Lifescapes

chop wood carry water

Some things are good for our souls, some for our bodies, some for both. This is our annual wood-splitting weekend, where we tend soul and body together. Bill rented a wood splitter (beats the sledge and wedge he used to use!), and hauled it to the spot where he's been dumping the wood he's cut from the dead-and-down trees in our one-acre woodlot. It's a team effort: he loads the splitter, I operate it, we load the truck with the split wood, and stack it, some on the porch, some in the shed, some (a down-payment on next year's fires) in the open.

This is Bill, contemplating a sandwich, a beer, and the size of the job. What you can't see is another woodpile, even larger, on the other side of the truck. The wood is a mix of oak, cedar, elm, hackberry, and mesquite.

The Mitsubishi, a 1985 model that we've named Casper (remember the cartoon character, a gray ghost?), is our ranch truck. Not much fun on the freeway, but a heckuva workhorse. I drove it to Vancouver (alone) and back (with Bill) one year--now, THAT was a trip.

And this is the fruit of our labor, part of it, anyway. By this evening, the stack will run the full length of this wall. Our winters are typically mild enough so that we can heat the house with the fireplace, using the heater just to take the morning chill off.

I don't have Aldo Leopold's Sand County Almanac handy, but whenever we're splitting wood for the fireplace, I remember the passage where Leopold is cutting up a downed oak. The tree, he says, is "stored sunshine." And I think: each of these pieces of wood comes from a tree that lived for twenty, thirty, fifty, a hundred years--years of sunshine, rain, wind, storms. It gave refuge to birds and insects, offered its seeds to animals, gave its leaves to the soil. And now it gives its warmth--that stored sunshine, those pleasant rains, the gentle wind, the wild storms--to us.

Our earth is like that, isn't it? Such largess, such abundance, such generosity. If only we had the wisdom to use it more carefully.

Reading note: Before enlightenment, chop wood, carry water. After enlightenment, chop wood, carry water.--Zen saying

Mapping

I had fun yesterday, making a map. The Tale of Hawthorn House is finished. That is, the text is done and the book is in--although if you've been reading this blog, you know that there's still quite a lot of work to be done on it. The Cottage Tales are set in the Lake District, in the village of Near Sawrey, where Beatrix Potter lived. A big part of the enjoyment of writing the books, for me, comes from working with the real places and spaces, with Hill Top Farm, Anvil Cottage, the Tower Bank Arms, Tower Bank House, Courier Cottage--and all the other houses in the village and beyond.

Most of the places are very real--so real that they can be found on a map. So I wanted to include a map in each of the books. I asked Peggy Turchette (who has done covers for Books 2, 3, and 4) to do the art work for the maps, and she's done a lovely job. In the books, the maps are in black/white, but you can see them in color here: the map for The Tale of Hill Top Farm, for Holly How, and for Cuckoo Brow Wood. The maps bring the books to life for me, and I love looking at them.

So it was lots of fun to start work on the map for Hawthorn House. I haven't looked at the book in several months, so I used the cast of characters to jog my memory: it names the main characters and tells where they live. I used the map for Holly How as a guide, extended it (some of the action of the book takes place in Hawkshead and in a fictional house on the shore of Esthwaite Water), and made a list for Peggy of all the places that need to be located on the map and listed in the map's key. Just leafing through the book reminded me of the pleasure of writing it. The couple of hours this took just flew by, and when it was finished, I put my sketches and my list into an envelope and sent it off to Peggy. (I could have faxed it, but maps don't fax very well.) Peggy will do a pencil sketch, and then the ink drawing for the publisher's art director. Then she'll do a color map for me, and we'll put it online for you to enjoy, too.

I'm always surprised at the number of writing manuals that don't say much about place and setting: the environment that surrounds and holds and shapes the story. For me, the place where a story unfolds holds many of the keys to its conflicts and resolutions, to the way people feel toward one another, to their dreams and fears. We miss so much when we don't pay attention to place.

Today, back to Nightshade, with a renewed energy and a stronger sense of the continuing story, gained from having completed the copyedit for Dagger.

And lest you think I haven't been tending to my knitting, here's a pair of socks. Well, actually just one sock. I finished that one in July, and its mate last night. It's a Bernat sock yarn, and very easy to knit up. I especially like the way the heel turned out.

Reading Note: "If I were a place, I'd be Labrador: improbably, impossible, tempestuous, serene, thinly populated. I'd be smooth boulders carried by great rivers of ice, plopped down at random, and balanced precariously against the odds of gravity for thousands of miles. I'd be spired mountains, crumbling ridgelines, and winds that literally make the water smoke. I'd be purple sunsets, bedrock that looks like marshmallows, and relentless green waves beating against the shore...." --Jill Fredston~

Writing books in a series

My son Michael emailed an interesting question the other day. (He lives in Juneau and has just bought a new house--congratulations, Michael!)

