Journal Entries

I’ve been worried for weeks about a writer’s conference that I’ll be attending in Dallas tomorrow. It will involve switching planes, a layover in St. Louis, an airport shuttle, lack of sleep, new people to meet, intense workshops, and eventually a meeting with an editor to whom I will attempt to “pitch” my latest book. This is high adventure for a woman who lives on a gravel road. I am supposed to pack “business casual” clothes for the four days I’ll be there, as well as a nice dinner gown for the final evening ceremonies. This is a huge problem when my favorite ensemble consists of  jeans and worn flannel shirts picked up at the local thrift store. I think I might finally be almost ready for this conference, though. My daughters-in-law have helped with my wardrobe selection, my computer guru son designed and printed my business cards as well as designed my website, my MBA oldest son, who hires and fires people daily, counseled me on the fine art of interviews, my English major daughter-in-law went over my manuscript with a fine-toothed comb, and my beautician, who is also a writer, gave me an especially nice haircut. Obviously, it takes a village to […]

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It rained all night. Heavy, steady, ground-soaking rain. The kind of rain that loosens dirt and causes tree roots to lose their foothold and topple over onto electrical wires. That’s probably what happened during the night when I awoke to a no-electricity morning. This happens frequently in the country, and yet it is, somehow, always a big surprise to me. No lights? No morning radio? No shower? No coffee? I stumbled around in the pre-dawn darkness, half-asleep, flipping on one uncooperative light switch after another. My husband had awakened before me and was already in the kitchen, dressed and in his right mind, when I shuffled in. Kerosene lamps were lit and sitting on the counter, giving our kitchen a golden glow. I opened the outside door, hoping to let in the first rays of dawn, and found it was warm outside, pleasant enough to sit on the porch and watch the sun come up. Now it’s become just light enough to write the old-fashioned way—with pen and notebook while the rain plays against our tin roof.  I almost wonder if there is something wrong with me to harbor a secret hope that the electricity stays off awhile longer. I […]

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It’s taken awhile, but I think I can laugh about it now. ..kind of. My editor interview in Dallas did not go well. I was nervous and accidentally shifted into high gear. Miss Chatty Cathy–that’s me. I told that poor editor everything but my bra size. Those fifteen minutes were filled with more words than anyone could possibly comprehend. The very nice editor watched me with her mouth half opened, as though she simply couldn’t believe anyone could talk that much and that fast. I have a strong suspicion she took a couple of Excedrin after I left. It reminded me of a t-shirt I saw once with the words “Help! I’ve started talking and I can’t stop!” written on it. I should have worn that t-shirt to the interview. That’s the wonderful thing about writing. I can EDIT what I write. I stepped way out of my comfort zone when I walked into those interview rooms, I stumbled and tripped over my own tongue. I ended up feeling like a fool. But at least I did it. Maybe next time I’ll do a little better.

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