloom is a beautiful plant, and the Tuscan fields where it grows are famous for their beauty. But the workers who harvest the crop arm themselves with stout sticks because they know that poisonous snakes hide in the lavender's dry, fragrant shade. Perhaps for that reason lavender became a symbol of dishonesty, deception, and secret malice. In the Victorian language of flowers, a sprig of lovely lavender tucked into a bouquet might convey the warning, "Beware of deceit."--China Bayles

Lavender has a long tradition of magical use as a herb of purification, of love and of protection....In Tuscany lavender was used to protect children from the evil eye, while in North Africa the Karbyll women used lavender to protect themselves from mistreatment by their husbands.--from Lavender, Sweet Lavender, by Judyth A. McLeod

how long does it take to write a book? Part 1

That question came from Dani, a few posts back. Actually, she wanted to know the longest time it's taken me to write a book--which prompted a long chain of thoughts having to do with schedules and deadlines and words per day and that part of the writing process that spells T-I-M-E.

I'm not sure I can answer Dani's question, since I can't always pinpoint the time when I started thinking about a book. Thinking counts as part of writing, at least for me, but not part of the actual composing process, to which I can always give a date (thanks to my trusty logbook.

I started thinking about writing about Beatrix Potter when Bill and I started work on Death at Gallows Green, which would have been mid-1993. This was the second in the Robin Paige series, which features real people, and Beatrix was our "invited guest." By the time that book was published (early 1995), I was already thinking about the way I'd work with Beatrix, if I turned her into a series sleuth. I began filling my bookshelves with research material, although I had too much to do to add a third series to my list of projects. I couldn't clear the calendar until 2002, when I pitched the series to my editor.

I got a contract and began writing The Tale of Hill Top Farm in early 2003. But the concept changed dramatically when Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle started to talk and the animals took over parts of the story--which meant that Beatrix's publisher had to be involved. (You can't appropriate somebody else's literary creations without permission!) I kept on writing while my editor worked through the process of getting the license to use Beatrix's creatures.

According to my logbook, the first day of writing was January 7, the last day was March 25--about 11 weeks. Of that eleven weeks (77 days), I actually worked 71 days (the rest of the time I was lazy, or doing the laundry, which has a tendency to pile up when I'm writing, or chasing dogfur bunnies out from under the bed). Which averages out to 1200+ words a day, counting all revisions. The manuscript went to New York at the end of March 03, but got hung up in England, where Beatrix's editors had to read and approve it. That delay caused us to miss our original pub date (July 04) and it was October 04 before it came out. By that time, the second book in the series, The Tale of Holly How, was already finished, for publication in July 05.

It's nearly nine in the morning and I need to get going on the book (I'm working on The Tale of Hawthorn House, #4 in the series). I'd like to think more about this question and come back to it later. Many thanks, Dani, for prompting me to pull this process out of the memory banks and get it into print!

In bloom this week: Poliomentha longiflora, Mexican oregano, for those of you who don't care about the writing process (that's perfectly okay--to each her own) and want to see a pretty blossom.

Reading note. "The word processor enables one to concentrate exponentially; you have absolute command of the entire novel all at once. You can go back and reference and change and fix ... so in a way, all novels written on the bubble machine ought to be perfect novels."--Stanley Elkins (gleaned from Garrison Keillor's The Writer's Almanac for June 14, 2006)

real books

I spent most of the day in Austin (Story Circle Reading Circle today--Lucy Grealy's memoir, Autobiography of a Face). Did some shopping (new rugs for the new floors, a new bed for Zach, our black Lab, groceries). Got home tired and hot, to find that Fed Ex had left a small package of books from my editor: advance copies of the new Cottage Tales hardcover release (Book 3) and the paperback of Holly How (Book 2).

Real books at last, as opposed to text on the computer monitor, and  manuscript, and page proofs, and advanced reading copies. Real books, that arise from the research and reading and crazy ideas that a writer carries around in her head and the prickles that rise on the back of her neck when she feels that yes, this is right, this is exactly it. I've been here, done this before, but that doesn't matter. Each time I pick up a new book and hold it in my hands and turn the pages and feel the stiff binding and smell the new ink is like the first time. I am never not amazed, never not thrilled. It's magical, like knitting a sock, and actually managing to turn the heel. It's like reaching out to take your first baby in your arms, not quite believing that it's finally happened. You say, Did I do that? How did I do that?

It's a moment you'd like to hold onto forever.

Reading note. "For several days after my first book was published I carried it about in my pocket, and took surreptitious peeks at it to make sure the ink had not faded."--J.M. Barrie

for the birds

This, from my brother John Webber, who lives in Florida:

You have your pets, we have ours. This shows 3/4 of our crane family (papa is off camera). Mama is in the middle, flanked by the kids. When we first saw this pair, they were golden balls of fluff. They're now flying, and we saw them attempt their first wobbly practice flights out by the pond. These must have been vigilant (and lucky) parents. In our seven years here, this is the first pair of chicks (generally, these sand hills lay only one or two eggs) we've seen survive to this stage. Couple of times racoons or foxes got the eggs from nesting pairs before they even hatched. It's been a treat watching them grow.

Reading note. The great hurrah about wild animals is that they exist at all, and the greater hurrah is the actual moment of seeing them. Because they have a nice dignity, and prefer to have nothing to do with me, not even as the simple objects of my vision. they show me by their very wariness what a prize it is simply to open my eyes and behold.--Annie Dillard, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek