All Things Books

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My favorite place in our house.

A very early memory takes me to a place that must have been near Detroit, since that’s where  I grew up during the 1950′s.  The smell of what I now know to be old books hit my olfactory the moment my aunt and I stepped over the threshold.  Leather, paper, cigarette smoke and dust mingled into a heady fragrance that to this day, minus the smoke, provokes a visceral response in me. Used book stores introduced me to the love of books.  The introduction to new book stores came shortly after, but new books don’t have the same appeal.

As adults, wherever we traveled began with a search for a book store. I’ve been to book stores in New Orleans, Wichita Falls, and Sacramento and many more places across the country.  Back in those days, customers weren’t allowed to bring beverages in, unlike today where they are sold next to the books.  Books were reverenced.

I am somewhat of a book hoarder, too.  A scene from my marriage has a very concerned and almost angry husband asking me why I needed to bring ‘moldy’ paperback books into our house.  On a weekend antiquing jaunt, I’d happened across a gentleman who was downsizing his own sizable book collection which included a complete set of the paperback Mentor Philosopher Series.  I’ve got ‘em all; Spinoza, Bacon and Pascal to name a few.  Then came the great anthropologists.   Margaret Mead is my favorite, (didn’t they disclaim some of her observations twenty years ago?)  She was all sex and culture, all of the time.

I also have all of the Greek classics.  In paperback.  I think Jim must be a book snob because a few years later, maybe in the early eighties, he signed on for the Franklin Mint Library book club. Or maybe he was hoping his purist attitude would wear off on me.  It never did.  Those shining, gold-leafed fly-leafed tomes make my garage sale finds look shabby, but they are behind glass and anyone can pick up one of my used books and curl up with a cup of tea for an afternoon without worrying about ruining it.

My aunt sent me the complete works of Dumas; forty red leather bound volumes of bliss.  I also have an ancient Gibbons The Rise and Fall of the Roman Empire, a very early Life and Letters of Charles Darwin, and Winston Churchill’s The History of the English Speaking Peoples.  I have these books; I have NOT read them.  My taste leans toward Pearl Buck, Betty Smith and compilations by Alfred Hitchcock.  (Insert laughter here.) Odd that my own writing tends to be more like a down at the heels Jackie Collins. (with all due respect.)

My books also reflect what I was doing at different stages of my life.  I have an extensive library of Christian literature.  My friends and family have learned that it isn’t wise to argue with me about the Bible; I know what it says and when things have been taken out of context.  Two entire bookcases are filled with books relating to yarn.  I have every weaving book that was published between 1975 and 1980 because I had a store that sold weaving supplies.  I no longer weave, but I don’t think I should part with the books.  I also have lots of knitting books; I like looking at the pictures, and many dyeing, spinning, and surface design books.

I have a friend who has cataloged her books.  At one time that idea appealed to me, but now I realize it would take up too much time.  Imagine being able to put your hand on any volume you need.  I can almost do that without the organization.

The only regrets I have are having loaned books out.  I no longer do that.  If you have ever received books from me its because I love you and want you to have them.  By the time I give a book up, I am so done with it.  It might be taunting me.  Read me again.  Or worse, read me the first time. And I might have no intention.  Or it might be something from my past that I know I will not revisit.  A past loved hobby, for instance.

One thing I should probably not admit is that the Jenkins’ family receives something from Amazon two or three times a week. Scary.  It is sad that the independents are  threatened by such a huge and inexpensive online presence. But one thing Amazon will never replace is the used book store.  We have a fabulous used store in South Haven.  The proprietress is rude, at least to me, but it is so worth suffering through it to browse in the shop.

Last month, when I was in California for a few days, I went to a used store in Santa Cruz with my Aunt Yvonne and her friend, Bruce.  It was truly a reverent experience.  The place was huge, it was open late at night, but we couldn’t stay too long because there was no bathroom to be found.  I could have stayed there for hours, so maybe the lack of facilities was a good thing.

