Enough cheesecake, chocolate-covered pretzels, fruit, wine and cheese and crackers to feed an army...People crammed into a bookstore like they were thirteen-year olds waiting for Justin Bieber to relieve himself in an alley...Two editors-extraordinaire and one bookstore owner (along with her "bartender" husband)...A hundred or so of readers and writers...Put all of those together and you come up with a winning combination.
A book launch for two collections, Not Your Mother's Book...On Family and Not Your Mother's Book...On Being a Mom was held this week, hosted by Robin Theiss at her shop, Stl Books. Dianna Graveman and Linda O'Connell, after completing months and months (and years) of editing work, were finally able to let their breath out and celebrate.
One of the writers who was part of the celebration was Verna Simms. Verna's 93, still kickin' as an author, and just recently had a novel published. She was having such a good time at the book signing, she had to be taken out in handcuffs convinced it was getting late before she agreed to head home.
So, if you're assuming you're too old to write a book, think of Verna. If you're figuring you don't have a chance of getting published, think of Verna. If you're sure you're past your prime, think of Verna...
And reach out towards your goals.
We don't usually get satellite/cable channels, but now, we do...courtesy of our dog Foley.
We now have our own furry, four-legged satellite dish. Point him in one direction, and you get HBO. You want Showtime? Shift him into another direction. Oh, you're in the mood for a little wife-murdering-her-no-good-husband? Turn Foley this way for the Lifetime Movie Network...
Foley has two hot spots--places he's licked raw--so he now has to wear the Cone of Shame until those spots heal.
And in case you're thinking that the cone of shame has sucked up some of his precious brain cells (and you've jumped to the conclusion he's not the smartest dog, which would make you correct), if you're concerned that he's depressed because of this new accessory he's sporting, forgeddabowdit. This is Foley's normal facial expression...
As Foley travels from spot to spot in our house, trying to find a place where he can lessen his embarrassment, some local St. Louis writers will be spotted as they sign the Not Your Mother's Book...On Travel. When? Sunday, June 2 from 1-3. Where? Main Street Books in St. Charles, Missouri. Who? Terri Elders (the co-creator), Linda O'Connell, Sheree Nielsen, Greg Lamping, me and of course...You.
Wouldn't you like to support an independent book store and get the chance to rub shoulders with some local writers? (Linda O'Connell is nearing the "20" mark when it comes Chicken Soup stories, she's just finished her "Listen to Your Mother" international whirlwind tour, and she's waist-deep in her work as co-creator of one of Publishing Syndicate's anthologies. If you need to increase your luck in getting publishing, buying one of the books and getting it signed on Sunday will guarantee you greater writing success.)
So stop by on Sunday. And if your cable is acting up, come over to my house. Foley will be glad to help you tune into the channel of your choice...
 |
| photo by ladybugbkt |
This week at our writing critique meeting, one of the WWWPs had a problem. A sticky wicket was in her hands. She was faced with a dilemma.
One writing piece that could be sent--in its entirety--to a literary magazine (it was that mind-blowing) and then if she chooses to use her mental scissors and glue and red pen, she has at least two other pieces.
One is dark and delicious, like the Grimm brothers on crack? meth? loads of Nutella? and the other is frothy and feminine and sweet (but not even on the same continent as syrupy).
As writers, we need to get as much mileage as we can out of our writing. Not long ago I got my head caught in the sink at work (I was washing my hair, trying to save the $5 shampoo fee when I got my hair cut after work). True story. It was published by the Publishing Syndicate's Not Your Mother's Book On Being a Woman.
Because that story had a pathetic ending in real life (I ended up looking like Christopher Walken with $5 in his pocket) I rewrote it, with a horde of hunky firemen to finish up the story...Muuuuuch more satisfying...A happy ending. That story was published by Mozark Press (A Bad Hair Day).
To ensure you don't run out of gas, to make sure you don't sputter and shudder and have to pull off to the side when it comes to your writing, try to get the most mileage out of each piece. Rewrite it from a different perspective. Make a nonfiction piece fictional. Change it from prose to poetry.
Just keep moving forward with your writing...
I was working on a submission for Publishing Syndicate's NYMB's series today. (I have a day off from teaching today, due to having parent-teacher conferences this week, which means I have a four-day weekend. Ssssh! Don't tell Val. She will come to my house and poke holes in my tires with an out-of-ink pen.) I haven't done much dating in my life, but not wanting to miss a chance at increasing the number of publication notches on my belt, I thought, 'I miiiight have a story.'
 |
| photo by Jen ! |
It made me think of the song by The Cars:
Dance all night
play all day
don't let nothing get in the way.
(We have to allow nothing to prevent us from writing.)
Dance all night
keep the beat
don't you worry 'bout two left feet.
(Make sure your internal "editor" or your fear of having two left thumbs inhibit you.)
Dance all night
get real loose
you don't need no bad excuse.
(Let your writing flow. BIC--butt in chair. Get it down on paper, then you can work on refining it.
Dance all night
with anyone
Don't let nobody pick your fun.(Just do it. Do it by yourself. Do it for you.)
Dance all night
whirl your hair
make the night cats stop and stare.
(Wait. Have you seen my hair after an evening of writing? Scary, right? People utter the word "breathtaking" when they see me, but I also detect a sharp intake of air. What's up with that?)
Dance all night go to work
do the move with the quirky jerk.
(Take an occasional break from writing. Turn on some music. Loud music. (You'll see Cathy C. Hall's husband and me dancing. He might be a wicked-good dancer. I, on the other hand, will doing the "Elaine Benes.") Dance around. Get some circulation to other parts of your body besides your finger--like your butt--and then get back to writing.)
By shaking things up, I found I did indeed have a dating story. It's not so much about a date, but about nudging someone (my husband) into a first date. It's not a Chicken Soup story--they have a call out for dating stories as well--but its edginess would be right up NYMB's alley...at least I hope so.
In my story, I did something so embarrassing, I won't be able to reveal what I did until the end of the tale.
I hope I finish the story. I hope it's accepted. And I hope you will then be compelled to buy the book.
Until then, shake it up.
(By the way, I knew of this song, but was not sure of who did it and certainly did not know the lyrics by heart. I had to look it up online. Val the victorian would have known this song and could have quoted the lyrics from memory, I'm sure. Recently, I tried to stump her with some in-the-middle lyrics of a Leo Sayer song. Not his sappiest, and not his most well-known song. I thought I could stump her, but was unable to. If anyone thinks they can flummox her in the area of movies, TV shows or songs, please challenge her. She must be taken down a notch!)
