Blogging and writing

I've been blogging for six years now, almost to the day. Sometimes I find it addictive, like having someone to talk with about the things I find important. But many days, I feel my blog lapses into trivia, sort of "what I did today." A flattering email from the director of a small academic press, suggesting a book of blogs, sent me to looking at some back blogs. I knew the one I did just this week on religion and politics had legs, even if controversial--some people think I should just shut up. But I found others with substance, and the idea began to take shape. I asked if he meant to include my food blog, Potluck with Judy, and he kind of left it up to me. So I'm thinking a two-section collection, with some from each blog. It would take me forever to put that together, and it won't be tomorrow because I've honestly started writing--again--on that fourth Kelly O'Connell mystery.
I have a friend who is writing a memoir. She did everything she could to avoid working on it--laundry, cleaning house, washing windows (well, I don't know about that). Someone suggested she write a letter, "Dear World, I'm sorry I didn't write that book. I was busy doing the laundry." So she set aside two- or three-hour blocks of time, maybe once or twice a week, during which she would write--period. One day she wrote for a while and ran dry, but she was determined to sit there. So sit there she did, staring into space. Oh, it's so easy to give others advice. "Write through it," I said. "Just write, don't worry about what. Just put words on paper. You can edit later."
We never take our own advice. I've distracted myself with editing someone else's manuscript, blogging, writing guest posts for other people's blogs, e-mailing, and reading. But this week I'm back to it, and I'm trying to set a goal--2,000 words a day. If they are meaningless trivia, so be it. I sort of know how this novel is going to work out, but at 20,000 words the end seems so far away that I'm afraid to introduce some of those final elements--or even the building-tension ones--so early. Then what will I do? On the other hand, if I'd go ahead and do that, perhaps my characters would lead me in other directions, and I'd find it all works out.
I know writers who spend four, five, six hours a day at their computers--without even the distraction of e-mail. Would I were such a one. When people ask when I write, I say, "Whenever I can fit it in." That would be easier if I were reclusive by nature, but I'm not. I usually spend Mondays at home all day, so by Tuesday I'm ready for social life. This week I've had lunch with friends two days, happy hour one night (on my porch), and supper out three--if you count tonight when I went to Jordan's potluck (which she had left Christian to host while she went to Jamaica on business). Pizza was the order of the day, so I took an appetizer, had a glass of wine and visited, and came home for my own supper of smoked salmon, cream cheese, tomato--and raspberries and chocolate for dessert. But tomorrow night a friend is coming for supper, and Sunday, Christian, Jacob, and I will eat together.
And then there's the domestic side: I love to cook. So sometime this weekend, I want to pickle some vegetables. That definitely did not intrigue Christian, who is not a vegetable person. But I bought broccoli, cauliflower, zucchini, summer squash, and green beans today--plus a cucumber to refresh my stock of marinaed cucumbers. For the others, I think I'll sprinkle in a bit of pimiento just for color (I'm not a fan, but I do like pimiento cheese, especially Palmetto) and instead of pickling spices, I'll use Italian herbs.
I won't even mention reading. But I think it was Stephen King who said if you don't have time to read, you don't have time or the ability to write--something to that effect.
I am reminded of Anne Lamott's book, Bird by Bird. Every writer should read it--to me the basic advice is to put one word after the other, though I also value her thought that we should worry about character not plot. Wonder if I could find that on my bookshelves to give to my memoir-writing friend.