My mother was a lover of books.  I argued with her to get rid of a huge collection of books she’d moved from her antique shop back to her house when the shop closed.  After she died, my sister gave me the job of going through the books and getting rid of them. It should have been easy, correct?  I hounded the poor woman for ten years about giving them away.  And you know what happened?  I could only get rid of one.  One book.  So if she is up there reading this, I’m sorry, Mom.  I know exactly what you were thinking.

I bought home a ten pound Landmarks of Detroit, and old cookbooks to add to my vast cookbook collection. (I don’t cook.)

This actually has a picture of a long lost relative, maybe a great uncle, Richard Haigh, who was an attorney in Detroit.

Most other things I resisted, for now. My mom would be happy to know I am unable to get rid of her books!  It was a joy we shared.

Today I am going to write.  I haven’t done any new writing in months; its been about revising and editing.  The second book just came out last month and third one will be ready in a few weeks. I feel like I should stall it a little bit, because there won’t be another for quite awhile.

Speaking of, I have a new editor! My daughter, Jennifer! Jen’s second degree is in fiction writing and she actually did some editing at her first job out of college.  I’m psyched!

Back to work!

Validation

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Today, the Kirkus Review for my second novel, Don’t You Forget About Me was released.  I am thrilled, but also shocked.  It’s just one of those things!  Here’s the review….

Jenkins, Suzanne
DON’T YOU FORGET
ABOUT ME
CreateSpace (338 pp.)
$14.99 Paperback
December 29, 2011
ISBN: 978-1466219007
After a wealthy man of high reputation suffers a heart attack and dies, three women are left to grapple with the aftermath of his death and the twisted details of their past in this riveting fiction novel.
The story, a continuation of Jenkins’ Pam of Babylon (2011), sets out to explore the life and grief of the wife, the sister-in-law and the mistress of Jack, the deceased. From the beginning, the reader understands that all three women are aware of their positions in Jack’s life and to each other. Jack’s wife, Pam, knows that he was
engaged in a long-term affair with her younger sister, Marie. What’s more, the mistress, Sandra, is pregnant with his child. But surprisingly, these are not the most shocking twists that Jenkins lays out. Little do the three women know that there is more that ties them to Jack and to each other than meets the eye. As secrets unfold—some
deceptive, some deadly—the women are left intimately bound by their past and by a future that can never break free from Jack. Jenkins writes with a fast-paced, scenic style, pushing the story forward and wasting little time on interior monologue or back
story. Perhaps this is one of the best aspects of the novel—a page-turner, the story remains immediate, rarely breaking from forward motion.
Jenkins develops characters not by describing them, but by placing them in conflict and context with new people, places and situations. What’s
more, the novel never fully resolves the conflicts it opens up, leaving room for the next book to explore the aftermath of the characters’ secrets and
decisions. The characters are sympathetic, round and believable; watching them grapple with difficult decisions creates an engaging, dynamic
read.
An exciting, surprising story that leaves the reader hungry for the next book.

Kirkus Indie, Kirkus Media LLC, 6411 Burleson Rd., Austin, TX 78744
indie@kirkusreviews.

Happy New Year!!!

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Hope today is a good day for you.  I am puttering around my house which is what I enjoy doing the most.  Back in the day when I worked in the OR and had to be in scrubs ready to work by seven in the morning, I used to dream about this.  Today I have talked to my good friends, or emailed them or texted them, cleaned up a little, knitted, played with my pets, and hugged my husband.

Thanks to technology, I saw a picture of my sister Sarah as she had lunch with Liz at noon, sent a video of myself (terrible) back to her, spoke with my aunts on different coasts, texted both my kids, got an email from the guy who built the electric spinner I bought, sent the winners of the giveaway on goodreads their books by ordering them directly from the publisher, had a crying fit until Jim intervened because I couldn’t find the Nook version of Pam of Babylon to send to a customer and finally, spent a small fortune on a device which converts an old spinning wheel of mine into the latest of modern convenience. How did I spend my time before the computer? I’d probably have rested or watched TV.

