Lifescapes

I'm a fan!

Stephanie Pearl-McPhee is even funnier and cuter and more clever in person than she is in her books and on her blog. She's not only funny and cute and clever in her prepared talk (which actually sounds as if she's making it up on the spot) but also in the Q&A, where questions have to be fielded on the fly, which means that you definitely cannot fake it. I don't say this often, but I'm saying it here and now: this gal has a gift. A big, big gift. Next thing we know, we'll be cheering her on her own syndicated TV show. Move over, Martha Stewart. Here comes The Harlot!

All that enchanted listening for an hour, and then my handspun green sock got to meet her blue sock (actually, as you can see in the photo, they got to lie side-by-side in something approaching woolly intimacy), while I gave her a copy of Indigo Dying (China's spinning-and-dyeing mystery, the one that started me down the slippery slope to full-scale fiber addiction) and she signed my copy of Knitting Rules. There was a great crowd of happy knitters in the church, and a long line of sweaty but devoted fans waiting for her signature. And for her next book, which she says will be out in the spring. When asked what it was about, she'd only say "Knitting." Yeah! Can't wait.

Reading notes. "You know you knit too much when you are at the video store renting a movie and reject a film with subtitles because the project you are knitting has a chart. Evrybody knows that you can't read subtitles if you are already reading a chart."--Stephanie Pearl-McPhee, At Knit's End: Meditations for Women Who Knit Too Much

There!

It's done! Finished the book yesterday and sent it out out this morning, bound for New York and Natalee's desk. Whew.

I felt so guilty for neglecting my amazon blog that I rushed over there yesterday, in a celebratory mood, and posted some thoughts about getting the book done, plus a few observations about narrators and story-telling that might interest you. And then I did a load of laundry, swept up a couple of gallons of dog hair off the floor, made myself a plate of sushi, and drank two glasses of wine. Wheeeeee. But I was sober enough to spin a spindle of sock yarn so I'll have something to knit with on Saturday, when I go to hear our Harlot. And I watched The Quiz Show, which is one of my all-time favorite films.

I was thinking of taking today off, but a box of advance readers' copies (ARC) of Book of Days was waiting for me when I got back from taking the manuscript to the Post Office this morning. I spent 10 minutes ooh-ing and ah-ing over Peggy Turchette's art and then got busy and packaged up the copies that need to go to people who were somehow involved in the book. The goofy art placements I complained about yesterday aren't in the ARCs, because these were produced from a prior version of the text. (That's not to say there aren't errors: that's why it says on the cover "Uncorrected Proofs.")

Not a really good photo, but it'll give you an idea. Anyway, I'm happy.

Maybe I'll take tomorrow off and wash my floors.

Did I mention that I get to hear our Harlot on Saturday?

Did I also mention that Bill is in New Mexico? Which is why I get to do all this celebrating by myself.

Reading note. "Why do you write?" an author was asked at a cocktail party. "I don't have anything better to do," she replied.--in For Writers Only, by Sophy Burnham.

Nearly there

You probably know that I'm a big fan of Yarn Harlot, who has another name--let's see, Stephi something. Oh, yes, Stephanie Pearl-McPhee. I howled at one of her recent blog posts, "Easy as Pie." Go read it and then come back, because I have something to add.

Wasn't that a good one? True, too. And I love her quotes, especially Parker's "I love having written." Today I love having written. Today (the minute I finish this post) I am going to print out the manuscript of HAWTHORN HOUSE (that's the fourth Beatrix book, if you're keeping track) and tomorrow I am going to send it off to New York. This is definitely a good feeling.

Yesterday at this time, I was not feeling so good. The page-proof goddess had a change of heart, and instead of sending me all 300+ pages of DAYS, sent me only the 50 pages with the art spots. Turns out that production is running behind schedule (waaay behind) and there wasn't time for me to read everything. (They are going to the printer TODAY, for Pete's sake!) They didn't even have time to mail me the 50 pages, so they scanned them into PDF files and emailed them. Amazing.

Disconcerting, too, because there were some really gory screw-ups. Like a drawing of holly (a Christian symbol, eh?) on a page about the Buddha and the Bo tree. A cute drawing of a mustard pot on a page about quinine. Dill on the tarragon page, cactus on the iced tea page, and etc. Like, what were they thinking? If those things had sneaked into the book--

No. I refuse to even think about it. I will not imagine what that reviewer in Madison would say--the garden editor who wrote in her review that Susan Albert is definitely a "non-gardener" because the HEARTS cover artist drew a different variety of bleeding hearts than the one mentioned in the first chapter (like the author has any control over the cover). I will not think what that person would say if she saw a drawing of dill on the tarragon page, or quinine and mustard. I will not go there.

