What is a "Shay"?

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. It was a time of indifference, it was a time of toilet paper hoarding...

I'm on spring break this week. Then, for the next two weeks (a minimum of two weeks), I'll be teaching via the internet.

The times, they are a' changin'. (Dickens and Dylan in the same post?)

I'm looking forward to getting some things done around the house, getting caught up on my "five a day" queries, and maybe even getting some gen-u-ine writing done. I submitted a Chicken Soup for the Soul story yesterday and earlier in the week I submitted a narrative poem to them (probably pointless).

image by Pixabay

At the end of the month I'll be facilitating a writing retreat. Facilitating is a loose term. I arranged for our accomodations. I sent a variety of irritating and mailbox-clogging emails. I'll arrange the group into small response groups. This time I will use bleach wipes several times a day to clean the door knobs and the light switches, and I'll wipe down the tables before we begin on Saturday morning. I'll close down our meeting hall on Sunday evening... and that's it.

On my most recent post at The Muffin, I mentioned some writing colleagues--writing folks who had helped me out. If you're curious about what (or who) a "Shay" is, or you're interested in who has helped me in my writing so you can slash their tires and make them promise to never ever help Sioux again, check out my post on the power of a word.

Stay safe and healthy. But don't be goin' crazy...

Sioux the Stalker

           Sometimes I stalk writers in person. When I saw him at a teacher's convention, I tried to kiss the big ring on John Reynolds Gardiner's hand like he was the Pope. I almost kneeled down. (Gardiner is the author of Stone Fox, a children's book that makes me cry every year when I use it in my class.)

       I've stalked publishers, via local authors. (Kristina Makansi--I'm talkin' 'bout you.) I've even stalked a friend who was plagued by postpartum depression. 

       Bloggers are the same. There are quite a few I follow. Many I love are loved by hordes of people. And others try to fly under the radar. Here are a few bloggers I stalk:

Hillbilly Mom

This writer is quite secretive. She lives in the same state that I do. She's a teacher (or so she says). But when you try to dig up the dirt on her, you come up with an empty shovel. Nowhere on her blog is her real name. It makes me wonder what she's trying to hide?

However, what she makes no move to hide is what goes on in her daily life. In her posts (that appear every day), she shares what her PITA of a husband does, what her kids are up to (occasionally) and what living in the country is like. Her writing reminds me of another writer's style... I just can't place it.

Fireblossom

Shay Caroline Simmons has more personalities than she has names. At least it seems like she's suffering from multiple personality disorder. Each one of her brilliant poems is searingly different. One day, she might post a poem that's bittersweet and tender. The next day? A poem that's bitter and biting, her lines spewing spittle.

Once I won a custom-made poem from Shay. I gave her the topic... she wrote the poem, and now it's hanging in my writing room. I typed it up in a large font, and created a custom mat for it. (Okay, what I really did was buy a mat and frame from a thrift store and decorated the mat with a marker... but I guarantee you, there's no other frame like it.) Here's the poem:

Damn the Match

I said, damn the match that set me on fire

But no one heard

so I fanned myself with books, and oh
How I burned.

Damn the one who made me feel nothingly small,
This lonesome girl--
Then I spit my anger on a black-curling page,
And blistered the world.

Damn the distance that keeps my love from me,
The miles are sin--
Then I wrote out my love as a pink-fire dawn,
Warm on her skin.

Bless the match that each finger is,
To strike what I feel into words that be
An incendiary flow from soul to sky,
One burned-bright star that's made from... me.

                                                                  --Shay Caroline Simmons


Mama Zen--Mama Zen/Kelli, like Fireblossom, is a poet. In fact, the two have collaborated on poetry collections. Also like Fireblossom, Mama Zen's poems seem to come from different people--the tone, the voice is so varied... and so succinct. This poet can write jaw-dropping pieces in way less than 50 words. (Many times I count them, because I'm so ticked off she can say so much with so few words.) 

So, I'm a stalker. I follow some writers (and some publishers) a little too closely. Sue me. 

Have you ever stalked a writer/celebrity? Have you ever been stalked by a stranger because you're a weirdo-magnet? Stalking minds want to know...

A Lightning-Bolt Moment

       This weekend I watched the movie Belle. If you have not seen it, run out immediately and get it from Redbox or wherever you get your rentals. 

        Two of the co-stars are Tom Wilkinson (one of my favorites---he was hilarious in The Full Monty) and Miranda Richardson (she was brilliant in The Crying Game). The singular star is Gugu Mbatha-Raw, another Brit, who plays Belle.


       In the movie, there is a lightning-bolt moment when Belle's fiancee says something...something that is so dismissive of Belle's past, Belle cannot compromise or ignore any longer. An undercurrent to the primary storyline is a court case that has quite an insidious premise.