We are having the most winter like weather; high winds and precipitation which vacillates between rain, sleet and snow.  The yard is filled with birds but no deer since the bow and arrow catastrophe a few weeks ago. Betty told me deer season ends today so maybe that’s way there hasn’t been any deer around here. They’re hiding and don’t feel safe anymore.

The Lions are playing today.  I just couldn’t bring myself to watch the game. I hope they win.. Turn your volume up and you might hear Jim yelling Lions scores in the background.

What are you doing today?  I hope its restful, peace-giving. I hope you find your passion this year, that the things that scare you are resolved, and any lingering issues come to a positive ending.  Thank you for being in my life, because I need you there.

How I Spend My Time

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Note Jack is on the right side this time and there are three women.

When I joined Blue Coast Artists after we moved here, one of the first things we did was to buy a driveway alarm.  My brother-in-law had installed one at the end of my mother’s driveway years ago so they would be alerted if anyone pull in the drive. It was a great idea because my little old mother and sister lived back in the woods at the end of the long drive. ( See Many Blessings )  The only problem with the alarm is that if a gnat flew by it, the alarm went off.  I bought a cheap one on Amazon just to try it.  That was a huge mistake because the cheaper the unit, the closer the detector has to be to the house so the waves or whatever it is that sets off the unit in the house can reach the alarm.  We ended up by having to put it half way down the driveway and by the time the sound went off, the people were already here.  I really hated it.  Besides that, the dogs started barking before the car even turned in.

The third proof of my book arrived yesterday.  The dogs started barking when UPS turned into the driveway.  Jim and I were at our computers at the kitchen table.  We looked up at each other and I said, “My book!”  He got up to meet the driver and came in brandishing the package like it was a victory prize.  It almost is.  We opened it and I went right to the previously offending pages to see if the corrections had been made. They had, and I alerted the team leader at createspace.com.  They put it up for sale on Amazon right away.

So although it was a lot of work getting the book written and published, now I have to get it out there.  I really don’t like blowing my own horn, so this is not an easy task.  But if I want to keep having my books published, I must do it.  I love it that most of my friends and  my family are so good about supporting me, but face it, there aren’t that many of you!
So although I would like to say, “screw it, I’m going to play hooky today,” I have to get down to business and get some ads posted online.  I found that word of mouth is the best. A good friend told a podcast-er about the book and she mentioned the book twice, even doing a nice, positive review for me.  But even the negative stuff is good, my sister Liz says.  I’m not so sure about that!  I wish I could encourage people to be careful about hurting my feelings.  Ha ha, yeah right! But the little ads you see on Facebook and Goodreads and Library Things, although expensive, do help. So I will keep plugging away.

I moved my new computer into my office.  Sitting at the kitchen table with Jim and the dogs, the big window looking out upon the ravine with the wild life and bird feeders was getting to be too distracting. I did put two little feeders outside that window and the blue jays amuse me when I take a break and look up.   But I left my old laptop on the kitchen table so I can sit out here in the early morning.

Mixing dyes in the studio. Having a dye day here January 11th for a group of women from Kalamazoo. Having them will be a good distraction.

The New Year is fast approaching.  How can it be 2012 already?  What do you do with your time?  I love to hear the day to day living of my friends, what they are making for dinner, activities their children are doing, how they are coping.  Its one of the reasons I like Facebook.  I might not talk to my cousins more than once every twenty years, but I know where they are eating dinner tonight, or if they have insomnia, or what they got for Christmas.

The saddest thing for me today is that I cannot call my mother and tell her the book is out.  I think she knows.

Break My Heart

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My two elders. Nicky, 13 (91 dog years) and my sister Sarah.