A Sort of a Memoir

I've known Judy Mangan vaguely for many years, more in the last few through email and some professional dealings--TCU Press, when I was director, reprinted some Mangan Books titles and Judy and I had quite a bit of correspondence. But I didn't really "know" her until I read her memoir which does exactly what a well written memoir should do: it brings the writer alive on the page for us. Judy eschews the traditional narrative for a series of anecdotes--and she really has an ear for telling the attention-getting story. Some of these anecdotes are no more than a paragraph but they go together like the pieces of a quilt so that when you've finished reading, you have a picture or pattern.
The book is divided into chronological chapters--childhood, high school, college, marriage, and so on. There's a chapter on Mangan Books and one called "Lest We Forget" which neatly encompasses the geneaological material. And unusual for many small-press memoirs, this book has an index--the mark of a true professional.
Judy--or Jude as she asked her children to call her--has the disconcerting habit of throwing characters into the story before we're aware they exist. She does that with Frank, her husband of many years, now gone, and with her children--we have no idea that she has children until she tells a story from their childhood. None of this "On such-and-such a date I gave birth" stuff for her. You catch on pretty quickly. And she is refreshingly frank about some things most of us would skirt in a memoir.
Much of this book is directed at El Pasoans--she's pretty specific about people, places,and events, so that it's the quintessential memoir for family and friends. But the rest of us will find gems to remember and savor. If you're old enough, you'll remember the loops and circles of the Palmer method of handwriting, and I was absolutely delighted to come across the complete text of 'Little Nell," a melodrama I remember from Girl Scout days: "Twas a  year ago today/That my Nellie went away" and so on until the bitter end when Little Nell comes home with her baby, having been abandoned by the lothario she ran away with. There's mention of one of my favorite people--the late C. L. "Doc" Sonnichsen, and a neat final chapter on "My Philosophy" with such treasures as: "You're not sinning unless you're enjoying it," [Baptist philosohy according to Wally Shied]' or "From that time (1593) healthy interest in gold and jewels had to be played down while a passion for making worried Christians out of satisfied savages had to be played up," [C. L. Sonnichsen, Pass of the North]. Perhaps my favorite is a quote from Katherine  Jefferts Shori, Presiding Bishop of the Episcopal Church of the U.S.A. when asked if Jesus is the only way to get to heaven: "We who practice the Christian tradition understand him as our vehicle to the divine. But for us to assume that God could not act in other ways is, I think, to put God in an awfully small box."
Get to know Judy Mangan. You'll like her. Unfortunately the book is not listed on Amazon, but you can send a check for $16 to Mangan Books, 4855 N. Mesa, Suite 120, El Paso TX 79912.

Blatant Self Promotion

My cookbook/memoir has been in print a year now, and I decided it's time for what the Sisters in Crime listserv calls blatant self promotion (on the listserv it's strictly forbidden, but hey this is my blog and I can do what I want). Since the number of hits on my blog increases nicely at a good rate, I figured I might have gained some new readers in that year who didn't know about the cookbook, and, golly gee, I should tell them. Besides, the sales people tell me the cover is misleading, as adorable as Jacob is--people think it's a book about teaching kids to cook. So please spread the word--tell all your friends who like to cook and those who read memoirs, that this is not at all a kids book. For one thing, there are a lot of recipes with wine in them. Oh, and please forgive the slightly crooked image--I'm still new at scanning and was actually proud of myself that I was able to scan the cover. I got a new review today on email from a Web site, womensmemoirs.com, and the review, written by Matilda Butler, calls my book "an incredibly charming memoir/cookbook." Apparently Matilda and I have a lot in common such as childhood memories of the "inevitable fried liver" and tongue (I apparently liked it better than she did). But she wrote that we read memoirs in part to evoke memories, and mine connected with her on many points. She concludes by saying that she and I were old friends sharing life stories and recipes, so I hope you--and new readers--feel that way too.

Today was a funny day. I worked all morning, got dressed to go to a luncheon and went by the office, only to discover none of my former office mates were going and they weren't serving lunch--just dessert, which I definitely don't need. So I came home, ate tunafish salad, and reread my mystery for the twenty-twelfth time. Funny thing about writing--sometimes when you write it you think it's awful, but there's that old, tried and true piece of advice--just get the words down on paper. So far I find the first five chapters hold up well. I quit and took a nap when I came to a place in Chapter Six where I need to insert a new incident to increase the tension. It is after all a mystery, and even though it's a cozy, it needs some sense of danger and suspense.

I finished the third Stieg Larsson book and find I need some light reading, after reading the trilogy in fairly rapid succession. It's intense. I have a Pat Conroy novel on my shelf, but I think I'm ready for something lighter right now, maybe that book on the joying of eating at home or the Jim Butcher novel Fred loaned me.