Re: my post about revising a finished series book when the next book is still in progress, he says: <<It's pretty nifty that you can make corrections to Dagger while working on Nightshade.  I am curious as to whether the impact of that ability is new to you, or if you've previously considered the possibility of being able to revise a "done" book to suit current projects?>>

Well, yes, it is sort of new, Michael. I've chained some plots previously: Love Lies Bleeding, Chile Death, and Lavender Lies are connected, but the plot ties were simpler and I didn't need to do much revision. The plot that connects Dagger and Nightshade is more complex, and the relationships are more complicated--so I've thought about it more, and the thinking has resulted in some changes. They're significant, but fairly short and very localized (in only three scenes), so it hasn't been hard to make them.

I can make these changes because of the way the writing and the production calendars interface. The DAGGER manuscript was due in March 2006, so the copyedit comes in October, the galleys in January, and the book itself in April 2007. NIGHTSHADE is on the same schedule. The manuscript isn't due until March 2007, but I like to get the books done early. I'm working on it now, expecting to finish it by Christmas. So I'm writing NIGHTSHADE while DAGGER is still in the early stages of the publisher's production cycle. If I waited until after Christmas to begin it, with the aim of just meeting the deadline, I would miss the chance to make changes in the previous book, which is still in production. (Actually, I don't do the book early for that reason: I do it to give me some slack in case of an emergency.)

The moral of the story is that a book is never really finished. The writer just runs out of time.

Reading note: To be a writer is to throw away a great deal, not to be satisfied, to type again, and then again and once more, and over and over.--John Hersey

Copyedit weekend

It's that time again. The copyedited manuscript of Spanish Dagger arrived on Friday, so you can guess how I'm spending the weekend.

Actually, I am very glad to see it, because I'm already half-way through the next book, Nightshade, and some of the things I've come up with for that book require changes in Dagger. I've posted before about the book-bridging plots in the China Bayles series: stories that link two or sometimes three books. I like this story-telling strategy very much, but it's a lot more difficult than writing a book in which everything is wrapped up neatly in the end. The continuing plot-lines I'm working on here (China's father, Miles' story) require me to check what I've done in Nightshade against what I did in Dagger and Hearts. Keeping everything straight is something of a challenge.

So I'm grateful that the copyedit arrived when it did. I'm also glad to see that the book is fairly clean (not very many silly errors)--clean enough so that I can actually enjoy reading it. The copyeditor and I mostly see eye-to-eye, with the exception of a slight difference of opinion over the possessive form of the name Miles. The Chicago Manual of Style says either Miles' or Miles's is correct. The copyeditor prefers Miles's. I prefer Miles' (for simplicity, and because about half of the following nouns begin with s). It's a small matter, really.

A larger problem. Our lab, Lady, had to have a couple of what we fondly called her "old dog bumps" removed yesterday--turns out that they aren't as benign as we thought. The surgery was pretty extensive and we're not sure yet about the prognosis. She's not licking the incisions (yet), so I haven't put the awful lampshade collar on her (yet). But she's anxious and fretful, in spite of the pain medication. So while I'm reading Dagger and keeping an ear cocked to make sure she doesn't start licking, Lady is trying to get comfortable in her bed in my office. 10-14 days until the stitches come out. It's going to be a looong two weeks.

Yesterday: the garden club in Dallas. A terrific audience, full house, great fun--and we sold over $1000 worth of books as a benefit for Story Circle! Thanks to all who made the event possible, and especially to Jane. I even enjoyed the drive there and back, although I left the current knitting pattern at the motel. (No, Housekeeping hadn't found it when I called the motel this morning.) How many times have I done this? Hiss boo. Now I have to wing the rest of the hat. Oh, well. Won't be the first time. And at least I didn't leave the yarn or the needles.

Reading note: Knitting is a human activity. It's okay if it looks like a human did it.--At Knit's End: Meditations for Women Who Knit Too Much, by Stephanie Pearl-McPhee

Cozy Library

In the fifteen years I've been writing mysteries for adults, I've seen a great many changes--not just in the books but in the book business. One of the things I've noticed has been the enormous growth in what are known as "cozies": mysteries that feature an amateur detective, are set in a domestic (often small town or rural) environment, usually do not involve "stranger crime" (that is, the villain is known to most of the characters) revolve around relationship issues, focus on characterization, tie up all the loose ends, and don't engage in a great deal of bloody violence, kinky sex, or bad words. Some cozies are edgier than others (China's mysteries, for example, don't always tie up the loose ends and the characters have been known to use bad words from time to time). But most cozies aren't especially "thrilling." They are . . . well, cozy. Comfortable. Friendly.