Since I have put it all out there for you already, there’s no harm in confessing here that one of my favorite series on TV has been Sex in the City.  Trashy, ridiculous, self-indulgent and of no social value, Sex in the City was a vehicle for me to leave a bourgeois life for  half an hour a week, an escape from my nursing job and Sunday school mentality, my home cooked meals and commuter husband and high school children with their activities, and watch a bunch of immoral young women fornicate their way across Manhattan.  A close friend said she couldn’t stand Sarah Jessica Parker because the producers pretended that she was so beautiful when she was really quite homely.  I decided I loved her because she made it possible for women who aren’t your standard beauty be thought of as such, as long as they had big boobs and were skinny.  When the series was over, my son bought me the special edition dvd that came in the pink suede box and my guilty pleasure was watching it over and over when I didn’t want to concentrate on something worthwhile.  I could knit a complicated lace pattern, or even blog with the white noise of Sex in the City in the background.  Now it is rerun nightly on the Entertainment Channel.  With Oprah off the air, there is nothing on the tube while I put my feet up for an afternoon break and cup of coffee, until I found SITC again.

But horrors, without warning, an abused, emaciated dog, limping along to music in a minor key blasts on the screen during a commercial break.  It’s an advertisement for the ASPCA!  Don’t get me wrong; I love the ASPCA. They have a very high rating with most watch dog groups, using the bulk of their funding, 73.7% for programs and less than 8% for administrative expenses.  The ASPCA works tirelessly rescuing abused and neglected animals from puppy mills and private owners. The ASPCA has funding sources for sick animals and promotes adoption.  What I am finding them guilty of at this point is preaching to the choir.  Their advertising campaign plays on pure emotional manipulation.  Both our dogs are rescues. We love dogs.  Jim and I reach for our respective remotes and switch channels the moment the ad comes on.  It is too gruesome for our gentle hearts to bear.  It just occurred to me that they want ME to give them more money! Will it help me sleep through the night?  Will they come and ask my neighbor to provide a better home for the horses he keeps on the pile of manure in his yard?  Or rescue all the dogs that are chained up out of doors in the dead of winter in this area?

(I’m limiting this blog post to animals because the Feed the Children ads are too heartbreaking to write about.   And I have my own elderly human being to worry about in my sister Sarah, as my readers know.)

It is in this frame of mind that a story in this morning’s New York Times crossed my desk.  Elderly animals by Isa Leshko, a photographer from Philadelphia who cared for her parents in New Jersey. Her mother suffers from Alzheimer’s and now lives in a nursing home. She says of her Elderly Animals project; “I am traveling to sanctuaries across the country to photograph animals that are elderly or at the end stage of their lives. I began this series shortly after I had spent a year in New Jersey helping my sister care for my mother who has Alzheimer’s disease. When my mother got ill, I made a conscious decision to not photograph her. However, caring for her had a profound impact on me and I knew the experience would influence my photography. Shortly after I had returned from New Jersey, I encountered a blind elderly horse that was living on a relative’s property. I was mesmerized by this animal and spent the afternoon photographing him. After reviewing my film, I realized I had found a project that would enable me to sift through my feelings around my mother’s illness.” Here’s a video about the project by Walley Films

Here’s a comment regarding theTimes article about Leshko by Mark from Phoenix

“The only thing we need to learn from old animals is that we should apply the same humane treatment to old humans. We don’t let animals suffer when it becomes obvious they are in pain and no cure is to be found. Oh how silly of me…..if there was a billion dollar medical establishment which relied on every available method for extending animals’ lives up until the painful last gasp of air as their exists to suck as much money out of the insurance companies and people, they would be hooked up to every machine until no sign of life was present. Like people.”

I think I have post holiday blahs.  Everything makes me sad.  Life is sad.  What good does it to do have all the happiness in the world if people you love and care about are sick or suffering?  Will giving money to the ASPCA or Feed the Children help drive the demons away?  Tonight, if it is clear enough, Jim wants to go out side and star gaze.  He and I prayed together today for our dear friends who have illness, or who are losing their homes, or need jobs, or whose children are going astray.  We are so grateful for the good things in our life, for the blessings and health, and we want everyone to have those things, however unrealistic is it.  And really the only thing that comforts me when I feel like this is that I know my friends feel the same way, they want everyone to be happy and healthy, and they are praying for me, too.

