Some small “writerly” triumphs

 

Flowerpot cake by Mary Dulle
Photo courtesy Mary Dulle

The Guppy (Going to be published) chapter of Sisters in Crime weekly opens the listserv to NPV (non-publishing victories) brags from members. I usually don’t respond because I don’t have a lot to brag about these days—published or not, I’ve been in a long dry spell, partly because I spent a lot of time on the Helen Corbitt book that never became a book. But today I do have some small victories.

One that I simply forgot to publicize because I put it aside to later make a “big” marketing effort, as if I knew how to do that, is that my one collection of short stories, Sue Ellen Learns to Dance and Other Stories, is now available on Amazon in audio version. It’s my second foray into audio publishing, but the first was not very successful, probably due to a lack of marketing. I vow to do better with this book. Short stories are hard for me—the idea has to hit me hard, and then I have to sit down and put it into words right away. I am in awe of people who write, “I am working on a short story.” I wonder how long it takes to write and polish 3,000 words. Yes, I go back and edit, but I almost never write a bit, put it aside, and go back and finish it.

Two of these stories, “Sue Ellen Learns to Dance” and “Fool Girl,” won Wrangler awards from the National Cowboy Museum and Hall of Fame, and one, “The Art of Dipping Candles,” brings me to tears every time I read it—a boastful things to say about one’s own writing, but it’s true. Try it.

Since my audio of Saving Irene was not the blockbuster I hoped, I had put aside the idea of audio, decided it wasn’t for me. But then Amazon made me an offer I couldn’t resist: a free audio version using AI. Now every author I know resists AI, fearful it will take over our creativity—and maybe our already published works. Plus it’s competition. AI can write a book much faster than the human brain can write, proof, edit, design, etc. Still, it was free. I tried it. Overall I thought the AI voice was acceptable—not great, but okay. In several instances, the inflection of a phrase or a word is not what I would have done, but I think the human ear may be less critical than the eye. The thing that most bothered me was the mispronunciation of Texas terms and place names. My AI “person” was clearly not a Texan. The town of Hereford became Her-e-ford, and the word cousie (for chuckwagon cook) was similarly butchered.

Since I’m blatantly marketing the book, here’s a link to the Amazon audio: Amazon.com: Sue Ellen Learns to Dance and Other Stories (Audible Audio Edition): Judy Alter, Alter Ego Publishing, Virtual Voice: Books It’s also available in Kindle and paperback editions, but the paperback has a different cover, a Dorothea Lange Depression photo that is a classic. I like it better than the updated cover, but I’m told it’s not as marketable. Really dislike that aspect of the writing business.

Oops. I’ve gone on so long I’ll have to be brief about my second small triumph: today was the second of Mary Dulle’s two-part class on the cooking of Helen Corbitt. Mary did a masterful job with such recipes as turkey mornay and flowerpot cakes (Ladybird’s favorite), and I got to talk about the seismic changes in American food culture during the fifties and a bit how that affects us today, the Greenhouse Spa (if you don’t remember it, google it—ultimate luxury in the sixties and seventies), and Corbitt’s books. She wrote five cookbooks, all of them still available today. The class was responsive, had people who really took part, and it was fun. I am still intrigued by the Corbitt story and hope to find other things to do with it in the future.

Meantime, tonight, back to editing Irene in a Ghost Kitchen.

The world was too much with me today …

 

Well, I may not mean it exactly the way Wordsworth did, though I appreciate his ideas about the healing aspects of the natural world, but it was the world humans, not nature, shaped that was too much with me today.

There was a piece of good news: Henny James was featured in Dru’s Book Musings, talking about Irene Deep in Texas Trouble and her premonition that Irene Foxgloves would ruin the James’ family Christmas in Fort Worth. Henny proved to be right, but not in a way she ever dreamed of. You can read it here if you want: https://drusbookmusing.com/henny-james-2023/

Then on to the real world. I started the day with a longer list of “busy-ness” chores than I liked, and I still haven’t conquered some of them. I ordered a product online, something I’ve been using for at least thirty years—and got the wrong thing. So I “chatted” with an AI person (he really did have a name though I can’t remember it). He (that AI person) was pleasant and efficient, and I got a refund, but then I went to order the correct item, ran into a real person who I couldn’t understand and who insisted he couldn’t help me. I have yet to order what I wanted.

Next was the plumber: I had a couple of small plumbing problems in the cottage that could have waited a while, especially if Colin was coming soon. But then an outdoor spigot on the front porch began leaking big time. A plumber is coming tomorrow, but to my dismay the man I have used for twenty years has retired.

There were other small calls—reminders about things we needed to order, appointments to be made, and the like. Then mid-morning my alarm system began to beep at me. It told me that the battery in the bedroom window was low. Now, there is only one window in the bedroom, and because of the configuration of the room (once a parking bay), the arrangement of furniture is a bit awkward. Part of the six-foot headboard on my antique board overlaps the window, and there is a bedside table (my mom’s old sewing cabinet) in front of it. The window shade is never up, the window never opened (yes, I wish it had worked out differently, but you take what you have). I asked if we could bypass it, and the tech said I’d have to do it individually each time. Cancel that. She did bypass the warning alarm for several days so that it was silent and sent me a video on how to replace the battery. She was efficient, bright, and personable, but she might as well have been talking Greek to me in that video. I’m hoping Christian can understand it.

