Back to work--hooray!

My writing has sort of been in limbo--oh, I read proof on a reprint of my historical novel about Jessie Benton Frémont (a really interesting story in my mind) and I wrote several guest blogs, but I was treading water. Saturday night I got the first edits back on my novel about the Gilded Age in Chicago--titled now "The Gilded Cage." I plunged in last night and worked at it today. Can't tell you what fun it is to get back into a novel, shaping it, thinking changes through, etc. The editor's comments make so much sense and make the novel so much better--I'm moving ahead with enthusiasm and looking forward to continuing to work on it, though I do have to snatch time for other things.
But I have a busy summer coming up--watch soon for an announcement that Jessie is available on e-book, and I will have the chili book--Texas is Chili Country--in November. When Texas Tech

wrote me about a book booth at the Annual Frank Tolbert/Wick Fowler Original Chili Cookoff in Terlingua this fall, I got wildly excited. I've always been intrigued by Terlingua. I emailed my neighbor who goes every year, and it took him days to reply which made me nervous--he didn't want my company (his wife had already said it's a guy thing and after one or two times she didn't go).
Finally several days later Jay sat me down with a glass of wine and said, "I don't think it's appropriate." Well, of course, that got my dander up! I'm not prudish spinster lady--I can take a little rough and rowdy (truth be told, I probably can't--I don't like it). But his explanation was that it's rough terrain with uncertain footing. Amenities almost don't exist--a mediocre motel some distance away (how would I get my afternoon nap?) and port-a-potties on site, which it would be difficult for me to get to since my footing is uncertain on perfectly flat bare concrete. He dampened my enthusiasm but gently, and TTU Press was completely understanding (I doubt they know much about Terlingua).
The other day at physical therapy, I heard the physical therapist say to another client something about "it's all about chili and beer, which doesn't sound like much fun, and it's way out someplace in West Texas."
"Terlingua?" I asked. He said yes, he thought that was it, and bless his heart he got a long lecture on Terlingua and chili and more than he ever wanted to know.
But I can see some minor cook-offs in my future as the book is published.
Back to my busy summer--there will be a new novel this fall--I'm just not at this point sure which one or when. But I love having all these projects on my desk. So blessed in retirement.

The Two Ps

Two Ps dominated my life today--proofing and potato salad (must be an indication of versatility). I am slowly proofing the copy for a digital version of my 1995 novel about Jessie Benton Fremont, wife of the flamboyant (and sometimes foolish) explorer, John Charles Fremont. She was ahead of her time as a woman but chafed at the restrictions placed on her. While Fremont went off to explore California and fulfill "manifest destiny," she was at home running her father's household and then writing up her husband's reports. I'm struck by the difference in language between this and my contemporary mysteries, but I was writing in first person from the viewpoint of a woman in the mid--to-late nineteenth century, and of course she spoke more formally, with more restraint.
The novel is based on thorough research but one incident I read today almost made me teary. Jessie's mother was a chronic invalid but fairly early in the book (200 pages out of 475) she begins to have a series of small strokes or TIAs (trans-ischemic accidents--the term was unknown in that day). Clearly, those episodes were based on memories of going through that with my mom--the arm that grew suddenly heavy, the convulsive shudders, the confusion. It all came rushing back to me. Jessie was the primary caretaker and that, too, was familiar, as was her hidden desire to shake her mother and say, "Mom, just be yourself!" Oh, how I wanted that.
The potato salad consumed most of my morning, I love potato salad of almost any kind--don't much like what they serve in BBQ joints. Then again, one of my favorites is County Line Potato Salad from the Austin/San Antonio BBQ places. You can find the recipe online--it takes an amazing quantity of dill pickle relish but even if you don't like the relish, you'll like this. It takes four large Idaho potatoes; you boil, chill and then peel. So much easier.
The recipe I used today calls for peeling and dressing still-warm potatoes, which is a bit of a pain and often hard on the fingertips. But I persevered, although I may have let the potatoes get a bit cool. The dressing is mainly vegetable oil and lemon juice. My potatoes were larger than usual, so I may have to add more dressing tomorrow before serving. I also made a salad of corn, black beans, radishes (Christian loves them), with a mayo dressing slightly touched with vinegar and flavored with chopped basil from my front porch herb garden. Enough standing. I'll set the table for eight tomorrow.
Here's the recipe for the potato salad, given to me by friend Sue Winter. I hope she won't mind my sharing it.

Lemon Potato Salad
6 medium red potatoes
1 small onion, diced
1/2 cup celery, diced
1/4 cup parsley, chopped
Sauce
2 Tbsp. grated lemon peel, fresh
3-4 Tbsp. lemon juice, fresh
3-4 Tbsp. vegetable oil
1 Tbsp. salt (don't skimp)
1/4 tsp. pepper
Boil potatoes until tender. Drain. Peel and dice while warm. Add onions. Pour sauce over warm potatoes and onions and coat well. Add celery and parsley. Chill. Serves eight.
The original recipe calls for a small jar of pimiento, which I don't particularly care for (though I love pimiento cheese). Add if you want, when you add celery and parsley.

Being busy

No profound thoughts tonight, though the news and picture coming out of Baltimore continue to interest--like the line of black men who stationed themselves in front of the police to protect them or the young boy who offered bottles of water to the police in riot gear. And that wonderful mom who beat her boy until he went home--she wanted him safe, but she has mixed thoughts (at best) about what she did. The number of people who rioted is such a small proportion of Baltimore's citizens.
Meanwhile I've been productive and am loving it--sent my Chicago manuscript off to an editor yesterday. it's long--100,000 words--and it's a historical, not a mystery. It's a book I've worked on at least ten years, and Chicago history is a subject dear to my heart. Chicago had its own glittery gilded age in the late nineteenth century, and this is about on prominent society woman during that time--Cissy Palmer, the first to combine the idea of wealth with social obligation. It culminates with the 1893 Columbian Exposition. Yes, I'm a little bit excited about this one.
Also arranged to send another of my 1990s historicals about women of the West for ebook conversion--this Jessie: A Novel of the Life of Jessie Benton Fremont. Don't know who she was? You'll have to read it!
And I drafted a newsletter, talked with my web designer about a logo, and have just generally been busy building my so-called career. It's been fun, but somehow this is the longest week--I'm quite sure today should have been Friday and it's only Wednesday.
And now, at eight o'clock at night, I'm sleepy. Need that second burst of energy.