Undeserved

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I’ve been away from home more in the past year and a half than ever before.  When I am here, I feel so grateful that we were able to find this hidden sanctuary after the years of living in what is touted as the most densely populated state in the country.  Moving away from Jeni was not easy.  Although my first, beloved grandchild has arrived, I still love west Michigan.  All I have to do is hop on a plane or get in the car and I am there to see baby Carlos.  My son and father’s sister and brother live in California. It is an easy plane ride there, too.  It was on a trip to see them last week that I ran into Sgt. Lopez and his bomb sniffing canine, Colli at the Minneapolis airport.

Maybe because Jim was in the Air Force and went to Vietnam or maybe because we lived next to both Maguire Air Force Base and Fort Dix when we owned our little  farm in New Jersey, I have a very strong reaction when I see a fellow American in a uniform.  It takes my breath away.  And to see a soldier with a dog, another passionate soft spot, I generally lose it.  When I saw Sgt. Lopez and Colli, I hesitated.  I gave myself a minute to catch my breath and let a few tears fall.  I didn’t want to embarrass him, but I had to connect with he and his dog on some level.  I wanted to thank him for his sacrifice.  And I wanted to see the dog up close.  So once I was somewhat in control, I called after him as I ran to where they were standing.  I just yelled ‘Sir and your dog!’  He stopped and turned toward me.  And he smiled at me.  I got the feeling right away that he had been through this before, maybe many times.  He was patient with me as I attempted to ask him questions with my hands over my face while I sobbed.  He let some slack out on Colli’s leash so she could come to me and comfort me.  She rubbed up against my legs with enough pressure to push me backwards, her head twisting around to look up at me.  All I could get out was ‘thank you’.  He was so gracious.  We said goodbye and then I remembered my iphone.  I could take pictures of him.  I ran after him again and he waited for me and submitted to photo taking.  We said goodbye.  When I got to my gate, I remembered I didn’t get his name, so I went looking for him again and there he was, walking with Colli. He was interested in giving me information; I told him I blogged, but I forgot about the notepad on my phone and didn’t have a pen or paper and forgot most of what he said.  I think his first name was Joseph and  remembered that he was going home to Colorado.

Once I got home from California, I began researching how the Army and Marines use dogs in combat and I came across Rebecca Frankel, a reporter, er, Canine Correspondent, for Foreign Policy magazine.  Her column is titled Rebecca’s War Dog of the Week.  Foreign Policy is supposed to be without bias, but I decided I don’t care if it is or isn’t. That it chooses to report on something so dear to my heart covers a multitude of sins.

We are so lucky in this country, so blessed.  How do we deserve it?  I’m overwhelmed with gratitude.  I am also saddened that not everyone has the same standard of living.  Not everyone has a job, or is able to keep their house, or has piles of Christmas presents under their tree.  But everyone benefited from Sgt. Lopez and Colli,  who went to Afghanistan and to risk their life.  Some of their colleagues made the ultimate sacrifice.  It reminded me that almost everything I complain about is ridiculous.  I am very, very lucky.

Is It Stress, or Alzheimer’s?

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The Nativity as seen through the eyes of Boston Terriers.

December is the busiest month of the year for most women, and almost most men.  The approaching holidays take their toll on us whether we celebrate them or not.  Just knowing that there is an expectation increases our sense of obligation.  Should I put up a tree?  Do my casual acquaintances really need a gift from me?  What about sending Christmas cards?  The meal? Ham or turkey? Parties? Special outfits?

I decided that this Christmas I would go all out, put up a tree for the first time in years, shop for gifts, make an effort for a change, so that my sister Sarah who is living in a group home since the death of our mother, could come here and have a pleasant weekend with the family.  We got the moldy fake tree out of storage and about ten boxes of ornaments down from the rafters and I began decorating. We put up lights outside, got the Santa coat hanger  hung up, the lighted village of churches on the baby grand.  I even got a pine scented candle.  Then I found out that she doesn’t want to come here for reasons only known to her.  Suffice it to say that I vacillated between several powerful emotions that swung from hurt feelings to anger.  What it boils down to is that she is mentally retarded.  Why had I placed so much expectation on her?  Why wasn’t it enough to make those preparations for myself?  We seek the perfect Christmas.  I think since my children are on opposite ends of the country and Christmas isn’t what it used to be without them, it is just easier not to go to too much bother.  Now next year, when my baby grandson is almost a year and a half, Christmas will be fun.  (There goes those expectations again.)