Cookbook/memoir signing

My good friend Jeannie Chaffee had a signing party at her gorgeous home (circa 1920) this afternoon. Jeannie is a professional party giver, and every party she plans has great class. This was no exception--beautiful tiered trays of fruit, cheese and crackers, brownies, and little lemon cakes, white wine and lemonade. Not as many people as we'd hoped showed up but a nice sociable crowd and we had a good time. Several people bought more than one book, which pleased me, and some came all the way from Dallas. It was a lovely event. My longtime friend Mary Lu leafed through looking at pictures and said, "There's a lot of nostalgia there." She has known me and my family since 1970. Another friend was delighted to know that their were recipes in there from my friend Charles' late wife Reva, from the days we used to cook together. And Jeannie herself says she's reading for the story of my life and ignoring the recipes. I certainly do have a lot more of myself invested in this book than in many others I've done.

The pictures above are obviously from the party. The one with the lovely blonde shows me and Jeannie and the table she set. And sorry but you simply have to turn your head to look at Jordan and me because I don't know how to turn the image. One of those computer image things I'll learn one day.

Megan called this morning and said she had planned to surprise me and drive up and then spend the night. But she got loaded down with work and couldn't do it. Then Jamie called. They were due back from DisneyWorld at 1 p.m. yesterday but didn't get home until midnight and he said there was no way they could do it. And Colin called tonight to say he really tried to figure a way to come from Houston but just couldn't, especially since Lisa had a mandatory teachers' workshop yesterday. But the kids all know they're a big part of the book and they wanted to be there for me.

Jordan bless her was there--taking pictures, helping Jeannie, and graciously greeting people. We were supposed to have dinner here afterward, then we were supposed to go to Joe T.'s, then we were back to having dinner here, and finally we ended up taking dinner out to her house where I cooked chicken and a wine/mushroom gravy, made a salad, and dished up some of the fruit from Jeannie's party. So it was a confusing but pleasant evening, and Jordan brought me home nice and early.

Sorry, but this blog is mostly pictures. I'm too tired for deep thoughts.

Cookbook, a political rant, and sushi

You never know what day will turn out to be exciting. This morning I thought the day ahead looked fairly dull, except for dinner with Betty, but email brought the page proofs and cover of my cookbook/memoir, Cooking My Way through Life with Kids and Books. I couldn't get it to upload tonight, but the cover features Jacob's school photo in which, for some reason, they dressed him in a tocque and chef's jacket, and put a whisk and wooden spoon in his hand. He has an uncharacteristically solemn expression, but it's a wonderful photo. When the editor told me the designer wanted to use it, I said my youngest daughter would be thrilled and the rest of my kids would be pissed. Jamie has written, "Don't talk to me," and Brandon wrote, "Ah, well. Life is never easy. We'll have to sit Sawyer and Ford down and explain to them that their grandmother loves another grandson better." I told him I'd hit him upside the head if he did that.
Reading the page proofs is fun, although I am notoriously poor as a proofreader, but I'm trying to be careful. I guess one trouble is I've read this stuff soooo many times. Still sounds good to me, though, and I'm excited about having the book in print. The press that is publishing it operates under a historical grant and told me quite some time ago everything they publish has to have an historical slant. I told them I'm old enough that some of my recipes are history.
I know this is not a political blog, although sometimes my opinons creep in, like my exhaltation on inauguration day. But tonight I really want to rant about Texas' own Senator John Cornyn. He's always distressed me, because he votes the party line without question, and I think that fake ad of him in a cow pasture was ridiculous. But someone really needs to tell him that Bush is no longer president and the Republicans aren't in power. First he held up Hillary Clinton's nomination because of concerns about Bill Clinton's foundation, concerns which the Obama people had worked out some time ago. Now he's holding up Eric Holder's nomination as attorney general for fear Holder will prosecute some of the Bush administration who sanctioned torture. If I'm not mistaken, justice is a big part of the American way. If those people broke laws (and the Geneva Convention) with their atrocious interrogation methods, they must stand by what they did. I think Cornyn is trying to engage in payback politics, and he's going to lose face--and maybe his next election. We can only hope. It's always frustrating to me to live in Texas when I was urged to write my senators on matters of liberal concern. It's like writing to a stone, and when I did get an answer, it spouted the party line.
Meantime, I applaud President Obama for the speed with which he's moved, especially toward transparency of government. It can't all be done in one day or two, but he sure has moved ahead in rapid and reassuring ways. For the Obama girls' sake, I hope the media gets over fascination with them, so they can lead normal lives. They are adorable.
I've had other frustrations--today I had a list of people to call about business matters--the mail-order pharmacy, TIAA-CREF about my minimum withdrawal distribution (which I didn't realize I don't have to do this year), Citicard about the time I paid double and what happened to the money, my accountant. Inauguration day, when my lunch guests left and I settled down at my desk to work and watch TV, the TV wouldn't work--thank goodness, one quick call to AT&T solved that. And then last night when I decided to allow myself a few minutes of relaxation reading, my Kindle wouldn't turn pages--once again, I'm grateful for instant tech support. It was easily fixed, and I was soon happily reading. But many of my calls involved navigating automated phone systems, which are really awful, especially when you follow directions, punch in this, that, and the other, only to be told, "Our offices are presently closed."
But all my frustrations disolved in soy with wasabi tonight. Betty and I went to our favorite sushi place, and I had something called the Russian--white tuna, California roll, smoked salmon, and topped with just a dab of caviar (I actually couldn't taste the caviar). Me, who can't eat spicy southwestern food, can take a good bit of wasabi in my soy sauce--I love it. Betty had something with shrimp in it and declared it the best she'd ever had. It had a spicy red sauce, so I couldn't have eaten it for two reasons--shrimp (to which I'm allergic) and spice.
Back to proofreading my own recipes.