And now comes Cozy Library, a very fine website focussing on cozies, written and compiled by Diana Vickery. The website offers the usual reviews, author links, a super list of author blogs--lots of good stuff. But it's the monthly newsletter that has caught my attention, because it does not offer the usual stuff. Diana does the unexpected. In the October issue, there's a fascinating article about a start-up press that is re-publishing out-of-print mystery titles. The article is comprehensive, deeply researched, and very well written. The August issue featured one of the most informative essays on the mystery market that I have read lately, plus a short piece on "continuous partial attention" (with links to background reading) that taught me something important about the way I function. Like you, I get a lot of stuff in my mailbox, but I always take the time to dig into Diana Vickery's newsletter. It's always worth the effort. Thanks, Diana, for putting together something that dignifies and lends stature to a kind of mystery (the cozy) that is often thought of slightingly.

Yesterday, back to the writing, with pleasure--1500 words. Yesterday evening a cold front roared through, with high winds, lightning, and a possible tornado. It was a chance to go through our tornado drill again: getting the dogs and cats and ourselves to the shelter (not an easy thing!). But the worst of the storm missed us by a few miles, so all is well. Today, it's really feeling like fall, with gray skies and temps in the 50s. I'm off to Dallas to talk to a garden club. (I didn't post it, because the session isn't open to the public.) Saturday, back to the writing again, and looking forward to it.

Reading note: "You know, you don't always have a choice of what you're going to write. You're not a cow that can give cream with one udder and milk with another."--Bruce Duffy

Still catching up

This is a short blog post, just to see if my new computer does any better at uploading blog photos than my old one. Here goes. This is a test test test test...

Hey, yes, much faster! I am thrilled, down to the tips of my fingers. And really, you have no idea how complicated the conversion was, and how delighted I am to have all my cookies, favorites, address book, and etc, all up and working just the same (only better, faster) as before. I am a happy camper this morning.

I am also happy because the sunflowers are blooming, so many golden suns generously gilding the meadow. And because Mary Oliver's new book, Thirst, arrived in yesterday's mail. I am joyfully reading a single poem at a time, savoring every moment.

Reading Note: from "Messenger," by Mary Oliver:

My work is loving the world.
Here the sunflowers, there the hummingbird--
    equal seekers of sweetness.

on the road again

                                                                                                                                                                  

I did a mini-tour this weekend. Thursday night was a signing at Murder by the Book in Houston (one of the best mystery bookstores in the country, staffed by wonderful people who really care about books. I talked about mystery "companions" (need to blog on that topic), of which DAYS is one, handed out the missing page (blush), and chatted with the nice folks who braved the Houston traffic and a Houston rainstorm to come out and get their books. On Friday, I talked to the "Keep Pearland Beautiful" lunch bunch--something like 110 of them! GFI Books, in Pearland, sold books, and we were nicely busy before and after, at the book table. On Friday evening, back to MBB to celebrate the 20th birthday of Sisters in Crime. On Saturday, to the Hill Country Bookstore on the square in Georgetown, for a signing. This is the fun part of the business, and a great reward for the hours spent all alone in front of the computer!

The trip was complicated, of course. (Aren't they all?) We dropped off our three dogs (two Labs and a heeler) at the vet clinic for their routine stuff. Maybe you can guess what a circus that was--just getting all three into the van and out of it, into the clinic and out, into the van and home again. (We have one of those Honda Elements, the boxy looking things you see truckin' on down the highway. It's great for hauling dogs.) We also spent time with Bill's mom in her nursing home in Houston. Altogether, a hectic few days.

Now, back to work. Maybe, in the next couple of days, I'll get to work on my new computer. The one I've got now just doesn't have enough CPU (brain power) to handle everything I ask it to do. So we got one with two CPUs, which (as Bill explained to me) is like having two brains. That should be better, shouldn't it? Shouldn't it? Bill has been working for days to get this monster brain set up, get the anti-virus working, get the updates downloaded, and invest it with my essential stuff (cookies, favorites, address book, email). And all this on dial-up, which as some of you know, is completely and totally impossible. Installing a new computer in the family is of the same degree of difficulty as adopting two-year-old triplets. I am enormously grateful to Bill, who exhibits an extraordinary patience when it comes to dealing with bits, bytes, and big bad machines.