        This movie is snatched from the pages of real-life history, which makes it even more compelling. If you love romance, you'll love this film. If you adore period pieces, you'll go ga-ga. If you are a history buff and are looking for a new not-well-known avenue to travel down, you'll find it here.

        This morning I also drew from a pile of names for the copy of Verna Simms' novel Water Under the Bridge. The competition was so stiff, with my thousands hundreds dozens three followers, it took an age to write down all the names, fold them in half, and stir them up. However, my numb and nimble little fingers finally finished, and the winner is...

                   Shay.

       Shay, if you send me your address, I will send you a copy of the book.

       Have you--my three followers--had a lightning-bolt moment? A moment when you immediately knew--in an electrical moment--that you'd have to quit your job or divorce or fall in love or surrender or take a risk? 

        Share, please.        

And the Winner Is...

       It took hours and hours to count, create, and tabulate the entries...hours, because there were hundreds of people interested in winning a book of poetry.
      Okay, it really only took a minute but the low number of entries isn't due to a lack of interest in Shay, Joy and Kelli's poetry. It's just that I have a small number of followers(but they are mighty).

      Here are the entries:

  

          Notice the fancy font I used to create the slips. My techno-skills are so amazing, I can make things appear like they were handwritten. I'm oh-so-clever that way.

         Who are you tryin' to fool? You wrote those names on slips of paper with some old, fat-tipped marker that you found in a drawer. And don't even waste your breath about using rafflecopter or some computer program to determine the winner. You folded each one in half, closed your eyes, stirred the slips up and then snagged one...

        And the winner is...

        Marcia, if you email your address, I will send the book your way. (And it's ironic that Marcia won this book. She and Shay have competed in at least one writing contest, and Shay swears that some day, she's "gonna get" Marcia.)

       (You'd better watch your back, Marcia.)

A Hat Trick, Baby

        Okay, my sports knowledge is severely limited, but I do know what a hat trick is. And these three poets are a fiercesome threesome...

      It's rare I order three copies of the same book. But when this trio of writers offered up yet another collection of their poetry, I couldn't help myself.

       One for me. One for a friend. And one to give away...



You can buy this book at Amazon if you don't win it.

       Their work is mercurial. It defies description--at least I am inept at describing it, except to say that their writing is fine. Really fine. 

        Since my tongue is tied (along with my keyboard apparently), I'm giving you a link to check out these writers (in case you're not familiar with them). And at the end of the month (April), I'll draw a name of the lucky winner--the winner of their own personal copy of Three-Note Howl: The Wild Hunt.

         Check out Kelli Simpson at her blog.  Read Shay Simmons' daily poetry offering on her blog. Get to know Joy Ann Jones by diving into her blog. And keep your fingers crossed...

          Leave comments to enter this fantastic giveaway. Leave a gross of them. Leave them often. (It won't increase your chances but it will amuse me.)

                                
                                (a little Emmylou Harris--in her younger years--for Shay)

Something Delicious

        A good book is delicious. Really.

      At our last writing critique group meeting, a book was being passed around. Tammy, one of the WWWPs had loaned it out. Lynn had borrowed it and was returning it. Beth had read it a while ago. Before Tammy could get it back, I snatched it and dragged it back to my lair.

      "Whoah. You mean this writing critique group is a little self-made library? You mean you do something besides critique each other's writing?" you say?  Not only do we toss books back and forth, we also nibble (on--too often--homemade treats), we drink (mostly tea, but once we drank a satisfying alcoholic concoction that is named after what Meg Ryan faked in the movie When Harry Met Sally), we play proctologist and examine what comes out of one member's anal sphincter every two weeks, and we investigate threats on Linda O'Connell's life. (Writers who are desperate to slow her submission rate down have threatened her with death by wood chipper...a leg of lamb...a nail gun.)

photo by www.thedawgsdish.com

       The book I'm almost finished with is Gillian Flynn's Gone Girl. In the middle of my sneezing and snorting, I think I can finish it tonight. I'm enjoying it so far, but at least two of the women expressed disappointment about one particular part/aspect. (And they wouldn't say WHAT was lacking...)

Is the end disappointing? I hope not.

\What deliciousness are you savoring right now?  (Yes, I know what you'll say, Shay. You're luxuriating in a month-long vacation, and are burying us all under an avalanche of your poems.) What book or television show or project are you immersed in right now?

My snot-filled nose wants to know.

 

Tag!

          I've been tagged. Yes, that's what happens when one is fat and slow-moving--it's easy for them to lose a game like "Tag."

       But wait. This is the kind of game I can play while I am procrastinating mulling over a current work-in-progress.

