The Zepherin Drouhin draping pink blossoms across the trellis. The patch of coreopsis, bright as spilled sunshine, along the creek. The last of the bluebonnets, brave and tall among the grass. A shaft of morning sun lying across the meadow wet with diamond dew, and the delight of the dogs as they race through it, showering themselves and me with drops of pure crystal. A single purple martin looping elegantly against a bright blue sky, a Cooper's hawk swooping low, an Inca dove perched on a wire, singing his dawn song, low and throaty. A trio of flashy bluegills in the creek, and a large, mossy-backed turtle. Things I saw when I was out with the dogs this morning, just as the sun came up. A spring day here in the Hill Country, nothing special, nothing exciting or thrilling, just simple lovelies.
Last night, one last gig for Dagger, with romance author Evelyn Palfrey at Borders new store in Austin. It was a nice turnout (thanks to Toni Packard of the local Sisters in Crime, who got us together and publicized the event, along with other Texas Mystery Week activities), but Borders is going to have to relocate its speaking/signing area before I'm willing to go back. We were right next to the coffee bar. Hard to be heard over the various machines (grinders, whippers, blenders), not to mention the conversation and music.
Today, a few things to do for next month's conference, including some program reorganization. One of our presenters (the only guy, unfortunately) has disappeared (do you suppose being the only guy had anything to do with it?). As a substitute for him, I'll be offering a workshop called "Personal Maps and the Meaning of Place." (To read the description, hit the link, scroll down to the 3:15 slot and click on the title.) This is something new for me--a bit of my own personal exploration of place--and I'm looking forward to it. To the whole conference, as a matter of fact. I'm excited about meeting Kathleen Moore, our keynoter. And in my field-writing session, we'll go to the little town of Gruene, south of San Marcos, where we'll eat some good Texas food, then do some thinking and writing about place, authenticity, fantasy, and commercialism. (Questions: How do we feel about a place that tries to look "historical" in order to persuade us to spend money? When does a town stop being a town and become a theme park? Not to denigrate Gruene: it's a lovely place and an interesting experience, and I've spent some memorable nights (and wee morning hours) boogying in the dance hall there. But it's also a good place to raise questions like these.)
The writing didn't go very well today. I got sidetracked with conference stuff, then spent too much time reworking material I've already reworked a couple of times, instead of moving the story forward. Tomorrow will be better. Tomorrow, I'm going to skip ahead and write a chapter with Bosworth Badger, who is one of my very favorite characters. It's a chapter that will require me to develop some backstory, and that should help get me going.
Tonight, I'm reading Sue Bender's Plain and Simple, for next Monday's Story Circle reading circle.
Reading note. When you write, you lay out a line of words. The line of words is a miner's pick, a woodcarver's gouge, a surgeon's probe. You wield it, and it digs a path you follow. Soon you find yourself deep in new territory. [This is only the way it's supposed to work. Doesn't always. Some days you are stuck in old territory.] Is it a dead end, or have you located the real subject? You will know tomorrow, or this time next year.--Annie Dillard