Working Stiffs Making Excuses

I'm over at Working Stiffs again today, making excuses for why I don't think I'll have my first draft finished by my self-imposed deadline. Are you good at making excuses? We writers are always looking for new ones to use. Come on over and share you best with us.

Officially Off the Hook

Nowhere is it written that as 2009 Pennwriters conference coordinator, I am responsible for making sure there is a 2011 Pennwriters conference coordinator. They can’t make me do it again if I don’t find someone else to fill the position.

Yet, I am thrilled to announce that Pennwriters does indeed have a 2011 conference coordinator who is NOT me. The job has been accepted by a fellow local writer who is more than capable of completing the task: Meredith Cohen.

I joined Meredith last week for lunch at the Marriott with Michelle, who is charge of the hotel’s end of things. The dates have been set. All is in order.

And I am free!

Of course, I already was, but now it’s official.

I am taking on a new role in the Pennwriters conference planning world. I am now “Conference Yoda.” I created the title myself. Basically, I intend to sit in my cave in my swamp and offer suggestions and advice and answer questions.

Meredith likes the idea. As long as I don’t start talking like Yoda. I think I can handle that. At least until the next time I watch one of the Star Wars movies.

A Garden Plot

Vegetable gardens have always been a part of my life. I remember my grandma’s garden on the farm. It was huge. The plot of rich black soil was enclosed by chicken wire with a wood picket gate. That fence was supposed to keep out the rabbits. I suspect it was also aimed at keeping out small, unsupervised grandchildren.

Within that fence, Grandma grew lettuce, carrots, beets, beans, cabbage, peppers, tomatoes, cucumbers, and lots of onions. Around the perimeter, rhubarb, horseradish, and dill thrived. This was the kitchen garden. Separate patches were set aside for sweet corn, more tomatoes, and more cucumbers. Plus there was a large potato patch. Back in those days, that bounty fed the family all winter. The root cellar held the potatoes and onions (and apples from the orchard!). Grandma pickled the beets and cucumbers and canned tomato juice and green beans. Cabbage became sauerkraut.

And, oh, the horseradish! I weep just thinking about it. Really. Weep.

My folks had a good sized garden, too. Over the years, it shrunk in size as Dad’s health failed and he could no longer keep it up. But I have fond memories of the sweet corn. Mom would put a pot of water on the stove. Dad would pick the ears and husk them. By then, the water was coming to a boil just in time to drop the fresh picked ears into it. It doesn’t get any fresher (or sweeter) than that.

We started a vegetable garden in our backyard as soon as we built our house. Nothing nearly as big or elaborate as the gardens of my past. We’ve grown different crops, some more successfully than others.

In recent years, the local wildlife has reaped more of our harvest than we have. And weeds have frequently choked out the plants. You see, gardening takes some time and effort. For a while, I was dealing with my dad’s failing health. Then my mom had a couple of rough years. Hubby has always been good about tilling the garden in the spring and planting seeds and tomato and pepper plants. But he doesn’t weed. Never has. Never will. He’s tried newspaper and grass clippings. He’s tried black plastic.

This year, it’s black cloth. Plus, with Mom in better health, the conference behind me, and no more evening yoga classes, I’ve spent more time in our garden than I have the last four years combined.

We have electric fence to deter bunnies and groundhogs.

I’m on duty, battling the weeds. From the pictures, you can see, I’m not winning the war, but I’m at least holding my own.

Already, we had a decent harvest of radishes. Those are done now. Currently, we’re dining on lettuce and onions. I had a fresh beet for dinner the other night and sautéed the greens with a fresh zucchini and one of the onions.

The carrots have a ways to go yet. I expect to harvest my first cucumber within a week. The beans aren’t ready yet, but the peppers are starting to come on.

As for tomatoes, if you look close, the first one is there!

It might be ripe by Halloween.

I love to hear about city residents turning vacant lots into community gardens. The stuff you pick and eat in the same day is so much better than the freshest produce you find in the stores. And I admire Michelle Obama for planting a vegetable garden at the White House.

With the family farm on the brink of extinction, it’s nice to know the family vegetable garden is making a comeback.

Editing, editing, and more editing

Remember that 9,000 word short story that I had to whittle down to 4,000 words? If not (and if you even care), click here for a reminder.

Well, it’s still in the running. Three weeks ago, I received a letter of requested revisions from the anthology’s editor. Of course, three weeks ago, I was on a roll with my novel, so I put off the revisions for a little while.

Granted, I had that letter and the comments bouncing around inside my head. Finally, I sat down during our vacation to give the story a serious once over. Some of the changes were easy. A few took more thought.

This is my first REAL editing letter. I’ve made tons of revisions to projects based on critique group comments. With those, I always have the option of vetoing the other person’s opinion if it doesn’t mesh with my own. But I’ve always said if someone who is in the business of helping me make money on my work wants something changed, dagnabbit, I will change it. Jump? How high?

However…

There’s also the little matter of making the changes sound like they still came from me. If you’re going to stick putty in a crack, it better match.

Sorry. We still have that bathroom remodeling thing going on around here.

Anyhow, I think I’ve got it licked. The edits are due next Friday, but I never let these things go until the last minute. So I’ll give my revised story a few days to rest before I take another look at it. If it still sounds good, off it will go.

While I have a long way to go to reach THIS point, here’s a little ditty about these editing letters. Enjoy!

My Town...

...sort of.

We finally pulled off a relaxing vacation without the usual rain. I'm over at Working Stiffs today blogging about my second home: "my town" of Confluence.

Working Stiffs Wednesday

As I write this, I'm sitting in the lobby at our local hospital waiting for my hubby who is having a test for no other reason than he's reached "a certain age." Meanwhile, having watched him go through the preparation for it, I've decided to put a freeze on my aging. Click on over to Working Stiffs for a discussion on The Joys of Aging.

Rainy Daycation

We took a day trip (I think the new term is daycation) to Presque Isle on Saturday. Apparently, we have as much luck with daycations as we do with vacations.

It rained.

I packed a picnic lunch. We ate it under a pavilion near the beach. It was cold and wet and windy. Instead of potato salad, I should have brought a Thermos of potato soup.

I managed to run out onto the beach to snap a couple of pictures. This first one shows the gray and the fog. It also shows we weren’t the only optimistic fools heading to the lake for the day.

Here’s a quick shot of the windmill. Quick because my camera was getting wet.


I would have taken more pictures, but the longer we stayed, the harder it rained. We gave up and drove home.

Today, I have lots of work planned. Did I mention it’s sunny and warm?