Reading Note: The sum which two married people owe to one another defies calculation. It is an infinite debt, which can only be discharged through all eternity.--Johann Wolfgang Goethe

Frostweed: In bloom this week

The frostweed (Verbesina virginica) is in bloom this week, its lacy frills decorating the creek and the edges of the woodlot. It's a tall plant, in some places nearly five feet high, and it might be a little too lanky for the garden. But viewed close up, the blossoms are as pretty as anything you'll see in the flower shop, don't you think? The two-inch rain we had yesterday (incredible and wonderful) washed all the dust and pollen from the petals, leaving the complex, intricate blossoms white and clean. Just before I took this photo a Monarch happened by, and afterward, a pair of bees. The nectar must be luscious and the scent irresistible, for nearly every flower clump hosts passing pollinators.

This little corner of the world is very beautiful today, with the afternoon sunlight silvering the woods, the Monarchs flitting through the sunbeams on their way south, and the clouds piling up to the north, heralding the first serious cold front of the autumn. So I think of the butterflies heading to Mexico, just ahead of the Arctic air pushing south, and the moisture from El Nino flooding east and north from the Pacific Ocean, making yesterday's rain happen in a world where everything is connected to everything else.

Tomorrow, Bill and I will be driving to Houston. If you're in the neighborhood of Murder by the Book either Thursday night or Friday night, do drop in and say hi. Friday night, we're having a Sisters in Crime birthday party, and some of your favorite Texas authors will be there. Friday, lunch in Pearland, and Saturday, back to Georgetown for a signing. No rest for the wicked.

Reading note. Every thread you discover in the local web of leife leads beyond your place to life elsewhere.--Writing from the Center, Scott Russell Sanders

in bloom this week: sedum

"Autumn Joy," this is--and one of the great joys of autumn in my garden. It's drought-resistant, practically xeriscapic here in the Hill Country. The rabbits (who drop in frequently to annoy the cat) love to nibble the parsley that grows next to this clump of sedum, but the sedum they leave alone. A pity (for them--personally, I'm pleased that they ignore it), since the sedum might cure a bunny ailment or two.

The German herbalist Tragus recommended the root: 'used outwardly to cool inflammations upon any hurt or wound, and easeth the pain of them; as also to heal scaldings and burnings, the juice thereof being beaten with some green salad oil and anointed."

He was also fond of the leaf, which had an ancient reputation as a wound-wort: "The leaf bruised and laid to any green wound in the head or legs doth heal them quickly, and being bound to the throat cureth the quinsy; and it reduceth ruptures." And for a sore throat: "If you make the juice into a syrup with honey or sugar, you may safely take a spoonful or two at a time for sore throat and quinsy." For more lore, try Mrs. Grieve. And for a quick look at some of the science behind the traditional medicine, go here.

I finished packing DAYS yesterday afternoon (all except for your 10 copies, Patricia--we're waiting on the new order), and took the rest of the day off to make some herbal vinegar. Bill has loaded the books into the car already, although tomorrow is a postal holiday (yes, another one!), so they won't go out until Tuesday morning. If you're in the Houston area, listen up: I'll be at MBB (see Events) both Thursday and Friday nights, and at a lunch in Pearland on Friday. Georgetown? That's Saturday. And if you live in Austin, come on up. It's Market Day on the Georgetown Square, which is always a hoot.

Reading note. As with so many of the sensations we adore, leaf colors don't have any special purpose. We've evolved a response to beauty and fall leaves sizzle with the flames of sunset, sparkle of spring flowers, or shuddering pink of a blush.... It's just one of the haphazard marvels the planet dishes out every year.--Diane Ackerman, Cultivating Delight: A Natural History of My Garden

how to read 2

Hey, they're here! Our FedEx guy came around noon, so yesterday was sign-and-pack day. This morning, Bill (bless him) toted 10 crates of books to the post office. Mark opened up our little post office a half-hour early, so other folks would have to wait while he processed the books. So the first big shipment is out of here. More in the works today. The weekend's coming, which will slow things down a bit, but by Monday, all the advance orders will be filled. Yippee! (You'd get a pic, but the camera's in-op.)

On the "how to read" Days issue from yesterday, here's another thought. When I wrote this book, I wanted to give it some continuities and patterns. If you'll look in the "Special Features" index on p. 383, you'll see these listed. There are entries on the 14 published mysteries (through Bleeding Hearts). There are 14 entries from my journal and from this blog. Pecan Springs is represented through the Myra Merryweather Herb Guild, and there are 9 pages on "Places To Go"--herb farms/ shops. There are 12 entries about the Celtic trees (yes, some herbs are trees!) and 12 on herbs that have been traditionally related to the zodiac. (Ruby helped with this stuff, of course.)

So another (and I hope interesting) way to read this book is to choose one of these special features and read those entries sequentially. That would certainly make sense with the tree months and the zodiac herbs. Try that and see what you think. There's also a recipe and a medicinal/craft index--hope you find that helpful.

Reading note. After ecstasy, the laundry.--Zen saying