Last week, the physical proof of the sequel to Pam of Babylon arrived. I was so excited!  I went over with it fine toothed comb and found a few minor mistakes, included ‘damn’ where ‘dam’ should have been.  I called my publisher and we rejoiced!!!  The book would be corrected and go to the printer.  And then thankfully, for some reason I read it again.  Several major, glaring editing snafus slapped me in the face.  There is a major contradiction that my editor missed and so did I, and four repetitive descriptions that just couldn’t be ignored. It was like a repeat of Pam in which there were four puking scenes in the original manuscript.  I didn’t want it to be the book about women who threw up, so I had to get rid of three of them.  History had repeated itself.  After several more readings, I was able to make the corrections without too much rewriting.  Tomorrow it goes back to the publisher.  Ugh.

Monday night I flew into Philly to spend a few days with Jeni and Carlos and the baby.  It was wonderful; I took my shoes off by the front door when I arrived and when we went to leave for the airport this morning two days later they were still there.  I spent that time in repose, being catered to by my daughter with three home-cooked meals a day, ice water and coffee at my fingertips, and stimulating conversation.  All while a four month old, happy, cooing baby sat on my lap.  I don’t like to fly, but because I didn’t have much time and it was sort of spur of the moment, I got on a plane.  Now next Monday, I am doing it all over again, but in the opposite direction.  Andy is actually in Austin, Texas right now, scouting sets for their next movie, but he is supposed to be back over the weekend.  So I am going to go see my aunt and the rest of my dad’s relatives and hopefully have lunch with my son.  I’ll be gone just a few days.

During this time, Jim has a birthday, we have our forty-third wedding anniversary, and then the Christian holidays.  I slipped up today while I was being goosed by the TSA agent by wishing her a Merry Christmas.

“Happy holidays, you mean,” she said with attitude.  Am I allowed to disagree with the TSA over this? I mean, I know my brasserie under-wires are an issue, and my bluejean waistband is too tight for them to stick their fingers into, but do I have to be corrected about political correctness?  I could feel my blood pressure going up and in my mind I said out loud, ‘No! Merry Christmas!’  But the part of me that wanted to get home tonight and eat Chinese food with my husband just smiled at her and said,

“Oh! Yes! Of course!”

While I was with Jeni I confided to her that I was worried about Jim and wanted him to get an Alzheimer’s test.  Now you have to know my daughter. She has the most expressive face if she wants to get a point across. To the rest of the world she has the best poker face.  But when those words were out of my mouth, she got ‘the look’. It is a sort of lips pursed but slightly smiling with raised eyebrows and a set jaw.  I can’t explain it. Anyway, she said,

“And I want you to get one, too.” Evidently, her nursing assessment of me left her with cause for concern.  So I told her I would get one.  “If its positive, you can start taking Aricept now,” she said.  Its a drug for Alzheimer’s.  Jim and I talked about it on the way home from the airport tonight. He thinks the months of change in our life may account for some of the symptoms Jeni sees in me.  I’m not so sure.  I keep thinking about that book of mine that I have read at least fifty times and the critical mistake I missed again and again.

My sister and I talk hourly about pour-over wills and trusts, things we have to do to make preparation for our death.  I think of the diaries and journals I have laying around here.  Do I really want my kids to read that stuff after I go?  I need to go through my drawers and throw away any ratty underpants so that someday, my son and his wife don’t have to do it for me.  (I may have watched too many episodes of Hoarders.)  Tonight I will lay in bed and think about Jim and I growing old together.  I told my kids once when we all lived in New Jersey and it didn’t look like any of us would ever leave, that when we got old, they didn’t have to visit us.