Paula Deen's new book

I've been reading Paula Deen's It Ain't All About the Cookin', and I've read with mixed emotions. But it should tell you something that I've read the book--279 pp.--cover to cover in two days--part but not all of that was a decision today that I'd been proofing and working, morning, noon, and night for a part-time salary, and I deserved a little leisure reading. But something compelled me about this book, even as I was critical. I was originally drawn to it because Ms. Deen is totally honest about her bouts with agoraphobia, something I know up close and personal. Comparing my past to hers wasn't much help--she was in some ways worse than I ever was, but she has bounced farther back than I. I doubt there's much that scares that lady, and a lot still scares me.
There's so much I admire about Paula Deen--her self-made success, her determination, her faith in herself. She chose the toughest business in the world, a restaurant, and not only made it work, she became a superstar. She has a marvelous attitude about getting along with people, especially customers--it's basically called southern hospitality. And she has a great sense of family loyalty, to the point it almost got too much for me, and Lord knows I'm a family person. I also liked--a lot--her advice to people who think they want their own restaurant. I've seen just enough of the business to recognize the truth of the harsh picture she paints and the wisdom of the advice she gives, especially about charming your customers and making them glad they've put their feet under your table.
As an author, Paula Deen is also bitingly honest--there's not much she doesn't reveal, though sometimes I wished she'd kept this or that particular point to herself--or at least expressed it differently. She's unabashed about her use of four-letter words, as I generally am about the occasional "Shit" or "Damn" that slips from my mouth. But she says some things I'd never say (which isn't to say I'm right and she's wrong but it is to say I found some of it jarring!).
I think the thing that most bothered me was probably not her decision but an editorial one--the publisher retained her southern way of speech. I suspect it comes off a lot more charming in person than it does on the printed page. In fact, I thought I'd check that out by watching her TV show tonight, but to my dismay you have to subscribe to the Food Network! I've long insisted as editorial policy that the way to indicate dialect is very gently with a minimal use to suggest the overall, broader use. But this is full of double negatives and "Yo Momma" and such, and I found that distracting.
I think I kept reading because, even though I know she's success, I wanted to hear the end of the story. The last chapters dissolve into a sort of collection of mini-essays that offer her views on whatever topic came into her mind, from Christmas to judging people by their appearance--but the meat of the book is her life story, and it's a fascinating one. That's what kept me reading.
There are recipes but not that many, and they sound delicious but none jumped out and made me want to fix it right away--that wasn't the point of the book. And, Lordy, does she use the cream and butter. I surely don't agree with her about cholesterol, but maybe that's because mine is high.
As I've probably said before here, I've written a cookbook memoir. Mine will have more recipes and less memoir than this, which makes me think maybe I should go back over it one more time (Ive found a publisher, but it won't appear until 2008 at the earliest and probably 2009). But even if I get more honest about my life and feelings, I'll never be as frank as Ms. Deen, and I don't know if that's a good thing or not. But it's me.