I hope I straightened out those various and hilarious mis-matches. Oh, lordy, I hope I didn't miss one. I hope they (the elves in charge of book production) make all the changes I screamed about in my email yesterday afternoon. (Yes, you can scream in an email. In caps. Even to elves.)

But I can't help wondering what other glitches there are on the 250+ pages I didn't see. Did the elves switch paragraphs, move quotes, correct typos, amend Latin spellings, alter the order of items in lists--all those problems I spent nearly a week fixing on the copy-edited manuscript? Is it okay? How can I know?

But not to worry. We'll all know whether that stuff got fixed when the book comes out in October. I know you will, anyway, being the sharp-eyed readers that you are, bless your hearts.

So to YH's very true observation that "the more I write the more I worry," please add, "And having written, I will worry about the copy-edit, the page proofs, the cover art, the jacket copy, the galleys, the print run, the shipping figures, the sell-through, the reviewers, the readers, and the royalty statements." I know I've left something out.

While I am worrying, I will print my manuscript, and worry whether there's enough toner to finish the job.

And if you see Stephi before I do (in Austin, on Saturday), please tell her I am bringing her a book: INDIGO DYING (one of my favorites), so she has something else to do on the plane besides knit. Oh, and my sock, for a picture. Tell her I love her.

Reading note. "Every book is the wreck of a perfect idea."--Iris Murdoch

AOL "issues"

If you're an AOL user and you've subscribed to this blog through Feedblitz, please read this. (If you're not, scroll down and look at the picture while we discuss a bit of a problem.) AOL may be bouncing your notification emails, so you don't know that the blog has been updated. Feedblitz is working on AOL's "issue," which is between Feedblitz and AOL (not between Lifescapes and Feedblitz). Once I get the current book finished, I'll see if I can add a few more subscriber options to the blog. In the meantime, please be sure that you have added [email protected] to your permitted senders list (your "whitelist," as it is called these days), and check back here for updates.

Reading note, from the Feedblitz blog on their problems with AOL: "It is what it is and the proverbial something must be done." (Have you noticed how often the phrase "It is what it is" pops up these days? There are some things--like the Middle East, and the current heat wave--for which this is a perfect description. It is what it is and whining won't change it.)

Now, to happier things. This is Mexican turks-cap (Malvaviscus arboreus), except that it is not as pendant as other turks-caps, and I can't tell you what variety it is. More here. It grows under our cedar trees, in very dry shade. The red blossoms are like rubies, or like frosting roses on cakes. The hummingbirds adore the nectar and will hover for long moments, sipping.

In bloom this week: sunflower

A vase of sunflowers on my desk brightens the whole room--much-needed sunshine on a day when I am untangling plot knots and other ugly messes. Ideas that seemed so clever a couple of weeks ago are now revealed as mere cheap tricks, and stylistic flourishes that I labored over strike me as the worst sort of showing off. That's what a little distance will do for you.

But I persevere, with the expectation of finishing by Tuesday or Wednesday, just in time to dig into the page proofs of Days that I'm told are coming. I'm taking tomorrow afternoon off, to sign Cuckoo Brow at the Hill Country Bookstore, which will be a lot of fun. I'll bring my sock-in-progress, so if you're coming, you can see how far I've gotten. Actually, I may have to bring my spindle, because I'll need another skein to finish the pair.

(And special thanks to those who have encouraged me to go to Yarn Harlot's book talk next Saturday. If I can go, I'll get a photo for you.)

Reading note. "Have you seen that portrait Gaugin did of me painting sunflowers? it was really I, but I gone mad."--Vincent Van Gogh

nantucket sock

In case you've been wondering whether there's anything in my life besides the current book (one more week, I hope!) and the latest blog (have you been over there yet?), the answer is socks.

The yarn is a handpainted merino superwash (Nantucket) fleece from Paradise Fibers, handspun on my favorite traveling spindle while I was at the Pennsylvania Lavender Festival a few weeks ago. At least, some was spun there. The rest was spun in my favorite non-traveling chair in my favorite living room, with a book propped up on the table beside my chair. I really enjoy blogs about traveling socks that go to see Martha Stewart or up a cherry tree or to a birthday party.