A couple of times in the morning I thought I heard Sophie banging around in her crate. She can come and go at will, but she’s usually not that noisy about it. About noon I looked out the window, and she was standing on the grass, shaking hard. When she tried to move, she stumbled and fell. Fortunately Jordan was home and came flying out the door when I called her. We flew around in a panic, Jordan issuing order like call Christian, call the vet, open the gate. Margaret from across the street came and walked Sophie in the driveway while Jordan collected car keys, etc. By then Sophie was walking okay, though Margaret said she seemed a bit out of it. And off they went to the vet.

Long story short, Sophie’s blood sugar had dropped dramatically. I know how perilous this is from a friend who has brittle diabetes. Once Soph was home, the vet told me to feed her immediately, and he adjusted her medications. By mid-afternoon, she was just fine. Barked furiously at the yard guys, demanded her dinner, all normal behavior for my Soph. I am so relieved and if it happens again, I know immediate food is the answer. Even before calling the vet. I had horrific thoughts of seizures and TIAs and all I could think was that surely we hadn’t gone through all that we had only to have her develop something else. She’s getting a few extra treats tonight.

Needless to say, I did not get much work done today, and I still have miles to go before I sleep, with apologies to Robert Frost. Good night, sweet dreams, and I hope for a better day tomorrow—for you too if you need it.

More about book publishing and an odd couple of holidays

 

After I posted about indie publishing and the world of mystery the other day, I read a blog post by Maureen Milliken on Maine Crime Writers. She points out that about four million new book titles come out a year, with 500,000 to one million traditionally published, and the rest independently published. Think of that—three million indie published books. Even with Amazon’s good service, see how easy it is to get lost in the crowd?

The publishing world now is aroused by the idea of AI (artificial intelligence) books. There are programs that let you do that, and some publishers are including in their contracts a clause that the author’s work can be used for AI training (no author ever should sign away that right!). But if people start publishing AI books, that's just more into that mix. I read recently of a magazine (sci fi, I think) that had to close to submissions because they were flooded with AI manuscripts.

Milliken say some of those millions of books published every year are really good, some not so much. Some really good books never make it onto anyone's radar. Some mediocre ones become big sellers. You can't worry about it when you're writing. The only thing you should worry about is your own stuff and making it the book you want it to be. I think that’s wonderful advice—but problematic if you’re young and trying to support yourself by writing. Years ago, when I used to do school lectures, I knew the statistics, but now I’m sure they’ve changed. Still to give you a picture: fewer than a hundred authors in this country support themselves solely by their writing. Others depend on a working spouse, a day job, or an inheritance.

Makes you wonder why anyone writes, but there it is again, at least for me: the classic answer is that I write because I cannot not write. A friend said to me last night that he, now a consultant, had worked about thirty minutes that day, and he was happy (he was volunteering if we need him because we have an ongoing family crisis that makes scheduling difficult—specifically I don’t always know when someone will be around to give Sophie her insulin shot). But I heard him loud and clear—I work far more than half an hour—probably six hours a day and eight sometimes—but I am most happy with my life.

On another less happy note, did you know that tomorrow, Saturday, is National Day of Hate? No President Biden didn’t make the declaration. It comes from neo-Nazi and fascist groups throughout the country. Their goal is to intimidate Jewish communities and spread fear. Police departments, anti-terrorist groups, Jewish organizations, and watchdog groups are on alert.

I am appalled that there are people in our country so twisted by hate, so miserable that they want to cause misery to others. As someone said tonight, “this country has more than one wheel in the ditch.” (Does that remind you of Ann Richards who said, “The ox is in the ditch”?) I am unabashedly a person of prayer, and so I pray that these tortured souls may find peace and stop sharing their destruction. But on a more practical level, I pray for safety tomorrow for all.

Some hints for helpers: If you see someone being assaulted, stand between them and the terrorist; if you see someone being harassed, sit or walk with them and try to have a normal conversation. Do what you can to divert the anger and defuse the situation. We must not let ourselves be bullied. And if you’re the praying kind, pray for an America where this happens.

Did you know there have been more mass shootings in the last twelve years than in the previous forty? And last year, every mass shooting event was linked to right-wing extremism. So you can stop worrying about Muslims—Middle Eastern terrorists are not a threat in this country (sorry, Donald trump). Our terrorists are home grown. And Republicans are lining their pockets and not batting an eye over the proliferation of gun deaths. In Texas, for instance, you can carry a concealed weapon without any training and without a permit.

On a local note: in Fort Worth, this is the weekend of Cowtown Marathon, with several “lesser” runs on Saturday and the marathon on Sunday. The other runs are only “lesser” if you aren’t running in them. But traffic is liable to be snarled, especially in the southwest part of the city all weekend. Sunday morning will find me watching the runners go by and cheering especially for the last ones, those who are going on sheer determination. They all go right by our house, so cheering is easy. A lot easier than running.

Be safe, my friends, and be kind to others. Like writing, kindness is a way of life.