A cooking day and my writing dilemma

It's disconcerting to say the least to have a three-year-old look look at you early in the morning and say, "Your house is dirty." I think (hope) he was referring to the permanent gouges in the 80-year-old tile floor in my bathroom. Still, when his mother asked why he said that, I replied, "Because it is." Neat? Yes. Clean? Not quite. Needs a good cleaning.

Today was a cooking day. I had my standard Saturday lunch--tuna salad from the market, grape tomatoes, and hearts of palm. But after a nice nap, I put together a meatloaf for Jacob and Christian tomorrow night. I'll stick it in the oven in the late afternoon, along with some baking potatoes--they can have sour cream, and I'll have yogurt on mine. I wanted to get it all done ahead of time because I'll have Jacob almost all day. But then for supper, I thought of Tod Davies' Jam Today and did not buy fresh seafood, my usual habit when I'm alone on a Saturday night. At first, I told myself I would invent my own meal without going back to read her recipes, but I weakened--I wanted to know what she did with sage and with beets. Central Market always has beets with lovely fresh beets with greens--today, for the first time ever, they had only beets, biggest beets I've ever seen, but no tops. So I roasted them in foil, skinned them, sliced, and while still warm put them in a simple vinaigrette. Hours later, cold, they were delicious and didn't leak red beet juice all over everything on the plate.

I had decided I'd have eggs, so before my neighbor came for a glass of wine, I laid out all my ingredients--three large mushrooms, sliced, some chopped scallions, smashed garlic cloves, butter, some Parmesan to grate, and three slivered sage leaves. Put the eggs out because somewhere I have it in my mind that warm eggs cook better than ones straight from the fridge. When I came to cooking it, I sauteed everything but the eggs and cheese in butter and olive oil. Then added the eggs, a bit of wine, and soft scrambled them--except they got away from me and weren't as creamy as I like them. You really have to watch every minute, and while I grated cheese, they started to turn hard. Still the flavor was good--mushrooms really dominated, along with garlic, but I honestly didn't taste the scallions or sage. I'll have to try the sage trick again--maybe using more. Maybe my sage doesn't have as much flavor. Don't know. Still it was a good supper, and I have come in under my Weight Watchers points--okay, I ate chocolate and got up to my limit. But you don't get credit for unused points, so why not?

I guess you would call me a foodie, though I'm not sure about the term. Central Market has little signs on some products that say "Foodie Choice" or "Foodie Find" and I think they have an army of foodies, who direct customers, etc. But fellow author Sylvia Dickey Smith sent me an article from the Austin American-Statesman about foodies who are sporting tattoos signifying their interest. A cook at Thai Fresh has an avocado on one arm and broccoli on the other; cupcakes are apparently not only popular as a newly rediscovered food but also as a tattoo, and one owner of a cupcake store sports egg beaters--of course, her husband is the tattoo artist. I want my children to rest assured--I will not be doing that.

Last night I wrote a difficult email to an author who had submitted a novel, telling her I didn't think it was for an academic press but more for a commercial one. I could, I said, send it out for critique, but I was fairly sure it would come back with extensive revisions recommended, at the least. She wrote back that she wanted to revise, wanted to make it the best she could, and would appreciate the critique. She said she could have sent it to her mystery publisher, and they would have published as is, but that's not what she wants. I really admire her attitude, so I'm going to send this one on for a second reading, though I indicated what I saw as a few problems.

Which brings me to my own dilemma. A publishing house has had the first in what I hope is a mystery series since January; in June, they asked to keep it a little longer, since they were waiting for a green light to acquire for 2011. I agreed. Last week they said they had only recently gotten the green light and were reading the manuscripts in the queue--mine was at the second level of review (not sure what that means). Meantime I'm not inspired to work on the sequel--although I could. I've cleared my desk of major projects--or at least have them done to a point I'm waiting on others before I can move ahead. So I've sort of got an empty desk--not a feeling I welcome. I can only read so much, and then I begin to feel guilty. I can and should clean closets, bookshelves, and finish the memory book that the kids gave me at retirement--those are probably the things I'll do. But I feel a new idea for a novel rattling around in the back of my brain. It just won't come to the front. Maybe some good cleaning and clearing will also help clear my brain. I do know the new novel will have to do with food.

Talking to another author

Sometimes it’s fun to catch up with other members of Sisters in Crime about their new books and what’s happening in their careers. Lately I’ve been in correspondence with Sylvia Dickey Smith, who’s doing a blog tour to promote Dead Wreckoning, the third in her Sidra Smart series. Sid is a private investigator/bounty hunter, after abandoning a 30-year life as a preacher’s wife. Talk about a huge leap! Sylvia is noted though for writing about women finding their power, and that’s sure the case here. When I mentioned that the book made me think of Stephanie Plum meets Carl Hiassen, albeit in Southeast Texas rather than Florida, Sylvia responded that she’s also been inspired by Dean Koontz’s early works, Stuart Woods’ Under the Lake, and Nevada Barr’s Anna Pigeon series.
There’s what I call a delicate suggestion of the paranormal in Dead Wreckoning, and Sylvia said that’s just what she intended—she’s never seen a ghost (nor have I) but she’s open to the possibility that they exist, and she wanted the approach in this book to be similar. So Sid sees a phantom pirate ship and even Jean Lafitte’s pirate queen, Mary Anne Radcliff. Does she really see them? You’ll have to read the book and decide for yourself. I do have to add here that we had a good family friend who claimed to be psychic and saw ghosts in a house that I lived in for many years—he assured me they were friendly. Another friend spent a night in the guest room and talked about the men who woke her up, but they too were harmless. Like Sylvia, I’m open to the possibility.
I was most interested to ask Sylvia about her decision to publish with L & L Dreamspell, a small, independent publisher located just outside Houston. She said she’d tried the agent route a couple of times, became discouraged, and decided to try small publishers—it’s a decision I can identify with, because I’m considering it myself. For writers who concern themselves with this kind of thing, L & L Dreamspell pays a royalty/advance and offers contracts. It is NOT self publishing. They are distributed through the major wholesalers and actively work with authors to market their books. And they’re particularly drawn to the paranormal.
So congratulations to Sylvia on publishing her third book in the series and maybe for not playing the “I want an agent” game too long. Does she still want an agent? Of course, but she didn’t let the search for one stand in the way of publication and for that I applaud her.
If you like suspense thrillers with a hint of the paranormal, you can order Dead Wreckoning from amazon.com.