But the truth is that my underprivileged, undertraveled socks stay home, mostly, or ride in the car to dinner or the supermarket. That's because I stay home, mostly, especially during the summertime (it was 103 here yesterday). I went to the pasture to check on the cows' water, I went to the post office to pick up the mail, and I stopped at Carolyn's Market to pick up a quart of milk. Then home, where it's cool. Where I can write, read, blog, knit. And spin, when I've run out of yarn. My stash is rich, and I'm in no danger of running out of this fleece, at least for the next six months. And I'm loving this colorway. Makes me feel cool just to look at it.

Reading note. "We will never know whether knitters are addicted to yarn or to the act of knitting. To find out, we'd need to take someone's yarn away and see how she feels. I can't do that to another knitter. The ethical questions are too tricky."--from Knitting Rules, by Stephanie Pearl-McPhee, aka Yarn Harlot, who is (YAY!) coming to Hill Country Weavers in Austin on July 29. I've already got my seat reserved--but just watch: the page proofs of the Book of Days will arrive on Friday and be due back on Monday, and I won't be able to go. Grrr.

China's blog

If you're looking for China Bayles, you'll find her at the Pecan Springs Journal, along with Ruby and the rest of the Pecan Springs gang. They are posting every Monday morning (at least that's the plan). Drop on over and see what's going on.

Oh, and hey, a big Texas thanks to everyone who emailed encouragement and suggestions for the new blog. You guys are the greatest!

navajo tea

This pretty creature is blooming in an out-of-the-way place behind the old barn, near the lake. It is one of the several green-threads (Thelesperma sp.) that blossom here summer-long.

This wild herb was used to make a beverage and medicinal tea by several Southwest Native American tribes. The tea may be called Navajo Tea, Pueblo Tea, Zuni Tea, or Hopi Tea, depending on who's using it. Cota is one of the native names for the tea. "Green-thread" describes the thin, thread-like leaves. There are lots of variations in the flowers, depending on the particular species (the plant has a wide range), but it's the leaves that are distinctive.

The traditional method of preparing and bundling the harvested plant is described here. To make the tea, which tastes to me like a smoky green tea, the bundle is simmered in a couple of cups of water for 5 minutes. The tea is said to boost the immune system, soothe intestinal cramps, and calm indigestion. Some of the research suggests that it has one of the same active constituents (luteolin) as rosemary.

I've read that when Native Americans harvest this plant, they do it with reverence, gathering from the four directions (east, west, north, south) and giving thanks to Earth for her green gifts. I think about this as I snap a photo and say a quiet thank you for such beauty--for all the small beauties that that fill this landscape. Stones, leaves, seed pods, wisps of grass, shiny beetles and bright gold butterflies, a century-old cedar fence post wrapped with creeper and topped by a cheerful mockingbird--all at home here in this place, as am I.

Reading note. "In belonging to a landscape, one feels a rightness, at-homeness, a knitting of self and world...There is only one world, and we participate in it here and now, in our flesh and our place."--Scott Russell Sanders, Staying Put: Making A Home in a Restless World

murder-free mysteries?

Does every mystery have to include a murder? I've just posted some reflections on this question on my Amazon blog.

Reading note. "There simply must be a corpse in a detective novel, and the deader the corpse the better. No lesser crime than murder will suffice. Three hundred pages is far too much pother for a crime other than murder. After all, the reader's trouble and expenditure of energy must be rewarded."--S.S. Van Dine, creator of Philo Vance, 1928

in bloom this week: nightshade

I'm on the downhill slope with The Tale of Hawthorn House, which is my personal shorthand for doing the last edit. ("Last" before the book goes off to New York, that is.) I'm at the point where it's stopped being work and is (mostly) fun, since I've (mostly) solved the big problems.

So I'm thinking about the next project, Nightshade (#16 in the China Bayles series), which I'll start as soon as I've finished Hawthorn. Do you recognize the photo? My wildflower book identifies these beauties as the silver-leaf nightshade (Solanum elaeagnifolium) and tells me that the berries were used by Southwestern Indians to make cheese. Some of the fruits in the Solanaceae family (like the tomato, a cousin) are highly acidic, so that particular use makes sense to me. Wikipedia has some well-organized information. This is the third book in the trilogy that involves China's brother, and I pretty much know the main plot. Which is not to say I know everything. If I did, it wouldn't be any fun to write!

Reading note. "In a way nobody sees a flower--really--it is so small--we haven't the time--and to see takes time . . . So I said to myself--I'll paint what I see--what the flower is to me but I'll paint it big and they will be surprised into taking the time to look at it--I will make even busy New Yorkers take time to see what I see of a flower."--Georgia O'Keeffe