“Just drive by slowly and throw a bag of groceries out for us once in a while.  We’ll crawl out to the road and drag it in,” I said.    Suddenly, that isn’t so funny any more.  Jim and I don’t fly together because if anything happens, our dogs won’t be left alone.  Our kids aren’t here to check in on us.  I told my daughter today that even when Jim and I drive together in the car, I like someone to know that the dogs are in the house alone, so they won’t cannibalize themselves if we got killed.

She looked at me with that look.

It’s Here! Don’t You Forget About Me Is Here!!!

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The proof arrived yesterday afternoon.  No matter how much I have on my plate when UPS pulls up with a proof, I have to put whatever it is down and start reading. Fortunately, the truck didn’t come until Jim and I had run errands and I had dinner started.  By the way, I am dyeing with black bean soaking liquid, so I had a two pound bag of beans needing cooking.  I made the most phenomenal chili out of part of it and the rest, Black Bean Salsa with corn and peppers.  I put too much whole cumin seed in it and I should have toasted them first, but its still pretty good.

Anyway, I usually avoid the camera at all costs but even with my stringy bangs, I had to show you the real book, in the flesh.  So far I’m half-way finished reading and I’m satisfied with it. There is one editing snafu I wish I had picked up on earlier but it is minor and I am going to let it go. People who nitpick will find it and complain, but others will think, ‘Oh, an imperfect human being wrote this and went through the trauma of having it published.’  I hope there is nothing major that sticks out.  If there is, I’ll have it fixed at great expense and time.

As soon as I approve it, the publisher will send it to Kirkus for review. I hope it gets a good one!

This Saturday I am doing a book signing at the Saugatuck Center for the Arts from ten until noon.  Here’s the blurb I posted on Facebook. I’m not mentioned in the copy because   I wasn’t asked until last weekend and only because my neighbor, designer Kirk Johnson, told the organizer about me and the books.

” Get ready for the holidays with fresh, artful greenery, live music, and local gifts during the annual Winter Greenmarket. Santa Claus visits the Winter Greenmarket immediately following the Saugatuck Christmas Parade – bring your camera for photos with the man in red (about 1 p.m.)! This year’s Winter Greenmarket includes a special “Local Author Signing Session” from 10 a.m. – Noon featuring books from area authors – and the authors in attendance to sign their works. Local authors at the Greenmarket include Judy Anthrop, Jacqueline Carey, Salvatore Sapienza, Alison Swan, and others. (me)

Other Winter Greenmarket activities include:

* From 10 a.m. until they’re gone … fresh greenery, swags, wreaths. Greens come “dressed up” or plain for your own creative touch. Remember – greens often sell out at the Market so don’t delay!

* The Holland Chorale’s “Dickens Quartet” stroll the Winter Greenmarket from 11 a.m. until Noon. Dressed in traditional Dickens-era attire, the singers share memories of Christmas’s past.

www.sc4a.org

Saugatuck Center for the Arts, an arts center for an arts community, in downtown Saugatuck, MI. Art classes for adults and children, performances, film, and exhibitions throughout the year. Host to Mason Street Warehouse theatre company and Waterfront Film Festival.
If I don’t get back here until after the holidays, Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!  Happy Hanukkah!

2 Knit Lit Chicks Podcast

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                                                                                                 My friends, for the most part, love Pam of Babylon.  A few are less than thrilled; I think it is difficult for women to allow themselves to just be and not have every single thing they do lead to something more.  A dear friend who is an attorney and an advocate of women did not like the character Pam.  I could hear fear in her voice when she explained why giving someone like Pam a voice is dangerous, in her opinion.  I think she will see in subsequent books that Pam is stronger than we see on the surface.

Pam is not great literature, but once all four books are put together, it definitely has a moral.  Something good about the negative reviews from friends is that it has proven to me that I don’t have that horrible syndrome; Isolated Adoration.  It’s also helpful when a stranger gives me a good review.  You don’t have to love me to love my book!