       Cathy C. Hall tagged me. Or maybe it was Cathy-on-a-Stick. (You never know about that one...) Cathy answered some writing questions, and then passed the torch, for a burning inquisition...

What are you working on right now?

        Right this moment, I'm working on a submission for Chicken Soup for the Soul. I also used to have a pet snake--several, in fact--and am planning on writing a piece to send to Publishing Syndicate for possible inclusion in their Not Your Mother's Book...On Pets.

          As far as something lengthier, I began a "longish" piece last November during NaNoWriMo. It's a little more than 60,000 words long right now, and is currently the object of much colorful language called "The WWWP Critique Group and SD Society."

How does it differ from other works in this genre?

      Well, for one, it's not finished. (Duh.)

       It's a mash-up of novel/cookbook/collection of essays. It's part marathon and part sprint. It's been dormant for a month or two, but I think I've found the thread I need to weave throughout the whole thing. Only time will tell...

Why do you write what you do?

      I began this novel monstrosity longish piece with just a kernel of an idea at its core. It almost immediately morphed into a vehicle that could honor an endless parade of people---my close friends, my granddaughter, my critique group, the authors I adore, blogging buddies--because the story centers around five fierce women writers. With my clumsy deft hand, I could manipulate the characters to rant about Rush Limbaugh, to stalk Jean Ellen Whatley as an ardent fan, to drool over Khaled Hosseini. 
     That's why I was writing it...And at some point, the story took over, and I'm no longer in control.  

What is the hardest part about writing?

       It depends on the project. Sometimes it's the title. There's lots of times I come to my critique group and have to beg and plead for a title. There are other times (like with the piece I'm bringing tomorrow) where the ending is suckola. (And I know that odor when I encounter it, believe me.) Sometimes (very occasionally) the hard part is keeping up with the story. On rare, magical moments, the piece tumbles out all by itself. I wish that happened more often...

       Now it's time for me to tag three people. Tammy. You're it. Val. You're it. Lynn. You're it. Oh, and along the way back to the "safe" spot, I brushed past Shay. You're it, too.


  

The Kind of Sugar That's Calorie-Free

 

 

 

 

Lynn Obermoeller got this award, and then passed on the award to some of her blogging friends, which ended up being all of my blogging friends, so I'm going to have to find some strangers on the street to give this award to.  (Thank you, Lynn.)

 

The Rules:

• Thank the Super Sweet Blogger that nominated you.
• Answer five Super Sweet questions.
• Include the Super Sweet Blogging award image in your blog post.
• Nominate a baker’s dozen (13) other bloggers.
• Notify your nominees on their blog.

The 5 Super Sweet Questions:

1. Cookies or Cake? – Cake, with lots of frosting. 
2. Chocolate or Vanilla? – You mean there's another flavor besides chocolate? Are you sure?
3. Favorite Sweet Treat? – I have many favorites. Fudge. Chocolate nut heaps (a family recipe cookie). Ted Drewes' hot fudge macadamia sundae. I could go on and on and on... 
4. When do you crave sweet things the most? – I am an equal opportunity addict. I eat to celebrate, I eat to wallow. I eat when I'm bored, I eat when I'm stressed. It's always dessert time somewhere in the world...
5. Sweet Nick Name? – Suzy-Q, which coincidentally is the name of a chocolate, cream-filled snack cake...

    Okay, I can count, but I couldn't stand on the street corner any longer in order to get 13 names of bloggers. The police kept circling around, thinking I was hooking for dry-erase markers, so I am a little shy of a "baker's dozen," but here goes:

 

Kim

Shay

Pat

Katie Gates

Cathy C. Hall

Jennifer Brown Banks

Lisa Ricard Claro

Mary

Janel
Pat Wahler
Kathy and Her Kampground


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Winner...and a Reason to Squeal

        First of all, it's been a tough week, work-wise, so I am behind in posting this...Jennifer Brown Banks, of Pen and Prosper, won the book of poetry Gemini/Scorpio/Capricorn by Shay Simmons, Kelli Simpson and Joy Ann Jones.
It is phenomenal poetry--you won't regret purchasing it. (Jennifer, send me your address and I'll put it in the mail sometime this week.)

             Also, one of my favorite authors, Khaled Hosseini, has a new book out this month. I've been holding my breath (I'm Smurf blue, baby), waiting not very patiently, until I can get my paws on a copy and devour it like a jackal tearing apart a zebra.

         I meandered around the internet and discovered he's doing a book tour and is coming to Chaminade, in St. Louis, on May 30. (The cost of a ticket includes a copy of his new book.)

          I'm sorry if my squealing is irritating to your ears. I can't help it. I can't.