Authors, especially new, self-published authors, depend on word of mouth more than anything to get exposure for our books.  I have found that my reader’s enthusiasm sells more books than expensive advertising.   My sister thinks that negative reviews are just as helpful.  I personally don’t care for them, but it is part of the risk taking of putting yourself out there, vulnerable.  So when I received a warm, friendly message on Ravelry from Barb, owner of 2 Knit Lit Chicks Podcast, I was so excited!  I’m not good at  self-promotion, and here someone I didn’t know was willing to give me a little air time. My friend Maureen, a New Jersey buddy, contacted Barb and told her about Pam.

Equally exciting was finding out Barb lives in San Ramon, California, the town we lived in briefly when Jim was San Francisco Chief of Communications for Associated Press.  We have family on the peninsula so the chance that I might actually meet her someday is exists.  It is such a small world.

If you are knitter and/or a reader, listen to 2 Knit Lit Chicks.  It is the first podcast I have heard and I think it is addictive.

Pay Attention

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I am trying really hard to be alert to the spiritual around me these days.  I have some distractions that immediately make me either be fearful or think negatively.  I don’t live in a vacuum, so protecting myself from the unpleasant by isolation isn’t an option.  One of the ways I am attempting to be positive is by continuously staying in touch with my spiritual beliefs.  When someone asks me to pray for them, I do it right then.  I learned to do this from my friend Claire, who confessed to me about twenty years ago that she prays right away for requests because she is afraid that if she doesn’t, she’ll forget.  This technique has worked for me over the years, especially now when my memory seems to be fading at record speed.

Something that I am learning from my friend Jill, is to make sure that I set aside a time for the spiritual and don’t leave it to chance.  The night hours don’t always work well for me because, face it, when you get up at four in the morning, by the time night falls, you’re tired!  So I try doing my ‘altar time’ or meditating in the morning.  Or if is nice out at dusk, I might light a fire in the fire pit and sit outside on our patio at the edge of the ravine.  It is dark and quiet out there after the sun sets and if you are very still, you can hear the animals moving through the forest.

My friend, Betty and I have birthdays within a couple of days of each other and when we turned sixty, we noticed that suddenly we were both being led to say ‘no’ more often, and to not do anything that we didn’t want to do.  We cannot be coerced.  Now that doesn’t mean that we don’t try to do everything we can when a friend is asking for something.  But it seems like we are both able to resist being manipulated.  Our inner voices are coming in loud and clear.

As Sedona, Arizona is considered a very spiritual place, I believe that this area, especially where we are right at the edge of the ravine, is very spiritual.  So many things have occurred that are blessings!  My aunt Von told me yesterday to ‘pay attention’.  She said that so much that we experience is our intuition, or something from the outside coming to guide us.   In different instances lately, I know that my mother is giving Liz and I her wisdom.  Or I feel her support.  My intuition has grown by leaps and bounds.  I believe this is due to using it and not ignoring it. You can get all the advice in the world but if you don’t recognize it and put it into use, it isn’t going to work.  So I am working at considering ideas that come to me and investigating their source.  Not every single thing needs to be put into play.

Something wonderful happened this morning that is a combination of blessings and an answer to prayer.  I have written before about Jim and I sitting in our kitchen, watching birds and wildlife in our back yard.  This morning I was deep in thought and a large bird flew from over our roof and swooped into a tree.  I thought it was big hawk or even an eagle, which we have here.  And then its head swirled around and I saw that it is an owl!  I love owls!  I have been hoping to see one since we moved here.  And then suddenly I thought, this is no coincidence.   The owl has come here for me.  I quickly got out my books and found that Athene is the goddess of communication, the patron of writers and that her totem is the owl.  I can’t describe how thrilling this is to me.  I think my mother sent the owl.  So while ‘she’ is here looking at me, I might add, I am going to say my prayers for my extended family and all my friends and just enjoy being in the presence of such a fabulous creature.